Chapter Text
Daphne + Simon
As her marriage to Simon had flourished over the past year, Daphne noticed many things as the (not so) new Duchess of Hastings and as a new mother.
She began to take more notice when Hyacinth would sneak extra cookies from the tea tray and she began to understand her mother’s desire for her children to find true love every time she looked down at little August’s cherubic face; she could not bear to imagine her small son ever unhappy.
But now, Daphne almost could not help but notice, across the ballroom from her position beside her husband was a gentleman signing Penelope Featherington’s dance card. There was nothing wrong with the young lady, Daphne even considered her a friend after so many years of her visiting Bridgerton house to see her younger sister. Daphne would not say she is as close of a friend as perhaps Eloise or even Colin, but she was still a dear friend.
Her husband leaned into her ear. “It seems your brother may have some work to do when he returns.” He rumbled with a chuckle. Daphne lightly smacked his chest with her fan. “He will not. Penelope loves him. A single dance will not change that.” She said resolutely, keeping her eyes on the pair as they made their way to the floor for the waltz.
Penelope wore a simple blush gown, with intricate lace and a cut that was rather flattering on her. It was a very different choice from the normal garish citrus gowns Lady Featherington normally insisted she wore; and just as Daphne had noticed, so it seemed, had gentlemen of the ton .
“Darling, you must go dance with Penelope.” She demanded after Penelope had finished her fourth dance that evening. Simon looked at her incredulously. “I have not even asked you to dance yet, my wife.” Daphne huffed. “And you shall, after you dance with Penelope.” She insisted.
“As Colin’s brother you should not stand idly by whilst other gentlemen attempt to sway her away from us Bridgertons.” The Duke bit back a retort about how she was now a Basset, but he held his tongue.
“Very well.” He conceded, straightening his back and righting his waistcoat. “But you owe me three dances after this, wife. ” He murmured lowly into her ear as he pressed a small kiss to the shell, causing a lovely thrill to shoot up Daphne’s spine. She adored this man.
Simon made his way toward the youngest Featherington daughter, who was stood conversing with a group of gentlemen near the refreshment display. He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, Miss Featherington.” He greeted with a nod of his head.
The gentlemen each bowed with a murmured “Your Grace” before making various excuses to disperse, the Duke’s sudden attendance obviously scaring them off. Penelope curtsied at him. “Good evening, your Grace.” She said politely.
Simon smiled. “How are you enjoying the ball, Miss Featherington?” He asked conversationally, glancing around their immediate vicinity only to find nearly half a dozen gentlemen watching their exchange, half in amusement and half in disbelief.
Penelope smiled, gesturing to the decor around them. “Daphne has done a wonderful job, truly worthy of the Duchy of Hastings.” She commented simply, taking a sip of her lemonade. Simon nodded. “My wife certainly has an eye for these things.” He agreed.
They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments until Penelope spoke up once more. “Do you notice Lord Fife and Lady Twombley?” Simon scanned the ballroom thoroughly before turning back to her. “I do not.”
Penelope glanced up at him with a sly smile. “Neither do I.” Simon looked at her, puzzled until she continued. “I understand Lord Fife has been blocking your proposals in the House of Lords out of allegiance to Lord Berbrooke.” She hummed nonchalantly, fiddling with the dance card around her wrist.
Simon stilled for a moment, allowing her words to register; then he barked out a laugh.
She was supplying him with information to help get Fife off of his back during the assembly of the House of Lords by implying his indiscretions. It would certainly save him quite a few upcoming headaches.
“I did not realize you took notice of such things, Miss Featherington. Perhaps you could tell me more over a dance?” He offered his arm to her, the ice having finally been broken between the two of them. Penelope’s eyes widened for half a second before she blushed and nodded, offering her wrist to allow him to sign her dance card. There was one more space left and Simon smirked to himself when he noticed his signature filled in the last blank spot. His wife shall certainly be pleased with him.
He guided Penelope to the floor as the musicians began to take up their instruments. “So, what other sordid details of the ton have you noticed, My Lady?” He hummed lowly as the music picked up and their dance began. Penelope looked at him quizzically.
