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The Duchess of Hastings prided herself on many things. Her impeccable taste for clothing, raising her son, her mini bangs and being extremely observant.
"... I am, well, I am Francesca. Bridgerton."
So the first time she heard Francesca, her little sister, stuttering like she had forgotten how to speak, was when Francesca met her husband's cousin. Which had been this instant.
"Kilmartin! Kilmartin... is my name.. now."
Daphne lowered the biscuit she held up before her mouth and suspiciously glanced over to her little sister. What she saw, was Francesca standing unsually still and looking more flustered than ever. Francesca was always quite reserved and probably the most well-versed in etiquette from the Bridgerton sisters, well after Daphne, of course. This however? This was different. She looked as if she was two seconds away from passing out, her jaw had locked and her cheeks and ears were crimson red.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," John's cousin said brightly, her eyes never leaving Francesca's.
Francesca still seemed stuck, she stared, for one second. Two. Three. Eloise glanced between the group and was the first to bow in greeting, John's cousin second and finally, after a few seconds, Francesca bowed or at least attempted to. She looked as if she had seen a ghost, which seemed rather funny. It reminded Daphne of a story their mother always used to tell them when they were little, she used to always roll her eyes whenever her mother told that story.
All Bridgertons did to be fair, their mother had a tendency to relive and retell the story of how she had met their father. "When I first met your father, I could not speak my own name, I was so dazed by him."
Daphne's gaze remained glued on the group for a moment longer and noticed that John's cousin looked away first. That was... odd, Francesca had never managed to win any staring contents.
Daphne finally turned away and put her focus back to the biscuit she was holding in her gloved hand.
In her mind, Francesca was many things. Sure, a bit uptight at times, quite reserved and a bit unusual if she was being honest with herself. There was one thing Francesca Bridgerton, well, Kilmartin now, no wait, Stirling! Stirling is her actual name now. Well, her sister is many things, however, a stuttering mess was not one of those things.
Maybe she was reading into things, sometimes people just forgot ther names, it probably happened all the time, presumably.
At first Daphne did not think much of it, when Francesca kept sending letter after letter from her new home in Scotland, Kilmartin Castle, to be exact.
Newly married women tended to write a lot of letters to their childhood home or their siblings, it was a new environment and they needed to get used to their new lives. Daphne herself had written endless letters to Bridgerton house in her first year of marriage. Half of those letters were basically filled with complaints of feeling lonely at times or Simon being stubborn.
So when Francesca's first letter arrived, Daphne only accepted it with a feeling of mutual understanding. She had simply assumed they would contain the usual topics, such as Francesca maybe not having warmed up enough to the staff or maybe John being a bit neglecting.
That had not been the case, however. The first letter contained maybe one line of Francesca talking about John, one line about Eloise and how she got accustomed pretty well, two lines of life in Scotland and a very detailed paragraph of how Michaela Stirling agitated Francesca to no end.
Daphne had laughed and pulled out her own blank page and a feather so she could reply instantly.
The second letter arrived not much longer after the first. It was no different from the first letter, she talked about John briefly, mentioned her new music room and how excited she had been to play the pianoforte again after finally having settled down. She mentioned how Eloise had been complaining of boredom.
Francesca also wrote another long and detailed paragraph about how living with Michaela had been or how Francesa liked to call her: John's cousin. She had compared Michaela to a tornado, according to her she brought endless chaos with her. Not keeping to the supper times of the house and coming and going however she, Michaela, liked.
The third letter had contained a detailed account of an argument Francesca had with Michaela regarding lunch.
The fourth letter had contained another detailed account of yet another argument Francesca had with Michaela regarding informing the tenants, as well as, John and Francesca over her whereabouts.
The thing was, Daphne had not asked about Michaela. Not once.
The letters kept trickling in and Daphne had started to notice a recurring pattern. Every single letter somehow managed to circle back to Michaela, no matter the topic Francesca had chosen to start the letter with. Every single letter mentioned Michaela. Sometimes it was once, albeit a very long paragraph and sometimes maybe four times in a single letter.
