Unanswered Questions

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on you
Sometimes I feel like saying, "Lord, I just don't care."
But you've got the love I need

 To see me through

Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough
And things go wrong no matter what I do
Now and then it seems that life is just too much
But you've got the love I need to see me through

          - You’ve got the love by Florence + the Machine

Eloise should have been thinking about what her grandmother said, whether she should worry about what Victor thinks. She should have been thinking about seeing Penelope again, how the venue will look, whether she will make a fool of herself in front of everyone.

Instead all she could think of was what thoughts were written behind Theo’s expression. What was that smile? His stare had burned into her memory. He was probably thinking about how ridiculous she looked,  or maybe he was recalling their conversation.

With a sting, she remembered their fight, like an old bruise. Of course she knew what he thought: that she was just another rich brat, strutting around in expensive silk dresses, out of touch, with her heads in the clouds that she could probably buy to pin to the walls of her elaborate bedroom. Grandmother’s words faded like a song playing out of a bad record player when she noticed Theo turn away, keep his teacup on the coffee table and leave the room. The air seemed to leave the room with him. A sudden urge seized her, to call him.

“Eloise”

Eloise wrenched herself back to the present when Daphne slipped her hand into hers. Her grandmother had walked away. Daphne pulled her into a room, nodding at her other siblings, and Michaela, to follow.

“Daph”, she said when they entered the room, “thank you for helping me.”

Daphne had shaken her awake at 8 AM. Eloise was too exhausted to kick and scream, so she listened, half asleep as her sister sat at the foot of her bed and apologized. Even through the drowsy (slightly) alcohol-tinged haze, Eloise could see Daphne looked like she hadn’t got any sleep, and she felt a pinch of sympathy.

“I am sorry El”

                                                                                                                                                                                                “Me too”

It was strange, how sisters knew how to hurt each other better than anyone else. They knew what bruises to press, which weak points would cause the most pain but would also be the first to bandage each other up. Daphne had gently coaxed her out of bed, given her coffee and a piece of toast to nibble on and let her pick out a dress.

“What about the one Grandma picked out?”

                                                                 “She picked that out to Victor’s liking, El, not yours”

She watched as her siblings trickled into the room. Daphne closed the door behind her. Eloise smoothed down her dress and sat down on the bed.

“Eloise”, Benedict stumbled towards her, “El, I am so sorry. We should have—”

Eloise was too tired from sleep deprivation to even say anything. The ripple of anger in her seemed to smoothen when she saw the look on Benedict’s face.

“It’s fine”, she said flatly, “you couldn’t have done much, I suppose.”

Francesca shook her head, “you don’t have to worry about the party. We can tell Grandma you’re sick.”

“Sick of what?”, Daphne asked, “Anti-dance-it is”

Benedict collapsed gracelessly into a chair, “you’re the doctor.”

“It’s a very serious condition”, Daphne said solemnly, “it prevents the patient from being able to move their feet in sync with strange rhythms.”

Eloise laughed despite herself and the air almost cracked open like a ripe fruit. For a split second, this space, full of laughter was broken from everything else that didn’t feel real. It was a breath of fresh air, the sweeping ray of light that danced across the ripples of the waves visible as you swim to the surface.

She opened her mouth, to say she was fine, that she’d put up with it, dance with Victor, stand smiling while she was paraded around. But the moment her siblings looked at her, the words got tangled in her mouth, and all she wanted to say was the truth: how she wished she could stay here forever, just pretend for a little longer that it wasn’t happening.

The door creaked open just then, as Anthony strode in.

“Everyone in attendance?”, he said briskly, closing the door behind him, “Alright, we need to hatch a plan to throw Victor Crane in a suitcase without anyone noticing.”

Benedict snorted, “and I assume a plan to deep clean the house after Grandma Mary slaughters the bloodline?”

Everyone laughed but only the face of her mother, anguished and smeared with guilt like spilt jam loomed in Eloise’s mind. Anthony sat next to her.

