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It had happened rather suddenly.
The devastating realisation that Eloise was entirely enamoured with Cressida Cowper had hit her one morning after breakfast- and it had disoriented her beyond comprehension.
It was funny, really, how obvious it had been.
However- in the moment, Eloise did not feel remotely close to laughing; if anything, she wanted to scream until she could no longer feel a singular emotion passing through her. As she walks up the stairs to her room, she feels nothing. A complete numbness washes over her.
Instead, she pressed the palms of her hands to her face and thought through the ringing in her ears and the burning in her eyes.
She thought of how good it felt when she linked their arms together and Cressida put her free hand atop hers. How lovely it was to hold a parasol for the two of them as they promenaded through Hyde Park and see Cressida smile everytime she made a show of twirling it around, and just how astoundingly perfect it was when they met outside in spite of the rain and laughed through the downpour.
She thought of her. Thought of the way she had the most beautiful smile that brightened her whole face and lit up her ice blue eyes- the skin around them crinkling delightfully. She thought of the way her hair and fair skin glowed in the candlelight of a ballroom- noticeable even from across the floor when glimpsing the gemstones neatly arranged in her updo. She thought of the way Cressida carried herself- light on her feet and arrogance in her steps; her chin tilted upwards in pride, accompanied by a calculating gaze.
Cressida- who was kind and warm when they were far enough from the rest of the ton to be themselves in each other’s company. Cressida who was surprisingly passionate about mathematics and foreign languages. Cressida who made her laugh as she made snarky comments and involved Eloise in bavardage.
The way she spoke, even- it demanded Eloise’s attention.
Everything Cressida Cowper did, had done, or ever will do- she realised miserably- would always demand her attention.
Eloise suddenly felt exhausted and confused.
How had she let it happen?
It had been a cloudier day in Mayfair when Eloise had suggested that she and Cressida promenade together.
She was sitting on a cold stone bench as she waited on her. She had arrived early, having been rather excited at the idea of seeing her again so soon after the latest ball- not having been able to find her for the vast majority of it.
She played with a ring on her right hand as she waited, prompted by the strangely quick beating of her heart in her chest. It had become more frequent as of late- the incessant thumping that made it difficult to breathe when thinking of Cressida.
“Eloise!”
She swivelled around to the sound of Cressida’s voice- finding her rushing over with a hand waving in greeting.
Eloise smiled and quickly stood, ready to give her arm as they strolled along the promenade. The taller girl eagerly took the offered hand and pressed her head to Eloise’s shoulder for a moment as she whispered, “I missed you.”
Leaning into the touch she laughed- a small, easy sound, “Did you really? Even after such little time apart?” she felt a little light-headed, a little elated.
Cressida had straightened herself- neck held high once more, “Especially after such little time apart.”
A curious blush crept up Eloise’s neck when she heard the smile in her friend’s voice as she spoke. She had come to greatly admire the small things about the older girl, noticing and learning her mannerisms and quirks- many of which she found to be almost… endearing.
After saying something closer to her ear, Eloise noted that Cressida always- and almost instinctively- reached out with the opposite hand to cover Eloise’s occupied one, and held it there for a brief moment.
She realised that day that she always tightened her arm, in turn.
“I missed you too.”
-
She hadn’t realised how hard and truly difficult it was to be around Cressida until now. Even as she focuses on the smooth tone of her voice, and tries paying attention to her words- the only thing her sick , love-addled brain truly registers is the flowery aroma of her friend’s perfume that always envelopes her. She has never been good at describing scents, but as she gazes at the delicate pink hair pins and silky, layered fabrics of her voluminous pink dress, she knows that this one could only belong to Cressida.
It wraps around her in a similar way that her dresses and accessories do- layering her in floral garments and embellishments almost protectively.
“El? Are you alright- you look dazed,” worries Cressida as she raises a hand out to touch Eloise’s gloved forearm. She had stopped talking, in favour of nervously biting her lip.
Blinking out of the trance she had found herself in, Eloise shakes her head, “I am so sorry- I’m not quite sure what has gotten into me.”
The wrong thing to say apparently, as Cressida only leans in closer, and traces her fingers across Eloise’s sun-freckled arm, “Do you need anything, can I-”
She suppresses a shiver as goosebumps raise the touched skin. She steps back with a small, bowed shake of her head, “No-” she couldn’t breathe, “No- I just- I think I need to go home.”
Had she been any more aware of anything other than the burning blush steadily rising to her cheeks and the pounding heartbeat in her ears, she would have seen Cressida swallow deeply as she takes her own step away, white-knucked fists down by her side.
“Will you be attending the ball tonight?” speaks Cressida, her voice wavering.
Jaw clenched, Eloise forces herself to calm down, “Yes, I- I think I will be. I’m just feeling… rather dizzy all of a sudden,” she fakes. Shuffling away- she gives a reason, “I am quite tired- I did not sleep well last night.”
She goes over that conversation in her head as the carriage drives home. That final part was true. Instead of sleeping, she had spent her entire night lying awake on her bed, pondering on her relationship with the girl whom she currently considered her closest friend.
She had a tendency to be the loudest in her family, and so they never focused on the quieter aspects of her. It came from a place of good intention- and it usually suited her well. But she knew that- whenever she ended another ball without having talked to a suitor- and her mother and Anthony chose not to intervene because they wanted her to be content… it left her feeling dissatisfied with herself.
She knew she was not the daughter and the sister she needed to be.
And so her chest ached with a feeling that was not new to her. It ached for the disappointment she brought to her family, for the humiliation it would bring her mother. It ached for the woman she found herself adoring. It ached for the pain and love she found in her mind, in an endless cycle- doomed to repeat forever.
-
“Cress? Are you awake?” asked Eloise into the dark of one of the many Aubrey Hall guest rooms.
She had tiptoed- rolls in her hair and chamberstick in her hand- to the room in which she had offered Cressida after she had come for a house party hosted in the countryside by Anthony and Kate.
She had stayed there before- during the summer when they had befriended each other.
“Yes, of course I am- but what on earth are you doing here-” Cressida startled as she dropped a hair pin that she had been taking out of her intricate updo.
Eloise quickly shut the door and quickly made her way to the corner of the room her friend had sat herself down in. She sat in her nightgown, meticulously removing pins and bobs from her hair. Something about the delicate movements of her ungloved hands drew Eloise closer.
“I wanted to spend some more time with you before I went to sleep,” she said- as though it was a completely usual occurrence.
She found herself behind the chair that Cressida sat in, leaving the chamberstick down on the dresser next to them. She could see herself and Cressida in the mirror in front of them, a faint glow of their faces from the two burning candles in the room.
She had no idea what had possessed her as she surged forward yet again- this time gently taking Cressida's hands out of her own silky hair, rubbing her wrists gently as she lowered them. She was sure she saw the girl’s lips drop open in a light gasp at the brief, skin to skin contact between them, but she pushed on with a small smile- looking directly at Cressida’s darkened eyes in the mirror's reflection.
She poised her hands above Cressida’s head and whispered a soft question into the quiet of the room, “May I?”
A sweet whisper of, “Yes, please,” echoed in her ears.
And so she did. Her hands found the pins- removing or unclasping them with delicate touches. She looked at Cressida in the mirror- studying her face to make sure that what she was doing was acceptable. She couldn’t read much however- as her eyes had shut closed, her brows slightly furrowed and teeth biting her lower lip.
She continued in an unusually beautiful silence. With every lock of hair that fell, she saw more and more of a Cressida she had never met. Her hands shook slightly as she touched her scalp when needed and- if having a particularly difficult time figuring out the pin-pulling- asked “Is this okay? Am I hurting you?”
