Chapter Text
February 1996.
Exiting her car with haste, Cressida darted across the busy street. Her long skirt trailing behind her in reels of silk and mesh material.
Wine in hand, which flexed exhausted against the bottle, hours at a sewing machine tends to have a lasting effect. Her knuckles bruised with fabric dye, manicure chipped and dishevelled by pin work.
She was uncharacteristically, knocking twice promptly before the door opened to reveal Colin and his youngest sister.
“Cressida!” Hyacinth giggled, reaching to pull the blonde through to the party. “I’m so glad you made it! Is that skirt one of yours? Oh my goodness you are so talented, my mother must see this.”
“Colin.” Cressida breathed out a smile as she was busily pushed past the brother. The pair shared a nod of greeting.
The building seemed alive with light as every room bubbled with people Eric Costello bellowing out towards her. Setting up for the coming nights celebrations seemed to be in full swing and, by the looks of it half of London would be there; much to Cressida distaste. She really couldn’t face any run in’s today.
“Ahh Miss Cowper there you are, we were beginning to worry.” Violet smiled in greeting, reaching to hug the blonde gently. The stain material of her dress shirt soft against Cressida’s hands as they embraced.
Cressida and the Bridgertons had grown up together. Fran and herself were in the same study department, Cressida fashion and Francesca art history. The Cowper distillery had been absorbed by the BR when she was merely three; any holidays, celebrations and long weekends had been spent together ever since.
Cressida tended to keep to herself during these meetings, exchanging pleasantries and sticking beside Fran when things got all the more hectic. The gossip however, Cressida couldn’t help but admit she lived for; and Bridgeton parties were encompassed with it.
“I can only apologise for my tardiness Mrs Bridgerton, finals have been a hazard all of their own.” Cressida apologised offering up the bottle in truce.
Violet grinned, “nonsense, we’re just glad to have you here. You should never regret focusing on your studies.”
Violet had taken on more of a motherly approach towards her a few years ago, when her parents had divorced and each moved to opposite ends of the country. Her father Wales and her mother Dover, leaving Cressida in the care of a neighbouring boarding school. Until she was old enough to make her own way; She was sixteen.
Benedict had helped her move in, forcing Gregory to carry her entire wardrobe three flights of upstairs. Kate hung curtains and Violet sent meals for months after. Her parents still insist that she attended any gathering in their honour. They had each kept the Cowper name and in doing so cemented Cressida’s legacy forever.
“Of course Mrs Bridgerton.” Cressida offered an awkward smile, Hyacinth still bustling beside her.
“What have I told you about calling me Violet?” The older woman pinched her elbow.
Cressida blushed, the youngest brunette eagerly tugging at her hand and spinning her round in presentation to her mother.
“Look Mama, isn’t it wonderful?! Cress made it HERSELF!” Hyacinth boasted, deft hands shaking out her skirt.
“It’s just practice.” The blonde explained, reddening by the second. Her father had nearly passed away. when she announced excitedly that she would be studying fashion. Granted she had done it at one very awkward blended Christmas in front of her grandmother.
Who too believed her venture was fruitless. The Bridgertons however had welcomed it with open arms. Anthony allows her to alter his clothes for practice, Colin trying his best to keep up with clothing trends as a means of conversing with Cressida.
Even Eloise had smiled slightly at her announcement. A beautiful bound rouge leather sketchbook, was delivered a week later. No card had been attached though it had a distinct essence of Lavender… Eloise’s favourite smell.
“Well it’s wonderful dear.” Violet nodded, patting the girl's arm lightly. “Now make yourself at home, you know where everything is.” The matriarch commented before stalking off towards a group of catering staff. Hyacinth giddy beside them as they walked towards the party.
“Oh Cee! Thank the gods you’re finally here!” Francesca grinned wildly as she stood just outside the parlour doors, clearly waiting for her. “I fear John is about to beat Michaela at darts!”
Cressida laughed lightly as she stepped into the room, taking in the dim lighting and joyous mood. People laughing and littering the air with words in every corner and surface. The Featherington sisters deep within a poker match, their family were from the bottling firm.
Every bottle distributed by the BR brand were hand crafted, repurposed sea glass bottles. Courtesy of the Featheringtons. In ode to their Late father’s love of the coast.
“Well I hardly believe that.” Cressida giggled, hooking her arm with her own as they walked. “I will simply have to see it with my own eyes.”
“Oh don’t make me return, you know how they get” Fran groaned much to her friend’s
amusement, “Even Gregory volunteered to go get ice, just to get away from their completion.”
“They’re still at each other then?” The blonde tilted her head and cocked her brow at the girl's pained face.
“Worse than ever, every single time we are all
Together. It’s suddenly a competition, I had been putting it down to playful cousin rivalry but it’s getting out of hand” Fran mumbled clearly perplexed by the entire situation.