“Mother told me about last night.”, his face was hard, “I am truly sorry. We all failed you a little bit yesterday.”

“How bad is it?’, Eloise asked.

Benedict leaned back and propped himself on his arms behind him, “Pretty bad. Grandma will go ballistic.

Anthony folded his arms. There was a sort of quiet determination in his face, like the look he gave Eloise’s teachers when he accompanied Eloise for all her parent-teacher meets after their father passed. A teacher had told him she wished Eloise was more like Daphne. Anthony told her that he was glad she wasn’t.

 “She is threatening to not give Hyacinth and Gregory their college fund.”

“You’re joking!”, Daphne said at the same time as Francesca said, “We need one?”

Anthony gave them a small smile, “We are a large family.”

Eloise stared at her dress, her stomach churning with guilt. The dress was Daphne’s, probably more expensive than she ever thought. They have enough useless, expensive items in the house to sell, perhaps enough to make up for whatever their grandmother was withholding.

“Why does Grandma have their fund?”, Eloise asked.

Anthony winced, “it’s a long story.”

“So that’s why I am doing this?’, Eloise wondered what it would be like to be a leaf, drifting by and viewing how ridiculous this is through a window. Everything seemed to refract through a prism, and she couldn’t catch any of it.

“You should not have to”, Benedict said. He leaned back on his chair and propped his feet up on the table.

“She does not have to marry him”, Anthony said sharply, “she’s barely twenty, and she has the right to choose.”

Eloise fiddled with the strap of her shoe, “You mean…I should just court him?”

Benedict tilted his head, “Well, more like, you should let him court you.”

Eloise chewed her lip, “I guess I could just tell Grandma our relationship won’t work, that we don’t get along.”

Anthony shook his head, “That won’t stop her from pushing you, El, I’m sorry.”

 Eloise realized how much she missed the previous week: a life before she knew this, back when her biggest concern was what to read, how to cook pasta without burning down the kitchen and how to respond to Theo’s letters. She closed her eyes, her nails digging into her palm. She could not afford to think about Theo at the moment. The shape of his name was no longer a needle piercing through her, but a lump in her throat that made it difficult for her to swallow. Her throat was starting to prick, as if it was sewing itself close. It was strange how she never thought about the life she had ahead of her until the possibility of it being ripped away arose. She never thought she would regret taking her single-hood for granted. She always knew she was privileged, but she didn’t know that her freedom would be the price for a power she didn’t ask for. She let out a small gasp as her eyes started welling up.

“Oh, El”, Daphne said, planting a kiss on Eloise’s head. Francesca crossed the room in less than a second to wrap her arms around her. Slowly, she felt the warm press of Benedict and Anthony against her as they surrounded her. The world was warped and wet through her tears and her eyes stung from the release. Benedict pulled her against him, squeezing the back of her neck gently as her tears soaked his shirt.

“We will do everything we can”, Daphne said, rubbing her back. Eloise squeezed her eyes shut and allowed the burning ache to seep through her head. She drew a shaky breath. Benedict drew away from her. She watched him bend down so his eyes were level with hers. He gripped her shoulders.

“You aren’t alone, El.  I can’t guarantee how everything will work out  but I am sure about one thing: we are with you, till the end of the line.”

Her gaze flit to Anthony, who was staring at Benedict with an oddly tender look on his face. It reminded her of the look on his face when he saw Benedict help Daphne through an anxiety attack before her A level Biology exam the same day Anthony had to rush Hyacinth to the hospital after a poor attempt at a backflip. Anthony locked eyes with her and for a horrible moment, he looked utterly helpless. Eloise had never seen Anthony ever sit and be. There would be times he would be a parent more than a sibling, and she could only imagine what he would have done to try and stop her grandmother, and how heavy the failure might weigh on him. She had spent so many minutes hating him, without realizing that she was one of the few reasons he lived.

“I should have done more”, he whispered.

 Eloise often forgot that Anthony made himself a man before he could finish being a child.

