The Spring Quadrille (tarotgal birthday fic 2019)

[Wig_Powder]

“Morning, Gil,” Hervie said, entering the kitchen, “Everything going all right with you?”

“Yes, thank you,” Gilroy said, pushing the sugar bowl towards Hervie’s usual seat, “And yourself?”

“Could be worse,” Hervie said with a shrug, sitting down and immediately placing three lumps of sugar into his tea, “Though I’m not looking forward to the next week. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see the back of winter, but cleaning everything to Lady Crofton’s specifications is exhausting. I imagine I’ll be beating rugs till sundown for at least three days!”

“Well, at least you’ll get to enjoy the sun on your face while you do it,” Gilroy said, taking a sip of his own tea, “And if it tires you out as much as you say, you should probably have no difficulty getting to sleep tonight.”

“Always the optimist,” Hervie said, shaking his head and smiling affectionately, “But that’s probably because you’re lucky enough to have the title of “Butler” rather than “Footman”. You get to pick what chores you do outside of serving the Croftons, so you can take it as easy as you like. I’m betting your contribution to the spring cleaning is just going to be coming in to polish after all the hard work’s done!”

Hervie’s tone was teasing, so Gilroy just smiled faintly and made a humming noise, neither confirming or denying what he’d said. While he actually did try to assist with the spring cleaning in more substantial ways than polishing, it was something of a benefit if the rest of the staff made the same assumptions as Hervie. Given his somewhat elevated status among the servants, it wouldn’t do for them to be aware of his weaknesses...or his indulgences.

***

After breakfast, Gilroy spent an hour bringing Lord Crofton his breakfast in bed, followed by laying out his Lord’s clothes and listening to the instructions that he was to relay to the rest of the staff (mostly to do with cleaning the house). Once he’d been dismissed and returned to the servant’s wing, he wrote down the instructions and placed them on the inner door, where it would eventually be seen by everyone. Then he retreated to the supply closet, where he gathered up as many rags as he could carry and a jar of polish. And then he returned to his room, just long enough to fetch two extra handkerchiefs, one tucked discreetly into his sleeve, the other slipped into his left trouser pocket. Allowing himself a quick smile, he left the room and returned to the main house, wandering through the halls until he heard the signal he was waiting for.

It didn’t come until he had nearly reached the end of the eastmost wing. “Hip-TSHH!”

Even though he’d been eagerly listening for it, the sound still made Gilroy’s heart skip a beat. Nevertheless, he forced himself to move with his usual smoothness as he crossed over to the card room, lightly rapping on the door frame to signal his presence before pushing the door open. “Bless you.”

Eloise promptly lifted her head from her feather duster, her eyes glowing with delight. Acknowledging his blessing with a nod, she gave her nose a quick rub before moving to the far left corner of the room. Glancing around the room, Gilroy saw a second, much more dilapidated feather duster lying on one of the tables, the feathers almost expectantly pointing towards the door. Smiling again, Gilroy picked it up, setting the polish and rags down in its place, and moved to the rightmost corner, at a diagonal to Eloise. They’d perfected this dance over the past two years, and far be it from him to change it now.

Once he was safely tucked into his corner, he began to dust the nearest patch of wall, watching as the dust was whisked away from the wooden panels...and began to float in the air, or cling to the soft strands of the duster. While dust typically didn’t bother him, the sight of it so close to his face, as well as the proximity of the feathers (not to mention his growing anticipation), was enough to allow a small itch to form in the back of his nose. He lightly touched a crooked finger to his nose, but didn’t actually rub it. He did, however, give a slightly exaggerated sniff, which would allow Eloise to turn and see his situation if she so chose. After counting down from ten, he dropped his finger and focused his attention back on his work.

This particular duster had been in service for years, perhaps even as long as a decade, and it was certainly showing its age. While the feathers were still soft to the touch, many of them had their barbs stuck together and pointing in different directions, giving the whole duster a spiked look. Furthermore, the feathers at the edge of the duster were drooping, threatening to fall if too much pressure was applied. Thea had declared it should be disposed of a year ago, and Eloise had obligingly taken it away. But instead of throwing it into the rubbish or tossing it into the fire, she’d hidden it in the chest in her room, only bringing it out at the start of spring. How she carried it from room to room without being seen, Gilroy could only guess. But he knew he’d never ask her how she managed it; the mystery only heightened the experience.

