#lady cressida cowper

[jomiddlemarch]

My vegetable love should grow 

“But Miss Cressida, it ain’t done!” exclaimed the red-headed housemaid Sally, who had an uncanny resemblance to a fox but without any of a vixen’s daring or speed. Her dark eyes were wet with tears of consternation and darted about anxiously.

“It can be as long as I bring a maid with me. You went along with everything else, you cannot draw some arbitrary line at coming on a call with me during calling hours,” Cressida said, striving to keep her tone even, because she had a positive horror of ranting at the servants the way her father ranted at them and anyone else he deemed beneath him, which was everyone other than Queen Charlotte and possibly the Archbishop of Canterbury. Still, Sally was being difficult and Cressida didn’t have enough pin money left to bribe her into compliance.

“If this works out as I hope, I’ll take you with me,” she said to the maid.

“You already asked me to go with you,” Sally replied. “Did Cook addle your brains when she shouted?”

“I meant, if I am successful and secure the affections of Lord Debling, I should ask Mama to allow me to bring you with me as a maid,” Cressida explained. A more clever maid would have grasped her intention, but a more clever maid would have found a way to refuse Cressida’s undeniably outré scheme.

“A lady’s maid?” Sally breathed, as this was evidently what she considered the absolute pinnacle of existence. She couldn’t do Cressida’s hair worth a toss, however, and her mending was only passable.

“We’ll see,” Cressida said.

“D’you mean to go now, my lady?” Sally asked. 

Cressida almost sighed in relief. She’d have boxed the girl’s ears if she had to, but dragging a weeping maid behind her to Lord Debling’s townhouse what not what she’d planned.

“Yes. Fetch my blue pelisse and then we’ll be off,” Cressida said.

“It’s three years old and covered in braid,” Sally said doubtfully. “You don’t want something more fashionable?”

“Fashion isn’t my primary concern,” Cressida said. She suspected Lord Debling would not notice if she wore her grandmother’s hooded wool cloak, other than for its marten fur trim. The blue went with her eyes and she remembered being hopeful when she first put it on; it had been the Season she thought she might make a match with Viscount Aldertwyne and his five thousand pounds per annum and her recollections were all colored with her earlier rosy optimism. 

“If you say so, my lady,” Sally said.

It was not good Ton to snap at one’s servants’ vapidity or that of anyone who wasn’t a Cit, so Cressida held her tongue. 

It was a significant effort.

Twenty minutes later, Lady Cressida Cowper and her maid stood at Lord Debling’s front door. It was quite tall, but in need of a fresh coat of paint, but the dwelling’s bones, as the saying went, were good and it overlooked a park, which she supposed was some relief to a man who preferred to be out in nature. The park provided plenty of greenery, even if none of it were wild. Cressida imagined the street thronged with carriages as the members of the Ton jockeyed and jostled to get into her latest squeeze, the rooms packed, the ratafia nearly running dry, Lord Debling sequestered in his study or Patagonia.

“Lady Cressida Cowper, to call on Lord Debling,” she announced to his butler. The man did not even blink and she considered that Debling’s unorthodox approach to society would stand her in good stead in her mission. She was ushed down a gracefully proportioned hall that was gloomy due to the paper an earlier Debling had selected. She nodded to herself. She’d avoid all paintings of the hunt and any still-life with a dead fowl, that would satisfy him well enough, and she preferred landscapes anyway.

“The drawing room, my lady,” the butler announced, which was helpful, because it looked little like any drawing room she’d seen. Eloise had dragged her to the British Museum on a rainy afternoon and that was what she felt she’d entered, as the room was full of natural curiosities, some in glass cloches or cases, some merely arrayed on shelves or set down on tables as ornaments. Everything that was not an artifact appeared to be sepia. 

The spiky, spiny, curved shell with its pink flared lip seeming vaguely obscene must be a trial for a housemaid to dust.