“I am no Lady, your Grace, I am the third daughter of a Barony.” She said with a tilt of her head. Simon nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed, you are, but—“ He leaned closer to her. “One can be all of those things and still be Lady Whistledown.” He whispered so as not to be heard by any of the other couples around them. Penelope gasped, her mouth falling open as he pulled away from her ear. “I-I… I am not—“ She sputtered, glancing around anxiously. “I am not Lady Whistledown. ” She whispered hurriedly.
Simon chuckled. “Only Lady Whistledown would take notice of such miniscule details at a crowded ball such as this, and no gently-bred, unmarried lady of eight and ten would keep up with the House of Lords.” He said triumphantly. She stared up at him in horror, knowing she had been caught.
“Please, do not turn me into the Queen, your Grace. You must not tell anyone.” She begged quietly, her eyes falling to the floor.
Simon nodded. “Of course, Miss Featherington. You have assisted me greatly in matters of state. Your secret is safe with me.” He vowed; to which Penelope breathed a great sigh of relief. “Thank you, your Grace— “He cut her off. “You may call me Simon, you are practically a sister to my wife.” He offered. She wore a conflicted expression on her face, and Simon simply quirked an eyebrow at her.
She nodded after a moment, allowing the tension to fall from her shoulders. “Thank you, Simon. Should you need my help, it is always available to you.” She said gratefully as their dance came to an end and the music died down.
Over the top of her head, Simon noticed his wife grinning victoriously as she whispered with her mother and brothers, gesturing toward the two of them. “You have not greeted my wife yet, have you?” He asked Penelope, his eyes never leaving Daphne. She shook her head. “Regretfully I have not yet.”
“Come, she will be pleased to see you.” He said warmly, taking her arm and leading her toward the group of Bridgertons and away from the eyes of the gentlemen.
“We must be careful whilst Colin is abroad, Penelope is practically a part of our family yet some gentlemen do not seem to realize that!” Daphne whispered urgently as her husband and Penelope had danced around the room. Benedict nodded sagely. “He will become such a beast if he learns she has been courted while he has been away.”
Anthony rolled his eyes and looked to their mother for any sanity, instead finding a fierce and very Bridgerton-like determination in her eyes.
“Daphne, you must write to Colin this evening after the ball. Inform him of your quick thinking with the Duke, it is sure to spur him into action.” Violet said, taking her eldest daughter’s hands into her own.
Anthony finally spoke up. “And if our fool of a brother still does not realize his feelings? What then?” He asked no one in particular, Kate placed her hand on his arm placatingly but said nothing.
His mother and sister turned to him, identical match-making glints in their eyes that had Benedict taking a half-step away. “Oh, he shall realize.” Daphne said with a self-satisfied smirk as her husband and Penelope began making their way toward them. “Until then, we must remind the ton she is still one of us.”
‘It is said that three is a crowd, yet at the ball hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Hastings it was noted by this Author that famed wallflower and former cousin to all citrus Miss Penelope Featherington was asked to dance by not only four eligible bachelors (none of which carried the surname Bridgerton) but the Duke of Hastings himself.
Will Miss Featherington be able to step into the light this season or will she remain hidden in the shadows of the Bridgertons, much like Lord Fife and Lady Twombly slipped into the shadows of the Hastings Ball for a considerable amount of time?’
- Excerpt from Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers , April 18, 1815
Anthony + Kate
Pall Mall was a Bridgerton tradition. When it was just the family playing at Aubrey Hall, the game would turn more into an active war zone than a leisurely afternoon. But luckily for Anthony, during the season spent in London the Bridgertons knew how to behave (well enough, that is.)
With Kate’s arm securely tucked in his, they strolled through the park as attendants began setting up the family tents for a nice afternoon promenading. “The weather is so lovely today.” She murmured into his ear.
Anthony nodded thoughtfully. “It is such a shame that I want so desperately to drag you back indoors to ravish you again.” He rumbled into her ear, nipping the lobe and delighting in the breathless “Anthony!” He supposed was an admonishment.
Up ahead as they walked, the couple noticed attendants setting up a game of Pall Mall. His wife turned to him almost immediately with a mischievous look in her eye.