He heard a small gasp from behind him, and promptly turned towards the sound, his heart quickening again. Eloise was still dusting, but she was holding her free hand in front of her face, her head tilted back slightly and her eyes already closed. There was another small gasp, causing her shoulders to jump for a brief moment, and then her head snapped downwards, her hand falling away moments before she sneezed. “Hit-KSHH!”

After the sneeze, she promptly lifted her head, giving a ladylike sniff. Then she turned her attention back to her work, but not before glancing in his direction to see if he’d been watching. When she’d confirmed that he had, she gave him a sly smile before lifting her head upwards, watching the movement of her duster as it passed before her eyes and nose. Gilroy promptly turned back to his own dusting, brushing the duster across the wall in wide strokes, using perhaps slightly more force than was necessary.

At last, his efforts had the desired effect; one of the feathers came loose, gracefully floating to the floor. Clearing his throat, he bent down to retrieve it, dragging the duster down the wall as he did so. Even as his fingers closed around the nub of the feather, he could feel his nose twitch from all the dust and bits of feather in the air. His breath caught, partly in eagerness, partly of necessity, and he straightened up, dragging the duster up the wall once more, sending still more particles into the air. At the same time, he began to lightly spin the loose feather between his fingers, the long barbs brushing under his nose again and again, encouraging the itch to grow. It didn’t take long before he’d achieved the desired effect. As his breath caught in earnest, he managed a glance towards Eloise, and saw her watching him intently, her duster tucked under her arm so she could give him her undivided attention. His chest warmed at the sight, though he was only aware of it for a moment before the urge to sneeze became too strong to ignore. He had just enough time to reach for his sleeve, swapping out the feather for the handkerchief; even then, he sneezed at the handkerchief rather than into it. “Kt-chh!”

Granting himself a brief sniff, he lightly rubbed at his nose with the handkerchief, then replaced it in his sleeve, withdrawing the feather again as he did so. Looking towards Eloise, he could see her smiling, her eyes glittering again. He took a step towards the table, bringing the feather to his nose again. She cocked her head at him, then gave a small shake of her head and turned back to her dusting. Gilroy obligingly returned to his own work, slipping the feather into his lapel and rubbing away the worst of the itch. Eloise was the one in charge of the dance for this first room, and he would follow her lead.

They dusted in silence for another minute, until he heard Eloise sneeze again. “Ep-CHH!” Slightly confused as to why there hadn’t been any advanced warning, Gilroy glanced over at her, then found himself momentarily frozen as all became clear. Eloise must have finished dusting that particular area, as she was moving towards the window, holding the feather duster close to her face, as though it was a bouquet.

(When they finished their spring cleaning in a week or so, she would bring an actual bouquet into the rooms they dusted, arranging them in vases to add color and a sweet scent to the rooms. The fact that there would always be a sprig of pyramidal orchids and a summer snowflake among the arrangement wouldn’t be questioned by anyone, though a close observer might have noticed that getting too close to the snowflake made Eloise sniffle and that Gilroy’s nose twitched whenever he was in the vicinity of the orchids. And while they had to lose a few half-crowns out of each of their wages to purchase the extra orchids, they always thought it was well worth it in the evenings, when Eloise would bring one of the sprigs to Gilroy’s room and they found ways to utilize the pollen from every single blossom.)

While Gilroy couldn’t get a good look at the duster from where he was standing, he could imagine what it must look like, the tips of the black feathers covered with grey-white dust, rendering it useless as a cleaning tool until the dust had been disposed of. Eloise was in the process of doing just that, but in the meantime, the proximity of the duster to her face was allowing both the dust and the feathers to make their way into her nose, working in tandem to tease out a sneeze or three. Gilroy wet his lips, but remained where he was, waiting to see Eloise’s next move.

Eloise saw that he was watching, and gave him a nod, which caused her nose to touch part of the duster. She gasped sharply, her face contorting, and then she stuck the feather duster out the window, turning her head away from it as she succumbed to the sneezes.