The letters always seemed to have the same pattern: Scotland was beautiful, although quite gloomy. The staff at Kilmartin castle were really lovely and helpful. Eloise had started talking to the sheep out of sheer boredom. John was always just "well". And by the end, a very in depth account of Michaela Stirling having done something to annoy Francesca, just like clockwork.
Daphne scrunched her eyebrows and began thinking. She took out Francesca's previous letters and began looking hastily through all of them.
Simon, who was seated in the same room holding a book, looked over to Daphne. "What is the matter, is everything alright with Francesca?" he simply asked.
Daphne paid him no mind, as she picked up another letter and another and yet another. She skimmed through the letters on the desk. Scottish weather, Rain, Eloise, John and Michaela.
Michaela.
Michaela.
Michaela.
"Everything is fine, I think," she finally replied.
Simon marked the page in his book and put it next to him on the cushion. "What happened then? Why are youuuu??" he gestured with his hands in the direction of all the letters currently stacked on the desk.
"Well, Francesca keeps writing me letters, which is fine, obviously."
"Okay. What seems to be the problem then?" he looked a bit confused now.
She glanced back down on the letters and back up to look at Simon. "Do you remember John's cousin, Michaela Stirling? We briefly met her that one evening at that one ball."
Simon just nodded, urging Daphne to continue speaking. "Well, Francesca spends an extraordinary amount of time writing about Michaela."
Simon only shrugged. "So what? They are becoming close friends then?"
Daphne pulled her mouth to the side. "No."
"No...?"
"No," she shook her head. "No, I know what Francesca sounds like when she likes someone."
Simon just looked at her, not knowing what to say. "Okay. Perhaps she does not like her then?"
Daphne had considered that and it was in fact the most logical explanation, however, she had come to the conclusion that this had been something else.
She looked down at the letters again and frowned. Daphne had disliked her fair share of people before, Cressida, immediately came to mind, yet she had never felt compelled to dedicate several letters discussing her.
And if she had, Anthony would have told her to cut it out after the second letter.
Daphne had just arrived to the Bridgerton household to have tea with her family, when in the distance she could hear some commotion.
What's all this then?
Daphne had just entered the Bridgerton tea room, when she saw Francesca pacing the room while flailing her arms around, looking extremely irritated.
"... THEN she suggested giving the staff the morning off and plundering the kitchen ourselves! Can you imagine?! The absolute audacity this woman has, is baffling!"
She looked over to Eloise, who wore an amused smile. Daphne pointed to Francesca with her eyes and raised her eyebrows to indicate what the hell Francesca was talking about, Eloise just shrugged and fully smiled at her.
"Good afternoon everyone. Francesca, what has gotten into you?"
Francesca finally looked over to her, the irritation on her face fully on display. Francesa sighed deeply. "Good afternoon to you too, Daphne."
Daphne sat down on the chair. "Would you like a cup of chamomille tea, your highness?" one of the Bridgerton maids asked. "Yes, please and thank you."
Defeated, Francesca sat down next to Eloise and took a sip of her long forgotten and thus now cold, afternoon tea. Which to her dismay, the chamomille did absolutely nothing to calm her down. Or at least, Daphne thought so, not that she would say it out loud.
"Francesca has been complaining about John and Michaela, for having stayed up until 4 am and suggesting they break fast themselves." Eloise, fully amused, finally explained what the cause of Francesca's irritation was.
Francesca hastily stood up again, "No, John's cousin suggested breaking fast ourselves at 9 in the morning! Not John! It is this woman that-" she gestured around with her hands and scrunched up her nose in annoyance "-that always thinks she can do whatever she wants to do, just because she is used to chaos! But not in my household, as Lady Kilmartin, I will not let this stand!"
Daphne looked over to Eloise and raised her eyebrows again. How long has this been going on, she asked through gesturing.
Eloise looked back, grimaced and shook her hand twice. For a while now.
"Are you serious?! What are you communicating with each other," Francesca now let her irritation and frustration out on her elder sisters, looking between Daphne and Eloise.
"Oh, nothing," Daphne hastily blurted out.
"- that you're crazy," Eloise added in all honesty. She picked up her book and shrugged again.
Daphne scoffed and Francesca huffed like a fish. "Of course, you guys are charmed by her! Everyone is charmed by her." She spat that last part with as much venom as she could gather and left her sisters behind in the tea room, almost running into Hyacinth in the process.
