The next morning, everyone and their mamas were at the picnic located in the park. Once the Bridgerton staff had set up the camp and arranged the tables and chairs, that was where Eleanora resided for most of the morning and afternoon, her nose practically attached to the pages.
"Come play a game with us, Nora!" Hyacinth called from where she, Colin, Anthony, and Gregory were playing catch.
"I mustn't," she said sheepishly. "A woman mustn't play games . . . Plus my book is getting really good."
"Oh honestly, Nora!" Benedict laughed from next to her, in between shoving hors d'oeuvres into his mouth. With that, Hyacinth and Gregory started cheering and calling for her to play with them.
"You shall play a game with us or I will throw your little book in the river," Anthony threatened teasingly.
"You wouldn't!" Eleanora gasped in mockery.
Anthony walked over to her, took the book from her hands and set it down. The viscount then proceeded to take both her hands in his and lead her to the other siblings. The gesture made Eleanora blush, but thankfully her maid applied rouge to her cheeks that morning while she was getting ready, so hopefully no one (especially Anthony) had noticed the change in her complexion.
After the five settled down from their game, Anthony stepped aside to sit with Daphne in the grass, who was gazing at the river.
"I was not aware, Sister, of what Berbrooke attempted," he confessed. "I would have helped you. You should have told me."
"Would you have believed me?" she scoffed, finally darting her eyes to him. "Did you only change your mind about Lord Berbrooke because another man told you the truth?"
Anthony was taken aback by this. "You truly esteem me so little?"
"After I apprised you of my wishes and you proceeded to ignore them, yes, Brother. I do."
With that, Daphne stood up to meet with Simon, who had just arrived on his horse to meet with her for a promenade.
Anthony stayed sitting for a moment, thinking of how to confront Eleanora about this and how to apologize to her about being right about Berbrooke's intentions. He turned his head to find her reading that damned book in the same seat she was in before she joined him and his siblings.
"Has that book enraptured you so?" he called to her.
"Hm?" she said, raising her head. "Quite so."
"Would you like to promenade? I must speak with you about something."
Eleanora's eyes widened. It did not take her long to answer. "Erm . . . of course." She set her book down and stood up, smoothing out her day dress and grabbing her shawl.
Anthony did the same before walking up to Violet. "Mother, Nora and I will be taking a walk. We won't be long."
With that, the eldest son kissed his mother on the cheek before offering his arm to Eleanora. With Eleanora's hand around his arm, the two exited the tent and began following the trail.
"Remember what I said to you last night about being right?" Anthony asked after a few minutes of strolling in silence.
"How could I forget? You said three words then bolted out of my view," Eleanora said with a laugh.
"Hastings had told me of the advances Berbrooke made towards Daphne."
Hearing those words, Eleanora froze in her steps. Anthony stopped walking also. She could barely formulate a response, merely just blinking at him. It finally clicked to Eleanora as to why Daphne had, in fact, punched Berbrooke.
"Apologies," she muttered, shaking her head frustratingly. "That is . . . a lot to take in. I feared the worst, but I never thought my worst nightmare would fall upon a dear friend-"
"I'm sorry," Anthony interrupted. "I did not listen to you nor Daphne until it was too late. I now know my wrongdoings and I regret making that mistake."
"Have you told Daphne of this?"
"Yes."
With that, they continued walking in silence, until a question kept nagging in Anthony's mind. "Nora."
She turned to look at him. "Hm?"
"What happened at the ball last night?"
Eleanora knew she was in deep water now. He was going to ask her about thinking back to Jerome Russell. "Simon told you about Berbrooke's advancements. You just told me that-"
"No," he said. "I mean when we were dancing and suddenly . . . you weren't yourself. Like you weren't present."
"Must you know, Anthony?" she hesitated, clenching her jaw.
He looked her in her eyes. "Yes."
