#fluffyjulyday3

Three days.

That was how long Miss Eloise Bridgerton had been insisting she was not ill, a fact you knew because she had informed you of it at least twice a day.

"I am not ill."

Yesterday, she'd announced it while sneezing halfway through the sentence. Today, she looked pale enough to compete with the wallpaper in her bedroom.

You were not going to win this argument... or not immediately, at least. Perserverance is key with Eloise.

"You've been saying that since Monday." You sighed, placing her ribbons neatly in a line on the dresser.

Eloise barely looked up from the book balanced in one hand, "Because it's true."

"Mhm, so you keep telling me."

"It is."

You crossed the room, folding the fresh dress you'd brought up from the laundry before placing it neatly across the end of the bed. You noticed that she still hadn't turned the page.

Interesting.

"You've been reading the same sentence for the last ten minutes," You pointed out and Eloise rolled her eyes.

"I've been thinking about all that has been written."

"You've just been staring." You reiterated, stupidly determined to win one single argument with her.

"I can do both."

You smiled despite yourself.

That was probably true. If there was one person capable of simultaneously reading, arguing with an author who'd been dead for a hundred years, and planning how to annoy at least two of her brothers before supper, it was Eloise Bridgerton.

Ordinarily, she would have been pacing by now. Books rarely kept her still for long before some new thought demanded to be shared, and she would leap to her feet halfway through a chapter because she had spotted a bird 'behaving suspiciously', or decided society had found yet another inventive way to disappoint her.

Today, she had barely moved.

You noticed because noticing Eloise had quietly become second nature.

You noticed when she skipped breakfast because something had distracted her. You noticed when she tied her ribbons unevenly because she had been thinking about something else entirely. You noticed when a conversation with Lady Danbury had thoroughly exhausted her, because she would sigh exactly twice before disappearing into the library.

And today... today she looked exhausted.

She rubbed absent-mindedly at one eye before immediately pretending she hadn't. Your brow furrowed, "You didn't sleep."

"I did," she immediately protested. You were sure she hardly even knew what she was protesting about but knew she had to argue her way out of something and would wholly commit to it.

"You yawned three times while saying that."

"I was just... emphasising."

"You were tired."

"I was just joking. It was delibera-" Another yawn interrupted her mid-sentence. You laughed and she finally looked up at you, "There are entirely too many people in this house determined to convince me I've succumbed to some terrible plague."

"Who else has mentioned it?" You asked, smoothing a crease in her bed spread.

"My mother."

You nodded once, "Reasonable."

"Benedict."

"Also reasonable." You shrugged.

"Hyacinth," At that, you raised an eyebrow. "She called me 'all droopy.'"

You bit the inside of your cheek, "Well..."

"Don't."

"I was merely saying-"

"I know exactly what you were going to say," She pointed accusingly at you with the book, "You've joined them."

"Eloise, it's called common sense."

"I've lost you to the other side." She sighed dramatically, tilting her head back.

You crossed to the wardrobe and quietly corrected the collar she had somehow managed to leave folded beneath itself after dressing that morning.

Sometimes, you wondered whether she did things like that deliberately, simply to see whether you would notice but of course, you always did. It was your job.

You turned back to her for one final hurrah, "You've got a temperature."

"That's your opinion."

"No, it's a fact. Pure and simple."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, "Did you know that you are relentlessly persistent?"

"I've only learnt from the best. And it is part of the job."

Something flickered across her face but it was gone almost before you could register it. Then she looked back down at her book.

"...I don't think it is."

Your hands stilled.

You were not entirely sure what she meant by that, and judging by the way she immediately hid behind her book again, neither was she.

Silence settled comfortably between you.

Over the past year, you had grown used to it.

When you had first been assigned as Eloise's maid, your conversations had begun with idle chatter while brushing out her hair before bed. Then she had started asking what you thought about books, then politics, then marriage, then why society seemed perfectly content pretending women had no thoughts worth hearing.

You had answered, sometimes cautiously. You always tried to be honest, you knew she preferred that. She had once admitted she found it refreshing, and you had never confessed that being asked in the first place felt much the same.

Most ladies barely looked at their maids. Although, it could be said that maybe Eloise looked at you rather too often.