The beautiful- almost ethereal- woman before her would reply every time with murmurs of, “Don’t stop, please. It feels nice.”
Eloise would find it somewhat hard to swallow then, a sudden rush of heat flooding through her. She would continue with her ministrations- gently brushing through the shining hair, and running her fingers through it- gazing at Cressida’s face as she did so. The girl’s face seemed flushed, but she couldn’t tell much in the darkness of the room.
When she finished, she leaned over her friend’s side and put the brush down next to the pins and jewels. She noticed that Cressida had not yet taken off her necklace.
She felt crazed at that moment- a thundering heartbeat pulsing through her chest, “I can take it off for you, if you’d like.”
And maybe her dear Cressida was just as crazy as she because- through half-lidded eyes- she replied with a low, and slightly trembling, “Yes.”
And so- she placed a hand on the skin between her friend’s neck and shoulder, as she gently pulled aside the curtain of hair falling to her mid back and over the opposite shoulder. She felt Cressida’s back shiver as she touched her hands to her necklace, making quick work of the clasp. Before it could fall into her lap, Eloise handed it over.
Suddenly, Cressida stood from her seat and walked over to her bed- falling to the pillows below in such an inelegant manner, that Eloise- from the chair in the corner- let herself smile as she picked her candle once more, heading to the door.
“Are you leaving?” called Cressida, a note of worry in her voice.
Walking over to the other side of the wide bed, she set the chamberstick back down and got into the bed as well. She moved closer to her friend until she could feel the warmth emanating from her, “I would never dream of it.”
Cressida, who had turned to face her, broke out a wide smile and huffed out a laugh into her pillow, “Thank you,” she said as she reached out her hand.
Taking the larger hand in her own, she watched as Cressida closed her eyes and let her breathing slow.
Eloise did not sleep that night.
-
Eloise sighs as she walks up the steps to this evening’s soiree. The venue was filled to the brim- guests spilling into the outdoors.
As she sneaks into attendance- successfully avoiding attracting much notice, she immediately catches Cressida out of the corner of her eye, dressed in a lovely- but surprisingly- blue gown that had her signature large and puffed sleeves. She couldn’t see it in much detail from where she stood, but she knew the dress must certainly be complimenting her eyes.
For the first time since befriending her however- Eloise could not decide whether she wished to seek Cressida out, or hide from her.
Interestingly enough, she did not need to think about it much, as the blonde had spotted her first- seemingly completely ignoring the rest of the women in the circle of conversation she had been participating in. Eloise stands still as Cressida excuses herself- almost entirely keeping her eyes on Eloise as she crosses the ballroom towards her.
When she arrives- and they stand face to face, Eloise can finally see just how truly flattering the dress was.
“Eloise! Are you feeling better?” she asks with a tight, but genuine smile.
Eloise takes the white gloved hands in her own for a moment and nods, “Indeed I am. I am truly so sorry for leaving so abruptly earlier.”
Cressida looks down at her with a warm smile, “You are forgiven as long as you take a tour about the room with me.”
Eloise nod, “Certainly!”
As Cressida leads them through the sea of guests, Eloise once again smells that floral fragrance.
They slip between the crowds, making light conversations with some of the other girls in attendance.
Eloise tries- she really does- to improve her attitude towards these disappointing conversations after Cressida had first asked to indulge her in.
However, they were unfortunately infinitely boring and, as time passed and she continued her friendship with Cressida- she found herself swaying her from discussions with others, instead wanting conversation to be between the two of them alone.
She likes their little secrets, and the little glances they share at these gatherings.
She finds there are very few things she doesn't- in fact- like after truly befriending Cressida Cowper.
-
That day- she and Cressida walked arm in arm as they admired a new museum exhibit- much to the dismay of the elder Cowpers, who had been keeping their daughter away from Eloise, hoping that she would find a suitor.
Eloise had been telling Cressida about some of the artists, and giving her very honest (and rather radical) opinions on them- quieting down and listening just as attentively when Cressida's own opinions contrasted hers.
It had all been quite lovely until Eloise caught a glimpse of Penelope- who stood next to her brother and laughed. She felt her eye twitch, a lurching feeling of betrayal still lingering in her gut, and she excused herself.
It felt as though Cressida had a gift for sensing these things, she later realised- when she came back to find Cressida not where she had left her- but instead with Penelope.
Colin, she assumed, had gone elsewhere as he was nowhere to be found. Seeing Penelope making a rather uncomfortable face, she sighed and stomped over to Cressida, tugging sharply at her arm, physically removing herself from the conversation and moving to an empty room.
“What on earth were you doing? Truly- I do not understand the obsession you have with tormenting poor Pen-”
Cressida bristled in a way that made the feathers on her dress and in her hair look like they were truly a part of her, “ I- I wasn't tormenting her-”
She glared, “Why else would you be even near her?”
She watched as her friend stiffened, “I was making conversation.”
Eloise scoffed- and whispered so as not to attract attention, “I rather doubt that, considering-”
Cressida held her head high and stepped closer to her, “Considering what, Eloise? Have I done something of late that has upset you? Have I done something to make you distrust me?”
Something that looked like hurt flashed in the taller girl’s eyes as she stared Eloise down.
Eloise knew that somewhere in the back of her mind- the little voice telling her to end the conversation and apologise was undoubtedly right. Her bigger, louder pride on the other hand, pushed, “You can’t help but be mean to her can you?”
She knew it had nothing to do with what Cressida had asked her. She didn’t know why that was her reply.
She watched as Cressida’s clenched jaw turned into a sneer- her nose crinkling in distaste, “I am not-” she emphasised with another step closer, “her friend. I am yours.”
Eloise found herself taking a step back when the taller girl closed in- heat trapped between them. Her voice was low and thick as she continued, “I respect and care for you. I only wish you could understand or… see that. But you are privileged in a way that blinds you entirely, Eloise.”
Guilt swirls in her gut when Cressida carries on, “And yet- I cannot find it within me to be angry at you for your inconsiderate comments. Like a small child- you simply do not know better.”
All of a sudden she felt a cold wash over her as Cressida stepped away, leaving her in the near-empty room. She exhaled harshly as the lingering scent of the floral perfume lingered.
The next morning, she raced down the steps as she was made aware of a visitor. She had not prepared anything to say- not rehearsed an apology, or found a resolution to their argument. A feeling of dread crept in.
Only to be filled with some sort of relief as Penelope Featherington revealed herself to be the one standing at the entrance.
She slowed- feeling cautious as she made her way over, “Pen.”
Penelope nodded in greeting, “Eloise. I wanted to speak with you.”
She shrugged as she skipped down the final steps of the staircase, “ Well- please do.”
“It’s about Miss Cowper.”
She stiffened, “What about Cressida?”
Pen stepped closer, a curious look in her eyes as asked, “You pulled her away.”
Eloise nodded, swallowing thickly, “Yes, I am sorry- she shouldn’t have approached you.”
“She cares deeply for you, Eloise,” said Penelope seriously, “Truthfully, I am not sure she was the same Cressida I’ve known all this time.”
A deep feeling of guilt had starting bubbling in her chest, “Pen, did she-”
Somehow the shorter girl knew exactly what she meant, and took another step forward as she shook her head, “No. She didn’t.”
Eloise felt her heart drop as she whispered to herself, “She didn’t?”
Her ears rang.