Lord Debling set down the book he’d been perusing and removed the spectacles which Cressida would have thought would suit him ill yet somehow contrived to make him more attractive. She didn’t need him to be very attractive and hadn’t anticipated how to respond to his appealing countenance and very broad shoulders in well-fitted superfine. She offered a polite smile, allowing her lips to curve slightly and showing a glimpse of her teeth, while she waited for him to approach her with a greeting.

“Lady Cressida, good afternoon,” he said. “It is good of you to call. I trust I find you well.”

He said all the necessities but as if he were bored by them. His eyes drifted down to her hands and when they returned to her face, there was an expression of interest she’d rarely evoked in a prospective suitor.

“The weather is very pleasant,” she replied.

“I must admit—”

“I expect you—”

They both stopped after speaking at the same time, Lord Debling startled into a laugh that was not one Society would approve, too unstudied, too spontaneous. 

Cressida approved of it quite heartily.

“I’ve brought you something I hoped you might enjoy, but I’m afraid my aspiration may have exceeded my execution,” she said.

“You would have me set my standards low,” he said.

“It’s a vegetable tart, made from a receipt of the French,” Cressida said, using one hand to uncover the pie from its cloth where it sat perched on her knee. Uncloaked, there was no hiding the fact that some of the unevenly sliced vegetables were burnt and the pastry was sadly pale in places. Possibly raw. She hadn’t dared to poke at those spots and risk the entire collapse of the tart. “I know you eschew meat in your repasts and I thought to convey my…appreciation with a dish designed to suit your tastes.”

“I’m sure your Cook has done an admirable job,” Lord Debling said.

“Oh, no, she had nothing to do with it! If she heard you say that, she’d surely give her notice, to think I allowed anyone to believe this a measure of her culinary skill. I made this myself,” Cressida said. 

It was the coup de grâce, or what she believed a coup de grâce was, given the limitations of her last governess whose French was markedly poor, the final blow that would deliver Debling to her or send him fleeing.

“You can cook?” he asked.

“Not very well,” she said, without false humility. “I did not think it would prove that difficult, if it was something a servant could do, but I’ve discovered my talents don’t lie in the realm of cookery.”

Sally, who was amusing herself looking at some pressed leaves or somesuch, made a sound like an incredulous guffaw and Cressida could tell that Lord Debling heard and had schooled his face to remain unaffected.

“I did not think any ladies of the Ton would ever venture to cook or bake or do anything domestic other than prepare a cup of tea with milk and sugar,” he said. 

“They don’t,” Cressida said. “I wanted you to understand, I’m not like the rest of them.”

“Do I need to eat the tart to grasp that fact conclusively?” he said.

“Not really,” she said.

“Good. Then I will eat my portion purely for the enjoyment of it,” he replied.

“That will be little enough,” Cressida said. There’d been a savory custard to be poured over the vegetables that had looked curdled but she’d persevered; now she realized she risked maiming or killing him if he consumed much of her possibly poison pie.

“Allow me to decide, Lady Cressida,” he said and she did not think she mistook his intention. “I think I shall like it very well indeed and will owe you a debt of gratitude. You will need to tell me how I may repay you for your thoughtfulness.”

“You might begin with a waltz at Lady Thimbleberry-Fenwick’s ball tomorrow night,��� she said. 

“And perhaps the supper dance as well,” he replied. “Though she will not present a tart anything like this one.”

“Thank the good Lord for that,” muttered Sally in a carrying whisper.

Cressida did something she hadn’t for over a decade. She blushed to the roots of her hair and all the way down her decolletage. She gave thanks for her lace fichu.

“No one has given me anything that has pleased me so well since I was just out of dresses,” he said.

“Truly?” Cressida said, knowing she sounded for all the world like a miss fresh out of the schoolroom.

“Truly,” Lord Debling said. “I don’t bother with lies. Waste of time.”

[misandriste]

ELOISE BRIDGERTON + being mistaken for a suitor

[dailybridgerton]

Bridgerton — Season 3 Promo (2024)

[bridgertonladies]

✨BRIDGERTON SEASON THREE TRAILER OUT TOMORROW ✨

[vices-aand-virtues]

Bridgerton + Reductress Headlines (1/?)

