Every gulp of air Eloise Bridgerton took felt like a knife in her throat. Benedict's arm protectively tightened around hers, but it was Violet who pulled Eloise aside.
"Mother, I don't think I can —" Eloise blinked away panicked years. "My presence here will only disappoint the family further. I cannot do this."
"Eloise Bridgerton." Violet took her daughter by the shoulders. Her eyes, far too bright, met Eloise's. "The only thing that would disappoint me is seeing you start to care what anyone else thinks."
Benedict subtly stood in front of the ladies to shield them from view as others walked past into Lady Featherington's party. Eloise gratefully took a minute to breathe deeply, willing calm into her nerves. Mother had accepted her. She had accepted Benedict too, just as she had supported the Monarchy's "Great Experiment" decades ago when men such as Daphne's husband and women such as Anthony's paramour would never have been allowed into English society.
Despite Whistledown linking Eloise with radicals— radicals who associated with suffragettes and sapphists— perhaps Eloise's life could proceed. She had her family's love. Eloise's heart ached, thinking of Penelope. Perhaps she could have Penelope's love too.
Violet's warm but stern voice interrupted Eloise's spiraling thoughts. "I do not want you keeping things from me ever again."
"Yes, mother." Eloise, raw and vulnerable, couldn't think of anything witty or pointed to say and settled on agreeableness. She felt her mother leading her into the party and bravely accompanied her.
"You have come thus far in this season, and it would be a shame to turn back now," Violet's voice rose, now clearly met for the party goers. The reprieve was over.
Benedict's hand squeezed Eloise's gloved fingers. "Be bold. Be yourself." He'd once told her long ago. Eloise caught Benedict's very pointed look. This was her chance to turn those words into action.
"I'm ready," Eloise lied, bravado lacing her husky voice, and the three Bridgertons entered the house.
Eloise ignored the stares and whispers of disapproval. Only one face mattered, and like a compass finding true north, she knew where her wallflower would be. If Eloise had been less preoccupied, she might have noticed Anthony Bridgerton take their mother's hand, their faces exchanging silent understanding. Eloise might have even noticed Miss Cressida Cowper's longing eyes following her, a pained expression crossing her beautiful features when Eloise did not return her gaze.
Eloise caught sight of Miss Featherington and had a strong desire to pummel Benedict. How was one to be bold and true to oneself when nerves threatened to tear her apart? There were no books offering advice on this matter— no stories to guide her. How could she be herself when she loathed her own illicit thoughts? When what she wanted from a woman, what she dreamed of, felt backwards?
Weeks had passed since their confrontation at Aubrey Hall, yet Eloise still found herself losing sleep over the heated exchange and the possibilities it had awakened within her.
"You do not love him, Eloise," Penelope had remarked, when Eloise confided her feelings for Mr. Theo Sharpe. "True, he is a man of common birth and a radical — but a man, nonetheless. Have you considered that your fascination might simply be a desire to challenge convention?"
Eloise had been unable to respond then, caught between the sting of Penelope's words and the uncertainty growing within her own heart.
"You're deceiving yourself," Penelope had continued, her tone fully accusatory. Eloise had bristled at the accusation and resolved to test this theory herself by arranging another meeting with Mr. Sharpe, harboring a startling resentment towards Penelope's presumption. When had they both become adults without Eloise noticing?
Whistledown, Mr. Sharpe, and love clearly still lingered in the air, as Penelope's usual sunny smile was notably absent at their greeting. Eloise stood awkwardly, hands folded behind her back, uncharacteristically lost for words.
"Enjoying your evening?" Penelope finally broke the tense silence.
Eloise wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the question but refrained. "No."
A small, rueful laugh escaped Penelope's lips. "Me neither."
A flicker of warmth returned as the familiarity of their shared disdain for artificial niceties reminded Eloise why she and Penelope had remained close despite all the recent turbulence in their lives. Penelope's distance had left an emptiness in her life. It was perhaps longing that prompted Eloise to rush into an apology, heedless of the prying eyes and gossiping tongues in the room.
