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Eloise didn’t think she’d ever set foot into the Cowper residence again. With its vampire aesthetics and dark corners that seemed to suck in all sources of light, it was as inviting as a coffin. The last time she had been here she braved the elements for the bright spot within that defied the dark palette. A brave choice, considering the original decorator’s goal was probably to foster one’s innermost demons. Now she was braving it to face the beast within its twisted labyrinth.
The myth of the minotaur was a curious thing. A creature banished to a maze for the sins of its parents, shamed and shunned for its appearance, destined to be slain by the hero. Benedict had thought it rather pitiful. “I bet it chases people around to entertain itself. Must be boring hanging around the labyrinth with not a friend in the world.”
“He cannot help what he is,” Colin said with a chuckle. “Perhaps he just wants company. His parents never wanted him, so he's probably begging for a hug.”
“That is both depressing and melodramatic,” Benedict had laughed.
“I cannot even begin to imagine parents not wanting their child,” Hyacinth sighed sympathetically.
Anthony was obviously thinking about something else. “Building a labyrinth seems like a waste of time and resources.”
“You are missing the point of the story,” Eloise interrupted their musings. “It is a tale about using one's cleverness and resources to overcome complex situations. It is basic heroism.”
“That is not nearly as fun as desiring hugs,” Benedict caught the pillow Colin threw at him.
Francesca, who had been quietly studying music sheets next to Eloise during this discussion, piped up. “I think what our dear brothers are trying to say is that if you look at the story from another perspective, it becomes a tragedy of isolation and being misunderstood.”
Eloise hummed, more inclined to listen to Francesca than her unserious brothers.
“Well then, if we go that route and the monster- that was born a monster and acts as a monster might I add!-- is truly the victim, then,” she shrugged dismissively. “I would consider it a kindness to put it out of its misery.”
Eloise silently cursed Penelope for convincing her to come back here. Colin had been all ready to go, convinced he could somehow talk Cressida down when they had never even shared a proper conversation before. Eloise made the mistake of commenting that Cressida would never in a million years be reasoned with by a man who could never relate to her, and Penelope looked at her with that twinkle of an idea in her mind.
Despite Colin’s and her own protests, she ended up being pushed into the carriage against her wishes. On the way over she felt like she was going to be sick. A string of friendship breakups over this past year weighed on her conscience. First Theo, then Penelope, and most recently, Cressida. The way they ended things reminded her too heavily of the way her and Penelope fell out, how it had devastated her. She could feel in her bones that while she had not been friends with Cressida as long as Penelope, the potential was there, along with the potential of mutually assured destruction at the hands of someone who knew her and could throw her feelings back in her face. Averse to experiencing that yet again, Cressida was designated a danger that Eloise had to protect herself from. And yet, here she was, reluctant, uncomfortable, and slightly nauseous as she awaited what seemed an eternity in the Cowper’s drawing room.
“Eloise?”
Her hair stood on end. She remembered the first time she had called on Miss Cowper, how pleasantly surprised Cressida had sounded as she walked in.
The surprise was still evident in her voice now, but accompanied with wariness and suspicion.
The Bridgerton braced herself with a deep breath, and turned to face her former friend. “The one and only.” Lady Cowper stood protectively next to her daughter and regarded her much like she usually did; feigned politeness to someone she was clearly repulsed by. Cressida was nearly as severe, but also curious. Maybe even hopeful. Eloise crossed her arms against it and cleared her throat.
“May I speak to Miss Cowper alone?” Lady Cowper didn’t put up much of a fuss, thankfully. Merely gave Cressida a hard pointed look before removing herself from the room to leave the two women in a standoff.
Now, Cressida was no minotaur. She was far too stunning. But her glittering pink gown could not hide the energy thrumming under the surface of her flawless face. The energy of a viper poised to strike at the first sign of weakness. She had to remind herself of the reason for her reluctant visit and steeled herself.
“Villainy suits you Cressida, you are simply glowing.”
“Why are you here, Eloise?” Cressida was obviously not here for small talk, but then again, neither was Eloise.
“I'm here on behalf of my brother and Penelope. For some reason they thought I might have a better chance at getting you to back off than Colin storming over here himself, upset because you blackmailed his wife. What were you thinking, exactly?”
Cressida just stared at her, and it wasn’t hard to tell what she was thinking. Her eyes were always so expressive. “You knew Penelope was Lady Whistledown,” Cressida concluded softly, sounding not surprised but disappointed. “I see.”