You thought it may be because she thought your opinions genuinely mattered. Sometimes you considered that it could be for an altogether different reason, maybe the same reason your own heart skipped a beat whenever she was near.

You were buttoning the cuffs of the fresh day dress when you realised she'd gone unusually quiet.

It seemed too quiet and so you looked up. The book had slipped slightly in her hands and her eyes had closed.

"Miss Eloise?"

They flew open at once, "I wasn't asleep." She blurted out, straightening up in her chair and wiping at the sides of her mouth, fearful of drool making it's escape.

"You absolutely were."

"I was... thinking."

"You were snoring." You took the book from her hand, gently placing it down on the dresser, next to the bows.

"I most certainly was not."

You smiled, turning around and holding your hand out, "There was definitely a little snore."

"I was..." She frowned, clearly trying to invent something believable. "...contemplating."

You couldn't help laughing. She frowned but still took your hand.

"I've never known someone quite so determined to argue with the truth," You commented, pulling her up from her seated position and gently tugging her towards the bed.

That finally coaxed the smallest smile onto her face and she allowed herself to be dragged over.

"There she is," you murmured before you could stop yourself.

The smile lingered for only a heartbeat before another wave of exhaustion pulled it away. You felt her grip on your hand loosen slightly and watched, with alarm, as she appeared to tilt slightly.

Your hands dashed out, holding her at her waist, before she could properly keel over, "Eloise?"

Her breath came out shaky, hitting the base of your neck as you held her close, "I am perfectly well." You helped her to the bed, letting her sit on the edge as you took a proper look at her.

"You nearly fell over," You frowned, putting the back of your hand to both cheeks, checking the temperature.

"I simply stood too quickly," She shrugged, batting your hand away.

You gave her a look and, to be fair to her, she returned it with admirable determination.

"You've barely stood up all day."

"I fail to see your point."

"My point is that people who are perfectly well generally manage standing without letting themselves fall face down to the ground."

She hesitated and let out a wheezy huff of air, "I dislike your point."

"I suspected you might."

She stood slowly and straightened, clearly intending to prove you wrong by walking across the room.

She managed precisely three steps and then the cough caught her without warning.

It bent her double, stealing every breath before she could draw another. One hand gripped the edge of the dresser while the other pressed against her ribs, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.

You rested a careful hand between her shoulder blades, waiting until the fit finally eased. When she looked up again, her eyes watered from the effort.

"There," she managed hoarsely, "I've survived. I'm fine."

You stared at her, "I have absolutely no idea how that's meant to reassure me."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The house had settled into the kind of silence that only arrived long after everyone had retired.

You rarely saw Bridgerton House like this. By day it was full of footsteps, conversations drifting from open drawing rooms and siblings calling to one another across corridors. At night, it felt almost unfamiliar, the silence making the house seem larger than it truly was.

You had only left Eloise for a few minutes. It was long enough to fetch fresh water, another cloth for her forehead, and reassure Lady Bridgerton that, yes, her daughter had finally fallen asleep.

Or so you had believed.

Balancing the basin carefully against your hip, you nudged the bedroom door open with a quiet, "I'm back."

No answer. You frowned.

"Eloise?" Still nothing. You looked around to find that the room was completely empty, not a Bridgerton to be seen.

The covers had been thrown back in obvious haste, one pillow lying half on the floor. Her book remained open across the bed, abandoned mid-page, while the candle beside it still burned.

She could not have gone far but that didn't particulalry ease your fear too much. You set the basin down so quickly that water splashed over the rim.

"Eloise?"

The dressing room was empty, so was the adjoining sitting room.

You turned back into the bedchamber, your pulse beginning to quicken, when a movement caught your eye.

The curtains stirred gently and the balcony doors stood open.

Cold night air was drifting into the room. You didn't know how you hadn't noticed it, you always noticed everyth- No time for that. You crossed the room at once.

The wind met you the moment you stepped outside, sharp enough to sting your cheeks.

Eloise stood with one hand resting lightly against the stone wall, gazing out across the sleeping gardens and she was wearing nothing but her thin nightdress.

For one fleeting moment, the sight was almost peaceful. Then you remembered that she'd spent the day burning with fever.

"Eloise," You tried to keep your voice low and calm. She hummed without turning, "What are you doing out here?"