“If I win a game of Pall Mall, we must stay and promenade for the rest of the afternoon.” Kate said, leaning into him. He opened his mouth to ask what he got out of the deal when she put her finger up to his lips. “And if you win…” She murmured, placing her hand on his chest. “You may take me back home to ravish me.” She finished with a whisper to his ear, nipping his earlobe the same way he had done to her.
She slipped her arm from the crook of his and strode ahead, only pausing to send a seductive look back his way and Anthony knew he would follow her anywhere .
As they reached the playing field, Anthony noticed Penelope Featherington conversing with a gentleman he was not yet acquainted with. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, a surge of brotherly protectiveness settling in his chest. Colin was still abroad, and it had only been a few weeks since Daphne had sent her letter informing him of Penelope’s newfound popularity. Depending on where he was, the letter would not reach him for several more weeks.
Kate stepped up beside him to pass him a mallet, it was a solid oak wood, sturdy but it was no Mallet of Death. “It seems Miss Featherington is going to play as well.” Kate said happily, waving to the younger lady who waved back shyly. Anthony nodded tensely as the gentleman resumed demonstrating his technique for Penelope.
“It appears so. He glanced at his wife. “Let us go greet her before the match begins.” He said, attempting to sound nonchalant; but his clever, insightful, radiant wife took notice almost immediately.
Kate looked between her husband, the gentleman and Penelope. “Oh!” She said. “Anthony, you mustn’t. You must allow Colin and Penelope to figure it out with no interference.” She said sternly, tugging him back by his waistcoat. Anthony turned back to her. “I am not interfering for Colin.” He said, glancing back at the two. “Without a competent husband or father Penelope needs protection.” He said firmly. “As a gentleman and a friend of Miss Featherington it is my responsibility to see that she is well.”
Kate’s eyes softened as she studied her husband’s face. “That is one of the many reasons I love you. You are so devoted to those you care about.” She kissed his chin gently and looped her arm in his. “Let us go say hello to Miss Featherington then.”
Anthony’s heart swelled with affection for his wife, who knew how to read his mind with just a few words.
Anthony and Kate settled in front of Penelope and her… companion with an air of grace (and for anyone who was not Penelope, intimidation.)
“Penelope, how are you?” Kate pointedly asked, releasing Anthony’s arm and taking the younger girl’s hands into her own. She wore a yellow gown today, much like all of the other days, but this one was a softer yellow, with a lower neckline and a neat matching bow tying her loosely curled hair away from her face.
Penelope smiled genuinely at her friend. “Viscountess Bridgerton, it is wonderful to see you. I am very well, Mr. Ambrose here was showing me some Pall Mall techniques he learned in America.” She gestured to the gentleman, the Mr. Ambrose beside her.
Anthony nearly frowned at the man, but kept his face neutrally composed; he was not even sure if Pall Mall was played in America. He stuck his hand out for Mr. Ambrose to shake in a good-natured gesture despite feeling the complete opposite. “Mr. Ambrose, I am Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, and this is my wife Viscountess Kathani Bridgerton.” He introduced them, shaking the man’s hand with perhaps a bit more strength than necessary as Kate greeted him with a “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
Mr. Ambrose went slightly pale “T-The pleasure is mine, Viscountess Bridgerton.” He stuttered politely before Anthony released his hand.
“Edwina and I have been discussing our next trip to the modiste, I must insist you join us Penelope. Perhaps it shall spur Eloise to join us as well!” Kate said, purposefully cutting out any room for Mr.Ambrose to join their conversation.
“That would be wonderful, my mama has finally loosened her grip on citrus colours and I should like to see what Madam Delacroix will do.” Penelope replied eagerly, Mr Ambrose and his Pall Mall technique entirely forgotten.
Ambrose shifted awkwardly under Anthony’s scrutinizing gaze and pretended to scan the horizon. “Ah! It seems I am needed elsewhere. Good day to you, Viscount and Viscountess.” He turned to Penelope, boldly taking her hand and kissing her knuckles despite the mild shaking from his own hands. “And I hope to see you at the next ball, Miss Penelope.”
He seemed to have caught Anthony and Kate’s fierce glares as he straightened back up and he hastened his retreat, nearly tumbling over his own feet in the process.
Penelope’s shoulders slumped slightly but she righted herself almost instantly, expertly masking any disappointment she may have felt before turning to Kate who might not have noticed her shift in demeanor if she was a less observant woman.
