Chapter Text
No one tells you how cold your house gets after someone passes. The chill in the air wasn't just from the lack of fires being lit or the ovens being heated. The lack of warmth stems from the absence and influence of a person's presence.
Their scent no longer lingering in the corridors or wading in the room they once resided in. Their energy was now vacant from the structure they once called a home.
After John Stirling passed and the Stirling House got admittedly colder. The lady of the house was able to manage it quite successfully with the help of pleasant company.
Unfortunately for her... that company just disappeared and the warm blanket supporting her had suddenly vanished.
Francesca felt the coldness seep into her bones the second she heard that Michaela had left. Felt the shift in energy. She shivered from the feeling creeping into her heart. Slowly making her bitter and jaded from the anguish building its home inside her chest.
Michaela.
The one bright light in all of her grief. Her warmth in the freeze that consumes this house. The one person who truly understood the pain she was going through was gone with no word left to explain her departure.
How could she leave me? She said she would stay. Promised even. What have I done? Oh, God. I have hurt her and she didn't even let me apologize.
Francesca couldn't understand the logic behind her disappearance so she irrationally blamed herself at first. Punishing herself for asking too much of someone who was obviously grieving as well and needed space from the clingy widow. She wallowed in her ineptitude while sitting on the settee until the early hours before dawn.
That's where her ladies maid Maria had found her. Unmoved from her spot with streaks of tears staining her face. She didn't even remember when she'd started crying. Francesca's reaction to this situation puzzled her greatly. She had lost contact with friends before but this loss didn't feel the same. A piece of herself was gone.
After getting her to her room and helping Francesca undress, she was sent away. Maria checked on her frequently but Francesca refused to speak or move once got into her bed. The time she did get up was to hand Maria a letter addressed to Lady Stirling. As formal as she could muster, Francesca addressed her disappearance and when she would return. As well as a brief note stating if she had wronged her that she wished to rectify it post haste. Once the letter was out of her hands, she paced for a bit, trying to alleviate the anxious feeling flowing through her before returning back to her bed.
And that's where she stayed, only getting up to relieve herself and then back to bed. When she received no word from Michaela, Francesca broke down even further.
After a while, her ladies maids were so worried that they sent for Violet who had been requesting her daughter's presence at the Bridgerton house for days now.
“Get out!” She wailed through her tears at her mother as she rushed into the room. No longer adhering to the distance Francesca had requested. It had been almost a week and Francesca had refused to leave her bed chamber. Refuse to bathe or eat. The weight upon her chest felt so unbearable that moving resembled an unwanted chore. She felt so confused by its heaviness. Losing John had hurt as much as losing her father but this…
This pain took the shape of something entirely new. It was as if her heart was encased in a spiked cage and with every beat, she endured a stabbing sensation so intense from every end that she almost begged for death. It was nothing she'd ever lived through before. She had no memory or even an injury to compare it to.
No remedy to cure it besides Michaela coming back and apologizing for her absence. For her reckless actions and to promise to never leave again without a word or note of her whereabouts to her next journey.
“Shh, my sweet darling girl. I've got you,” Violet tried her best to soothe as she cradled her 6th child against her chest.
Too weak to fight her off, Francesca allowed her mother to hold her and soak in the love she offered even though it barely touched the surface of her heart ache.
Crying softly, she barely whispers, “Why did she leave me, mama?”
Violet got a day before she was asked to leave only for her to be replaced by Eloise who refused to depart no matter how atrocious her younger sister's temper tantrums would get. She slept down the hall in one of the guest suits for three weeks until one of her sister's fits of frustration got the better of her, resulting in Francesca slapping her.
She had soiled her linens. Francesca didn't care about the mess her courses had made but Eloise did when she discovered it after pulling back the covers to try and get her out of bed. Eloise gasped, her hand covering her mouth upon seeing her lying in her own mess without a care.
“Oh, Frannie…”
“Leave me be.” Francesca groaned weakly and tried to pull the covers back over herself. The belly pain and full body soreness had her even more irritable and reluctant. But Eloise wouldn't allow it and in the midst of wrestling for the covers, Francesca hit her in the face out of anger.
Immensely remorseful, she apologized profusely for striking her as tears streamed down her gaunt face.
“Oh El, I'm so sorry. Please, I did not mean to,” she sobbed.
Eloise had stared at her in surprise. Their arguments hadn't gotten physical since their younger years so it wasn't completely out of character but it still shocked her none the less. She gently grabbed her hands and apologized for frustrating her and it broke Francesca's heart even more. She resigned and let her sister plus the maids help clean her and the bedding up. In fear of causing another outburst, Eloise was replaced by Daphne.
Unlike her birthday twin, her older sister had taken on a maternal role after their father had passed; giving her a sense of authority in their interactions. She loved her sister dearly but they weren't friends like her Eloise were.
Similar to their mother, Daphne treated Francesca like the porcelain her skin resembled; delicate and needing special handling.
They had moments of playful banter when others were around but alone, it was hard for the eldest sister to relinquish that maternal concern she had for Francesca. She had been present for many of her episodes as a child and had mentally cataloged all of her triggers and remedies.
Francesca tolerated her assistance even though she snapped at her relentlessly.