"You were correct about him. Theo." Eloise admitted quietly, swallowing her pride. It pained her to acknowledge any kind of mistake, but this was Penelope, and Eloise was determined to be brave, just as Benedict had urged her to be. "It was a mistake to get involved. I followed your advice and… extricated myself," — they both knew it was a funny way to say, 'I ended things,' but perhaps Eloise did maintain a semblance of caution after all — "I believe it was the right decision."
Penelope's eyes widened with a mix of shock and confusion. "Why?"
"You were correct about other things too," Eloise ventured, her voice slightly trembling. Prickles of fear and self-loathing spread along her skin like gooseflesh, but she persevered. "That I am indeed a pronounced sapphist. And my feelings… they are for you."
"Eloise!" Penelope whispered, glancing around nervously. Her eyes shone with a triumphant gleam, though her hands, gripping Eloise's tightly, betrayed her anxiety. "Not here. It is not safe here."
"I must be honest with you," Eloise's voice softened. "You have protected me and been a true friend. I cannot hide from you any longer."
Penelope's expression shifted from shock to something more bitter. "You're still in love with Lady Whistledown, are you not?" she asked suddenly. "What about your search for her?"
"The search is over, Pen," Eloise said, her tone blunt but weary. "We both know the truth. Lady Whistledown and my feelings are not separate matters."
Penelope's face paled, the implication sinking in. She stepped back, releasing Eloise's hands. "Please don't, Eloise. I cannot do this now. Let us speak of something else. Lord Fife, for instance? I heard he recently spent considerable time with Miss Goring in a closet. For what, I cannot imagine."
Agitation simmered in Eloise. How could Penelope, who had accused her of evasion, suddenly deflect so obviously? The hypocrisy fueled Eloise's rising ire, so she took a moment to compose herself. She followed Penelope's glance to the lemonade table, where Miss Goring discreetly adjusted tissue papers in her corset.
"What a keen observation," Eloise remarked bitterly.
"Mmm." Penelope's laughter sounded hollow. Her eyes glistened.
"Pen," Eloise tried once more, feeling the conversation veering off course. "Let's retire to your room where we can speak freely."
"Very well," Penelope agreed. Tears slid down her rosy, plump cheeks. "But I will need some time to collect myself."
"Take it," Eloise nodded, realizing she needed to do the same. "I shall wait for you."
Kate and Edwina Sharma had just arrived, causing a flurry of whispers and stares. Eloise and Penelope seized the opportunity to slip away in opposite directions.
Desiring distraction, Eloise allowed her gaze to wander to the dance floor. There, she witnessed her brother's hands clasped around Miss Cowper's neck. The sight elicited an overwhelming and unexpected surge of disgust. Perplexed by the intensity of her reaction, Eloise concluded she must be feeling unwell and decided to escape to Penelope's room and simply wait for her there.
After nearly an hour, Penelope finally joined her. Strangely enough, though slightly breathless, she wore a small smile.
"I was just dancing with Colin," she explained. "He was astonishing. Quite a lot has happened since I left you."
"I've been burning to speak with you all this time, and you've been dancing with my brother?" Eloise stormed to the door and closed it firmly, then stood in front of Penelope, torn between affection, desire, and impatience.
"Sorry," Penelope said, the icy tension from their first encounter returning. It felt as though Penelope was drifting further away from her. "When... when did you realize?" She trailed off nervously.
"That I loved you or that you were Whistledown?"
"Both." Penelope's shoulders hitched up with anticipation.
"Since the beginning of the season," Eloise answered, addressing the easier question first. "It became obvious once I started paying attention. Your words mirrored hers not just in content or subject, but in pattern as well. When I expressed my disdain for the naming of the diamond, Whistledown promptly disavowed the entire affair. You were one of the few who could've known about Miss Thompson's pregnancy, and probably why Whistledown chose to work with Madame Delacroix, someone whom I had already dismissed. And she never wrote about Theo and me, despite your remark that people had been gossiping about it for weeks."
"And… when you loved me?" Penelope inquired, voice trembling.
Eloise sighed, her thoughts drifting back to the countless moments shared with Penelope over the years. They had grown up together, their bond forged through shared confidences and secrets. Penelope's beauty was striking, reminiscent of the subjects in a Rubens painting— lush, colorful, and sumptuous. Perhaps, Eloise mused, she had been in love with Penelope all along, much like Anthony with his unspoken affections towards Miss Sharma. Eloise resolved to cease her jesting at his expense, recognizing how similar they were after all.