Eleanora took a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the passing trees. "You making that promise about Daphne's marriage reminded me when you promised my marriage to Jerome would go well. And that got me thinking of when Jerome forced me to agree on the investments in the Americas. I'll never forget what he threatened upon me if I didn't agree to the investments."
"What did he say?" Anthony asked hesitantly.
"He would throw me out into the streets," she answered, refusing to make eye contact with the viscount.
Suddenly she felt chilly, feeling the need to tighten her shawl around her arms.
"I had no idea," Anthony said in a whisper.
"How could you have?" Eleanora said with a humorless laugh. "He just got temperamental sometimes, that's all."
Continuing their promenade in silence, Anthony covered his free hand over Eleanora's fingers, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. He did this in an attempt to give her nonverbal reassurance after what she just confessed. Eleanora finally looked up at him to see his brown eyes looking back at her with a small smile, and she covered Anthony's hand with her own as a silent 'thank you.'
It still stumped Anthony that Eleanora had seen anything good in Jerome to marry him in the first place, but he decided not to mention his concern that very moment.
Once they reached back to their camp, Eleanora fixed her eyes on a figure in the distance and muttered to herself, "Oh no."
"What is it?" Anthony asked, following her gaze. The smile he had during the last half of their promenade morphed into a grim line. "Oh no."
Berbrooke was walking speedily towards the camp, holding a paper in hand, with an even more bloodied up and swollen face worse than the purple eye.
"Bridgerton!" he called. "I bring cheerful news, Bridgertons!"
Eleanora could see from the corner of her eye Daphne leaving Simon's side to rush to the camp to see what was the matter, and soon, Simon followed.
"I have taken matters in my own hands and sought a special license for my wedding to Miss Bridgerton," Berbrooke announced, holding up the paper proudly.
"There is to be no wedding," Daphne said.
"I have told you, the arrangement is canceled," Anthony said calmly, though his chest was rising and falling in rage as he and Eleanora walked back to camp.
"Lord Berbrooke, you look in a great deal of pain," Violet said, trying to pacify the tense atmosphere. "Shall we continue this in a more private location?"
"I require no further conversation," Berbrooke stated, turning to Violet. "Though perhaps I am finally speaking to the true head of the Bridgerton house." He then turned to Anthony. "For if it were you, I imagine you would have instructed your sister to take better care than to encourage certain attentions while alone with me on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall. Of course, mere hearsay of such scandal could wreak havoc on even the most influential of families. What would someone like, say, Lady Whistledown do with such unseemly information?"
"Is that a threat?" Anthony demanded, malice in his voice.
Berbrooke kept his cool composure. "It is certainly not. Because in three days, I am to marry." He looked at Daphne. "I have the diamond of the season. I have the very best the ton has to offer. I have a Bridgerton. And I shall save her, as well as your entire family from the ruin which you could not protect them."
Berbrooke shoved the marriage license into Anthony's chest as Simon charged at him, though thankfully Benedict and Colin held him back.
"I look forward to the union of our great families." Before Berbrooke walked off, he stopped in front of Eleanora, placing his fingers under her chin and inching closer to her. "Farewell, my sweet. 'Twas a shame we couldn't have married, if it weren't for your spinster qualities," he said with a malicious and swollen smile.
Just hearing the word made her shudder. Eleanora swatted his hand away and took a step back. "Get away from me, you pig."
"And a feisty one, too. Bridgerton. Hastings." With that, Berbooke walked off.
Anthony folded up the paper and tucked it away hastily, immediately walking towards Eleanora as her eyes watered from the interaction. "Did he touch you? What did he say?" he demanded.
"He said he would have married me if I weren't for me being a . . . " Eleanora said, struggling to say the word. "A spinster," she said in a whisper, wiping and blinking away a single tear.
In the carriage, both Daphne and Eleanora were shaken up by the encounter, looking out of their respective windows of the carriage.
"I must issue my challenge to Berbrooke straight away," Anthony concluded across from her.
