Chapter Text
Closing the door behind her, she collapsed onto a heap on the ground. Glancing over at her writing desk, Penelope contemplated writing a fresh new issue for her society papers. At least I could still earn some money , she thought bitterly. What would Lady Whistledown talk about this week? She wondered, surprised to find that her mind had turned blank from exertion, and that shame had overwhelmed her. Giving up writing, Penelope Featherington turned her attention instead to her bed, in which she made herself as small as possible, and cried her eyes out.
Colin came to her window at nightfall to Penelope’s surprise. She hastened to the back entrance to welcome him, hope ignited in her chest and she tried to temper its little flame. Colin might love her still. Maybe he had come to offer her comfort. How she wanted to feel his strong arms anchoring her in his embrace, his soothing voice telling her she was forgiven, that it was not too late, that he still wanted to marry her. That everything that happened in the afternoon was just a figment of her guilty conscience and imagination. That he still saw her for who she wanted to see herself as, the good girl he had fallen in love with.
Realistically, she braced herself to say a thousand apologies and expected a new wave of grievances.
Colin did neither as her hope or her expectation. He stood by his place by the door, his boyish face half-covered in darkness as he offered her an awkward, pained smile.
“Why did you not tell me, Pen?”
“I’m so sorry, Colin.” She pleaded. “I have planned to tell you. I wanted to. Honestly.” She really had. She had planned to tell him her deepest secret on their wedding night. In the sanctuary of marriage. Where he no longer could reject her. She could not bring herself to tell him this. She knew it sounded like manipulation. Perhaps it was.
“Lady Whistledown has hurt a lot of people.”
Her tears fell anew.
“I know, Colin. I’m so sorry about all of it. It is just words, I swear. It is not me. You must believe it. Please believe it.”
His voice was distant.
“No, Penelope. I think it is. I think Whistledown is a bigger part of you than you care to admit. Until you can reconcile with that fact, I don’t think we should get married.”
Panic gripped Penelope like a vice.
“No! Colin, please! I truly am sorry. Don’t break the engagement.” Months ago, Penelope might have resigned to a loveless marriage with someone else. Then Colin returned to her life, and they had connected like never before. She had had suitors this season, certainly. But she realised it would not have been enough. She had only wanted Colin. She had wanted him forever.
“You have hurt a lot of people, Penelope!” He said, exasperated. “I love you, but I love my family as well, and you have wronged them. They have not forgiven you, and honestly, I do not blame them. I have not forgiven you.” He looked at the ground. “At least not yet. It turns out I am not that kind.”
Penelope stayed silent. Colin paced back and forth for a few moments, then returned to face her. He struggled to recite his practised speech. Spoken words had always been rather difficult for him.
“I would like to know you, Penelope. The good and the bad. I would expect you to do the same for me. But not like this. Not when you run away from consequences and wield your pain like a weapon. It has become clear to me this afternoon that neither of us are mature enough for matters of matrimony. We both need time. Therefore, I propose we take a step back. I'll help you with my family, but you need to make amends with them. With Lady Crane as well. You owe them that much. After that," He stepped a little closer to her. "When we are both ready. That is, no more secrets. No more shame. No more slandering innocents. I want to walk into marriage with you with a clear head.” His voice became more tender at the end, and he reached out to wipe the tears away from her face.
”I will. I promised.” She meant it. “I have always dreamt of you.” She sobbed.
Colin's hand rested on her cheek and Penelope leaned into the touch. “I know. Would you wake up then, with me, now?” He kissed her forehead once, so softly it hurt. Then he stepped back, giving her one last encouraging smile, and walked away.
Penelope Featherington was left once again with herself. But this time, with hope.