"I cannot pinpoint a specific moment," Eloise admitted. "Truthfully, it feels as though it has always been this way. When you are near, I feel I can finally be myself."
"Are you not angry at me?" Penelope pressed, clearly seeking hatred and anger instead of acceptance.
"I don't care about your little scandal sheet," Eloise scoffed. "Once my infatuation with the idea of Whistledown died, I realized that I… pitied her. A woman clinging to a wall, collecting morsels of gossip. How lonely it must be to conceal one's identity." Eloise blinked, tears stinging her eyes. "I am no stranger to it."
"You cannot fathom my anguish in keeping this from everyone, and especially you," Penelope confessed. "Eloise, I'm so sorry. You were right about all of it. I was just trying to protect you from the queen."
Eloise enveloped Penelope in her arms. Yet, despite her embrace, Eloise sensed Penelope slipping away like a fragile balloon rising into the clouds, tethered only by her desperate grasp. The feeling stirred a frantic urgency within Eloise.
"Do you accept my feelings?" she implored, pulling back slightly to meet Penelope's gaze. "I shall be mortified if I have bared my heart to you, and you do not feel the same."
Penelope hesitated, and Eloise's heart plummeted. "Oh, please do not do this to me, Penelope," Eloise pleaded.
"Of course I love you," Penelope whispered. "But, we cannot be together, Eloise."
"Why?" Eloise's voice cracked with anguish.
"I am not a pretty Bridgerton," Penelope explained softly. "You have the luxury of wealth, the freedom to elope to Scotland or remain unmarried without consequence. But I have just learned that my cousin Jack, the new Lord Featherington, has no fortune at all. His ruby mines in Georgia are barren."
A pang of realization struck Eloise. "It was Colin who exposed everything," Penelope continued, her voice tinged with sorrow. "The ruby necklace cousin Jack gave to Cressida was a fraud, made of glass. My family has nothing, and I am nothing. I… I cannot run away with you, Eloise."
"You…" Eloise managed, her voice shaking in a broken sob. "You are something, Penelope Featherington. To claim you love me, yet cower in fear when it comes to standing up for yourself? All this time, you have spoken of honesty and being true to myself, but it is you! You are the one living a lie!"
"You are cruel," Penelope returned. Her eyes darkened with resentment. "Despite all your talk and great plans, you never truly saw me. You never heard me. And only now, when I have nothing left, you finally realize that I've been waiting for you all along. You are too late."
"Is it Colin? Are you in love with him?" Eloise's mind churned with tormenting images of her brother's hands around Cressida's neck, his long gazes fixed on Penelope. The sordid tales of his conquests spoken to Anthony and Benedict when they thought Eloise couldn't hear. That had been the first time Eloise pictured what a woman might look like without clothes on. How might they feel beside her in bed? And Eloise recalled, with shame, how much the thought of it had excited her. How it felt right, even, for that woman to be someone like Penelope.
Eloise felt a wave of despair and loss. It was a stark realization and a bitter acknowledgement of her own inadequacy and failure to belong in this world. The weight of her own identity bore down on her with suffocating force, and the truth became painfully clear — Penelope was lost to her. Their friendship and future that could never have been.
"He promised to protect my family," Penelope said. She looked suddenly afraid. "He said that I was special to him."
Eloise shook her head in disgust. "While I yearned for you, that's what you were doing? Flirting with my brother?" Eloise's words dripped with bitterness. She imagined each syllable a jagged edge sawing at their bond. "I do not even know you. I look at you now, and all I feel is pity."
"You are cruel, Eloise Bridgerton," Penelope whispered, repeating her words from before. Unbeknownst to them both, those would be the final words they exchanged for months.
Eloise realized the two women had stepped so far apart from each other in their altercation, that Penelope truly was disappearing from her life. The physical space between them felt like a tangible manifestation of their fractured relationship and the irreconcilable distance that now lay between them.
"I wish to never see or speak to you again," Eloise declared, her voice hollow with despair.
Eloise and Penelope stood in silence, each lost in their own tumultuous thoughts, perhaps both hoping that one of them would say something to repair things.
After a tense eternity, Eloise finally opened the door and left.