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ACT ONE chapter nine
The day after the Ton's arrival at Aubrey Hall is the evening of Violet's Hearts and Flowers ball.
Archie Cowper's eyes found Mabel the moment he stepped into the room and he hasn't left her side since. They always do have a wonderful laugh as these events pass by, but it's almost too easy between them. The flow is there, yes, but the spark isn't. It feels flat. No colour touches Mabel's cheeks at his cheeky jests and no urge to kiss him comes to mind either. When his hand touches hers as they dance in a most fluid, in sync motion, no butterflies rouse in her belly, no tingles zip her fingertips.
He is handsome, most definitely. Kind, a proper gentleman. So why can't she feel the way she does when Eloise is around her?
It's all rather distracting. Her mama always said that the perfect match comes from friendship first, love second. Perhaps she shouldn't care that she feels next to nothing when Mr Cowper positions his hands on her hips in preparation for a lifted twist.
As she's twirling beneath his arm, Mabel's eyes snag onto Eloise and her whole body is set alight at the close attention she pays her, watching from the side lines in Penelope's company with an almost longing in her gaze. The Bourque miss bites down on the inside of her cheek, forcefully turning away from her and back into the dance with Archie Cowper, who eyes her in earnest concern to her strange, faraway behavior.
"Are you quite alright?"
"I fear I have been lying to you." She hushes suddenly, looking around for any eavesdroppers.
Mr Cowper's brows furrow, the dance slowing to an end. Facing one another, they bow, "Whatever can you mean?"
Mabel reaches forward to pull on the young mans arm, tugging him to the corner of the ball room and away from prying eyes and ears. There, she faces him nervously, fingers clasped tightly down her front to stop from fidgeting, and gaping her mouth to speak before second guessing herself and clamping it shut. The inner battle within herself is clear to the Cowper heir as he watches her cautiously.
"I do not... Feel for you." She stammers, wincing and hurriedly adding, "I truly enjoy your company but if it is a match you wish to make of us than I'm afraid I have to say it cannot be."
"Why?" He asks, not out of hurt, but out of pure curiosity.
Mabel looks up at him with a heaving chest and wide eyes, telling of a story not yet ready to be shared, not ready to be accepted. "I cannot say."
Mr Cowper gives a nod, a lopsided smile easy on his face, "That is quite alright. Know that even though it is not a love match you wish between us, a friendship is more than enough for me."
Mabel exhales in relief, shoulders dropping from their tense hold and smiles up at him. "Merci for understanding, Monsieur."
"Of course, Miss Bourque. This friendship means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. Whether as my wife or my friend, I hold no ill will for you." He winks then, holding out his hand, "I do believe the next dance is to begin, will you do me the honours?"
"Again?" She giggles lightly.
"Again." He nods, planting a swift kiss to the hand she offers and bringing them back onto the dance floor as the next song begins to play.
Glancing to her side, Mabel has to swallow a surprised gasp to see Eloise standing with a dance partner of her own. The French miss whips her head forward again before Eloise can spot her looking, from the tips of her fingers to the bottom of her toes, a strange bottle of jealousy tips over her.
She tries to ignore her, truly she does. The last thing she wants is to mess up the dance, but when the Bridgerton misses body goes tense, on defense, Mabel cannot help but become distracted with watching the interaction between Eloise and the gentlemen she's found herself dancing with.
Eloise quits early despite the gentleman reaching forward to reel her back in with hissed words too low for Mabel to properly hear. Eloise does not hear any of it, storming for the stairs that lead up to the exit with Violet trailing after her desperately.
"Miss Bourque." Mabel snaps her head to her own dance partner, watching her with a crease between his brows and that's when she realises that through her distraction, she herself has stopped moving in the steps of the dance.
With a flush on embarrassment, she pulls away and mumbles, "Excusez-moi." There, in a fashion a lot like Eloise, she leaves Mr Cowper to his own devices, following Eloise's hurried steps through the door with quick reassurance to Violet and Penelope, the skirts of her dress bunched in her hand.
She finds Eloise in her room, pacing the floor with tears dripping down her cheeks and sobs choking her throat.
"Eloise-"
"What?!" She cries, throwing her arm out and spinning angrily to face her. "What could you possibly want from me after ignoring me for the better part of a week? Come to tell me how much less we are than a man? That my rebellion is just part of a phase and once-"
But Mabel will hear none of her frustration, stepping forward and pulling her close in her arms. And Eloise falls into her, sobbing her heart out and squeezing her arms around her waist, and igniting those damned butterflies Mabel wishes would appear for a man instead.
Eloise eventually calms her cries, Mabel's shoulder damp from her tears but not finding it within her to care, much too focused on the fact that she broke her avoidance to comfort her.
What is this magnetic pull Eloise has over her?
Eloise pulls back an inch with a sniffle, wet eyes gazing into Mabel's sympathetic ones with deep yearning. She inches closer, their noses brushing unsurely, before their lips press together in a soft union. But then Mabel forces herself away, hands positioned gently on her shoulders to keep her back from trying to capture her mouth once again. Mabel knows if she did, she wouldn't be strong enough to say, "We can't."
"Why?" Eloise questions, more so of a beg to know.
Mabel smiles sadly, cupping her face and softly stroking her cheeks with the pad of her thumbs. Instead of answering her, she pulls her forward and presses a chaste kiss to her forehead. Eloise savours it, fluttering her eyes closed and leaning into her touch.
"Au revoir, Eloise." She whispers, before pulling away completely and leaving Eloise with her heart in the pit of her stomach.
This goodbye isn't for her, but rather for what they could have been had society been any different.