"I needed some air," Her words came slowly, each one sounding as though she had to think about it before speaking.

You moved closer, "It is freezing."

"I know," She turned to face you slightly, her red cheeks shining and her sweaty hair clamped down on her forehead, "It feels nice."

"It only feels nice because your temperature is far too high." You said, lightly wrapping your fingers around her arm, wincing at how obviously thin the material was.

She frowned, considering that very carefully, "I suppose..." She agreed, "It was too warm in there," She rubbed tiredly at her forehead before giving a soft little laugh, "Everything keeps spinning."

You stepped properly in front of her. "Eloise," Her gaze found yours eventually, though it took longer than it should have. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, hardly able to latch on to you.

"You look worried," She murmured.

"I am worried."

"You shouldn't be," A sleepy smile crossed her face, "I shall be perfectly well in a minute."

You reached up and pressed the back of your hand against her forehead. The power of the heat startled you. She was burning.

"Oh, god, El." You muttered and she scrunched her nose.

"Don't fuss."

You bit at your lip slightly and shook your head, "I'm afraid it's rather too late for that."

"You always fuss." She mumbled, moving her hand around your shoulder and gently cupping the back of your neck, even her hand was giving off waves of heat.

"You give me every reason to," Your voice was low as a shiver ran through your spine, whether from the biting cold of the wind, or your proximity to Eloise.

She simply looked at you and then, very quietly, she smiled, "I do like when you fuss."

Your breath caught, "Eloise..."

"You must stay." She swayed closer, her hand dropping to rest on your shoulder now, her hand running through your hair. Her words slurred together just enough to make your stomach tighten, "You always stay." The fever had her in it's grips now. You felt like crying, never before had you felt so powerless to help her.

"I do," You agreed and she nodded, apparently satisfied.

"So..." She tilted her head, "...stay."

Your eyes stung, "I'm not going anywhere."

Another tiny nod and then her knees gave way. You caught her before she struck the stone, wrapping one arm firmly around her waist while your other hand caught the wall to steady you both.

"Eloise," She sagged against you with a weary sigh, all the determination she'd clung to for three days disappearing in an instant. "Sweetheart?"

Her skin felt impossibly hot through the thin cotton of her nightdress.

"Eloise, look at me," You could hear your voice begging slightly but you weren't ashamed of it. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Hm?"

"You need to stay awake," Your voice was tinged with urgency.

Her head lolled slightly, "I am awake."

"You're barely awake."

She frowned, "You called me sweetheart."

Your heart skipped, "I..." You could blame that on the fever, right? Was that an ethical thing to do? Tell your employer she's not hearing right?

"You never..." Her eyes drifted closed again.

"No," Panic finally took hold. You tightened your hold around her, "Eloise. Sweetheart?" You guessed you were willing to try anything but she barely responded. You shook her shoulder gently.

Nothing. She wasn't unconscious (not yet anyway) but she felt frighteningly close to it. Drawing a shaky breath, you did the only thing you could think of.

"Lady Bridgerton!" Your voice rang through the sleeping house, "Anyone? I need help!"

Doors opened almost immediately and lights flared along the corridor. You let out the breath you were holding as you heard the footsteps thundering towards the room.

"What happened?" Lady Bridgerton appeared at the doorway, face drawn in horror as she took in the scene in front of her. Her daughter sprawled out on the floor, being cradled by her maid.

"She's burning with fever!" Your voice shook ever so slightly as you pulled Eloise close in, trying to share any body heat you could to keep her warm.

Lady Bridgerton reached you first, gently cupping Eloise's face while calling for maids and the physician in the same breath. Anthony was close behind, the other siblings crowding the room.

Everything that was called for was quickly brought - candles, fresh water with towels and all the blankets that could be found as quickly as they were needed.

You found both Eloise and yourself bundled in between these thick, woollen blankets, still shivering away. Voices crossed over one another but you barely heard any of them from your little stool by Eloise's bed. You found yourself lucky that no one had yet tried to evict you. It was your mission to keep your attention fixed on Eloise for as long as was needed.

You slowly noticed that, even in the grip of fever, her fingers had curled tightly into your sleeve. She was stubborn and hadn't let go.