She felt warm hands take her own, almost yanking her down as got pulled to Pen’s eye level, “Eloise sometimes you are too absorbed in yourself to be conscious of other people and their intentions. You need to understand that if you wish to have real, meaningful relationships that don’t fall apart with a single argument-,” she paused to make sure Eloise was truly hearing what she was saying, “-you need to put effort in to understand people in return. There’s only so much they can do for you before they expect the same understanding shown in return.”
She nodded- a little taken aback- absolutely sure that Penelope had overheard them, but certainly in agreement, “I will try, Pen. I know I am-” she sighed and willed the blur in her eyes to clear, “I know that I am not a good friend- and that I must try harder.”
It was the first time she had said it aloud, and it felt horrible.
Penelope gave her a sympathetic smile, “We both do.”
When Pen’s hand slipped out of her own, Eloise suddenly realised how much she had missed her friend’s presence and her companionship.
“Would you like to stay? We could sit out in the garden and-”
“Soon, Eloise,” said Penelope. Eloise flashed a small smile as Pen turned to the door and covered her head with the blue hood of her cloak.
“Pen?”
She turned back- silently waiting for Eloise to continue.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, voice cracking as she pushed past the lump in her throat.
“I’m sorry too.”
With those three words that echoed in her head, she barely noticed the gentle shutting of her front door, or how her feet had carried her subconsciously to her room. She felt hope.
Why on earth had she not apologised sooner?
It was an hour later- after re-pinning her hair (with great effort and much cursing) and after sitting out in the garden for a smoke, that she found herself heading to see Cressida.
Surprisingly, Lady Cowper did not make a show as she did the last time- and she supposed it had to do with it not being calling hour. Instead, she was invited to sit and wait in the parlour.
She had been lost in thought- rehearsing what she would say- when she heard a soft voice call her name.
“Eloise.”
She turned, preparing herself to speak her mind- tell her she was sorry, apologise and make promises of being better.
Words failed her as she was met with a Cressida that wore a simple lilac gown, her hair only half up as the rest cascaded down her shoulders. She meant to start her apology, but she could only bring herself to breathe out a soft, “Cressida.”
The girl that stood before her looked at her in a way that she couldn’t attribute to any specific emotion. Her arms were rigid by her side but her eyes were soft. Her chin was once more- held high, but her jaw was unclenched.
Eloise felt an overwhelming need to sweep her into a hug and whisper words of regret, of hope and of adoration.
Instead, she strode toward Cressida with purpose, only stopping a couple paces away. Cressida gave her an uncertain look.
“I’m sorry. I am so sorry-” Eloise took another step closer, “-I don’t know what I was thinking when I said any of that.”
“Eloise-” Cressida murmured.
“No-” she tried to convey her every emotion when she looked up into Cressida’s own, “Please- listen. I am sorry for being so absorbed in my own feelings that I didn’t think of yours. I am so sorry for not listening to you and for being an absolute arse.”
Cressida gasps, looking around them to see if anyone had heard that- and stepped closer now, almost as if she were readying herself to prevent another profanity from coming out of Eloise’s mouth.
Eloise slowed, giving her time to settle closer- and then took her forearms in her hands, “I am sorry for treating you as though you were cruel, and for not believing you.”
Her friend’s perfume faintly permeated the air between them- why on earth did they always find themselves so close to one another- she pressed on, “I am sorry Cressida-” she paused, working on controlling her breath- “for hurting you, and for not being better.”
Her eyes had long since stopped regarding Cressida’s light blue ones- in favour of letting her gaze roam across the other (and now more visible) features. It was when her eyes had risen from those pink lips to her rosy cheeks that she noticed a glistening tear slipping down to her chin.
She breathes in sharply- and, not thinking- she pulls off her left hand’s wrist-length glove and gently cups Cressida’s face to rid it of the offending tear. The next words spoken are a promise- whispered between them.
“I promise to be better for you. I promise.”
Cressida speaks then, in a low, trembling tone as her lip quivers, “I’m sorry too. For everything I’ve done. I’m so sorry that I gave you a reason to distrust me in the first place.”
Eloise blinks in understanding as she wipes away another tear.
-
They were out in the gardens now, smiling and laughing- both a little tipsy after having had some brandy from a flask that Eloise had snuck with her.
They had walked up to the top of a hill, far away from the party- and far from the analytical, gossiping eyes of the ton.
“I never knew one could enjoy a party this much,” laughs Cressida- cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Where Eloise was used to harder liquor, trying to hold her own against her brothers and Daphne, Cressida was not.
Eloise made sure she didn’t have much, but even then- it seemed to make her flush.
“It’s all in the booze, dear Cressida,” nods Eloise, as though imitating a wise man giving advice.
Nodding sagely, Cressida agrees, “It must be- you are never this much fun.”
Eloise rolls her eyes good-naturedly, “And you- are never this drunk.”
A silly smile passes over both of their faces- even when Cressida protests, “I am not drunk- I’m just… maybe we are both not ourselves tonight.”
“What are we then, Cress?” the shorter girl asked, mirth in her voice.
She does not get an answer right away, as Cressida makes it her mission to sit on the grass and then lower herself completely to the ground, “We are looking at the starry sky, Eloise. We are stargazers.”
She followed suit, turning her head in the grass to look over at her friend, “How charming.”
“Shh. Enjoy it for a moment,” urges Cressida.
And so she does. They sit still in the grass, looking up at the stars- naming visible constellations, and intertwining their fingers together.
It’s a little while later that Cressida sobers up, feeling paranoid about bugs crawling into her hair- especially after Eloise joked that the ants might mistake it for their nest. They laugh as they sit up again- surely sullying their pristine dresses after their little expedition.
It is now- sitting with Cressida in the grass up on a hill above the rest of the ton- that she finds herself overwhelmed once more. She blames it on the way the moon shines directly onto the already blued fabric- illuminating her eyes.
“You’re lovely.”
As she turns, a pretty blush rushes over Cressida’s features, and Eloise is keen to make it happen again. She doesn’t let Cressida reply- instead bringing herself closer to her, and taking her gloved hand in her own.
“You are magnificent, Cress. You- you deserve the world in ways I’m sure the moon above us is envious of,” whispers Eloise.
Cressida looks at her for a moment- an unreadable expression passing over her face. She slowly drops her head closer to Eloise’s for a moment, a lingering look on her face as she replies with a soft, “Thank you.”
In a rather bold move- a terrible idea- Eloise grips her hand tighter, and pulls her into her- letting their foreheads touch. It was all overwhelming- the scent of her, their breaths intermingling, the moonlight forming a soft halo around their outlines, the quickening rise and fall of Cressida’s chest.
It was enchanting . The gentle press of their hands worries her, and she hopes that Cressida might not be able to feel her heart racing through her pulse. She knows her cheeks are flushed and she struggles to keep her breath even.
“Of course,” is what Eloise finally decides on saying, before she can say something absolutely devastating.
She knows there is something. Something lingering between them- a tension so nearly palpable that she felt dizzy again.
She was well aware of her somewhat intoxicated state as she felt Cressida's warmth around her. It felt mind-numbing how dream-like it was to have the hands previously held in her own, tracing her arms in a smooth, swirling motion.
When she arrives home, she will cry. She will rip the pins out of her hair and will feel her maquillage run down her cheeks before throwing herself under her covers and sob. It’s unnatural, she’ll tell herself.
But for now she watches as Cressida's eyelids flutter closed, choosing this moment to reverently mouth the words that were begging to be said aloud.
“I love you.”
-
Her vision is hazy as Cressida sits up in bed- hair unbound and smiling wide as she reads from her book.