"Oh, hey good afternoon Daph, what has gotten into her?!" Hyacinth asked absentmindedly, on her way to greet Daphne with a kiss on her cheek.
"Michaela." the eldest Bridgerton sisters said at the same time.
"Again?" Hyacinth asked.
"Again??" Daphne repeated confusedly.
"Oh yeah, this has been the third time this week," Hyacinth explained. "John's cousin this, John's cousin that! John's cousin said this, John's cousin has done that!" she took a macaron from the table and plopped down next to Eloise. "Oh, oh! Where is Augie?!"
Daphne still lingered on Hyacinth's words and tried to get back to the conversation, "He is with Simon."
Daphne's gaze wandered back to where Francesca had just stormed off, trying to understand what had gotten into Francesca, why Michalea Stirling made her sister so angry. She had met Miss Stirling before and she was respectable, funny and very charming. She may be biased but it was not everyday that a beautiful woman charmed her way into your graces.
The fourth time Daphne noticed something odd between both Stirling women, was by accident, really. She may be a Bridgerton but she would never secretly listen in to someone's conversation, she was a Duchess, after all. Class was her middle name.
However, she had just needed to use the water closet. And really, the door was opened so widely and lately her little sister had not known how to mind her tone. So it truly was not her fault, for accidentally listening in on their conversation.
"Francesca you do not know me. So please, draw back." She distinctively heard the sound of a glass being put down on a table.
"And how am I meant to know someone, who is determined to be unknowable. The entire time we were in Scotland, you could hardly contain your chaos long enough to stay in one place for longer than five minutes. And now you turn up here, to our home, uninvited!" Francesca spat back.
Ouch. Low blow.
"How do you suggest I respond when you show me, my husband, so little respect-"
"I assure you John does not feel disrespected. He appreciates my chaos," Michaela interrupted and Daphne pressed her lips and nodded in agreement, she had not felt like John felt anything but joyful in the presence of his cousin.
"You could do with some yourself." At this, Daphne had to put her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from rising. Francesca and chaos? Michaela must be a comedian.
"Then why has he been unwell since your return?" Francesa asked, with the conviction of a woman that truly believes what she said. "Perhaps your insistence on idleness is to blame?" Daphne could hear the rustling of a dress on the floor and moved closer to the wall.
"You are causing him distress!" Francesca exclaimed.
"No, I am causing YOU distress!" And in all fairness to Francesca, Michaela was indeed causing Francesca distress. "Of course you are!" Francesca finally admitted.
There we go, Daphne thought to herself.
"You cannot understand what it is like being newly married, desperately wanting to be a good wife, all the while feeling constantly inadequate, like there is something wrong with me. Must you add to that!"
Daphne clasped her hand against her mouth. The sound of Francesca and Michaela arguing suddenly being a far away sound.
She had to get away from here, she did not want to listen in on their conversation anymore. That was not meant for her ears and she respected it. With as much elegance as she mustered, she waited for the perfect opportunity to silently walk past the door in extreme silence, not wanting to alert the Stirling women of her presence.
Seriously, out of all the rooms in this estate, did they have to choose the one room next to the water closet?
The fifth time had been this instant.
"Thank you all for coming." Michaela had walked into the middle of the room, with a glass held in her hand. Only the immediate Bridgerton and Stirling families were gathered around in the Stirling estate ballroom.
"It has been a harrowing set of days, to say the least. But tonight, let us do away with grief and remember the remarkable man that John was. I shall go first."
Michaela raised her glass and sighed deeply, "John was my greatest friend and partner in mischief since birth. He was genuine, determined and had patience fit for a saint to tolerate my nature," at this the room burst out in light laughter.
"More like the patience of ten saints," John's mother added. The laughter continued across the room, a much lighter atmosphere in the air now than before.
Michalea nodded and continued, "he was my guiding light, my compass. We were opposite ends of the pendulum, yet somehow we balanced each other. I will miss you, dear cousin, more than you wull ever know."
Everyone raised their glass in support, Daphne had snuggled closer to Simon.