“Ik-TSHII! Hup-PSHH! Eh...Et-KISHH!!”

When the sneezes stopped, she remained in place for a moment, no doubt wondering as Gilroy was if there were more on their way. But at last, she determined that she was done for the time being, and turned back to the window, shaking out the duster and sniffling softly. While she busied herself with that, Gilroy removed the feather from his lapel and pressed it horizontally under his nose, breathing deeply. With each inhale, he could feel the barbs of the feather brushing against his nose, some of them invading his nostrils and tickling the insides, the scent of dust growing much stronger. It only took three breaths before he found himself on the cusp of a sneeze. And while he could have breathed in a fourth time, he wanted to make sure he was executing his portion of the dance properly. As such, he lowered the feather from his nose, plucking a handful of the barbs from the feather’s rachis before smoothly returning his fingers to his nose. One quick sniff, and the barbs disappeared into his nose, immediately increasing the tickle tenfold. Pulling the handkerchief from his sleeve, Gilroy brought it to his face and began to sneeze.

“H-shff! Hup-tchh! Eh-kshh! Hrshh!” He was granted a moment to draw a breath, and then he released a slightly louder sneeze. “Ef-TCHH!!”

The strong urge to sneeze diminished immediately after this last expulsion (although a faint itch still remained), assuring him he’d blown out the barbs. A discreet glance into the handkerchief confirmed his suspicion, and he promptly folded the handkerchief over, both to provide a dry patch to sneeze into later and to ensure he didn’t accidentally inhale them again. Then he turned towards Eloise, waiting for her next move.

She had remained near the window all this time, either watching him or perhaps dusting the frame until she’d heard his breath catch. Now she met his eyes, smiling, and stepped away from the window, moving to the nearest table and beginning to dust it. Smiling back, Gilroy put away both the feather and the handkerchief and moved away from the wall himself. It was time for the next phase of the dance to begin.

The two of them continued to dust the room, sneezing sporadically, though now they allowed them to come on naturally rather than helping them along. Every so often, they moved past each other, close enough to lightly bump shoulders, or to let their hand trail along an arm or back. Each touch was enough to briefly send a spark through Gilroy’s veins, leaving him simultaneously longing for more and eager to stretch out this dance for as long as possible to make the moment when it ended all the sweeter. Based on experience, he knew that Eloise felt the same way.

At last, when Eloise was shaking out her duster for the fourth time, Gilroy looked around and realized that they had finished dusting all the furniture in the room, though the walls were still unfinished. Moving back to the table with the jar of polish, Gilroy rested his hand on it, waiting for Eloise’s signal before opening it. Once she was done shaking her duster, she turned from the window, blinking in faint surprise when she realized where he was. Glancing around, she came to the conclusion that Gilroy had, and inclined her head. Gilroy nodded back, picking up the jar and twisting the lid, doing his best to brace himself for what was coming.

The scent of the polish set his nose tickling as soon as the lid was removed. In normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have bothered him; indeed, he enjoyed the smell of polished wood, and often added extra polish to help the scent linger longer. But now, with his nose sensitive from the feathers and dust, it was more of an irritant than a comfort. Letting the lid fall to the table with a clatter, Gilroy extracted his handkerchief and touched it to his nose, his head bobbing forward with a sharp “Kih-TSHH!”

He heard a soft hum of approval, and looked up in time to see Eloise give him a teasing smile before moving back towards the walls. Gingerly dabbing at his eyes and nose, Gilroy picked up one of the rags and dipped it into the polish, preparing to get to work. He was responsible for the next figure of this dance, and while the results would be well worth it in more ways than one, getting through the steps could be a bit of a challenge.

Despite his semi-reluctance, he soon lost himself in his work, smearing the polish across the various bits of wooden furniture in the room, not moving on until the piece was visibly gleaming. Then he would fetch a new rag (leaving the old one resting at the edge of the table or counter) and start the whole process again. The only pauses in his work was when the smell proved too much for his nose—forcing him to withdraw his handkerchief and sneeze a soft but relatively forceful “T-chh!” into it—or on the occasions when he heard Eloise’s breath catch in preparation for a sneeze of her own. At the moment, however, her sneezes were few and far between, the worst of the dust having been removed from the room. But it was enough to spur Gilroy on, rubbing the polish into the current piece with extra vigor.