Somewhere beneath the delirium... she still knew where to find you. And you would stay for as long as you could.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

By the third night after the balcony incident, the fever had finally started breaking (thank god) because another twelve hours of Eloise half-delirious and trying to argue with you about whether medicine was secretly poison might have finished you off instead.

You sat slumped in the chair beside her bed, your neck aching from sleeping in positions no person was ever meant to sleep in. Every bone protested as you stood, stretching carefully before glancing towards the door.

You should sleep in a proper bed, for an actually healthy amount of time for once. You'd actually even just take a solid hour of sleep if possible.

You’d barely taken two steps toward the door when-

"Don’t."

You froze and, slowly, you turned. Eloise was awake.

The feverish haze had gone from her eyes, leaving them clearer than they had been in days, though they still carried the exhaustion she clearly felt.

"You need rest," you said quietly, sneaking back to her side, pulled in by the feeling of pure relief to see her coherent again.

"So do you," Her voice was rough, the fever leaving its mark, but there was no mistaking the determination behind it.

"I'll sleep in my own room. I was just going now to-"

Eloise frowned, "No." and you smiled despite yourself.

Even after several days confined to bed, she still managed to sound personally offended whenever someone tried to disagree with her.

"Miss Eloise..."

"I do not care. And don't call me that," The words were firm, but they lacked their usual bite. They still made you hesitate.

Instead of answering, you held up a glass of water, holding it gently to her mouth. Your hand reached for the back of her neck to support her as she took a few mouthfuls of the drink.

Your mind flashed back to the balcony, her own hand at the base of your neck, her body flush to yours, the word sweetheart uttered again.

You quickly put the cup down with a thud, bringing yourself back to reality. Eloise watched your expression carefully.

"Come lay down with me," She said, no trace of challenge or joke in her tone. A simple request, or a command. But she sound almost uncertain, as though asking the question had cost her more courage than she'd expected.

You stayed exactly where you were. Every rule you'd ever learnt insisted this was a line that could not be crossed. She was your employer.

A Bridgerton.

You were-

The hesitation did not escape her notice because of course it didn't. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face before she lowered her eyes and tried again, "Please."

That single word broke down any walls you had up because Eloise Bridgerton was many things. She was stubborn, opinionated and entirely too clever for her own good. But she was not someone who asked for anything so quietly.

You nodded before you could persuade yourself otherwise. At first, you just perched on the side of her bed because that felt safer somehow. You promised yourself you would stay only until she fell asleep again.

Eloise sighed and her hand wrapped around your wrist. Very carefully, she pulled you down. You didn't put up much of a fight and you stretched out on top of the covers, still leaving what you considered a perfectly respectable distance between the two of you.

It lasted all of two seconds.

Eloise shifted towards you without the slightest hesitation, settling against your side as naturally as though she'd always belonged there.

You forgot how to breathe. Her head rested lightly against your shoulder. Her hand stayed on your wrist before sliding down, her fingers fitting perfectly between yours.

You stayed perfectly still.

"You worry too much," she murmured. You stared at the ceiling, not sure how to take that.

"You wandered onto a freezing balcony because your fever convinced you cold would cure hot,"

She was quiet for a moment, "...It seemed entirely sensible at the time."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it and Eloise shifted slightly.

"Are you worried you stayed? Here? With me?" Her eyes held a vulnerability. You wanted to say that of course you were worried. What if someone found you, what if you lost your job, what if you never saw Eloise again?

But you stayed quiet. Maybe a white lie was okay, maybe it was ethical in times like these. You found that your hand had lifted almost of its own accord, gently brushing an unruly curl away from her forehead.

"No, I'd do it every time," You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Of course I stayed."

She closed her eyes again, "I know you're scared." So much for lying, "But I am glad you're here."

The words were so soft you almost thought you'd imagined them. After a long silence, she spoke again.

"You'll stay tomorrow?"

Your chest tightened. She wasn't asking about tomorrow, not really, and you knew that. She meant after the fever, after she was well. After everything returned to normal. After right now, this moment, curled together.

You looked down at her sleeping against your shoulder, "As long as you'll have me, sweetheart."

The corners of her mouth lifted into the faintest smile, "I was rather hoping you'd say that."