“Are you and Viscount Bridgerton going to play a match? I should like to know so I can sit that one out.” She jested lightheartedly. Anthony chuckled “How many times must I insist you call me Anthony, Penelope?” He asked in a faux-serious tone.
Penelope fanned her face, the summer heat reaching its peak as they approached midday. “As many times as it takes, my Lord.” She teased easily.
“Well then, if you will not call me by my name, you must at least allow me to escort you back to your family tent, the heat grows worrisome indeed.” Anthony insisted, offering each arm to the ladies. Kate took her husband’s arm and smiled warmly at Penelope as the younger woman hesitantly did the same.
“Quite the gentleman you are, Viscount Bridgerton.” His wife teased, causing Penelope to giggle behind her hand. “This is quite the sight, is it not?”
They ventured back toward the family tents, Anthony making sure to be seen with Penelope on his arm. She was a Bridgerton in all but name, his sister in all but name; and these gentlemen were threatening that with their intentions to court her now that Colin was away.
Perhaps Daphne was correct, and Colin realizing his feelings were no longer a matter of the heart, but now a matter of necessity. Anthony pondered this as he watched Hyacinth race toward Penelope and tackle her in a bear hug followed by Eloise and Benedict asking her to settle some petty argument.
Anthony guided Kate toward the tent and settled down beside his mother who sipped her tea, watching her children with fond eyes. “I will write to Colin, the letter will meet him at his next port in case Daphne’s is too late.” He said quietly, passing a biscuit to Kate.
“I shall keep an eye on Penelope at balls and social gatherings as well.” Kate said, delicately biting into her snack.
Violet nodded with conviction, her eyes trained on Penelope who stuck out with her bright red hair but blended in perfectly with the Bridgertons nonetheless. “She is not just Colin’s, but she is ours .”
‘If there was ever a gentleman to be envious of, this Author might offer Viscount Anthony Bridgerton’s name into the fray, for he was seen with not only the lovely Viscountess Bridgerton on one arm, but Miss Penelope Featherington on the other during a promenade in Hyde Park yesterday afternoon. Coincidentally, Miss Featherington was spotted watching a demonstration from Mr Edward Ambrose involving a Pall Mall technique said to be used in America shortly before she was spotted with the Viscount and Viscountess.
This Author must note that Pall Mall is not nearly as popular in America as it is in England.’
-Excerpt from Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,
April 29, 1815.
Benedict
Benedict hated poetry readings, preferring to put his creativity and passion into a more visual media; but his precocious, nagging annoying little sister insisted he accompany her and her best friend to a poetry reading they had been invited to the night prior at a ball.
It was hosted by Lord Cho, who while he attempted to be an avid poet was just as dull as his creative spirit, but Eloise was ever hopeful that there would be some women poets speaking that evening.
Stepping from the carriage, Benedict took Penelope’s gloved hand and guided her onto the cobblestones with a lady-like ease. Meanwhile, Eloise had ignored her brother’s hand entirely and hopped down triumphantly, lacking as much grace as a newborn foal.
The inside of the manor was warm and inviting, with the brass wall sconces casting a cosy, almost romantic atmosphere as they were guided to a large sitting room occupied by a small but notable group of the ton . Lord Cho grinned as they entered, clapping his hands together to gather everyone’s attention once they had been seated comfortably. “Now that everyone has arrived, we can begin the reading!” He announced, scanning the room. “Would anyone like to begin?”
Eloise’s hand shot up, jostling Penelope and Benedict from between and nearly knocking herself from her chair in her eagerness. Lord Cho laughed heartily at her enthusiasm. “Miss Bridgerton, please why don’t you start us off this evening?” He took a step to the side, allowing her the center of the room.
It had been nearly forty-five minutes of poetry reading. Forty-five minutes and Benedict was ready to use his head as a Pall Mall ball.
He had never heard words so sweet when Lord Cho captured everyone’s attention once more. “Well, I believe I will read one last piece before we end the evening.”
He was saved! Soon he could return home and forget this entire evening with the aid of some of Anthony’s brandy.
Lord Cho cleared his throat, placing a hand over his heart before reciting the final piece.