Francesca often failed to understand why exactly some people behave, however that is what Cressida found so charming about her. The brunette was completely and utterly herself, kind and thoughtful through no begrudging of her own. Quietly bright and determined, frankly Cressida had never found someone quite so passionate about art as her. Music specifically.
It was a mutual respect, one they had always found with each other, even as children. Cressida and Francesca offered a stable friendship void of judgement for one another. They would often sit in silence working on their respective crafts, enjoying presence without actually having to try so hard. It was a welcome respite from their typical afternoons, as charity dinners, university functions and show openings.
They each welcomed it. The quiet they found together.
“Surely it cannot be that bad, maybe even entertaining?” Cressida asked, nudging her friend’s arm gently with hers.
“Maybe at the start but now it’s grown awkward. They fought over who got to open the car door today.”
“How gracious of them” the blonde smirked winking as her friend blushed profusely.
“Here.” Cressida sighed, handing her friend her car keys, taking pity upon her. “There’s a file on the dash I forgot to bring in for your mother. Take a moment outside and collect yourself, fetch it for me and I will go see what I can do about those two.”
“My hero”Francesca blew out in relief, she often needed a task to distract her brain. Before racing off outside for a moment to herself.
Cressida marched on. Entering through to the dining room, an array of meats and cheese on display and of course a never ending supply of BR wine. The blonde waved her greetings to Kate and Antony who were busy debating canapé combinations. The woman laughing hearty in the oldest Bridgerton siblings face, as he stole a rather flat looking pastry from between her fingers.
Kate and Anthony had been engaged forever, they were so perfectly happy. It often made Cressida want to scream. She was overjoyed for them, however the constant reminder that she had to experience such a love ground on her.
Colin and Mr Anderson. Each talking animatedly about their respective travels that summer. Little did Colin know many of these tales included his mother. Though Cressida was not meant to tell that… and so she wouldn’t. It was not her secret to tell, despite her mother’s proddings.
Michaela stood mindlessly teasing her cousin as her lined up his next shot. Cressida swanned up to the bickering pair unseen, until she removed the other woman’s glass, of what she assumed to be lime and soda and in one fail swoop, emptied the contents down her throat. M had been T-total for years now.
“Cowper" Michaela scoffed lightly at the sight, "I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show” she stated with her signature smirk. Cressida playful snapped her teeth towards her.
“And miss the Olympic Darts Championship?” Cressida smiled, handing the now empty glass back to her scowling friend; "never!”
“Oh!” John cheered as he hit a triple 20, no longer distracted by her Cousins behaviour. His joy short lived as he turned to see the two women rolling their eyes at him. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.
“You think you're so funny” Michaela sulked, passing off the empty glass to a server.
“You two have sent poor Fran into hiding, Yet again.” The blonde scowled at the pair, John and Michaela both looking relatively guilty.
“That was never our intention.” John offered shrugging lightly. Fiddling with the darts between his fingers.
Cressida rolled her eyes, plucking the darts from her friend's hand, to distribute around the room, “Look, I know you two have agreed to allow Francesca to come to the conclusion that she is in love with one of you on her own. However this mindless bickering will only defer her from you both.
“You’re right Cress,” Michaela laughed, shaking her head, “Fran is pretty much a saint, for putting up with us.”
“That she is,” Cressida mumbled, her face visibly softening at the thought of her best friend, “you will all figure it out soon enough. Until then—“
“We—“ John butted in, “We promise to be on our best behaviour. Michaela reassured wrapping a single arm around her friend as she continued to work on her arrangement, walking her back through the hall.
“Who’s coming tonight anyway?” She started stirring their trio around the dining room table in search of sustenance.
“oh, just a couple of people from work, some locals from the brewery and then the regular crowd, I do hear that a Mr Crane is visiting" Michaela replied, smiling almost knowingly the increased wrinkles indicating her amusement at the blonde's reaction.
“Phillip Crane? From Surrey?” Cressida asked again, her voice lilted.
“That very one.” John bemused shoving a cracker onto his tongue.
“Is she coming?" the blonde questioned, plucking a drink from a passing waiter, they had these events down to a T.
Michaela sighed heavily, “Of course she’s coming, Cress, she’s my friend too. Plus, this is her house.” The other woman teased the blonde with the back of her hand.
“Just curious.” Cressida defended, raising her hand in surrender. However emptying her champagne flute in the process. She had a feeling tonight would require a certain amount of patience, something her day had not preserved. “Besides, it's hardly my fault she chooses to be so cruel with me.”
“You are hardly innocent in that department either.” Francesca offered, rejoining the room. Benedict alongside her. “Besides, Eloise is never Cruel she simply does not understand you.”
“Because that is so much better.” The blonde mumbled.
“Complaining about my sister?” Benedict implored, grinning at the blonde's discontent. His hand posed behind his back. “Great because she’s particularly irritable today. Has anyone seen Tilley?” He continued lifting his head above the crowd trying to catch her view.