“I can do it myself!” She growled when Daphne offered to help wash her hair for the 3rd time. Two weeks into her visit Daphne had realized that her sister hadn't done anything with the tresses she once took pride in. Enthralled by her attitude, Daphne damn near manhandled her into the tub. Astonished that Francesca possessed such strength enough to fight her back in her condition.
Thankfully, the bath helped and she was able to wash and braid her hair with very little complaints. She still barely ate. Food grew cold in her room so often that maids stopped bringing trays regularly but instead took turns insisting she'd eat at least one meal per day and have some tea at least twice. Hyacinth actually made their job much easier after she'd come over during one of her more stubborn mornings.
“Lady Kilmartin, please, ma'am. You must eat.” The maid pleaded as she stood near her door holding the tray.
“I have told you, I have no appetite. Just leave it and go!” Francesca demanded weakly. She hated herself for this reaction but she didn't have the motivation to stop herself. It was only because of her good nature and generosity before all this tragedy did they give her such leniency in her behavior.
Hyacinth had peaked in just as the older young woman turned away from the maid. Sitting in her chair by the window, she sat gazing outside but staring at nothing in particular. At that Hyacinth walked into the room.
“Sister, that is no way to speak to someone only trying to help you. Here,” The younger girl said as she reached for the tray the maid was carrying. Francesca turned briefly to look at her before turning back to the window.
“Thank you, Sara. I'll get her to finish something.” Hyacinth smiled as she took the tray. “Yes, miss,” Sara started as she bowed and headed towards the door. “You're welcome.”
Unlike her other siblings, Hyacinth didn't regard her with such kid gloves. Still young enough to have her confidence untouched by society's rigidity, their little sister's energy was much lighter than the others. And she definitely wasn't scared of this angry version of Francesca that worried everyone else.
When Hyacinth reached her, she immediately set the tray down on an end table near the chair. With no prompting, she unfolded Francesca's arms and climbed into her lap who instinctively adjusted so she could wrap her arms around the youngest Bridgerton. Gently brushing her long chestnut stained hair to the side so she wasn't laying directly on it.
Hyacinth knew she wouldn't deny her this affection. Since her birth, she had been doted on and allowed to use her siblings' bodies for her own personal comfort whenever she deemed it so. That was their unspoken gift to a child who would never know the love their father had given them before his passing.
They rested like that for a few minutes until Hyacinth reached over, picked up a piece of bread and handed it to Francesca who sighed as she took it. Again with no prompting, she started rambling on about the latest family gossip and what she'd heard around the Ton. Never once bringing up John, her sadness and mostly certainly not Michaela.
Francesca merely listened as she continued to slowly consume the bread she'd been given. Not once did she add to the conversation but reveled in the distraction from her depression. Hyacinth continued doing this, visiting and sitting with her until Francesca started eating on her own again.
After another month, sensing she needed a lighter touch, Sophie was asked by Violet and reassured by Benedict to stay with Fran to replace Daphne. Even though Francesca voiced her opposition to this, citing that she was better since she had regained part of her appetite back and started cleaning herself without being told. But of course, they ignored her wishes.
Feeling braver since their last interaction, Sophie was joined by Eloise who already knew how sad and lonely it could be to stay with Francesca and not be able to reach her.
This made things a little easier. A routine was established with no requirements on Francesca's part to participate in their activities but she was always invited. Strolls around the garden. Lunch and tea times. A puzzle competition in the evening after dinner. Slowly she started to engage with them more. She wasn't better but at least she didn't snap at them like she did Daphne.
Due to sleep being elusive, Francesca wandered the corridors at night. Like a ghost searching for the loved ones they'd lost, she'd always charted the same path. Always checking to see if there was any warmth illuminating from doors she used to open with such leisure. Pausing briefly to remember.
Flashes of when she and Michaela would burst into John's study to provide some much needed levity to his business work schedule flowed through her mind and it shakes her at how naive she used to be. So quick to believe in happy endings and false promises.
The anger she felt for herself had slowly morphed into resentment towards Michaela. Especially after she got word that she had made it to India. She seethed at the thought of Michaela galavanting around doing God knows what with whomever she pleased while Francesca was here mourning John and hopelessly longing for her.
Ultimately that resentment gave her enough fuel to try and move on even though she wasn't the same. Everyone noticed but refused to comment on it so it would not upset Francesca further.
But they could see it in the way she continued to dress in Black even after the year was up. They could hear it in the way she played the pianoforte, her songs now devoid of joy. The way her smile stopped reaching her eyes. And definitely in the way she tensed up whenever Michaela or the Stirlings were mentioned.
It took almost another year before she started to come out of her shell a little bit more. Her family had learned this new version of her enough to know that she was capable of venturing out without a chaperone or someone fussing if others were too morbid in their approach to her.
The Formidable Widow Kilmartin had become her unofficial title.
For when Michaela left, she took essences of her kindness with her. She was cordial at best now. Something Anthony had commented on during a dinner at the Bridgerton house and received a glare. Kate being the gracious sister in law that she was, gently changed the subject so as to not draw any more ire from his little sister.
To everyone's surprise, Francesca had suggested going back out on the marriage mart for, you know, practical reasons even though just the thought of suitors pursuing her was already giving her anxiety. Violet was entirely against this idea but she wanted to support her daughter. If she would be truly going back out on the mart, there was only one person Violet wanted in her corner.