Gilroy had long ago memorized how many items there were to polish in the card room (and every room in the house, truth be told), and had subsequently figured out the best order to polish them. Thus, when he reached the thirtieth item (the mantelpiece of the fireplace), he could give a nod of satisfaction without looking at the rest of the room to confirm that the task was finished. He did turn to the room at large, however, less to check on his work and more to signal to Eloise that it was time for her to take her turn.

Eloise was in the middle of dusting the nearest wall, and didn’t immediately notice Gilroy waiting for her. As soon as she finished the panel and turned around, however, she saw Gilroy’s posture and nodded, eyes sparkling, before walking past him towards the window. This time, instead of sticking the feather duster all the way out the window, she held it out just far enough that the dust wouldn’t fall back into the room, and bent her head slightly, the better to breathe in some of the dust that was flying from the plumes. Then, either because it wasn’t quite enough or to encourage the sneeze to build faster, she pulled the duster back with a jerk, ensuring that at least one of the feathers would brush against her face. Tucking the duster under her arm, she began to dramatically wave one hand in front of her face, her breath audibly hitching. “Hih...hihh...” As much as Gilroy wanted to approach and assist (due to a combination of duty and fondness), he forced himself to wait. From experience, he knew it would make the final turn all the better.

Still waving her hand before her, Eloise closed her eyes, staggering over to the nearest table and resting her hand on it as if to steady herself. As she did so, her hand brushed against the polish rag Gilroy had left there and, for all appearances acting on instinct, she seized it and brought it to her face, pressing it to her nose as the sneeze came upon her. “Hit-chshh!”

There was a small pause, which was just enough time for Eloise to open her eyes and glance towards Gilroy, the glint in her eye visible even from several feet away. Then, as expected, the scent of the polish on the rag overwhelmed her nose, and she was forced to close her eyes as another flurry of sneezes struck. “Ep-tshh! Hek-tuchh! Ef-KISHII!!”

At the sound of the slightly louder sneeze, Gilroy stepped forward, moving swiftly until he was standing in front of her. Grabbing onto the rag, he tugged it from Eloise’s hand, meeting little resistance. As she glanced up at him in mock-confusion, eyes damp and nose still twitching, he withdrew the handkerchief from his breast pocket with a flourish, giving her a faint smile before gently touching it to her nose. One of Eloise’s eyes closed in a wink, before both of them snapped shut as she sneezed again. “Kertishhh!!”

Sneezing into a clean, dry cloth seemed to have helped blow out the irritants, because her shoulders dropped in relief and she let out a sort of sigh. Rubbing her nose into the cloth (and against Gilroy’s palm), she raised her head to meet Gilroy’s eyes, smiling gratefully. He smiled back, inclining his head at her as he tucked the handkerchief away. Eloise responded by touching his wrist with hand while the other moved to the handle of her duster, cocking her head in a silent question. He nodded, took a deep breath, and waited. This particular step of the dance had an optional flourish, one that they would sometimes forego due to time or tiredness. But since this was the first dance of the season, Gilroy was more than happy to see it through properly.

Upon acknowledgment of his assent, everything seemed to happen all at once. Eloise’s hand closed a little more firmly around his wrist, and his vision was obscured by a mass of brown, the feathers of Eloise’s duster brushing softly but insistently against his skin. Just the touch was enough to affect Gilroy’s nose (already irritated by the deep breath, which had allowed him to get fresh exposure to the scent of the polish), but to ensure that things were done properly, Gilroy breathed in again, some of the barbs invading his nostrils. The itch promptly blossomed, and Gilroy lifted his free hand in warning, not wanting to open his mouth and end up with a mouthful of barbs as well. Fortunately, Eloise understood the signal, and withdrew the duster. As Gilroy’s head tilted back in preparation for the sneeze, he felt Eloise’s hand leave his wrist. He would have smiled if he was able, but the urge to sneeze took precedence, and he allowed it relative free rein. “Ha-SHFFF!!”