Her nightdress is falling off of her shoulder, and Eloise feels a need to correct that. She takes off the robe she wears over her nightgown and shuffles over to the bed.
“Eloise- will you read me a passage?” Cressida wonders.
But the girl remains silent as she gets in bed, moving over to the warmth of Cressida’s side and turns towards her in favour of resting her back on the abundance of pillows and headboard. She leans over Cressida- hearing a hitch in the girl’s breath as her sun-freckled fingers trace over the alabaster skin of Cressida’s collarbones. She notes the breaths that the woman before her takes, as she pulls back the curtain of hair- past her shoulder.
As she leans over, she notes how close they are. She can count the individual, and near-invisible freckles on Cressida’s face. She can memorise the shape of her brows and the darker pink splotches on her lips where they had been repeatedly bitten.
She wants to kiss them.
Instead- she watches Cressida’s eyes as she finds the fabric of the white neckline. Ice-blue eyes meet grey ones as Cressida gasps- feeling the feather-light touches across her skin as her nightgown is pulled back onto her shoulders.
“Eloise-”
She watches as Cressida’s eyes dart between her own, mouth parted slightly as her cheeks flush. Her hands have completely left the book now, in exchange for holding the sheets- as if they would keep her composed.
Eloise’s hand travels up her neck- tracing the beautifully sharp jawline, and she revels in the way Cressida’s perfectly shaped mouth falls into an “o” at the motion.
The room is by no means dim, but it isn’t well lit either- allowing her to see exactly what it was she wants, while also letting them both be bathed in a soft, candlelight glow.
She feels a hand slide around her waist, around to her back- clutching at the fabric there.
“Eloise.”
She loves how Cressida says her name. How it’s yelled or whispered. How it’s said adoringly.
This time she believes it is said with want- with need. So Eloise reciprocates.
“Cressida,” she whispers between them as she gently pulls Cressida’s neck forward- revelling in the softness of the hairs she brushes over.
“Eloise- what are you doing?” is a barely audible whisper between them as Eloise finds herself readjusting- one leg going over Cressida’s own, now letting their bodies align in full as she is sat over the taller woman.
She lets her knees draw closer to the headboard, once more letting their foreheads press against one another- for the first time feeling her neck craning down, “Needing you. Desperately.”
She nearly groans when a slender hand holds her waist firmly- the other grasping at her hair. Her own hands are aiding Cressida in arching her back- unclipped nails softly raking at the skin under the fabric.
She’s dizzy again- the world around her is hazy as she focuses on Cressida’s wanton expression.
She’s so beautiful.
Eloise lowers her head as Cressida’s neck cranes up, and kisses her neck softly- feeling a shudder roll through the woman beneath her, a thundering pulse beneath her lips.
She kisses her there once more, and she receives a hum in return. She kisses her again, and again, travelling and tracing the expanse of her neck with eager lips- and the fist in her hair tightens, sending a bolt of pleasure down her spine.
She smiles when- as she’s kissing up to her lips- Cressida breathes out her name once more.
“Eloise-”
She wakes with a start, staring into the darkness of her room as the nape of her neck and back feel wet with sweat.
Unsure of what to do with herself, sits up- puts on her robe, and smokes out in the garden til sunrise.
-
“Dearest- could you please keep your hands away from the diadem- you will surely ruin your hair if you don’t,” implores her mother- who found herself preoccupied looking for the other members of the family attending the ball.
Eloise sighs, throwing her hands down in exasperation, “Alright- I’m done with that.”
As the rest of the family’s steps could be heard scrambling down the stairs, her mother approaches her and cups her face with a kind smile on her face, “Thank you.”
It was not long after that Eloise and the rest of her family found themselves in carriages- taking them to yet another ball- this time hosted once more by Lady Danbury.
It had been a couple of weeks now- since she had the horrible realisation that she was desperately in love with Cressida. She had gone through a whirlwind of emotions since; namely, fearing for her friends, her family and for herself. Nothing good could ever come from this.
She wanted Cressida- the way a man wants his wife. When she came to that realisation, she realised there was nothing she could do about it except wait for it to pass- assuming it ever did.
The Bridgertons siblings- at least so far- have all fallen madly in love, and let it consume them. She feared, because she would not have the chance to feel that same married bliss.
She feared that she would find herself on the edge of society- watching as Cressida Cowper became a man’s wife, her own woman, and a mother- dancing at balls, and laughing with her family. All that- while Eloise would wish that she were the man- the husband- the one in her future with whom she would dance in a ballroom.
Cressida truly was in her element at such functions- enjoying society to the fullest. She organised conversation, redirected suitors with a flutter of her fan- gaped in awe at any especially elegant affair, commenting in detail on its allure.
Eloise found herself fearing it all.
Fearing that she might look too longingly at the lovely Miss Cowper- with her beautifully pinned and pulled hair, and in another sparkling, delicate dress- and have her (or the ton-) take notice.
Scared that she might let her mouth speak for heart- or worse- act on its desires.
She had been staring out the window of the carriage when she felt a warm hand on hers.
“Eloise, are you quite well?”
Thankfully, it was just her and her mother in the carriage this evening. The others had taken the other- Benedict rapidly, closing the coach’s door shut before she could get in, giving her a large, rather cheeky grin.
“Yes, mama. I am just fine,” she replies instinctively.
She hopes her mother will let the conversation be, but in true Bridgerton fashion- she presses on.
“I know something is… quieting you tonight. You seem very out of sorts. Usually I would not press, but you have been like this for a while now. I only worry for you,” her mother’s hand rubs her own insistently, making sure that her presence was known.
Eloise sighs, shaking her head, “It is not something I can discuss.”
Violet gasps into the palm of her hand, and holds on tighter, “Oh my- Eloise- have-'' she stutters, gasping incredulously, “have you met a suitor? Is he someone we know-”
Eloise feels like she’s drowning. Curling in around herself, she chokes out a weak, “No. No it’s not.”
She wishes it were the case. Cressida, courting her- holding her whilst dancing across a crowded ballroom. She would surely enjoy social events much more if that were the case.
She imagines herself married to Cressida- how lovely it would be to show her affection out in public.
Her mother quiets, asking much more gently, “Is it your friendship with Penelope?”
Eloise had found herself reduced to tears many times in the last few days, and she had hoped that it would have been enough crying to avoid it for a full night.
A truly inescapable fate though, it seems.
She shakes her head, mouthing another ‘no’ as a tear rolls down her cheek. The comforting warmth of her mother’s hand had her trying to suppress a heavy sob that threatened to roll through her.
She’s sniffling when her mother takes her hand away to instead bring it up to her wet cheek, both of them sporting matching furrowed brows.
“Is it your Cressida Cowper?”
That shatters her glass walls. Her lip quiver, and her shoulders shake as the sob finally found its way to the surface. She could only meekly cry out, “She isn’t my Cressida.”
All is too still for a moment. She can’t breathe- can’t hear or feel- her entire being going numb.
Disappointment. Unnatural. Ruin.
And then- the hand on her knee feels a squeeze.
As her mother stands and moves next to her, and takes her in her arms- Eloise clutches at her mother’s dress, breathing in her comforting perfume as another sob ripples through her, “ She isn’t mine .”
A part of her was now crying in humiliation- in fear- in disgust. She cries in worry that her mother could push her away at any moment. She cries in relief, elated to have finally said something .
She was not one to keep secrets or- at the very least- her own. She enjoys telling people the lastest news- sharing loudly and proudly whatever it is that is on her mind. It was a childhood habit that had turned into both a virtue and defining trait of hers.