He swallowed and opened his mouth again. Eloise could feel the weight of what he was going to say linger in the air before the word came out of his mouth. It was strange how after years of longing to hear Anthony apologize, she didn’t think she could bear it.

“It’s not your fault”, she croaked, her voice thick.

He placed a hand on her hand and ruffled her head, a classic Bridgerton display of affection. Eloise gripped his other hand.

“Eloise, I—”

“Brother, I know.”

She knew he’d fight for her, for all of them, until the end.

 She wondered what you could do when you couldn’t fight anymore, and slowly turn to stone while those you protected say the sword clattered from your hand because you were not worthy of wielding it. Was that what she was doing? Was that what she always accused Anthony of doing?

They stayed, wrapped around each other, and the knot in her chest did not dissolve. She did not dare hope it ever will. But as Francesca and Anthony wound their arms around her and she heard the soft nudge Daphne give Benedict as he probably stepped on her foot, she could find the space to give herself to pretend for a brief moment, that she would wake up the next morning and realize that it was a bad dream her siblings hugged her through.

Time pressed against her, biting and clawing against her like a wall of thorns. It galloped and snarled against her feet as she moved through the house like a ghost haunting it. She could hardly feel it when Rosie coaxed her into a chair in the evening. She could barely register the pain as Rosie tugged her locks as she styled her hair. Eloise patted on her makeup and found herself pressing the sponge against the same spot on her face, unable to move further, until she glanced at the clock. She liked makeup usually. She found dressing up calming, enjoying the process of putting effort into herself. However, this time, she felt like one wrong move would cause everything to tip off the edge and skid off balance like a hellish landslide.

“Are we nearly done?’, Eloise asked.

Rosie zipped up her dress, “You are the last one. One of your brothers is looking after our guest.”

“I see…”

Eloise looked at the mirror and saw splotches of red appear on her cheeks that had nothing to do with the blush she applied. She couldn’t imagine Theo in the type of suits, or him on the ballroom floor, gliding with some girl to the music. She would never get used to seeing Theo in anything other than a worn out coat, sweaters and shirts slightly too big or too small for him.She hastily gulped down some water.

 Rosie smiled, “May I ask, how do you know him?”

“Mother told you.”, Eloise said, trying to sound curt even with her voice slightly quavering, “he is a friend of Colin.”

Eloise began fiddling with a compact, snapping it shut. Rosie looked away and murmured, “I don’t think Colin has friends who frequent the library at such late hours.”

The compact nearly fell out of her hands but she gripped it.

“There is no need for shame.”, Rosie said, “The world is a little less harsh after a late night talk with a dear friend.”

“He is not a friend.”, Eloise said shortly.

Rosie shrugged, “He is something.”

She stepped back and looked at Eloise appreciatively, “You’re good to go, dear.”

When Eloise wore the dress again and slipped into her shoes, it felt like she was donning a costume before a stage rehearsal for a play she hadn’t written but had memorized. She knew the stage blocking like she was automated to know her place. The lines were wired into her, drilled into her teeth and spreading across her tongue, ready to flow out at the drop of a beat, like she was a wind up toy made of gold. She staggered out of her room and saw her siblings: Daphne in pale lavender, Francesca in light gold and Hyacinth in a rosy dress. Her mother was wearing a periwinkle blue gown not unlike her own. She let out an exhale as she saw Eloise.

“You look lovely, dear”, she said with a smile.

Eloise could her feel her muscles hurt as she returned the smile. She knew she had to let it go.

Don’t you forget how lucky you are.

Anthony strode out into the living room, adjusting his cuffs. She noticed his hands shook slightly as he checked his buttons. He was in a deep blue suit, similar to the one she knew Benedict bought. They had an unspoken agreement to always match their outfits.

“Grandma will come late”, Anthony said, his voice clipped, “she wanted to meet Victor’s family privately. She will join us there.”

Eloise let relief fill her like a balloon. The only sound worse than the tires scraping against the road would be her grandmother hissing in her ear throughout the journey.