"Anthony," Violet chided.
"I've been properly trained in the matter," he continued. "I know the rules to follow-"
"You are not to duel with Lord Berbrooke, do you understand me?" Violet put her head in her hand. "I do not care what kind of training you think you may have. It is illegal. Not to mention positively horrific."
"Gentlemen are left with no other choice, Mother," Anthony argued. Eleanora rolled her eyes at the excuse. "When a young woman, let alone one's sister is rumored to be dishonored, the consequences shall be deadly."
"It is no solution," Daphne said finally. "Should Lord Berbrooke decide to make good on his threat before you shoot him dead, Brother, what happens then? He may decide to open his tiny mouth at any moment, and then I shall be ruined." She looked up and eyed everyone in the carriage. "As will we all." After a pause from thinking, she concluded, "I must marry Nigel Berbrooke. It is the only choice."
Eleanora let out a stressed sigh.
~~~
It has come to this author's attention that the ton is abuzz with a most sordid tale. It is said that one cannot judge a book by its cover. But in the case of the Bumbling Baron Berbrooke, it seems his displeasing appearance is quite an apt metaphor for the state of affairs in his household. I would not be surprised if Lord Berbrooke was called away to the country on alleged business. Business which perhaps might involve one former maid and young boy, who we can only hope takes after his mother.
Yours truly,
Lady Whistledown
Eleanora set the pamphlet down with the brightest smile on her face, almost as if she were the Cheshire Cat.
What are you reading that has you ecstatic?" Violet asked, busy with her sewing by the fireplace.
"Just the latest Whistledown," she replied.
Violet couldn't help but smile a little, knowing exactly which part of Whistledown Eleanora was reading.
Anthony entered the room. "I have heard talk that Berbrooke has left town. I am given to think this solution to our problem did not come about by chance." Eleanora smirked at the thought, resolving back to her pamphlet. "I am resolved to handle matters differently in the future."
"Or perhaps not at all," Violet said smartly after a pause.
"The latter is what I'd prefer," Eleanora chimed in. She turned to Anthony's glare staring back at her. She pursed her lips, saying, "And, that's my cue to get ready for my bath." Eleanora got up and swiftly left the room, pamphlet in hand.
Anthony couldn't help but picture Eleanora swiftly derobing before entering her bath and-
"I know society has dictated your present role in the family, Anthony," Violet said, interrupting his thought. "With Daphne officially out, I assure you, I am more than capable." She looked down at her stitching work, before holding it up to show Anthony. "This is for Daphne. Tulips; they symbolize passion. A most appropriate hem for your sister when she decides to marry the duke." After a moment, Violet looked up at her eldest son in thought. "Perhaps your bride would like the same."
Anthony could only look back at Violet, not reacting to her suggestion. "Good night, Mother," he said finally.
~~~
"So, with Berbrooke out of the picture, does that make your chances with the duke far greater?" Eleanora asked Daphne, leaning forward on the loveseat.
"We shall see," she replied shortly, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
"It is just quite odd, that is all. That you've turned down three proposals."
Daphne sighed. "And you've heard this from Whistledown?"
"Maybe?" Eleanora said with a small smile.
Daphne stood up and began pacing the drawing room.
"Daphne, have you thought about with whom you'd like to dance with at tonight's ball?" asked Violet.
"I have some ideas," she answered. "Lord Weaver is a fine dancer."
"Weaver. An odd name," Eleanora muttered, making Eloise chuckle.
"Lord Hardy was asking about you at White's last night," Anthony said, too fixated on his newspaper.
"Lord Hardy?" Violet questioned. "What about the duke?"
"The duke has not proposed, Mama," Daphne reminded her mother.
"If he does not make haste with it, I shall sweep him up for myself!" Eleanora joked, making Anthony roll his eyes. She moved from her seat on the loveseat and sat across from Anthony, eyeing that Gregory and Hyacinth were plotting to steal one of Anthony breakfast pastries. "My lord, is it a trick of the light, or is the paint appearing chipped?" Eleanora said, pointing to one of the walls.