Keeping such a big secret from those closest to her had felt horrible, and still continues to.
Her mother says nothing, instead shushing her comfortingly- having taken out the diadem in her hair and now raking her fingers through her child’s chestnut hair as the girl cries into the crook of her neck.
“Oh- my love,” Violet begins- a tear streaming down her own cheek, “I am so sorry.”
“I don’t- I can’t-” she struggles to say.
Her mother rubs her back in a soothing motion as she struggles to breathe, shushing her and kissing her head.
“I love her,” she manages to say when her sobs somewhat subside, “And I don’t know what to do.”
Eloise feels her mother nod in understanding, “I know, my darling.”
She removes her head from the now wet shoulder, and tears up again when seeing the tender look on her mother’s face, “I’m so sorry.”
Violet shakes her head in confusion, “Sorry- whatever for?
Eloise looks down to her unsteady hands that lay in her lap- not able to look into her mother’s eyes as she speaks, “For being such- so unusual. Not- not just with this , but with everything. I am a terrible disappointment, and I’m so sorry.”
Violet takes her daughter’s hands in her own, and looks at her- in those heartbroken blue eyes- “You have never been a disappointment, Eloise. You are so expressive and filled with joy and love- no matter what you choose to do with your time, or who you chose to spend your days loving. I am proud. Your father was- and even now, certainly must be- proud of you as well.”At the mention of her father, Eloise feels her heart twist. Violet continues, still holding and rubbing her hands, “You have done so wonderfully, my Eloise. Finding a love match like yours is so rare, and beautiful- and, knowing you, I’m sure you’ve been navigating it expertly.”
Eloise shakes her head, “It’s not a love match. I don’t believe she feels the same. How could she? What I feel is- ”
Violet smiles sadly and raises a hand to wipe away her daughter’s tears away, “Miss Cowper would be a fool to not love you in return.”
Eloise let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of the statement.
For the first time since her realisation , as her mother taps the carriage and opens one of the doors to instruct the drivers to turn back to the Bridgerton House, she feels a little better.
-
It was a few days after the Bridgertons had arrived back at Aubrey Hall for the off-season.
She had decided to accompany her mother to the Smythe’s residence after the rest of their siblings found themselves preoccupied- not wanting her mother going alone. It had been a tiring morning, followed by a tiring carriage ride in which her mother tried asking her about Penelope.
She had replied vaguely.
Arriving to what she felt would be a very tiring day spent socialising, she had not expected a rather dressed down- but stunning nonetheless- Cressida Cowper entering the parlour.
She was in much simpler attire than what she usually wore. In place of extravagance and unnecessarily detailed gowns and draping capes, she wore a much more unpretentious, light blue dress- complimented by a gradient of sparkling fabric and small, diamond earrings.
Her hair was down as well, only a couple decorative pins in place- Eloise wasn’t quite sure how she hadn’t noticed it first. She noted that her hair was very long in comparison to her own- a lovely curl pattern accentuating her now understated elegance.
She seemed out of her element as she cleared her throat and greeted the Bridgertons, “Miss Eloise, Lady Bridgerton. How lovely to see you,” with a slight nod of her head and tight lipped smile.
Eloise, not unlike Cressida- had a barely disguised expression of displeasure etched on her face. Luckily, Lady Violet Bridgerton stepped in, and politely greeted her in turn, “Miss Cowper! What a surprise- we did not expect to find you here. Are you well?”
“Yes, quite,” she replied, now approaching them, “My family and I are spending the summer here with my aunt and uncle. They are such gracious hosts.”
“The Smythes are your family?” she asked, giving her a look of surprise. They were very nice people; Cressida absolutely was not.
Before she could get an answer however, the answers themselves walked into the room.
“Lady Bridgerton and young Miss Eloise- what a pleasure to see you back in the country! I hope we have not kept you waiting,” said Lady Smythe as she went over to greet them- her husband following close behind, “I see you have met our dear Cressida.”
‘Dear’ felt like too generous of a term. She sighed.
Lady Bridgerton smiled, “We know Miss Cowper from London, in fact-”
“Ah yes, of course! How could I forget you all live in Mayfair-” she sighed lightheartedly, “In truth, my memory fails me from time to time. Please forgive me.”
“You needn’t apologise, Lady Smythe,” replied her mother with a smile and shake of her head.
The conversation died down a little, then, as Cressida and the Lord and Lady Smythe sat down on the chaise opposite of the Bridgertons.
As Eloise made herself comfortable, she noticed Cressida almost staring through her- sending a chill up her spine. When it continued on for several minutes, she wondered if Miss Cowper had anything to say to her- especially after she had started blushing and fidgeting.
She decided to speak, hoping to steal Cressida away from the rather boring reunion. Neither were very interesting prospects, so she decided to make the most of it.
She spoke up- rather rudely interrupting her mother and Lady Smythe’s enthusiastic conversation about embroidery, and asked, “Mama, may Cressida and I take a walk outside?”
At the mention of her name, Cressida straightened- a questioning look on her face.
“Of course dear-” her mother said, a questioning look passing her features as she looked between the young women, “and excellent idea it is- to take advantage of such warm and lovely weather.”
As the two stood and bid their farewells, and left the manor- Eloise with a parasol in hand- they walked in a silence that was not quite comfortable.
“It is so lovely to see you here, Eloise,” tried Cressida. Her usual smile- one filled with deceit and slight arrogance- yet again found itself plastered on her face.
The shorter girl could not be bothered to return it- and instead gave her a look of distaste, as though something had soured in her mouth, “Cressida, I truly cannot bring myself to share your sentiments.”
“And yet- it is you who suggested a promenade together?”
Eloise bristled, “One should imagine it was not motivated by interest, but instead by curiosity.”
Cressida quirked an eyebrow, “Curiosity?”
Eloise turned herself to face the blonde, “Tell me, Cressida- do you make a habit of staring through people? You seem quite an expert at it.”
Cressida seemed to blush as she recalled the moment, “It was not intentional, I assure you. I just happened to be lost in thought.”
“Lost in thought? That is unlike you- truly, I had believed you to be incapable of such a thing. Or perhaps it was on how to best antagonise the person nearest them?” Eloise questioned harshly- not quite appreciating the taller girl’s presence.
Cressida dropped her already thinning smile, “Cruel remarks do not suit you, Eloise. Just because I am not loud and forward with my thoughts as you are, does not mean I do not have my own.”
Lady Whistledown flashed in Eloise’s mind, and she huffed out a humourless laugh, “And pray tell, what were you ‘lost in thought’ about then, hm?
Cressida stared down at her, a blank look on her face, “You.”
Eloise- for what felt like the first time- had absolutely no idea how to reply to that. All thoughts of hurling any further insults well and truly disregarded in favour of trying to figure out this puzzling situation she had found herself in. With Cressida of all people.
She found Cressida looking- truly looking at her- then. It was unnerving.
“You-” she began pensively- trying to find the right words to express herself. None seem to fit, so she compromises, “were thinking of me?”
Cressida fidgeted with her fingers, “Yes.”
The shorter girl mulled it over- or tried- thinking about what could have motivated all of this.
She had started walking again, “What exactly were you thinking about?”
Cressida seemed to think for a moment- making a couple of contemplative faces as she considered her answer, “About how I don’t quite know you. I know you well enough, I suppose- for someone who has spent many evenings just half a room away from you,” she paused, gathering her thoughts, “But it rather shocked me- finding out that you are acquainted with my aunt and uncle. I believe it made me realise there is, in fact, very little I do know about you.”