“Hey, where’s Benedict?”, Michaela asked, smoothing her emerald green dress, “Fran told me he got a call from someone named Henry Granville.”

“Ben was helping out Thomas”, Gregory said.

“His name is Theo!”, Hyacinth said with an amusing amount of indignation, “honestly, if you would take your head out of—”

Footsteps pattered down the stairs as Benedict bounded, looking a little too happy with himself, followed by the reason Eloise stopped listening to Hyacinth’s rant.

Theo emerged, his cheeks slightly flushed pink in the light, somehow looking bashful and composed at the same time. The tautness of his jaw did not fool her. His eyes darted around the room, like he was spending every passing second fighting the urge to bolt back up the staircase.

The dark suit clung to his frame. The light gently rippled across the delicate embroidery along his sleeves, his wristwatch catching her eye as it gleamed against his skin. She couldn't help but notice, for the first time, the veins along his hands and how the muscles in his long, nimble fingers clenched with tension there as he gripped the railing. Her gaze traced the movement of his throat as he swallowed, following it down to the open V of his collar. His shirt was open on the wing of his collar, exposed just enough to reveal the sharp contours and dips of his collarbone.

“You look—” she started, but the words were like a weak candlelight in the reflection of a frosted window. Their eyes met, his gaze unwavering for a breath.

“He looks good”, Benedict said with a grin, as if this wasn’t his fault, “Theo, you could pass for a Bridgerton.”

“Of course”, Theo said dryly, “there is nothing else I aspire to be.”

Eloise held back a chuckle. The thought of his reaction to her predicament made her almost ashamed. There he was, overwhelmed by the glitz and glamour, thinking he was probably in a novel. Knowing him, he’d find it wasteful and Eloise wouldn’t hesitate to agree. It shouldn’t have been surprising that he maintained his acerbic wit, like he knew he was doing that expensive suit a favour. Of course he would think of himself above it all. She wouldn’t blame him.

“Benedict”, Michaela said, rummaging through her purse, “You got an urgent call. A man named Henry Granville said it was of utmost importance”

Benedict stilled, “Thanks.”

“You’ll call him now?”, Their mother said sharply, “You haven’t even gotten dressed!”

“I’ll take ten minutes to get plucked and pruned. Where’s Colin?”

She slapped her forehead, “God.”

They bustled off and Theo set his way down the staircase.

Eloise studied the fringe of his hair catch the tail end of a breeze as he walked down. His locks had formed a slight curl as they swept across the top edge of his forehead, as if he had just got off a horse.

It took her just a second to realize Theo’s eyes were fixed on her too. She opened her mouth furiously, but he beat her to it.

“Why are you looking at me like I am  a particularly difficult exam question?”, he asked.

“I actually enjoy those.”, Eloise said smoothly, “Don’t confuse the two, Sharpe”

Theo’s mouth twitched, “Well I have one thing in common with it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“We both stun you into silence, Bridgerton.”, he murmured as he approached her.

Eloise dimly registered Anthony telling Benedict to grab him his special flask under his breath. Eloise wished she could ask for once too. She had never got drunk but even she could admit she was too sober for this.

“Damn”, Theo whispered, “I haven’t seen you go this long without responding. Perhaps I should wear this to our debates until I find a more effective way to silence you.”

“No”, she said with stiff dignity, “I am just thinking you took Dress for the job you want a little too seriously. You look like you’re going to serve us drinks there.”

Theo’s lips twitched, “Well, if the colour of your dress is anything to go by, you look like something that could fill up those glasses. You best hope both of us don’t turn around at the same time when the host inevitably asks for water refills.”

“Oh?”, Eloise ignored the sudden sting, “The only thing that seems to be lacking refills is your mind’s supply of witty comebacks.”

Theo chuckled softly, taking another step closer. “So you think I have a supply of witty comebacks?”

“Please,” Eloise retorted, crossing her arms. “Your comprehension skills are waning. I said it lacks refills.”

“So you think I have comprehension skills.”