[didanagy]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 3 (PART 2)

SPOILER

(instagram cassmorann)

[rubyof-thesea]

look all im saying is if the real life queen charlotte could make her husband grant a famous lesbian couple a pension so they could live their lives together in peace, the bridgerton one can do the same

[grace-williams-xo]

I HAVE FINISHED THE FIRST FOUR THIS IS GONNA BE MY MESSY THOUGHTS POST. SPOILERS AHEAD. [Part two rambles, addressing some of these.]

I want Cressida to be happy and I want her and Debling to work things out sue me I do

More than that I ship Cressida and Eloise,,,, frothing for them to kiss actually

Benedict my happy smiling boy with no thoughts behind the eyes I love you

I still want Sophie to appear late in the season

Anthony is so in love and obsessed with Kate it is grotesque like that man has not had a thought about anything other than his wife since he married her

Despite being the world’s biggest Kanthony lover,,,, I have to admit that their absence works better than I expected

Francesca and Eloise’s little friendship moment in ep 1 was so sweet [EDIT: I meant Francesca and Penelope smh my brain]

Francesca has my entire heart I want her to continue to thrive happy in part two

It’s not that I don’t like the Mondrich’s or their plot… it just feels very disconnected. Hopefully this improves

SO happy about Pen and Delacroix’s continuing friendship I always want more of that I love them

Anthony is gonna kill Colin when he gets back, Kate saying no is gonna be the only reason he doesn’t (I can’t fully explain it, I just feel like Anthony is gonna be mad)

Despite what I said in point 6, we do need kanthony in every episode of part two

Kinda loving Portia Featherington this season, sending her thoughts and prayers every time Prudence and Phillipa breathe, but also scared how she’s gonna react to Pen marrying Colin

When Colin finds out about LW,,,,,,

I like how late the introduction of Marcus was, and how slow burn that is

The first threesome scene wasn’t that bad imo and the second one, where he’s not involved, is so blink and you miss it and he’s clearly not into it anyway so also not that bad

This is going to be the longest 27 days of my life

P.S. I don’t know what to say about Polin. I was screaming at Colin for 90% of it. The carriage scene, the proposal; chef’s kiss.

[andmineisyellow]

Romancing Mister Bridgerton Quotes

[sapphiceloise]

Eloise... not to alarm you but there's an even more evil gayer person in pink behind you in another canopy

[doomed2repeat]

Tired: Colin knew how to unclasp Cressida’s necklace because he’s been raking it up across the continent on his trips.

Wired: Colin knew how to unclasp Cressida’s necklace because he’s a mama’s boy and always helps Violet with her tricky jewelry when she’s tipsy.

[aminetko]

Creloise family portrait wip…

[whowhatwhenwhereandwhynot]

Cressida marries Lord Debling. It’s not as miserable as she feared and she gets pregnant quickly, much to both of their reliefs. And she gives birth to healthy twins. She doesn’t mind not being in London as often, though she misses the fashion. And she’s, shocking to even herself, taken an interest in the natural world after being left in a house where most of the reading revolves around it.

And then one year, Debling then leaves on another of his trips and his letters become more and more infrequent and then stop. And Cressida gets lonely but an old friend of hers continues to write. She doesn’t understand her kids but she loves them, in the same way her parents loved her.

And after Debling is declared dead and her son becomes a Lord, a that old friend stops by for a visit. To help her, in her grief.

And suddenly Eloise Bridgerton is back in her life.

[shewhotellsstories]

Maybe just maybe people are giving Cressida grace not because she's thin, but because we saw on Queen Charlotte through Lady Danbury how awful it was to be married to a man twice your age who uses your body with no regard for your wishes or comfort with the only way out being his death.

I hated that for Lady Danbury, I didn't want that for Marina, I don't want it for Cressida, and although I dislike her I wouldn't want that for Penelope either.

[winnie-the-monster]

😂😂 I will always find it funny how it took Eloise two years to figure out who LW is. The freaking Queen of England three years. But it only took Cressida one freaking night to find out who LW was.

[vices-aand-virtues]

Bridgerton + Reductress Headlines (2/?)