Eloise offered a rather dry, “I see,” in return. She could see Cressida frown at the statement.
They walk in silence a few paces, neither of them quite knowing how to continue the conversation. It wasn’t a comfortable silence by any means, but she certainly felt it was nicer than their previous interactions.
At some point, Eloise spoke up again, “I suppose there is quite a lot I do not know about you as well. You seem rather different than your usual self.”
“Do I?”
Eloise nodded, “Yes. You seem… more tolerable.”
Cressida laughed, “What an analysis of my character! Such kind words.”
“Forgive me, it is just that- I am quite certain this is the first exchange of ours in which we have had even a sliver of decent conversation. I am not quite sure what to do with myself,” she replied, twirling the parasol between her fingers. She truly had no idea how this exchange had turned out to be anything but a miserable one.
“Nor do I,” said Cressida with a ghost of a smile upon her lips.
“It is interesting- is it not- that the social season is the time of year in which everyone seems to be the least amiable?” asked Eloise.
The taller girl cocked her head, “Well- socialising does not, in fact, require amiability.”
Eloise turned to her, “Shouldn’t it? It would be immensely more bearable.”
Cressida relaxed into the conversation as she spoke, “Do you not believe that forcing such a thing would make the ton’s gatherings that much more aggravating?”
“I am an optimist on such matters, being realistic is a dreadful notion,” she dismissed with a small shake of her head.
Fully smiling now- a kind smile, Cressida asked, “Then… might you be an optimist in regards to other matters as well?”
Eloise’s brows furrowed a little, confused, “It would depend, but I suppose I would be, yes.”
“Then… perhaps we could start anew?” Cressida asked, wringing her hands nervously, “You say I seem different. Would it not intrigue you to find out?”
She let Eloise sit with the question as the both eyed a nearby bench- silently agreeing to sit down for a moment and she was glad for the time she was given to think.
It felt like a betrayal to Penelope- that was the first thing she realised. But then she thought about Pen’s own hurtful betrayal and her jaw clenched. She no longer had any association with her- why should she care about the feelings of someone who had destroyed their friendship?
In the back of her mind, she knew such things were cruel to think and feel- but her curiosity outweighed a broken friendship. And Cressida- for some peculiar reason, seemed nice enough. Whether that was just the country air doing some good or not- she had yet to find out.
So she supposed she could give herself the summer to figure it out.
“I am inclined to say we could start again. I have always believed my first impression of you was the only one a person could have, but you are correct- I’m rather intrigued by this ‘off-season Cressida’,” she said as the corner of her mouth turned upwards in a small, lopsided smile.
Cressida visibly relaxed, letting herself fall against the bench’s backrest, “You are a very blunt person, Eloise. It is quite an admirable quality,” she says with a small smile.
Eloise darkened a little, curling in on herself- a certain redhead coming to mind, “Yes, I greatly enjoy honesty. I cannot befriend those who are not sincere in their friendships with me.”
Cressida looked curiously at her, but didn’t press, “I will admit- Eloise- that I am not one who is known for honesty. But should you choose to indulge me in your company, I shall certainly try.”
Eloise did not know what on earth had possessed her to say, “That is honest enough for me.”
Perhaps it was the way Cressida looked so sincerely into Eloise’s own eyes. Maybe it was that she was intrigued by this other Cressida- a version of her that she did not know. Whatever it was, she found that maybe she wouldn’t mind learning more.
She didn’t give Cressida a chance to reply-, instead chose continued speaking, “Actually- I must ask you-” she started and stopped, as though she hesitated.
Cressida willed her to continue.
“After what Lady Whistledown wrote about me this June, why is it that you show me kindness?”
A very good question indeed.
Cressida furrowed her brows in concentration, “Lady Whistledown has made simple fools of us all- truly ruining some members of the ton quite thoroughly. I am opposed to her, and what she writes.”
Eloise was very interested in what she had to say, and nodded encouragingly to Cressida, willing her to continue, “When the ton spreads gossip by word of mouth- it is usually less damaging than when it is written. Even scandal sheets published prior to Whistledown did not have nearly as much over society as she does. I just do not respect her for her firm grasp on the ton’s affairs.”
Eloise slowly nodded her head in agreement, “That is all very true, but- does the topic of her writing of me not disconcert you? Surely you must know that the rest of the ton was- and still is very unimpressed with me after all of this.”
Cressida nodded, “ Yes, I am aware, but I… don’t see the point in staying unimpressed. The initial shock- I understand. But I assure you- although I don’t believe you need the assurance- that by the season’s beginning, not a soul will care for the previous season’s scandals. We’re always off to find the latest news, are we not?”
The shorter girl laughed kindly, noting the small smile she received in return, “We most certainly are.”
They did not discuss much at length after that, but Eloise offered her parasol after seeing Cressida struggling in the heat- and they shared a light giggle at her forgetfulness regarding her fan.
Eloise found her situation rather dream-like. Her second season out, she had gotten approached by Cressida- and immediately dismissed her in a show of impoliteness, and continued to do so every time Cressida had shown her face within her space since.
And yet, this felt unlike anything she had hoped for with Cressida. She smiled at the thought.
The Bridgertons stayed for dinner that evening, and the usual tension dissipated alongside the absence of the elder Cowpers- who had chosen to stay in London instead.
She later learned that Cressida liked it better that way.
It was a lovely affair- Cressida and Eloise sat next to each other and took pleasure in what Eloise described as being “stimulating conversation”. Violet didn't quite understand what she was observing, but she let it be after seeing her daughter with a bright and genuine smile on her face for the first time in what felt like months.
By the end of the evening, as both Bridgertons were readying themselves for the carriage ride back to Aubrey Hall, she truly felt as though her cheeks were burning from all the wide smiles she had worn throughout the day.
Cressida Cowper had occupied her thoughts that night, and for the rest of the summer.
-
She found herself thinking of her again. It was an endless torture.
In the mornings she wakes, feels the soft linen beneath her ear and fingers, and thinks of how lovely it would be to one day wake with Cressida in her arms. How they would both smile and she would brush a lock of golden hair behind her lover’s ear.
While reading she notices similarities between her relationship with Cressida and the book characters. Not once, however, does she read anything about the feelings she experiences towards another woman. Maybe she should go back to reading political literature.
It's the candles she watches melt- their wicks burning away; how they remind her of the dancehall lighting that was surely made to enhance Cressida’s already comely features. The scene flashes behind her eyelids as she blinks.
She reflects when a whispered disagreement she overhears at the modiste reminds her of her own arguments. Cressida always stands up for herself. She is sincere in her speech and unshrinking in her arguments- steadily crushing Eloise’s holier-than-thou attitude in the process.
Observing Penelope at her desk as they both sit in silence, getting readjusted to each other’s company, she notices a habit the shorter woman had developed. It consisted of tapping her right temple with her finger as she pores over letters- unsure of how to best reply. She thinks of Cressida’s own idiosyncrasy- the continuous cracking of her hands as she sat to write- first her wrists, followed by her very flexible thumbs. If it weren’t for the truly awful noise that filled the otherwise silent room, she would’ve had respect for the number of joints Cressida could rattle.
With all of this thinking, however- she reached the end of a week that she had spent mainly in solitude, keeping from the outdoors, lest Cressida find her. She hadn’t intended to keep away from her, but the more she thought of her friend, the harder it was to not be entirely consumed by her presence. Lady Whistledown had been a welcome help in a previous pamphlet, stating that Eloise had taken ill.
