Chapter Text
Eloise closed the door to her room, taking a steady breath.
Her sister’s words rang in her mind. You only care for yourself, she’d spat at her. Had she been so ignorant of her own sister’s feelings? Eloise wanted to spend more time with Hyacinth; she didn’t want to spend it going over seating arrangements and other etiquette rules.
Had she been too caught up with her own frustrations? Was the rest of her life reserved for being dragged around without thought of her own desires, all because she didn’t want to marry? It seemed her mother was fine with her chaperoning her younger sister until she too found her perfect fairy tale match and they left for whatever countryside the gentlemen lived in.
The way Hyacinth had rebuked her left her shocked. Eloise couldn’t remember the last time she saw her youngest sister even snap at anyone. Maybe it was her own presumptuousness that led her to think that she wouldn’t ever assert her own thoughts.
She walked over to her vanity and dropped her head into her hands. One fight shouldn’t have left her this bereft; sisters fought all the time. There’d been numerous instances of her fighting with Daphne only to forget it the next day after. But this didn’t feel like something that could be so easily brushed away.
In the dim light, she caught sight of her reflection. Decked in a variety of jewels, hair styled with dozens of pins. A beautiful prize sparkling bright enough, brighter than the others, a diamond. Nobody looks at a simple opal; everyone wants a diamond. Her only purpose was to become someone’s rare possession. All her sister learned was the same, because it was worthless to know anything else.
It did no good to ruminate over it; nothing would change. Her sisters were fine going through this charade, she wasn’t, and that was a problem. A problem that wasn’t going to be solved anytime soon.
She removed her gloves, taking the time to take out the pins in her hair, letting her locks fall down and settle against her shoulders. The vanity was littered with combs and creams that she moved aside so she could rest her head and arms against it.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, I’ll talk with Hyacinth, and it’ll all be better.
When she awoke, the sun shone too brightly into her eyes.
Eloise was laying supine, staring up at the roof of a wooden canopy bed. Once she sat up and rubbed her eyes, she noticed that the sheets were the color of champagne instead of white. The boning of her stays chafed against her chemise, causing her to look down and realize she hadn’t changed out of her evening gown.
Her fingers rose to unbutton her dress, until she saw the window with a view of sloping green hills. Underneath the windowsill was a white contraption that looked like bones pasted together. This was not London, which meant she wasn’t in her own room.
The next possibility was Aubrey Hall, only Eloise couldn’t remember any rooms like these at her family’s country home. She pushed herself off the bed only to find more peculiarities: a book with the title House of Mirth, along with a sculpture on the nightstand that had a gauzy cover. When she traced her finger along the edge, she felt a glass orb underneath it, with a string near it. She tugged on it, jumping back when it lit up.
Just what kind of world had she stumbled into where some strange thing could glow like a candle instantly? It could’ve just been a dream where she was incredibly lucid, to the point that she could feel the carpet beneath her feet.
Next to the bed was a mirror, with a mantle and fireplace. She didn’t look much different, though her hair was slightly mussed. Her hand pressed against the mirror, feeling the cold glass.
“I’ll check to see if it’s in here,” an unfamiliar voice called in the hall. It sounded like a woman who had an accent from up north.
That must’ve been one of the maids. Eloise froze; none of this felt like Aubrey Hall, and now she’d come in and find her. It was unlikely her mother or siblings were here, and if this was a dream, it didn’t seem to be ending soon.
The voice suddenly became closer, causing her heart to almost stop beating. On instinct, she ducked behind the bed, closing her eyes.
Now would be a perfect time to wake up, Eloise thought to herself. The footsteps grew in volume, and she could tell that the person was inside. They shuffled around, lifting carpets and other objects while muttering to themselves.
She pressed her cheek against the carpet, feeling the fuzz tickle her face. The person had stayed on the other side of the room so far, searching for some mysterious object. Her limbs felt incapable of moving; she feared even taking one simple breath.
“How hard could it be to find one necklace?” The woman muttered to herself, huffing.
Underneath the bed sheets, she saw something underneath. It looked too thick to be a pocket watch, but it seemed to glint even in the dark. If she weren’t so nervous, she would’ve grabbed it and shown it to her.
“I thought Americans were supposed to be more organized, especially when it came to their jewels.” The voice suddenly sounded closer, a shadow descending over her.
“It’s one jewelry box, one for all of them, that’s all-what the bloody hell?!”
Eloise heard the woman stumble backwards, and her insides knotted together. There was no choice but to turn and face her; it could at least help her get some answers.
Gradually, she turned around, face to face with an older woman in a long black formless dress with a lace collar. Her brown hair was pinned up except for a few taut curled bangs on her forehead, not unlike some ladies of the ton. Shock and rage flickered across her face as she slowly rose.
“I must be going mad,” the woman sputtered.
Myself as well, she thought to herself.
None of them spoke for a while, so Eloise broke the silence with a simple question. “Is this Aubrey Hall?”
Now the woman became enraged. “This is Downton. I don’t know what you’re referring to. If you were a patient that somehow wandered into the bedroom of the Earl and Countess, that would explain some things. But you’re dressed up in some strange old garb; are you one of Carson’s old friends when he worked as a traveling showman?”
She couldn’t understand half of what the woman had said; all she knew was that she wasn’t home, either in Mayfair or Aubrey Hall. It was hard to comprehend all the names she’d listed, all of them blurring together. Other questions she had would probably make the woman even more irritable, but she had to know.
“Is this… Kent?”
The woman tilted her head and knit her eyebrows together. “What are you babbling about? No, this is not Kent! What’s the matter with you?”
She couldn’t tolerate being talked down to like a fool. Taking a step closer, she fixed her gaze on the other woman.
“I’m not here to cause trouble; in fact, I’m just as confused as you. I was asleep in my own bedroom, in Mayfair, until I woke up here. I don’t suppose my family is here, but all I want is to get back home.”
Silence persisted again. All she could hear were the birds outside trilling, so silent compared to Mayfair where the delivery boys would at least be awake running through the streets.
“How do I know you haven’t just escaped from some asylum?”
Eloise rolled her eyes. Not that she could blame the her, but it seemed impossible to explain the situation to her without sounding completely mad.
“If I escaped the madhouse, I don’t know if this is where I’d come.” That might draw more anger from the woman, but she didn’t care. This day had been so confusing; all she wanted to do was get out of here.
Remembering the object she’d seen beneath the bed, she leaned down and fumbled, clasping onto a metal chain. She expected the maid to scold her, but nothing happened. When she stood up, she saw that she’d grabbed a ruby necklace.
“I believe you were looking for this, correct?” She held it up to her.
The woman nodded, taking the necklace from her and placing it on the vanity. With the way she was spoken to, she’d expected to be accused of stealing, despite still being clad in a bejeweled dress.
The names she’d listed stuck in her mind. None of them sounded like any of the Bridgerton’s friends or acquaintances, which meant the earl the woman mentioned might not recognize her name. That realization slowly sank into her, leaving her more lost than she already was.
A deep voice could be heard from the hallway, along with thundering footsteps. Her nerves jolted at the thought of another stranger interrogating her.
“O’Brien, if you can’t find it, I need you downstairs.” It belonged to a man, who rushed into the room, He was rather portly, with large dark eyebrows and a prominent Roman nose. When he made eye contact with Eloise, he stopped in his tracks.
“Good heavens, what’s going on?”
“My knowledge is as good as yours,” the woman replied tartly.
Eloise didn’t move, already exhausted thinking about trying to convince another person she wasn’t a madwoman who broke into the house.