“ Mam[m]a always told me-
I was struck motionless at the sight of her
Son,
Don't let me catch you playin' with fire.-
Her hair was ablaze
One of these days you're gonna get burned. -
Yet I am but a moth to her flame”
( Written by The Mellon on HelloPoetry.com https://hellopoetry.com/tag/redhead/ )
Benedict watched in what felt like slow motion as Lord Cho read his poem to the group, his eyes never once leaving Penelope until he bowed to the applause. He and Eloise exchanged a look. His sister shook her head, silently telling him to be quiet. But when has a Bridgerton ever been good at that?
Benedict stood quickly and cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, all of the attention in the room snapping toward him in an instant.
“Lord Cho, your poem was wonderful.” Benedict started, slowly making his way toward the center of the room. “So wonderful, in fact it has inspired something in me just now. May I?” He requested politely, ignoring the quizzical stares in the room; aside from Eloise who only put her head in her hands.
Lord Cho stepped aside hesitantly. “Of course, Mr Bridgerton. I am grateful you were so inspired by my words.” Benedict nodded his thanks as he stepped into the center of the room.
He had to think fast, he had no idea what he was going to say. Being an artist, Benedict never paid much attention to literature during his time at Eton and in University, he had no idea what the rules to poetry were; if there even were rules to poetry.
He wiped his sweaty palms on his waistcoat, deciding that if he were to recite on the spot poetry, he would attempt to follow the rules of polite conversation.
“He was her world, her whole life depends on him. She didn't care about the ups and downs, hell or disaster. He was her happiness.
but he didn't pay attention to any of it. For him, she was dull, empty and raw. Like she was the core of the earth or even the asteroids—a pest to the universe. for him, she was madness.
their feelings are both opposite. it was like hate and love trying to bond each other. like a volcano erupting but it was insanely beautiful.
the more you hate, the more you love—a myth from our ancestors.
hopefully destiny can find true love. hopefully he will realize how pure and lovely she is. hopefully they find true love to each other.”
(Written by zan on HelloPoetry.com https://hellopoetry.com/tag/one-sided/ )
Benedict glanced around the room nervously, squarely avoiding Penelope’s gaze altogether until he settled on Lord Cho, who’s smile would be better plastered to his face with glue than it was in this moment.
“Marvelous poem, Bridgerton.” He said curtly before turning to the rest of the guests. “On that note, we shall conclude tonight’s poetry reading. I thank you for joining me, have a good evening.” He said before turning and practically storming from the room. Benedict returned to his sister and Penelope’s side, gesturing for them to walk in front of him and clearing his throat awkwardly. “Shall we?”
Later that evening, as he sat in Anthony’s office attempting to forget the awkwardness of the entire evening in a glass of brandy,
During his sipping and self-pity, did Benedict realize that while he had created the poem to tell Lord Cho that Penelope was already spoken for; he had also done it to chase the man away from her as well. Penelope Featherington was a girl who was not related to him in the slightest yet she was someone who Benedict very clearly already viewed as a sister.
Damn it Colin.
Penelope had stared at him as if he had grown three heads during the carriage ride home, and Eloise could barely contain her laughter after they had dropped Penelope off.
He had asked Eloise about the invitation they had received once her laughter finally died down.
She tilted her head, recalling the ball the previous night. “Well, he had asked Penelope for a dance whilst I feigned an ankle injury-“ Benedict snorted, a very Eloise-like maneuver indeed. She shot him a withering look before continuing.
“She came and found me afterwards. She told me Lord Cho had invited her to one of his poetry salons.” Benedict had looked at her inquisitively. “He invited Penelope? Or you and Penelope?” He asked. She paused to think again. “Well, she told me she asked him if I could join her, so I suppose he only specifically invited Penelope.” She had answered after a moment and Benedict knew he would need to inform Anthony.
The heavy door of the office swung open to reveal Anthony and Kate. He had requested they join him whenever they returned home from dinner with their mother. The Viscount and Viscountess took in the sight before them, a slightly drunk Benedict lounging in one of the leather chairs, one leg thrown haphazardly across the arm and a half empty bottle of brandy on the table beside him. The entire look was completed by a determined look in Benedict's eyes.