Finally, after that week spent in the garden smoking away her worries, in the library distracting herself with, and in her bedroom yearning- she clings to her mother’s arm tightly as they walk up the steps of the grandiose Covent Garden Theater. She had always loved watching operas- they offered a rare glimpse of stunning portrayals into other, fictitious worlds- allowing for a distraction from her own. While not as musically inclined as Francesca (though she asks- to her little sister’s delight- for her detailed opinions after every attendance at a musical event), she enjoys the poetic feel of it all: the melodies, and the dramatic acting as the performers run across the stage.
Tonight, as she settles into the box with her mother by her side who is still holding her daughter close, she fears the opera’s elegance might not be enough to draw her attention away from her thoughts of Cressida. Thankfully, she does not find the girl within her line of sight, instead keeping her eyes fixated on the stage through her theatre binoculars.
She does not find too much enjoyment in this particular show aside from the occasional swell in the orchestra’s volume in a moment of greater importance. It was something she has a strange obsession with- hearing it time perfectly with the resounding voices. Even so, she finds herself relaxing over the course of the opera and intermission- encouraged by her mother’s ever present hand on her own.
The final act seemed to be approaching, and Eloise’s breath catches in her throat when she notices something that sends her spiralling.
There are two performers on the stages. There is a woman dressed in frills and ruffles, adorned in bright colours, singing beautifully, and a man who she had not realised was, in fact- a woman dressed as one. They were singing to each other as they gracefully moved around the other.
She had noticed contraltos had gained more popularity as gentler characters as of late, but as she sits and stares and tries to calm herself down , her mind only wanders and tries to make out more of the Italian.
It was not uncommon for men to play women in theatre productions, and vice versa- even if it was as lovers. She had seen it plenty of times. And yet- she finds herself unable to breathe in her stays as she watches, enraptured.
The two actors swayed gently in each other’s arms as they duetted. Two women- holding each other, lovingly- desperately.
Her tears blurred her vision, and the gentle orchestra’s music overcame her. She stood up quietly, and moved to the curtains behind her.
Her mother squeezes her hand, and Eloise shakes her head- pleading to let her leave.
She barely makes it out of the theatre's doors- feeling her heart twist and ache in her chest. Trying to keep herself together she slows her breathing, and her vision darkens in splotches. She sits down, hand on her chest to regulate herself- and hopes she can take a carriage back.
If she could just-
“Eloise?”
Fuck.
She clutches at her dress, as the palm on her chest presses further into her, her necklace digging into her collarbones. She acknowledges the woman next to her with a shaking breath, “Hello.”
She looks up through her tunnelled vision- Cressida standing in front of her. Eloise realised then- why she could not spot her earlier.
She’s wearing an elegant dark blue gown, with glittering silver jewellery by her ears and neck. Her hair is done up in a tight bun, a simple white ribbon detailing it and complementing her opera gloves. As she approaches, Eloise discerns a look of concern on her face. She wants to smooth the crease between her brows.
“Are you- are you well?” Cressida asks softly.
“Are you ?” she questions jokingly, “What happened to the rest of your dress?”
The other did not seem to find it very funny, as she shakes her head in disbelief, “Where were you, Eloise? You completely disappeared. I haven’t seen you since last week.”
As Cressida sits down next to her, she takes Eloise’s hand- previously digging into her dress- and holds it.
She feels a piece of herself crumble at the touch.
Shaking her head, she wills herself to stay upright as she feels a wave of nausea course through her, “I am quite alright- just getting over a bit of an illness. I’ll be fine, if you’ll excuse me-”
She goes to stand, but Cressida’s hand does not let go of her wrist, “El- Please sit down, talk to me.”
She turns back, eyes shut in a strange concentration, “Shouldn’t you be inside right now? Watching?”
“I was- I saw you leave, and I got worried,” she stumbles a bit as she continues to hold onto her friend’s hand. The moonlight peaks from behind the clouds, illuminating Cressida’s face.
She looks confused, conflicted almost. Her mouth hangs open as though she wishes to say more, and her eyes glisten under crinkled brows, “Eloise- has something happened?”
She freezes. Something had happened. She had fallen deeply- madly- irrevocably-
Cressida stands and pulls at Eloise’s wrist- holding firm as the shorter girl stumbles -quite literally- into her.
Instead of pushing her away- Cressida only moves. She drapes her arms over Eloise’s- reaching to her back and crinkling the fabric there as she holds her. Eloise is faintly aware of Cressida’s blonde head lowering down to the crook of her neck- warm breath passing over collarbones.
Cressida’s perfume- her soft skin, and warmth engulfs her in endless comfort, and she feels her own skin burning from the contact. She’s almost certain her heartbeat is so entirely fast that Cressida can feel it pulsing through her own dress.
If she breathes, she’s going to cry. So she holds her breath- waiting for Cressida to let go.
But she doesn’t. She doesn’t let go . If anything, she holds on tighter- as though she were asking for Eloise to hug her back.
The moment is gone the moment she hears her carriage rolling towards them. Eloise pulls back, and steps away. The world is cold again.
“Cress- go finish watching the opera-” she begins.
“I dont give a damn about the opera, Eloise-” she steps forward as the brunette turns away and catches her wrist again. In a pleading voice she continues, “ I care about you, El. Please… tell me what’s wrong.”
Eloise stays turned away and slips her wrist out of Cressida’s grasp, “Tell me how it ends, please.”
She shatters with every step she takes that furthers them from each other.
-
Her mother finds her hidden under the covers of her bed- a single candle still lit by her bedside.
She sits down and runs a hand through her hair, looking softly out of the window as she waits for Eloise to be coaxed out.
“I’m sorry for taking the carriage,” she says, lifting her face out from under the blanket.
“It’s alright, dear,” her mother says, smiling reassuringly.
She appreciates it- probably more than she can bring herself to express aloud. Instead, she pulls herself up to be seated in bed and kisses her mother’s cheek.
A small smile tugs at both their mouths, and Violet reciprocates with a kiss upon the crown of Eloise’s head, “I shall leave you to get some rest, hm?”
She nods, letting herself fall back to the pillows.
The next morning, she can’t eat. The thoughts in her head are so loud they crowd the rest of her body and she feels sluggish. Her mind replays the hurt expression on Cressida’s face the moment she had pulled away. Hurting her feels worse than hurting herself, she decides.
She doesn’t quite know what to do from here. She had most certainly created a horrible rift between the two of them that would only result in an argument once approached- but- could she even bring herself to see Cressida again? Or would she feel an overwhelming need to tell her everything the moment their eyes meet?
Cressida lingers in her thoughts for the rest of the day- as she usually does. She’s not always at the forefront of her mind- sometimes the thoughts of her are uncommon but not unwelcome. Other times her face flashes before Eloise’s eyes in a way that makes her burn. Sometimes- it’s late night when Cressida resurfaces in her mind, just as Eloise sits on her swing in the garden.
Eloise finds herself doing exactly that. She looks to the sky and smiles as the crescent moon shines brightly; it had been a while since the clouds had fully cleared, and she hoped tomorrow would be a sunny day. Not that it had been rainy- it had just been unsettlingly cloudy, as though the sky couldn’t make up its mind about what it wanted.
She felt like pleading with the moon. She wanted to ask her how she was able to live without her sun.
Her eyes flicked down from the sky as she noticed a brightness, eyes widening as it took a human shape.
Her own sun- a few paces away.
“ Cressida, ” she breathed- so low she almost hadn’t heard herself say it. Pushing off of the swings, she stepped forward- drawn to her.