“Hardly a compliment. It is the bare minimum for one pursuing an English degree. Speaking of which, how do you feel putting it to good use as a waiter? Will you slip pieces of poetry into the drinks, maybe call them Presence of Absinthe?”

“It’s of, not in.”, Theo corrected and heat crept through Eloise. He bent down slightly, his head now just a few inches above her.

He tutted smoothly, “My, my Bridgerton, John Donne would be most displeased in his grave. What were you taunting about beating me in British Literature last semester, again?

Eloise didn’t know what Benedict slipped into the hair gel he styled Theo’s hair with but it sure as hell made him cocky enough to think he’d have the last word, all because she made a mistake with an article, or preposition or whatever the hell it was. Her brain was buffering, as if she were merely floating through the world. She managed to wring out a response.

“It must have slipped under your radar that I have merely grown immune to the petty sting of your counterarguments.”

“Immunity or an unsuccessful attempt at denial?” Theo countered, his eyes bright. He looked like a dog that finally got a chance to stretch his legs.

“Denial of what?”

“The accuracy of my counterarguments, sweetheart.”, he said, his grin growing.

“Confidence or an unsuccessful attempt at delusion?” Eloise shot back, though she couldn’t help the slight curve of her lips. It took every atom in her to brush off the flame that shot through her spine at the word “sweetheart”.

Theo smirked,  “Maybe both. But I’ve still got you speechless. Keep looking, Bridgerton. You’re quite interesting when you’re quiet.”

A sudden flare bloomed in the pit of her stomach, somehow reminiscent of what she felt everytime she was locked in an argument with him.

Eloise huffed, tilting her head “What do you mean, interesting?”

“Everytime you look, I expect some sort of retort.”, he mimicked the tilt of her head, “Is this your thinking face?”

Eloise let out a sarcastic laugh, as though her heart wasn’t about to crawl up her throat,  “I’m trying to figure out in silence how long you’ll keep embarrassing yourself before I finally put you out of your misery.”

“Bold of you to assume I am the one who’s flustered here,” Theo said, raising an eyebrow, “We aren’t in a class debate, Bridgerton, there’s no need for you to look like steam is about to pour out of your ears just because you don’t want to admit defeat.”

“Flustered?” Eloise spluttered out, “I don’t get flustered, Sharpe.”

Theo leaned in just a fraction more, his voice low and teasing. “Keep telling yourself that, Bridgerton.”

Eloise opened her mouth for a sharp retort, but her mother’s voice cut in.

“Alright, let’s get going”, she grabbed her handbag and waved them frantically over towards the door, “Hyacinth, if you don’t comb your hair in the car, I won’t let you out. Daphne, get the comb and fix that mess, or so help me God. Anthony, stop staring at the mirror and bring the bloody car around.”

“This isn’t over, Sharpe,” Eloise hissed as she walked by.

She turned to see him smirk, “Oh, I am counting on it, Bridgerton.”

As she walked away from him, she found herself unnerved, although there was no reason to. Eloise had always prided herself on her ability to observe and pick out details like they were needles in a haystack. This time it is no different. Theo demanded attention, as anyone with the razor sharp intention to rile everyone up around up would, and Eloise would be a terrible observer if she ignored him to preserve an illusion of nonchalance.

Eloise didn’t think there was any space for nonchalance in any room she shared with Theo. Any detail deliberately ignored translated to a missed opportunity to justify the wave that rose up in her every time he tried to unnerve her.

Eloise piled into the car with her sisters as her mother and the boys got into another one. She pressed her head against the window.

“Just breathe”, Daphne said.

“Right, I forgot”

“Try to relax”

Eloise gritted her teeth, “Try to shut up, Daph.”

“No, focus on your breath.”

Eloise breathed through her nose, trying to only think about how her stomach expanded and the rush of air. She dug her feet into the floor of the car and tightened her grip around Daphne’s hand.

It’s just a few dances. Some small talk. She can fake food poisoning or bribe Gregory with sweets to knock champagne all over her. She can kick Theo and say he needs immediate medical attention.