“How was the poetry salon?” Anthony asked nonchalantly, silently basking in the glare Benedict sent his way
“Lord Cho recited his own poetry to Penelope .” He said in lieu of a greeting as he began pouring a second glass for Anthony, who sighed harshly at the news.
“After he specifically invited her to his private poetry salon.” Benedict continued with another swig from his glass. Kate turned to her brother-in-law. “I thought Penelope and Eloise were both included in the invitation.”
Benedict ticked his head toward her. “Great minds do think alike, sister. I had assumed the same thing, yet according to Eloise, Penelope had asked if she had Lord Cho’s permission to invite her as well.”
Anthony’s fingers clenched around the glass as Benedict continued. “The rake invited an unmarried lady to his home, knowing she had no reliable gentleman to escort her.” Kate looked between her husband and brother before beginning to pace the entire length of the room, her disdain for the insinuation clear.
Everyone in the ton knew there was no gentleman to protect the Ladies Featherington. Penelope’s sisters had married, but there was no father or husband of Penelope’s own to see when a so-called gentlemen acted with ill-intent.
“We received a letter from Colin this morning, he will be back in a month’s time.” Anthony said placatingly, pouring himself a new glass. His wife shook her head. “That is enough time to court and plan a wedding.” She countered. Benedict shook his head. “Thanks to my quick thinking, I believe I was able to redirect Lord Cho’s affections. You may praise me now.” He said half jokingly. Kate paused her pacing to raise an eyebrow at him, an intrigued look on her face. “Do not keep us in suspense, what did you do?” She asked mildly.
Anthony nodded, taking the other leather chair beside Benedict. “Yes brother, do tell us what you did.” He said with an accusatory tone. Benedict held his hands up in defense. “Nothing scandalous or nefarious! I simply came up with a poem that subtly but accurately told Lord Cho that while Penelope was not currently spoken for, she was, well, still spoken for .”
Kate shook her head, gently resting herself on the arm of the chair Anthony had just occupied. “I am not sure how long we will be able to deter these gentlemen. It is certainly not fair to Penelope.” Anthony and Benedict both sighed. “You are right, as usual my love.” Anthony said.
“But if she marries another… She is supposed to be our sister.” Benedict said. “We must give Colin a fighting chance, at least until he is here himself.” He looked between the couple with his best puppy eyes.
Anthony and Kate looked at each other, silently debating between themselves until Kate gave the slightest of nods. “We will stop all of this intervention as soon as Colin has reached England’s shores to pursue her himself.” Anthony conceded with a heavy sigh. Benedict cheered and raised his glass to toast with Anthony’s as Kate smiled approvingly. “Only until she is a Bridgerton officially.” He grumbled despite the smile spreading on his face.
‘Well well well, it seems Miss Penelope Featherington is rather popular this season indeed. This Author cannot help but recall her words from a previous edition at a time such as this.
Miss Featherington was spotted on the arm of yet another Bridgerton (Benedict, this time) as she was escorted into Lord Cho’s residence for what this Author can only assume was one of the Lord’s private poetry salons.
This Author does not know of what poetry was spoken at this event, but it is worth mentioning that Lord Cho and Mister Benedict Bridgerton no longer seem to be as amicable as they once were.’
-Excerpt from Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, May 15, 1815.
Eloise
Eloise was no stranger to social gatherings and the watchful eyes of the ton, however even as she stepped into the ballroom with her arm tightly wrapped with Penelope's, she could not help the nervous tickle in the back of her throat threatening to present itself as a rather undignified cough. She cleared her throat instead. “Shall we get some refreshments?” she asked quietly as they descended the half semi-circle of stairs toward the main floor of the ballroom.
Eloise glanced slightly downward at her oldest friend, who looked nearly unrecognizable in the ball’s dress code of moody colours despite the spring season they were in. Whilst Eloise had opted for a royal purple gown made of velvet to combat the evening’s unseasonable cool air, Penelope had chosen a deep emerald dress that accentuated her figure and glowed with all the shades of green underneath the candlelight.
Penelope hummed in agreement, guiding her friend toward the refreshments that were laid out in abundance. “Do you think you are to dance with anyone tonight, Eloise?” She asked, pouring herself a glass. Eloise scrunched her nose in a grimace. “I should think not. I am merely here because my mama did not buy into my ‘illness’ and insisted I attend anyway.”