"What? Where?" Anthony followed her finger, just in time to catch Gregory already running off with a pastry, making Eleanora cover her mouth from laughter.
"I am still considering my best course," Daphne said, still continuing the conversation with her mother.
"Wise girl," Anthony praised.
"Wise girl," Eleanora repeated, attempting to match his tone. He couldn't help but grin at how amusing Eleanora sometimes could be.
"And Lord Hardy is a fine option," Daphne thought aloud. "Although, he is rather boastful."
"My dear, why ever do you complicate matters so?" Violet said. "You must simply marry the man who feels like your dearest friend."
Daphne threw her hands in the air. "Is that it, Mama? How very simple indeed!"
"Yes, quite," Violet replied with a chuckle, her daughter's sarcastic tone going over her head.
~~~
"And where are you off on this delightful evening?" Eleanora asked Anthony, stretching on the loveseat like a lounging cat from slumping over her book all evening.
"The gentlemen's club."
Eleanora grimaced. "Oh, that blasted place. Where all the single, bitter men gather to talk poorly of any and every subject, knock their socks off getting drunk, and gamble their money away, until little moths fly ever so elegantly out of their empty pockets."
"I appreciate how you think so highly of the club," Anthony said dryly.
"Have fun, I suppose," Eleanora said with a shrug, returning her gaze back to her book once Anthony left the room.
Anthony couldn't help but think back to what Eleanora said about gambling while he was in the gentleman's club; though as he gambled, he was responsible of it and knew his limit.
"I am inclined to investigate the provenance of such lucky dice," Lord Featherington said skeptically as Anthony won another round.
"They do not land the same way when you were casting, Featherington," Simon pointed out from next to Anthony. "Perhaps the common element is you, after all. Might it be best to show some restraint?"
"Restraint, I fear, is not among Lord Featherington's skills," Anthony joined, trying to see how far he could push Featherington.
"Well then, neither is gambling." Simon and Anthony laughed as Featherington walked away bitterly. "I seem to have done it, Bridgerton."
"Done what?"
"Proved you remain capable of laughing again in my presence." The two walked away from the gambling table.
"You cannot fault me for being doubtful of your intentions," Anthony defended.
"Indeed, I can. For all the mischief you've witnessed me make, you'd also know I'd never make a fool of a lady, and certainly not one such as your sister."
"You confound me," Anthony said with mock awe as they both sat down on the couch in the lounging area. "You are respectful, and yet I know you have no intention of marriage. Has that changed?"
"I cannot claim so."
"Then whatever could your intentions be?"
"Respectful. Might we leave it there?" Simon said, wanting to steer away any further discussion on the matter.
As if on cue, the main door opened to reveal ladies in strategically clad outfits and fans walking in a sultry fashion. Anthony immediately recognized Siena from the women, excusing himself from Simon. He watched from the side as the opera singer sat down and talked with the duke, leaning into him in interest and giggling at the duke's comments.
~~~
"Whatever could you be doing at this time of night?" Anthony whispered, catching Eleanora staring at the the stove wistfully. He had just come back from the gentleman's club, seeing the light on in the kitchen.
Eleanora glanced at him, letting out a sigh, before returning her gaze to the appliance. "I couldn't sleep. Needlework wouldn't help, reading wouldn't help. I even tried counting sheep, but alas . . . no sheep to be seen."
Anthony looked at her quizzically at how she worded her analogy of trouble sleeping. He stepped inside the kitchen, standing next to her. "Then what are you doing staring at the stove?"
"I was going to warm myself some milk," Eleanora said, waving her hand to the bottle of milk on the counter. "But then it occurred to me: I know how to care for horses, how to tend a farm, but I haven't a clue on how to work a stove." She turned to Anthony. "Might you know?"