The display made Eloise extremely indignant. How dare Cressida judge her? If anyone should be disappointed in someone’s conduct, it should clearly be herself! “Yes, well. I’m supposed to ask you to drop the whole matter, but I had the sneaking suspicion that you would rather walk into a sword than take back any of your behavior…” She trailed off as though her statement was a question, watching the blonde all the while. Cressida’s jaw flexed in response, clearly seething as she continued to observe Eloise in kind. “How did you figure that out, by the way?” Eloise couldn’t help but be curious. “I was after her identity for two seasons before I found the truth.”
Cressida unclenched her jaw to smirk bitterly. “I know you don’t think me clever, but I have my ways.”
“Or luck was somehow on your side.”
That made Cressida laugh, though not in the melodic way she usually did. “Then that would certainly be a first.”
“I suppose it does not matter. How you’ve conducted yourself since learning the truth has told me all I’ve needed to know regarding your character.”
“You had already made up your mind about my character even before all of this Whistledown nonsense. You were always so ready to make me the villain in any situation regardless of how much effort I put in to prove to you that I valued your friendship. But it is clear to me now that I was merely a placeholder until you got over your lover's quarrel with Penelope.”
Eloise’s eyes widened and she spluttered at the audacity of the accusation. “Lover’s quarrel? Lo- that’s, that is absurd! How dare you--” The way Cressida had that knowing look on her face, eyes bright in a way that Eloise had never given her credit for, was infuriating. “You- you really are a delusional spiteful viper!” she managed to spit out, flustered.
“I suppose it all makes perfect sense when I think about it,” Cressida walked around her, circling her like prey, her voice light and airy like one of their promenades. “You two fell out of favor because you found out about Lady Whistledown. And then you befriended me over the summer to make her jealous. Am I delusional in that assumption, Miss Bridgerton?”
“That is not-” Cressida raised an eyebrow at her, cocky and confident, and it only made Eloise trip up in her denial even more as she felt hot under the collar of her dress. “That is ridiculous.”
“I really must thank you for coming, Miss Bridgerton. You’ve helped me dispel the illusion that you were ever truly my friend. That makes this much easier.” She stopped in front of Eloise, the breeziness gone from her voice. “Bring me the sum that I have asked for, and you shall never see me again.”
“Is that really what you want? To burn every bridge and disappear?”
“There were no bridges left for me to burn down by the time I struck the match, Eloise. Anyone and everyone discarded me so quickly. Like I was nothing. Like I was rubbish off the street.”
“And who is there to blame besides yourself, Cressida? Your bridges are as flimsy as the handkerchiefs you love knitting so much. Instead of admitting you were wrong, you double down on your farce. You yourself are a victim to your own ambition and greed!” Eloise advanced, her finger pushing into Cressida’s shoulder. Cressida pushed herself into the touch, leveraging her height to close in.
“Would you call someone’s need for air when they are drowning ‘greed’?”
“When you ask for double the queen’s reward, I would very much call that the very definition of greed!”
“A measly sum for Lady Whistledown who also happens to be a Bridgerton now!” Cressida had grasped Eloise’s wrist as her tone rose, matching Eloise’s passionate anger.
“What are you going to do with it, exactly? Spend all of it on new hair accessories before you get thrown out into the streets?” Eloise mocked.
“Oh, you simply can’t help yourself, can you? You can’t help looking down on me.”
“It’s not difficult when you often stoop so low,” Eloise let the vehemence drip as she snatched her wrist away from Cressida’s grasp. But she didn’t step away, if anything she pushed herself onto her toes in an effort to match Cressida’s height. “Perhaps you should invest in a shovel since you are oh so very talented at digging yourself further into the pits of Hell!”
“The fate of a grave digger sounds much preferable than staying here to marry a corpse!”
The two women seethed into each other’s faces, close enough to knock their foreheads together if they pushed further forward. Eloise was sorely tempted to. She was shaking with energy, and the only way she could make sense of the reason why must’ve been that she was angry beyond all reason. Angry enough to breathe heavily, to feel her lips part, to feel a fire stoked in the pits of her. She was so hot with anger she couldn’t even think properly. She had to shut her eyes to try to reign in the urge to put her hands on the blonde.
“Cressida, whatever you may think, I am not unsympathetic to your plight. What your father wants to put you through is a cruel fate. However, that is no excuse to drag everyone down along with you.”
Cressida searched her face, gaze narrowed. She sniffed bitterly. “The one who dragged me down was you, Eloise. You infected me with curiosity, with the illusions that maybe someone like me could be afforded choices, independence even. The difference between us is that I’m willing to fight for that possibility, instead of just complaining about it.”