"Do not feel obligated but if anyone would like to speak..." Michaela had softly asked into the room of people. She noticed Colin was looking around the room and decided to speak. He raised his glass and spoke, "to John. A kinder gentleman, I have never known."
Daphne looked over to Francesca, a sad little smile had appeared on her face. They all raised their glasses in the air and spoke simultaneously, "to John."
With a complete change of mood, Michaela spoke in a now more merrier mood, "Now, perhaps we might-," however, she was interrupted by Francesca.
"i would like to speak," she had said in the softest of tones. Daphne cast a glance at Michaela and saw her look at Francesca with the gentlest stare with the softest smile on her lips.
Oh.
Michaela nudged Francesca with a tiny head nod. Francesca cleared her throat and continued, "it seems...," she took a deep breath and shook her head. "-inconceivable that he is gone. I had our entire lives planned."
Daphne noticed that Michaela had stopped looking at Francesca and hurriedly casted her eyes to the floor.
"I thought I knew exactly what the future held and now... It was only a headache. How could a headache take my husband away? For days, all I could think was how it is not fair. John was a good man. he deserved a better fate, a longer life."
Francesca shook her head again and now looked straight at Michaela and a slight smile appeared on her lips. "But that is not how I wish to remember him," Michaela had once again slightly nodded at Francesca, showing her that she was right there.
"It is quite something to spend your entire life feeling like you are somehow...," Francesca breathed in. "Out of place. And then to meet someone who understands you before you even say a word. Someone whose singular qualities match your own. Whose kindess makes you feel warm. Who can read your mind from across a whole room." Francesca was now blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill over.
"John was more than my husband. He was my truest friend."
This. This was something Daphne wholeheartedly believed in. She had wanted to avoid thinking like her mother because god knows, how annyoing Violet Bridgerton could be, when talking about real love but for heavens sake if she had not be right about this pair.
"And I may ache at present but the good John brought into my life, that bond, that understanding, far outweighs any pain I feel right now. I would not change it, for anything."
They had all raised their glasses for John again, the room now silent, with the occasional sniffing.
Michaela, may god bless this woman, pulled on a smile again, with clear tears in her eyes.
"I thought I might perform a Scottish Highland dance that John and I learned as children." The room had errupted in warm, soft laughter.
"Fran...," Michaela stretched out her hand towards Francesca. "...will you join me?" Eloise gently pushed Francesca towards Michaela. "Yes, go on, dear," she could hear her mother's gentle voice, urging her on gently.
Francesca had set down her glass and put her hands in Michaela's outstretched hands. A timid smile now on her face. "Follow my lead," Michaela whispered.
"Right, this is the Stag, everyone". Michaela raised both her hands and let her thumbs touch her middle fingers, while the other three fingers pointed up, her smile now on full display.
Francesca followed suit, raised her arms and did the Stag gesture, a full smile now on her lips, both women had let out a laugh.
Michaela now showed the room the steps of the dance, while Fran slowly repeated the steps. "Wonderful, Wonderful! Right, then we'll go into spinning." Michaela moved closer to Francesca and pulled her slowly by the waist "And spin!"
Both Stirling women were now spinning while holding each other and giggling softly. Michaela never having left her eyes from looking directly at Francesca.
"What? Do not leave us up here dancing alone!" Michaela had stopped spinning for a moment, now Francesca could not stop staring at Michaela, a toothy smile fully displayed on her face. Daphne smiled softly.
"Grab a partner, come on, pair up and put your drinks down!" While the people around the ballroom had indeed grabbed a partner and started to dance, Daphne stood at the edge of the ballroom and simply watched, observed.
Around her, everyone was spinning, laughter rang out as people were doing the Stag.
Yet, her attention only remained fixed on one pair.
Francesca and Michaela.
Not because they were standing too close or because they were being loud. However, Francesca looked happier than Daphne had seen her in months.
Smiling and laughing and like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Francesca had only slightly stopped spinning, "Thank you," she could barely make out with all the noise around her.
Michaela grinned and Francesca looked deeply into her eyes. The moment was brief, honestly, barely noticeable. Except Daphne noticed everything.
And this time the world finally clicked for Daphne, her understanding for Francesca finally clicked into place.
Francesca, who always wanted to get married but never mentioned wanting a husband or children.