By the time she repeated those lines to herself enough times to get her heart to stop racing, the car skidded to a stop outside the plaza. It towered over them, like a large cake covered in gold and elaborately carved marble arcs and pillars.

“Eloise! Daphne!”

Colin rushed down the steps, sporting a small stubble and his usual wide grin. He was holding a large black umbrella. Penelope, was next to him, beaming in a dress of rich, deep plum that sparkled magnificently in the glowing lights.

Hyacinth let out a squeal and threw her arms around Colin, who picked her up and spun her around, nearly whacking Gregory.

Meanwhile, Penelope collided into Eloise. Eloise felt her heart fill up. Every bit of dread seemed to be squeezed out of her.

“God, I missed you Pen.”

Penelope was pink in the face, “Me too.”

Eloise looked at Colin hugging Francesca.

“Pen, did he tell you about Victor?”

Penelope knitted her brows, “Eh?”

Just as she opened her mouth to answer. Colin pulled Eloise into a bone crushing hug.

“Are you okay?”, he murmured, “I heard—”

“Fine.”, She limply wrapped her hands around him, frustrated that she couldn’t even soak it in, “Haven’t told Pen, yet.”

Eloise craned her neck and saw the boys’ car screeching to a halt. Colin separated herself from her and gave her a slight nod, like a signal. She heard Benedict’s roar of delight as he hurtled out of the car. Colin shot a meaningful look at Eloise and tugged Benedict away, who threw himself at him.

“Colin, what’s this on your face?”

“What’s that on your head, brother? A nest?”

Perfect distraction. She loosened herself from her brothers and grabbed Penelope’s arm, wrenching her aside, away from her family.

“Are you okay, El?”

“Penelope, how much did Colin tell you?”

“Just that Theo crashed in your house because he fell off his bike! Why?”

“Penelope!”, Anthony boomed. Theo nervously hovered near his elbow, constantly looking back at Benedict who was fussing over Colin (something about an improperly tied tie).

Eloise bit back a curse. She hated events.

“Mr Bridgerton!”, Penelope exclaimed, flushed, “Sorry, I—”

“How are you doing?”

“Splendid, sir! You?”

‘Grand. Same old.”, he clasped his hands behind his back and snapped his head towards Eloise, “Victor is coming soon, along with grandma.”

“Victor who? What’s happening?”, Penelope demanded, looking from Eloise to Anthony. Theo stepped between them.

“Uhm, I think Colin wanted to greet you, Mr. Anthony.”, Theo said loudly, jerking his head towards Benedict, who had Colin in a headlock.

“Excuse me, I need to go rescue the spare’s spare.”

Theo barely spared them a glance as he followed Anthony, finally giving Penelope and Eloise some privacy.

“Victor Crane, Pen. My grandmother is trying to betrothe me”, Eloise said, the words tumbling out.

“She is trying to what?”

“Well, not trying. She has already decided that we are to be engaged in two years.”

“Engaged?”, Penelope all but squeaked, “You would just be twenty-one! You hardly know him!”

“She told us yesterday that she wants us to be together now.”, Eloise said. Saying it out loud made it feel concrete, especially when Penelope’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish”

Penelope looked like she was going to be sick, and guilt churned in Eloise. She just ruined a perfectly happy moment, but it was necessary. She couldn’t imagine Penelope finding out about it through Colin.

She straightened herself up as the rest of her family approached them, along with Penelope’s.

Penelope held on to Eloise’s hand throughout the interaction.

“That’s them, isn’t it?”, Penelope whispered, gesturing towards a car that rolled towards them “I recognize that Mercedes.”

Victor exited the car, his head high. He looked even more tall and impeccably handsome in his suit. He helped Eloise’s grandmother out of the car with a polite smile. Two people, with Victor’s sharp jaw and blue eyes followed them. The woman was in a dark green gown, and the man was in a suit similar to Victor’s.