“Because all I ever do is talk, is that right?” Eloise couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice as much as she tried. “That's what everyone keeps throwing in my face, anyways. Well, I’m all ears now, Miss Cowper. By all means, spell out your reasoning to me. That is, if you are capable of spelling at all.” Eloise waited, opening her arms even as her expression stonewalled the other woman with the challenge in her eyes. “Explain to me why should Penelope hand over her hard earned funds to someone who has been nothing but cruel to her? She owes you nothing. I owe you nothing! For God’s sake Cressida, the moment you had any sort of power, you demonstrated how little you cared for me or anyone else by writing those things about my family.” Eloise wielded her words like a knife slipping into Cressida’s ribs, the other woman sucking in a breath at the precision of her strike. “So do go on. Explain it to me.”
It was simultaneously satisfying and sickening to watch Cressida’s expression fill with pain, flinching back and finally putting space between them. Eloise nearly swayed after her but forced herself to remain rooted to the spot and feign a look of mocking patience as she waited for Cressida’s response.
Cressida gathered herself with a thick swallow. “You once told me that you understood how one might be driven to write Whistledown. After you spent a season feeling invisible. Which is nonsense, by the way, you are the least invisible person I have ever met.”
Eloise laughed in disbelief.
“Truly.” Cressida asserted, eyes shining with an admiration that stilled Eloise. “This season I’ve watched you make friends with any lady who lent you an ear. You are effortlessly charming and draw people in with your kindness and humor, in a way that I’ll never hope to replicate. You’ve always had my full attention, Eloise Bridgerton. And if you still felt invisible despite that, then we are not the same.”
Those words created a mass of feelings that seemed to want to settle in Eloise’s throat, and the only way she could divert from it was to push her hoarse voice into a half hearted mockery. “And what would you know about being invisible, Cressida? Were you ignored by the world’s biggest sleeves column in the paper?”
Cressida shook her head. “You’re not listening.”
“I am listening, but the possibility of understanding what point you’re trying to make eludes me,” Eloise said with slight panic creeping into her voice, because maybe she understood more than what she was letting on. That her body understood more than her mind if her thundering heart was any indication.
“I am trying to explain that I care for you!” Cressida approached her once again, laying a hand on Eloise’s cheek and holding her gaze. “That I enjoyed being the Cressida who had earned your respect and friendship. I was so proud to be the one standing by your side. I wanted nothing more than to be that Cressida. Your Cressida. Yours.” The last admission was spoken in a whisper so delicate a shiver traveled through Eloise’s body.
“I understand now that that was never the case, nor a possibility. I was cut open and you watched me bleed out, no doubt thinking that I deserved it. And perhaps I do. I… regret how far things have progressed, but I’ve come too far to take it all back at this point. I simply wish to be free of it all now. To be free of society and Whistledown, and you. I’m sure everyone truly within your circle wishes the same.” She started to pull away, and Eloise surprised herself by placing her hand atop Cressida's, holding her in place.
“So that's it, then? You’re just going to run away from the consequences? From me?” Her temper was flaring again at the audacity that Cressida could say and do things that sent her into a tailspin, and think she could just wash her hands of it and leave without so much as an apology or proper fight.
“Eloise, please.”
“You’re not going to get off that easily. As you know, I can be very stubborn about injustice. And letting you slip away without repercussion would be the greatest injustice of all. So the answer is no, Cressida Cowper, I won’t let you leave. I do not wish for you to leave.” They were both taken aback by the level of desperation in that last sentence.
Cressida’s eyes darted between hers, lips parted, irises blooming darkly in curiosity, in hope. She shuddered into Eloise’s touch as her other gloved hand ran up her bicep and curled behind her shoulder. “You think me naive enough to fall for your promises once again,” Cressida whispered, but she was already leaning down and breathing in the words like she couldn’t help herself.
“You said you enjoyed being the Cressida who earned my respect and friendship. So earn it again. Truly. Don’t give up on me so easily, damn you.” They were so close now that her last plea was said right against Cressida’s mouth.
“Eloise…”
Within the darkness of the Cowper drawing room, where soft candles illuminated, so did two hearts. Not even the dust in the air stirred as they held each other close, on the cusp of an uncertain realization that simultaneously brought them anguish and bewitched them. Cressida’s hands were traveling up Eloise’s back, memorizing her and bringing their fronts together. Eventually, achingly slowly, upon an impatient huff from Eloise’s mouth, their lips finally met in a question of a touch. When they separated, Cressida’s face was the picture of anxiety with her furrowed brows and her breathing laboured.
Eloise licked her lips and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. I’m going to need you to repeat yourself. Possibly more than once.”