“I heard Till was in Camden tonight.” Michaela offered much to Benedict’s displeasure, visibly deflating.
“Although, I have noticed quite a fetching nursing major from Oxford." John suggested pointing towards a newcomer across the room. Cocking a brow, Benedict turned to watch the stranger sip her newly refilled drink.
“That’s Holly, 23 newly qualified; a darling, not to mention beautiful” John explained, “we share the same biology lectures.”
"Her boyfriend is quite striking also" Cressida commented with a laugh, “his father is an investor for the studio” the quick smile of friend falling, as they turned to see the woman in question being kissed by an oncoming suitor.
“damn it" John huffed, as he rolled his shoulders in distress.
Benedict and Tilley had a habit of disappointing one another, it was never intentional. However the other always spirld from it, constantly pushing and pulling one another away then forward.
“I am sure Tilley will call” Fran stated in an attempt to comfort her brother.
"However" Michaela continued, grasping her friend's shoulders and steering his attention across the room, "that does leave the quiet dashing young waitress alone.”
"I see," Benedict mumbled, leaning against his friend and observing the potential, "well It would only be polite for me to go over and introduce myself." He grinned, allowing Cressida to straighten his collar.
“And what a well-mannered gentleman you are” Francesca winked as he walked across the room.
Cressida spent the following hours drifting in between meaningless conversations most of which consisted of people discussing the company, their next events, Colin’s recent trip to Europe.
The blonde begged for a breath, grasping the nearest door handle and pushing herself into the room, faltering slightly when her gaze finally landed on an all too familiar brunette elbow deep in the suds from the kitchen sink.
She had noticed her as soon as she'd arrived, of course, Eloise had always been a curiosity to Cressida. But as she saw her now almost a decade later, she knew it was something more. It wasn't prettiness no - it was much more than that. She had an ethereal grace that was breathtaking. Her pale skin seemed to almost glow in the dim light, and her eyes were surely the pools of eternal life as Cressida met them.
"Cressida '' Eloise greeted snapping them out of their trance, the shorter woman taking in Cressida’s form, still as shapely as ever much to the brunette’s hatred.
“Eloise” the blonde nodded, an awkwardness grasping the pair. They had never been close. Mere pleasantries reserved for public encounters.
“You’re looking well…”
“I have been meaning to write to you" the form replied Idly cutting Cressida’s niceties off, "Though I doubt you'd have responded.”
"Try email, it is the twentieth century Lou…” the blonde jokes, placing her champagne flute down and leaning against the counter top.
“Just to give you that satisfaction of blocking me?" Eloise frowned, drawing a strand of brown curls between her fingers to tuck behind her ear. Her gaze still firmly set upon the age dish was scrubbing.
Shaking her head, Cressida laughed slightly, not wanting to give the other woman the pride of her full attention. Clicking her tongue. “What are you doing?” Cressida questioned stepping up behind the other woman. The brunette stopped for a moment, her hands just soaking lifelessly in the sink as she turned her head to look at Cressida in surprise.
The blonde curiously gazed over her shoulder and into the shallow waters. The brillo pad twisting as she flexed her fingers. Cressida always had such an instinctive attitude towards things, it’s something Eloise could never understand. The woman was a bird to water in any given task. Superficially brilliant and irritatingly attractive.
Eloise could hardly stand it.
“What does it look like Cressida? I’m washing up” The brunette deadpanned exasperated. The blonde tutted gently against her ear. Their standing was close enough that Eloise could feel the material of her dress sweeping behind her.
“No need to be so volatile Lou.” The blonde stared her breath hot against the other woman’s ear, “I was simply going to suggest you loosen up a little.” The clink of the blonde’s glass sounded against the counter. Her hips pressing forward essentially trapping the brunette.
“I am perfectly loose, Miss Cowper.” Eloise breathed, the blonde's hand reaching out to remove the glass dish from her grasp.
“Then come back to the party.” The blonde suggested tilting her head to look at her. Their noses breaths apart, a low thrumming of their chests. The noise from the other room edging toward them, as a constant reminder of who it was they were and where.
They hated one another? Didn’t they? They thrived on the misfortune of one another, constant jests and endless teasing between since they were young.
They’d spent plenty of time together, though neither ever felt truly well when alone in a room. Something about the other struck them in the most unsettling way. Merely moments of morbid curiosity to draw them together once more. They fascinated one another, even if they’d never admit it.
Even at University they existed in their separate sectors on opposite ends of the campus. Fran and Michaela, their only connection during the term times. The family gatherings were spent actively avoiding each other.
They just couldn’t grasp a hold of one another, Eloise did not under Cressida and the Blonde did not wish to explore this Bridgerton further.
Though they often found themselves here, alone in spaces of tension. Basking in the time void of one another. Freed from a plague of lingering looks and lacking control. Cressida hardly recognised herself when she was interacting with Eloise.
Eloise didn’t either. Though how would she, they hardly knew each other.