It was not entirely untrue, she was there because her mama had not been truly convinced Eloise was feeling poorly, but also she had been given a promise of an advanced allowance from Anthony, who was visiting Aubrey Hall with Kate for repairs and redecorating.
Edwina Sharma strode up to the pair with a kind smile on her face, the maroon hue of her dress complimenting her natural rosiness as she gave the both of them a small but genuine hug. “Eloise! Penelope, how wonderful to see you both!” She greeted.
Penelope smiled warmly at her. “Hello Miss Edwina. You look lovely this evening. Red simply is astonishing on you.” Eloise could not help but smirk to herself as she watched Penelope and Edwina engage in a very in-depth conversation in colours. She had been informed beforehand that Edwina’s presence would be no coincidence. It had been orchestrated by Kate just as Anthony had bribed Eloise into attendance.
She had always known she had come from a family well and true meddlers, but Eloise simply could not believe her eldest siblings were assisting in keeping Penelope away from the eligible bachelors.
It was all rather ridiculous, and in Eloise’s mind the solution was quite simple; If the law had allowed it, Eloise would have just married Penelope herself to save them all the headache. Yet instead she was pretending to be Penelope’s knight-in-shining-armour until her thick-headed brother came to his senses.
“I was just asking Eloise if she intended to dance this evening, what about you Edwina?” Penelope asked conversationally as Eloise refocused back onto the conversation. Penelope leaned in closer to Edwina “I hear Prince Frederich is in attendance tonight.” She said teasingly, scanning the ballroom with a playful smile.
Eloise looked between the two, becoming wholly disinterested once again as they spoke of Edwina’s prospects. Instead, her attention was drawn just over her shoulder where she noticed a gentleman quickly down his drink and set himself quite determinedly in their direction.
“Good evening Miss Sharma, Miss Bridgerton and Miss Featherington.” He greeted each of them cordially with a stiff bow. Eloise studied the gentleman for a second, noting that he was Sir John Williams, a wealthy commander of the Royal Navy. His gaze was resolutely focused on Penelope and Eloise knew his intentions, and exactly what she needed to do.
“Miss Featherington, it would delight me greatly if you would join me for a—“ Sir Williams began, but Eloise cut him off, groaning with great exaggeration as she clutched her stomach dramatically. “Pen…” She moaned, wrapping her arm around her friend. “I told you I was feeling poorly, will you please accompany me home?” She asked pitifully. Penelope’s eyes widened as she looked between Eloise and Sir Williams before she gave the gentleman an apologetic look. “I fear we must postpone our dance, Sir Williams. Please excuse us.” She declined politely (if not a little disinterested) as she fussed over her dear friend who was still doubled over in “pain.”
“I am certain that Miss Edwina would be delighted to take her spot. I am truly sorry, Sir.” Eloise whined with as much theatrics as possible before she cast a discreet look over to Edwina, who thankfully understood her plan and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes sir. Please forgive my friends.” She added, looking at him through her lashes.
Sir Williams, still seemingly in shock at Eloise’s dramatics, could only nod slowly as the musicians began to take up their instruments. “Well, then Miss Sharma, may I have the honor of dancing with you?” He said in a stagnated voice, attempting to recover his clearly damaged pride as he offered his arm in fractured movements.
Penelope guided her friend to the Bridgerton carriage slowly, so as to not cause her any further distress while Eloise mentally cheered for herself for executing her plan so flawlessly.
Upon their return to Bridgerton house, Eloise insisted Benedict accompany Penelope across the square back to her home. He returned with a questioning look in his eyes, to which Eloise tilted her head toward the back gardens as she held up a box of matches, instantly convincing him to follow her.
Eloise and Benedict swung in tandem as they each took slow drags of their cigarettes.
“If the law allowed it, I would have just married Penelope myself.” She said after a long drag, causing Benedict to choke on his own shocked laughter. “As would I, but we both know her heart belongs to Colin, as his does to her.” He said once he was able to catch his breath. Eloise kicked the gravel beneath her feet. “Would… would I be a bad person if I said that the smallest part of me hopes they will not get married?” She asked her older brother quietly.