“Sweet suffering Jesus”, Penelope muttered in Eloise’s ear, “Were his parents related to each other?”

“Penelope!”, Eloise hissed.

“Don’t Penelope me! Why do they look like clones?”, Penelope furiously whispered, “The rumours make sense now!”

Eloise stifled a snort behind her hand, and resist the urge to find out more. She caught Theo’s eye. He was eyeing Victor’s movement towards her. His jaw was clenched.

She could still hear it.

It had been punctuating every thought of hers since their conversation. She tried squeezing her eyes but no amount of darkness could extinguish the memory of his voice curling around that single word:

 “Sweetheart”

The infuriating smugness had stretched the word “sweetheart” just long enough to make it unbearable, and worse, unforgettable.

The worst part was, he knew exactly what he was doing.

She despised the sheer audacity and deliberation in his low drawl, as if he was savouring the impact he knew it had.

If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Theo Sharpe didn’t just let anything slip out. He didn’t need a reason to get under her skin, but it was as though he knew exactly what part to pierce. Everything he did was too smooth to be accidental, too sharp to be kind. No wonder he was so keen on plotting and structuring.

She hated that even now, she could still hear him say it, like it was a game he knew he was winning. She shook herself. There was no way she’d let him get to her.

“Oh my”, Penelope said in awe, looking at Theo, “that can’t be Sharpe.”

Eloise’s throat tightened.

“Cleans up quite nicely, doesn’t he, Eloise?”, Penelope said.

“Who cleans up nicely?”, Colin had popped up behind them, making Penelope jump.

Eloise rolled her eyes but didn’t have the chance to  respond as Victor approached them. Colin stiffened, and pressed each of his hands against the small of Eloise’s and Penelope’s backs. Eloise didn’t turn around but she was sure he was glaring at Victor.

Eloise had floated out of her body at this point. Her body flushed as Victor bent and kissed her hand. Penelope gave him a suspicious once-over with her eyes when he greeted her, but nodded politely, clearly struggling to not look at him like he was something disgusting she found stuck to her lavatory seat.                  

“Seriously”, Colin growled, as he walked away to talk to Anthony, who was wearing a dark, frosty look, “Why does everyone think he is a class act?”

Penelope scoffed and took Eloise’s arm, “Let’s just go in and enjoy. Forget Victor, at least until your grandmother swoops in. Speaking of which, she knows the theme of the party is not vulture right?”

“God knows”, Eloise said, just as a sudden thought struck her stomach like lightning, “Oh, Pen, what if she announces this today? The Cranes are hosting this one.”

“She surely won’t”, Penelope said firmly, “My Ma told me Victor’s brother, Philip Crane is soon to be engaged to Marina Thompson—she was like five years above us in school if you remember.”

Colin cleared his throat awkwardly. Eloise suppressed a smirk. He used to fancy Marina Thompson. He had once tried slipping a romantic note into her backpack on Valentine’s Day, and needed the collective effort of Eloise and Penelope (who had been strangely enthusiastic to help despite having known him very little at the time) to pry him off.

“What’s she doing getting married?”, Eloise asked, horrified. Marina was someone she knew at school, wore a school uniform and stood at assemblies at the same time.

“Rumours say she’s expecting.”, Penelope whispered, “The Cranes will probably announce her engagement today but leave that out.”

“How do you know?”

 “The Thompsons are the ones who invited us. Friends of my dad…God,you won’t believe how Philip and Marina got together. Apparently, she was in love with one of his older brothers. I think his name was Gregory? No, that is your brother. His name was…”

“George Crane.”, Colin supplied tonelessly.

“Him! George and Marina dated when she was 19 and he was 24 or something. He passed away two years ago…”

Eloise let Penelope pull her towards the entrance, focusing on her chatter instead of Victor, or her grandmother or anyone else. She leaned against her friend, grateful for Penelope’s ability to keep her head on straight. As they lined up, Penelope gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and Eloise went to stand with Benedict, rolling back her shoulders as she took his arm.

“Ready, El?”

“You bet.”