The first thing she notices is that her long, shining hair is no longer a solid form- instead, a windswept mess. The second thing she notices, only becoming visible as the tall girl stepped closer- was the lack of gloves on her arms, and jewellery adorning her neck. Eloise had seen her in a similar state before- but never in an evening gown. It felt… sacred. The last thing she noticed before her mind truly lost itself to Cressida’s presence was a look in her eyes that she had seen before, but could never pinpoint.
“Have I done something, Eloise? Have I upset you?” she questioned, slight anger- or maybe confusion- in her tone.
She’s standing over Eloise now, and the shorter girl’s eyes flick between the light blue ones above. She notices a faint blush on her cheeks.
“No-”
“Then what have I done for you to avoid me- please- tell me,” she asks, taking Eloise’s hands in her own.
She inhales sharply at the contact, feeling the warmth of skin against her own. She shakes her head fervently, “You have done nothing, Cressida. Stop pursuing a conversation that does not need to exist.”
She tears her gaze away, unable to look her in the eyes as she adds a whispered, “Please.”
The older girl lets go, hands slipping out of her own. Eloise watches as she turns slightly away from her and looks to her hands. She motions with them- waving, clenching as she talks, “You told me you were someone who prefers honest friendships. I have been very honest, and very open in my feelings- but you hide things from me. You have been for a while, and I want to know what it is-”
She steps back to face Eloise once more, “- I want to know what it is that I have done to make you so… distant.”
“ I love you ” repeats in her head in a never-ending cry.
A long exhale passes through her, and she tilts her head to the sky, not sure how to make Cressida understand, “You have been nothing but lovely-”
“Stop making this so difficult please-”
Eloise knows Cressida had meant to say it with a certain intensity behind it, but the words came out rather broken. She reaches to brush an errant tear off of Cressida’s face with the pad of her thumb, and her face crinkles together- misery etched into the lines.
Eloise’s voice fails her- ending in a whisper as she apologies, “I’m so sorry.”
Meanwhile, a longer hand reached out to rest on her outstretched arm.
“If you’re truly sorry- tell me what has happened. Why do you refuse to even look at me?” implores Cressida.
And she gives in as Cressida’s feelings of guilt suffocate her. She moves her other hand to mirror the one on her friend’s cheek- then sliding them down her shoulders, to her arms, to her hands. She holds them tightly, making sure Cressida listens.
“It is what I have done. What I have done to myself and to you.”
Cressida stills. Eloise swallows as she starts- eyes darting around, trying to escape her reality just as the heart in her chest was trying to do.
“Cressida-”
Her breaths are shallow and she tries to think- tries to fit everything she wants to say, wants Cressida to hear. As she holds the taller girl’s hands in her own, she can feel herself shaking.
“You are my dearest friend, and my greatest curse. Every day that I find myself near you is another day I know for certain that I was put on this earth to breathe, and live, and love- all for you.”
Her eyes have fixated on Cressida’s now. She watches as her cheeks have flushed- visible in the moonlight, and her mouth is slightly agape. Eloise’s voice is breathy as she continues, “Those days- the days you are near- are ones of the greatest torture I have known and it's because I long for you in ways I did not know I could. In ways I cannot pursue. I am dizzy when you are, and are not near me- I am encompassed by you-”
Her head shakes the slightest bit- almost as if she does not believe the words spilling forth from her lips, “I long for you in the way my lips ache to touch yours- and in the way my soul wishes to be intertwined with your own. I yearn- with all my being- to be yours alone, Cressida .”
She knows there are tears streaming down her face now- from relief and stress. There is a painful beat of her heart in her ribs and ears as she finishes on barely a whisper of- “I love you. More than words can express in any language- I love you. My love for you is as endless as the number of stars in the sky.”
And suddenly the hands once in her own- are now pressed firmly against her cheeks as Cressida looks at her- desperate. Eloise thinks she is angelic- the way she is bathed in moonlight.
“Eloise- I am not nearly as eloquent as you are in my speeches, but I-” she tries to find her words, “I am- I feel the same things. Every time you are near, I am lost to the love my heart possesses for you.”
Eloise feels herself being pulled - rather dazed and speechless- into a hug. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around Cressida’s corseted waist- sniffling back her tears as the taller girl presses a soft kiss to her forehead.
She feels another brush of lips- this time pushing her head back in an attempt to kiss her temple.
Eloise revels in it and in the dream-like situation she finds herself in. She doesn’t understand how this isn’t part of her wild imagination- how Cressida is whispering words of adoration against her skin. She has had countless dreams of a situation like this- all playing out in vastly different ways. Being here though- wrapped in Cressida arms the way a lover should be- she feels like laughing in delight.
She feels Cressida kissing her softly on the spot between her brows , the peak of her cheekbone, just under her left eye- as though she was memorising her face with her lips. The cold hands that were pressed softly to her face slid- gently tracing the outline of her jaw and the slope of her neck.
Eloise reciprocates- letting her hands wander over the intricate evening gown and onto the bare skin of Cressida’s upper back. She lets her nails rake softly between the prominent shoulder blades and she smiles at the soft exhale of “El-” next to her ear.
She lets her arms fall- moving to Cressida's front and tracing her sharp collar bones before cupping her face and pulls her far away enough to look her in the eyes, “My love?”
Her cheeks burn when she looks to find a smitten smile and adoring eyes staring into hers. Cressida hums, “Yes, Darling?”
Their noses bump together as Eloise runs the pads of her thumbs over Cressida’s cheeks- marvelling at their softness, “I desperately want to kiss you.”
The taller girl laughs against her, while pressing a small kiss to the corner of her mouth- and lowers her hands to hold Eloise’s waist, “Please do.”
Finally-
Finally-
Her lips press gently to Cressida’s own. Her senses are overwhelmed as she’s tugged closer by the waist- their fronts pressed securely against each other. There are wisps of golden hair that flutter in the light breeze and tickle her neck, and her heart rushes as she feels Cressida hum into their embrace.
Her lips are so soft- and all she can think is- how right it feels.
She feels dazed and she whispers her beloved’s name in worship as she peppers kisses to her mouth and lets her hands rake softly through blonde hair at the nape of Cressida’s neck.
When they separate- she buries herself in the crook of her neck- breathing hard against soft skin and letting herself whisper “I love you,” once more.
She can feel Cressida smile as she leans in once more- and presses a lingering kiss to her cheek. Eloise can only give in- a smile of her hidden in the shadows of her neck.
In her mind, she thanked the moon. It had always given her a certain freedom to express herself- away from the rest of the world.
-
They find themselves lounging about in Eloise’s bed at Aubrey Hall that summer- kissing languidly as their hands trace each other’s skin.
Cressida is pressed firmly into the pillows as Eloise rests atop her somewhat- smiling and whispering lovely things into her mouth as her fingers glide gently over her beloved’s naked waist.
She finds out that it’s a certain wild rose of which Cressida’s perfume smells.
She coaxed softs sighs out of the woman under her- gently nipping and dragging her teeth along her jaw. It’s a lazy motion, and it’s reciprocated as she feels a hand in her hair- lazily tugging and toying with it.
“We need to be out of bed soon, darling,” says Cressida, a dazed smile on her lips.
Eloise only lowers her head further- kissing and gently biting at the fair and tender skin of Cressida’s collarbones and chest, “Why would you say such a terrible thing? I, for one, have no intention of leaving in the near future.”
She can feel Cressida’s eyes roll at her comments, “Why is that?”
Eloise smiles and reaches up to kiss her, “Because I am busy worshipping you- is it not obvious enough?”
And Cressida laughs, and lets Eloise do just that.