While the sneeze was relatively forceful, it was mostly muffled, due to the fact that, as Gilroy had snapped forward, his nose had been enveloped by a soft cloth. After waiting to see if he would sneeze again, Gilroy blew softly into the cloth (two fingers that weren’t his gently rubbing the bridge of his nose), then straightened up, meeting Eloise’s eyes once more. She grinned at him, offering up his handkerchief. He took it from her, tucking it back into his sleeve, then clasped her fingers and pulled her against his chest. She responded by sliding her arms around his neck, looking fondly into his eyes before kissing him, a gift that he eagerly accepted.

They savored their closeness for a minute or so, and then Gilroy reluctantly stepped away, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Where shall it be this afternoon?” he asked.

“Lady Crofton’s parlor,” Eloise answered promptly, “I think the books in particular could do with some dusting.”

Gilroy nodded. “I look forward to it.”

(He’d noticed that when Eloise took her turn to lead the dance, she often picked a room with books, generally setting one out for him to peruse at some point during the cleaning. If all of those rooms had already been tended to, they’d find some other object in the room for Gilroy to toy with until he’d breathe in enough dust, at which point Eloise would press a finger under his nose, keeping him from sneezing while they maneuvered themselves to the window. He didn’t pretend to understand the appeal of that particular step, but if she put up with his appreciation of the polish rags, the least he could do was indulge her favored techniques.)

They spent another minute or two picking up the rags and tiding up the room, engaging in idle conversation. Then they moved towards the door, brushing their arms against each other, enjoying the last bit of closeness before they had to resume their full professionalism once more. Just as Gilroy was reaching for the knob, Eloise asked;

“Do you think it will rain this week?”

“It’s hard to say,” Gilroy answered, “It doesn’t feel like there’s rain in the air to me, but there are enough clouds dotting the sky that there’s always the possibility that they’ll come together to form a shower.”

Eloise nodded. “Is it worth making preparations?”

“Ask me again tomorrow afternoon,” Gilroy said, “I’ll need to see how the cleaning is progressing, and therefore how much I’ll be needed.”

(Sometimes—more often than not, really—the week of spring cleaning would include a day or two of rainshowers. Despite the warming temperatures, these showers were often accompanied by biting winds and colder than usual rain, no doubt winter’s last attempt to cling to the land. If the timing was right, Gilroy and Eloise would take full advantage of that, doing their cleaning with all the windows open, the better to be exposed to the chill. They could never be sure if this would lead to one or both of them catching cold, but they were more than happy to try. After all, a cold not only meant that they’d have reduced work hours and thus more time to spend together, but it made it even easier to coax out a sneeze or five.)

“Understood,” Eloise said, “Until the afternoon, then.”

“Until then,” Gilroy echoed, pushing the door open, “And the best of luck to you with the dusting.”

Eloise gave him one last smile, then moved towards the staircase. As tempted as Gilroy was to watch her go, he moved down the hall in the opposite direction, planning to locate the nearest mirror and tend to his appearance in order to avoid awkward looks or questions from the Croftons or the rest of the staff. Then, once he was sure his hair was smoothed, his clothes were straight, and that there was only a faint hint of pink around his nose, he would return to a more conventional cleaning routine. But as he went about the work of polishing and straightening furniture, he would pass the time by thinking about the impending afternoon dance...and the much more dramatic evening encore. Gilroy smiled, allowing himself to hum softly. He could understand why Hervie and the other servants found spring cleaning to be a challenge, but as long as he and Eloise could enjoy their little dances, the benefits would always outweigh the drawbacks in Gilroy’s mind.

~~~

The orignal prompt: “It’s time for spring cleaning! Aaaaaaand allergies. Maybe cleaning kicks up more dust & pollen than expected, or maybe it’s a brand new cleaning solution (or combination of products) that’s too strong and causes sneezes.” I ended up going in a slightly different direction with this one, but given that one of my favorite tropes is a maid sneezing due to her feather duster, I decided I might as well indulge myself as well as try to follow the prompt.

[solitaire-au]

That was 🥵!

I would love to see more of these two if you are so inclined!

In any case, thank you!

[Wig_Powder]

@solitaire-au Generally, most of the stories I post are one-shots, so I currently don't have any other ideas involving Gilroy and Eloise. But maybe a flash of inspiration will strike me someday.

Thanks so much for reading!