Chapter Text
I.
Dear gentle reader
It is a truth universally acknowledged that an incomparable must be in want of a man in possession of good fortune. Hence, it should be no revelation that the reason Miss Edwina Sharma left viscount Bridgerton at the altar earlier this week is her recent engagement to the Queen’s nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia - a choice for which no one could resent the young lady, as it is indeed quite the step up from a mere viscount.
This author, however, cannot help but wonder if this is a faithful narrative of all that has transpired or if this is the Queen's preferred turn of events. If, perhaps, the wedding might even have taken place if it weren’t for another Miss Sharma. For even though the elder Miss Sharma always claimed to be bound for spinsterhood, it would appear she has been trying to lay claim to the viscount instead.
No member of the ton has remained blind to the overtures between the viscount and his once-to-be sister-in-law. Not acknowledging the intensity of the conduct between Anthony Bridgerton and Kathani Sharma would prove one a simpleton indeed, as it is glaringly obvious they have formed an attachment.
It should come as no surprise, therefore, that our Queen - undoubtedly in a desperate attempt to forestall even more scandal - has decided Miss Sharma is to follow her younger sister to Prussia to serve as a chaperone until the wedding between Miss Edwina and the Prince takes place, next fall.
It would seem, esteemed reader, that the sister of an incomparable is not allowed to be in want of anything at all.
One wonders, then - with the end of the season drawing nearer and with many a Mama still looking for an eligible gentleman to marry their daughters - if the viscount will even have the time to feel Miss Sharma’s loss too keenly.
Yours truly
Lady Whistledown
*
Penelope shifted in her chair and ran her hands over the foul yellow fabric of her dress, trying to make it lay flat enough that perhaps people might not notice how heinous it actually was. She knew better, of course, but it was a habit she had picked up over the many, many years of feeling like a walking lemon.
When she heard some movement further down the hall, she glanced at the doorway again and leaned over slightly, thinking that Eloise - who had, very ungraciously, been keeping her waiting for at least ten minutes - had finally come out to meet her.
And if it were not Eloise, Penelope hoped she might catch a glimpse of Colin. She had not seen him since the wedding had been called off, but the conversations she’d had with him since his return from his tour made her feel like they had maybe rounded a corner, like he might finally see her as she saw him.
She sat up straighter, flattened her dress again and held her chin up, fighting a smile at the thought of finally seeing the man she loved again. However, it was neither Eloise nor Colin that walked in, but their eldest brother, Anthony Bridgerton. He walked in with such haste that he did not even notice Penelope.
She, on her part, was taken by such surprise at not encountering either of her friends, she forgot to speak or even avert her eyes from the viscount, as would be polite.
Penelope could tell he was agitated. He had halted abruptly in the middle of the room, facing away from her, with his hands on his hips. For a short moment, he stood there, as if he had completely forgotten why he had walked into the room in the first place, then sighed deeply and turned around. It was then that he spotted Penelope.
He paused mid-step and blinked once, showing his confusion at finding her in his sitting room. He quickly recomposed, however.
‘Miss Featherington,’ he said, giving her a short bow.
‘Sir,’ she said, quickly getting up and curtseying. ‘I came to call on Eloise for our daily walk. I hope you do not mind me waiting on her here.’
‘Of course,’ he said kindly. He gave her a tiny smile, which then soon faded. ‘Though I am afraid Eloise is out. In fact, I thought her to be out with you. Did Humboldt not say she is not at home?’
‘Oh,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No. I am afraid I was not made aware of her absence. I am sorry to have intruded upon your hospitality, sir. I shall take my leave immediately.’
Anthony’s eyes were still on her, she could feel it. She didn’t dare return his gaze, but she knew what he must be thinking and as a result, she felt her cheeks starting to heat up.
How embarrassing for her to sit here for at least fifteen minutes, waiting for a friend and perhaps even for an unrequited love that would never come. In the back of her mind, she knew that where exactly Colin had gone to was none of her business, and that the chance she would have run into him was fairly small either way. But she had at least expected Eloise to have done her the courtesy of letting her know she would not meet her today, so she would not have been made into a complete fool.
Eloise was often fickle and perhaps even a little self-absorbed, but she genuinely cared for Penelope, and until recently, she would never have forgotten about her.
In all honesty, she was no stranger to being treated this way. Oftentimes, her mother and her sister made sure that she knew how disposable she was, how she was literally weighing the family down. Most of the time, however, they were not aware she was in the room. So no, this was not new to Penelope, but she had not expected to find that treatment here, with the Bridgertons - especially not from her best friend.
‘Penelope,’ Anthony suddenly said, in a voice so soft it tore her from her thoughts for a moment, ‘you are in no one’s way. You are always welcome, wherever we go.’
He sounded like he’d just read every single one of her thoughts, which on the one hand felt strange and exciting - Penelope had never been seen before, not even really by Eloise.
On the other, it was absolutely mortifying, because if Anthony Bridgerton - a man that she had often seen before, but rarely conversed with - could so easily tell what was going through her head, she certainly was not showing even a modicum of decorum.
Penelope Featherington was used to failing, to be fair. She failed at being a good daughter, at being desirable, at finding a handsome, eligible husband, at not wearing ghastly, unbecoming dresses that made her fail even more at finding a man to marry.
But today, she was also failing as a friend, as a proper lady that knew how to behave in society. She was failing in every aspect.
But one.
She knew how to be Lady Whistledown, and she longed to sit in her bedroom, at her desk and to write as the most popular woman in all of the ton, write until she had forgotten that in reality she was the most forgettable.
So, in the end, she nodded in acknowledgement of Anthony’s statement, gave another hasty curtsey and made for the door.
However, as she passed the viscount, she took a moment to finally return his look. She was surprised that she did not see the same Anthony she’d always been aware of.
Even though her heart belonged to his brother, she could always easily say that Anthony was the most handsome of the Bridgerton sons. He was as kind as he was self-assured and he possessed a kind of easy confidence that emanated from him in waves that no one could escape.
It seemed that today, Anthony Bridgerton was failing at something as well. He looked tired, drained of all colour and mirth. He looked older and - to be frank - sadder than Penelope had ever seen him.
She wondered if the reason for his bleak countenance was the absence of Miss Sharma, or if perhaps he was just having a bad day.
In an unexpected and wholly out-of-character bout of confidence, Penelope walked up to him and squeezed his hand for just a second. She didn’t even stop to think how much more improper this behaviour was than her previous show of emotion.
For once, she felt connected to a man like Anthony Bridgerton, who might be feeling like a fool as well, who might be thinking he was left behind too.
As she squeezed his hand, she said, as quietly as she could, ‘It will pass.’ She gave him a compassionate smile, and then thought of her and Colin. ‘And should it not, it will settle.’
This time, she didn’t give him another chance to reply, and finally left Bridgerton House.
*