Francesca who always referred to her partner in the past as "someone", never once having used the word "him", "husband", a "man".
Francesca, who now that she thought about it, seemed like she was three seconds away from throwing up when she got married to John.
Everything had finally made sense to her in this moment, every conversation, every irritated letter, every look, every argument and every single mention of Michaela in the past year.
Oh.
Oh.
Francesca loved John, Daphne had been sure of that, she never doubted it. But this? This had been something else entirely.
Daphne's eyes widened, not in fear but in understanding.
"Oh dear God."
It was the day of Benedict's wedding. Daphne was sat between Francesca and Kate. Simon was in the back, holding a fuzzing Augie.
"Whose wedding do you think we would be attending next?" Kate asked and turned around.
"OH, I do love a wedding. All the best people in the samle place," Eloise replied chuckingly.
Kate turned around to look at Francesca and Daphne, exlaiming in surprise. She looked at both Bridgerton sisters in disbelief, her eyes are practically saying: Are you guys hearing this?!
"As an attendee!" Eloise added annoyedly. The girls laughed, however Francesca's smile slowly had started fading.
"Do you think you'll ever do it again?" Penelope had asked Francesca in all seriousness, to which Daphne had casted a rather confused glance at Penelope, this girl had buried her husband like two seconds ago. Seriously.
"Me?" Francesca had scoffed incredously. "A wedding? No," she had slowly turned around to look to the front, sulking. "I have had my great love, one time is enough."
Daphne's heartstrings pulled together, as she looked at her sister, in pain like that. Daphne understood right then and there, that Francesca had no clue. She had no clue about her feelings for Michaela, however, she decided that now had not been a good time to speak about it or maybe ever.
She grabbed Francesca's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
One would think after two years of not seeing someone, a person would run out of things to say. But here Daphne was, sat in the Bassett estate, having tea with Francesca.
Daphne had finally run out of things to say and honestly also out of patience.
"...and suddenly, she decides to show up after two years! And she does not even have the decency to announce it, no! She just shows up to the ball, without having told anyone. No one, not even our staff, I mean MY staff! And-," before Francesca could finish her thought, Daphne interrupted her.
"You are in love with her."
Francesca nearly choked on her saliva. The maids looked at Francesca with worry, Daphne raised her hand at the maids, "she is fine", while ignoring her sister's antics.
"Daphne," Francesca deadpanned. "You are," Daphne simply stated, as if she was describing the weather or stating the newest fashion trends from the modiste.
Francesa opened and closed her mouth like a puffing fish. "Daphne, what are you talking about," she choked out.
Daphne simply sighed out loud. "Francesca".
"No. No, what in the heavens are you saying there?!" Francesca fully turned towards Daphne and gave her a disbelieving stare.
"Francesca...," she looked at her little sister, with as much empathy as she could gather.
"No." Francesca said simply, shook her head and leaned back slightly. "No," she repeated hastily, her voice a bit high pitched.
"Then, why is it you speak about her everytime I see you? For the past three years." Daphne put a hand over Francesca's back.
"I do not," Francesca said incredulously.
"But you do! You crossed three counties just to complain about her, about a month ago."
Francesca whipped her head and looked at Daphne, "I was already travelling!" she sputtered.
"You brought notes today," Daphne pointedly looked down at Francesca's hands. Francesca at least had the decency to look horrified because she had.
"People do not create lists with individuals they feel indifferent about."
Francesca remained still, she dared not move a muscle. It felt like minutes, hours. Like time was moving slowly but also fast at the same time.
After a couple of seconds, Francesca looked at Daphne, her eyes glistening. "Daphne?"
Daphne's heart hurt at the sound of her baby sister's voice, full of despair.
"Daph, I am scared," she hiccuped, before she could even finish the sentence, Daphne immediately pulled her into a hug.
It took them back to a time when everything was easier, when the scariest thing in Francesca's life was Colin telling her ghost stories.
When Daphne would gently stroke Francesca's back and tell her reassuring things, that ghosts were not real and promised her that she would protect her forever. Daphne had meant it then and meant it now.
Back then little Francesca had believed her big sister and deep down she still believed her now as well.
fin.