more of an emerald.

  independent & selective eloise bridgerton. predominantly based on netflix’s bridgerton series, with influences from the julia quinn novels & personal headcanons. loved by vicky ( 27 & she/her ), est june 2022.        carrd  !

    that was something, at least. eloise wasn’t sure if she’d ever find ‘happiness’ in the form of a person, but she was hardly looking for it. happiness, as far as she was concerned, consisted of a lot of different things, and gentlemen hardly made the list. why would they? there were far more beneficial, exciting things in life. “if there were ever to be a gentlemen who caught me off guard, i would not reject the idea, but it is not something i feel i need to be fulfilled in life. i would much rather publish a novel.”

     it sounded more than just a little silly, to eloise, but she was bored, and it certainly beat out a lot of the other options. if it came down to it, she’d much rather be doing this, even if she knew it wasn’t likely to end with her doing much interesting at all. there was no way it was actually going to work. “i suppose we can start. does this ever truly work when you do it?”

    everyone seemed to like the bridgertons, for one reason or another. their wealth and their titles, their closeness and the differences between them and the other families in high society...whatever it was, it wasn’t like she was the only one. plenty of young debutantes wished to dance with her brothers, too, and why wouldn’t they? “then dance with me. i can assure you i’m far better company than any of my brothers.”

    “Somewhat,” she murmured, nose scrunching up as she thought of her brother. Not as bad as he’d once been, now that he was a husband and father, but that didn’t mean things had changed entirely. The family had always known Eloise would be the most difficult, which meant heads were being butted constantly.  “I suppose I can understand that everyone wishes to see me married off, but I hardly think it’s a prerequisite to being happy. Surely one could be perfectly happy with or without a man...” It would be different for Frannie now. Widows were entirely different from spinsters, in the eyes of society. “Do you not think so?”

    write her own column. that seemed...logical. eloise paused, allowing the idea to wash over her, considering what she could actually do with that. she wouldn’t want to write gossip, but she certainly had plenty to say. still, how could she make anyone read it? people were interested in gossip, hence the success of whistledown...though if she, like many others she was sure, used a man as a pen name, perhaps she would go further simply by trying. she hardly knew where to begin, but it wasn’t a bad idea. far from it. “do you truly think that would work? would anyone read it? whistledown is successful because people want to hear about who is doing what. who is to say they’d read anything else?”

    that made her scoff. how was she supposed to know what went on behind closed doors? she had nothing to go off of, but she doubted if they were their own people anymore. they were wives, mothers in daphne’s case, no longer doing things for themselves. of course, in the society they lived in, that was practically the case from the moment a girl was born, but she’d still rather try and strive for a shred of independence if she could get it. “how am i supposed to know what goes on when they’re alone? i would assume so, because they’re men. titles hardly change that, do they?”

    a single letter of condolence had ultimately brought them together, it was funny how the world worked. eloise had never envisioned that things would go this way; she hadn’t written to him expecting anything, hadn’t even expected a reply. eloise had simply always liked writing letters, she’d wanted him to know the bridgertons had the cranes in mind. this wasn’t the end goal by any means, but she was eternally grateful they’d ended up here. he was everything she’d never realised she needed, and she’d spend the rest of her life proving that to him; showing him that he was worthy of all the things he didn’t seem to believe he deserved. “and you won’t ever have to, phillip. truly. i am not going anywhere.”

    that certainly wasn’t what eloise had expected to hear from her friend, and she barely knew how to react to such news. what was she supposed to say? she could hardly fix this for her, hardly make things better, and offering her condolences would do little to make it better. nothing she could say or do would make much of a difference. still, she hesitantly reached her hands out to take belle’s. “what can i do? how can i help?”