He turned to her, furrowing his eyebrows quizzically. "Me?"
"I should not know how to do it," Eleanora said with a shrug.
Anthony put his hands on his hips. "And you believe I should?"
"You manage finances, surely you should know how to work a stove," Eleanora teased.
"Those two items do not have the slightest correlation!"
"Shall we settle with cold milk then?" She turned to him for an answer.
Anthony broke eye contact with her, looking at the bottle of milk on the counter. "We shall," he concluded, handing her the bottle. "Most refreshing, given the heat."
"How thoughtful, my lord," Eleanora said with a smile, taking a swig from the bottle before giving it to Anthony, who did the same. "How was the gentleman's club? Shall I need to call a servant to catch the moths flying out of your pockets anytime soon?"
Anthony smiled at her, appreciating her humor and how she worded things, even if sometimes he did not understand. "No need to call a servant tonight," he said, still looking at Eleanora with a small smile and grasping the bottle.
Eleanora cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at Anthony's eyes. "Must you hoard over the milk?" she said with a laugh, holding out her hand, receiving the bottle. The two heard footsteps, finding Daphne at the doorway of the kitchen like a quiet mouse.
"Was I interrupting?" she asked, in her night robe.
"We were just sharing cold milk," Eleanora answered.
Daphne wrinkled her nose. "Why ever would you choose to drink cold milk?"
"We didn't choose, we just don't know how to light the stove," Anthony said. "Would you happen to know, Sister?"
Daphne hesitated. "Mind sharing a bit of the bottle with me, then?" Eleanora handed it to her, and Daphne took a swig from it, passing it to Anthony. "Might I ask you both a question?"
"So long it has nothing to do with the inner workings of that thing," Anthony said, nodding towards the stove.
"It is about the duke."
"What about the duke?"
"Do you know the reason he is so opposed to marriage?" Daphne asked, avoiding eye contact with both of them.
"Yes, Anthony, do tell. I'd love to know, myself," Eleanora chimed in.
"All right, you two-" he sighed.
"He is your closest friend," Daphne insisted. "Surely you must . . . know things."
"The things I know are certainly not for your ears," Anthony retorted sternly.
After a moment of silence Daphne fidgeted with her hands and finally said sheepishly, "How foolish of me to ever even wonder about such things."
"He barely knew his father. Never knew his mother. Not one sibling," Anthony said finally, taking a swig of milk. "The duke grew up . . . quite differently than us, Daph." He turned to Eleanora. "And different from you, Nora."
"Not enough horses to his liking?" Eleanora said, trying to lighten the mood.
"In all the twenty years I have known him, he has not mentioned his so-called family even once. He spent his entire life alone."
"How very sad," Daphne noted, shaking her head.
"He prefers it that way. You must not concern yourself with his troubles. You must simply know some people are not meant to be together, no matter how much we might wish otherwise." He glanced at Eleanora as he said that when she was too busy looking the other way.
"I see."
After a pause, Anthony said, smiling, "Very well," took a swig from the bottle, passing it to Eleanora, keeping the clockwise routine of passing the bottle.
"Thank you both for the milk," Daphne said. "Perhaps the three of us should do this again sometime." With that, she left the kitchen, leaving Eleanora and Anthony facing each other in chilling silence.
"I guess I shall also be on my way to bed," Eleanora concluded after some time. As she made her way to leave, Anthony stopped her by catching her hand, holding it tightly in his. She looked back at him quizzically.
"Just checking to see if your hands are still freezing," he said, giving her a small smile.
Eleanora couldn't help but smile back at him. "Good night, Anthony," she finally said, though her action did not correlate with her saying of going to bed. In fact, Eleanora found it quite difficult to slip her hand from Anthony's grasp; not because he held tightly, it was quite the opposite. She simply did not want the moment to end. Her fingers finally grazed with his in separation and she exited the kitchen.