The anxious slant to Cressida’s mouth gave way to an exasperated sigh. “You’re such a bad listener.” The way she said the words, low and curious like the satisfying drag of a cigarette, the spicy smoke of implications exhaled against her face, made Eloise feel reduced to bare bones. “Very well, I’ll tell you as many times as it takes.” Eloise was already nodding in agreement and pulling her down before she could barely finish speaking. Gone was the hesitance as their lips slid against each other’s in their effort to get as close as possible as soon as possible.
Eloise learned quickly that this was about to be her new vice. More addicting than sneaking a stronger drink into her cup or stealing Benedict’s cigarettes. Sweeter than the extra pastries she’d swipe from the kitchens, and more arousing than getting her hands on a forbidden book. The way Cressida’s hand cupped the back of her head to hold her in place as her tongue swiped the inside of her mouth had her making an ungodly sound.
Soon enough they stumbled to the settee, and Eloise had to hike up her dress around her hips to properly mount her, hands guiding her hips. They knew what they wanted right away, seeing the agreement and consent in each other’s eyes, and they were joined at once with the knowledge that they were most likely pressed for time. Cressida warned her to be quiet but Eloise was too caught up in the delirium of pleasure to pay the warning much heed. The Queen of England herself could have strode in barking demands and Eloise would have politely asked her to wait a few moments. What could be more pressing than the way Cressida purred “Allow me” before she used her teeth to deglove Eloise’s hands.
Let them come, Eloise thought as she dragged Cressida’s sinfully long fingers through her melting core. Fingers crafted by design to reach so far inside another woman that she’d feel the fulfillment all the way to the top of her head. Soon she was coming herself, arms wrapped tightly around Cressida’s shoulders as her name fell desperately from her lips. Her hunger never waning, she kissed down the column of Cressida’s throat, leaving the most scandalous marks upon her unmarked flesh.
“I’m still cross with you,” Eloise wanted to make clear as she sank to her knees in front of a sitting Cressida, who spread her legs to accommodate her.
“Of course you'd argue during this,” Cressida complained as she scooted forward in silent request.
“You know me, I’m not so quick to forgive and forget.” She did forget her train of thought when she saw the wet patch she had left on Cressida’s dress. The sight left her nether parts weeping once again.
A hand wound itself into her hair, and she knew neither of them would leave this room looking at all put together. “You must make haste before mother comes back,” Cressida begged, irate with frustration.
“Promise you won’t leave. Promise me you’ll stay,” Eloise kissed and sucked her way up Cressida’s thighs.
Cressida groaned above her. “There are few options for me, and you know it. I would need your help. Don’t make me ask for it again, or I shall triple my ransom, so help me God.”
“What am I to do, exactly? I don’t have any power over your fate.”
“You have more power in your hands than you realize. Do you not see the evidence right before your very eyes?” She spread her legs wider.
Eloise salivated like a dog as she scented Cressida. “Christ, yes,” she agreed before having a taste of the fruit in front of her, feeling empowered serving on her knees.
She emerged from the Cowper residence feeling victorious in a way she hadn’t previously expected. Instead of putting the beast out of its misery with its head in her hands, she felt she had another hand in hers instead as she led them out of the labyrinth. She wasn’t going to be the hero of this tale, for who was to say who the true villain was? From the minotaur’s perspective, the unforgiving world was the monster. And even though she wasn’t quite ready to forgive, she would never have the opportunity to do so if Cressida cheated her the chance.
By the time she made it back to her family home, she walked in a daze and with a limp. Hers was a mind uncorked, having spilled so many emotions and fluid tonight that she was spent. She was rushed at by Colin almost as soon as she strode through the threshold, which burst the bubble of memories that kept her simmering beneath the collar.
“Well? What of Cressida?” He implored her.
Penelope appeared behind him, horror clear on her face. “Oh my God, what did she do to you? Did you two have an altercation?”
Eloise tried to smooth her hair and cursed. Her appearance had been a lost cause, but she thought she managed to put herself together at least a little on the ride over. “Something along those lines. Not to worry, I gave as good as I got,” Eloise said, fighting a smirk at the bruises that Cressida was sure to discover in the morning. Surely, her father wouldn’t let her step foot out of the house again with her looking like that. Perhaps she had thoughtlessly bought them some time.
Colin’s face clouded over with thunder. “That's it, I’m done trying to reason with that deplorable monster,” he announced with conviction, however his march toward the door was interrupted by Eloise’s hand.
“Hold your horses, dear brother. Cressida has agreed to drop the ransom.”
“What? Truly?” Penelope gasped. “Did you beat her up that badly?”
“Lets just say that I’m a master of persuasion, and leave it at that,” Eloise coughed awkwardly and deflected as smoothly as she could. “Now let me explain the new plan…”