"Leave me alone to waste away!" Eloise groaned when knocks sounded at her door early the following morning. "In fact, forget that I even exist, surely you would appreciate being less worked!" She threw a pillow over her face and attempted to suffocate herself with it.
"You have a visitor," her maid announced through the door. Eloise shot up in bed, the pillow falling from her face.
"A visitor? Who?" Though she suspected she knew the answer to that question already.
"Young Miss Cowper, my lady."
Heart immediately going into a gallop, Eloise scrambled out of bed and towards her closet on all fours. Though last night she ran away as last as her fancy footwear could carry her, now she rushed to meet her friend, throwing on a casual dress and trying not to look like an absolute wreck. (Though she very much was, God help her.)
She rushed down the stairs, coming close to breaking her neck before she had a chance to set her eyes on her friend. At least, she hoped she could still count Cressida as her friend, and she was about to find out very soon.
She found Cressida Cowper in the Bridgerton drawing room, back facing her as she made small talk with her mother. Her hair was coiffed to perfection, a feat that definitely inspired wonder at this early hour. She stood tall and poised and elegant, no trace of the scandal they had engaged in just a few hours ago. The morning sunshine that shone through the tall windows made her glow ethereally and Eloise approached carefully, so as to not disturb the picturesque image, wishing to paint it to memory.
"Eloise, glad you could join us," Violet announced her presence in the room. "You're looking much better than you did last night." A clear lie, as her eyebrows went up in question at Eloise.
Then Cressida turned around, her sharp features cutting Eloise to pieces the moment their eyes met. "Miss Bridgerton," Cressida addressed her coldly, her smile outrageously fake. "You've finally deigned to grace me with your presence."
Oh no. She was angry.
Eloise cleared her throat, disguising the squeak that slipped past her lips. "Cress-" Cressida' s eyes narrowed at her and Eloise quickly self corrected. "erm, Miss Cowper." She stepped closer as though the taller woman would pull a sword from her bosom and run her through the moment she got close enough. "Have you been well?"
"Oh I've been splendid," Cressida said, batting her eyes in a threatening manner, if that were even possible. "You left so quickly last night, I thought surely the bottom of your soles burned through from the friction."
"Haha," Eloise forced herself to laugh, glancing over at her mother who was still watching them interact with much interest. "Forgive me, I was simply… overwhelmed," she admitted with embarrassment. "From all the… fresh air." She grimaced at her own excuse.
"And yet, fresh air seemed to be exactly what you needed when I saw you last." Cressida said pointedly. Violet took a sip of her tea.
"Well you know what they say about fresh air," Eloise responded, getting riled up by Cressida' s jabs at her expense. "Too much can kill you."
"You do appear near death, I agree." Violet choked on her tea at that remark.
Eloise chuckled ruefully. "Then it is no wonder vultures have started circling to have first pick at this feast." She eyed the feathers around Cressida's long neck, noting the flush creeping up. It was starting to get a little hot in here, wasn't it? Eloise could feel the insanity prickling at her own neck.
"Perhaps I have been a bit peckish lately," Cressida threw back at her.
Eloise scoffed, scared, delighted, excited. "I'm impressed you know what a vulture is, you really have been reading up on birds. Congratulations."
"I am full of surprises."
"Oh, I do not disagree on that point whatsoever."
"You also never fail to surprise me, Miss Bridgerton, such as your speed," Cressida said with a mean little cock to her head.
After months of friendship, she had almost forgotten what a sharp tongue Cressida had on her. Thinking of her tongue right now was definitely a mistake as her eyes drifted down the blonde's face, her own tongue licking her lips unconsciously. It was there she saw the crack in Cressida's society facade, as her attention dipped to Eloise's own lips, her last breath a shudder.
Eloise found herself breathing a little hard as well, and she most definitely needed to get away from her mother as soon as possible before she lost her mind once more. "Would you accompany me on a walk, Miss Cowper?" she asked, their eyes never leaving each other. "Shall we tempt fate with some more fresh air?"
Cressida's mouth parted and her eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Violet looked so confused. "The gardens should be a lovely place for a walk?" Violet offered amidst all of their strange tension.
"Yes absolutely-"
"No, that will not be necessary," Cressida cut in on Eloise's eagerness. "I've only planned to be here for a moment. The reason for my visit is not to pick a flight with you, Miss Bridgerton."
"Could've fooled me," Eloise jested.
"I meant," Cressida took a visible moment to pull herself back from her anger. "I meant to say that you need not concern yourself with any more surprises. Whatever was in the air last night," she broke eye contact to straighten her gloves. "I assure you, it has blown over."
Eloise worked her mouth, unsure of what to say to that. She searched Cressida's face for a sign of the hurt she caused, but it was hidden away behind her expert mask of politeness and the ruffles and frills. The softness of her friend was nowhere to be seen and Eloise felt her heart twist.
"Um.. Good. Excellent. That is excellent news," Eloise said with much confusion.
"Excellent," Cressida echoed with a decisive nod. "I shall take my leave then." Eloise mentally implored for Cressida to look at her once more, but the other debutante turned her polite smile to her mother before brushing past her.
Eloise remained planted in place, staring at the spot Cressida once stood. She had been so close to an answer, but now she had more questions than ever. And yet she felt gutted at the loss of this intangible feeling. Did she have the right to mourn something that was never hers?
"Well, that was rather queer," Violet commented, for a lack of something better to say.
"You haven't the faintest idea," Eloise shook herself from her stupor. She couldn't let it end. Not on anyone else's terms but her own. "Forgive me mother, but I must… I have to-"
"Have some fresh air?" Violet ventured.
"Precisely!" Eloise, an expert on speedy departures by now, had her maid scrambling for a parasol as she made a break for the door.
"Cressida! Cressida, wait!" Eloise caught up to her just as she was mounting the carriage.
"That is Miss Cowper to you," Cressida hissed, towering over her perched on the carriage.
"MISS COWPER," Eloise exaggerated with exasperation. "You cannot simply leave-" Cressida scoffed at her audacity and Eloise could feel her ears burn in shame once again. "Please, just… Can't we just talk? Just for a moment?" she pleaded just as her maid appeared huffing and puffing behind her. "Please?"
With a great roll of her eyes Cressida slipped smoothly into the carriage. "Fine, you do as you please anyway. But you have until we circle the street and drop you back here."
Eloise squeezed her fist in victory, hauling herself into the carriage after her, unconsciously trying to mimic Cressida's grace.