Benedict shook his head. “No, because at the end of the day you will support their happiness even if it will make you unhappy. It does not make you a bad person, just a person with feelings.” He said, placing his hand on her shoulder comfortingly.
She nodded slowly. “I just do not want to lose both of my closest friends.” She said after another drag of her cigarette, though it did little to soothe the ache in her chest deepening at the thought of Colin and Penelope becoming too wrapped up in their marriage to spend any time with her.
Benedict took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stubbing it out with his heel. “You will not lose them, if anything you will just force Colin to become a permanent third wheel.” He assured her with a chuckle.
Eloise gave a watery laugh. “You are right, if Colin and Penelope get married then she and I could become even closer as sisters.” Benedict nodded, grinning as his sister’s spirits began to lighten. “Come now sister, let us get you back inside and changed before mother comes home and you still smell like these.” He said, picking up his discarded cigarette butt to be disposed of away from the manor.
Eloise’s eyes widened, nodding quickly as she gathered her skirts and began to follow Benedict back inside. She smiled to herself as she stepped over the uneven cobblestone path, she rather liked the idea of her and Penelope being sisters indeed.
‘If there was ever a perfect evening for the annual Knightly Ball, complete with its moody dress code and macabre decor it would have to be Tuesday evening’s chilled air.
Nearly as chilly as Miss Penelope Featherington’s rejection of Sir John William’s request for a dance. This Author should disclose Miss Featherington’s reluctance to dance with Sir Williams may have been attributed to the beginnings of Miss Eloise Bridgerton’s fever which coincidentally presented itself at that moment.’
-Excerpt from Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers
May 25, 1815
Francesca
The Smythe-Smith musicale was probably the best way to get Francesca Bridgerton to confess any secrets one may desire. The poor instruments, tuned to perfection yet still screechy and shrill as each new generation of Smythe-Smith girls inherited the tell-tale lack of musical coordination. She still attended the event every year; sitting and suffering in silence next to Penelope Featherington, who had confessed to Francesca some years prior that she attended every year to be at least one person in the crowd not laughing at the poor girls on the stage.
Francesca found the reason admirable, deciding to stand beside Penelope in her mission to be a good person; and while Colin always joined them during the years he was home, this year it was just her and Penelope. Colin was still nearly three weeks from home and Eloise and Daphne had insisted Francesca attend the musicale with Penelope (despite her informing them she had already planned on being there.)
The two of them took their seats in the middle of the second row as they always did, using their programs as fans to combat the stuffy ballroom air as more and more guests filled inside. “Let us pray the performance is swift this evening.” Penelope murmured, forcing Francesca to stifle a giggle behind her program. “Perhaps they have practiced a bit more this past year, let us not be too hasty, Penelope.” Francesca admonished playfully. Penelope huffed, the jewels adorning her forest green gown glittering under the candlelight when a lady took her seat on Penelope’s other side.
“Good evening, ladies.” She greeted, flashing them a charming smile. “Michaela Stirling, it is a pleasure.” She took each of their hands, kissing them smoothly. Francesca stilled for a moment. She had never encountered a woman so forward or beautifully charming before, and from the deep blush on Penelope’s face, neither had she.
“How lucky am I to be in the company of such lovely ladies this evening? May I happen to know the names of my acquaintances?” She asked, looking between them. Penelope cleared her throat. “I am Penelope Featherington, it is lovely to make your acquaintance Miss Stirling.” She greeted once she snapped out of her daze.
Michaela turned to Francesca, who for the life of her could not muster a single word for a solid three seconds. “I am F-Francesca…” She paused before hastily adding “Bridgerton! I am Francesca Bridgerton.” She burst, her words getting quieter as she spoke. She felt a deep flush raking up her neck at her blunder, and she shoved her nose in the program, despite already having read it.
An hour and a half later, the Smythe-Smith girls played their final, soul-crushing note and Francesca let out a long sigh of relief, with Penelope doing much the same. On her other side, Michaela sat with a blank look on her face, but the horrors of war seemed to play behind her eyes. “I believe a practical joke has been played on me. I was told this musicale was the best entertainment one would be able to find in London.” She said after a moment, her eyes darting between Penelope and Francesca. “Are my ears broken? Do they truly deceive me?”
Penelope laughed, placing her hand on top of Michaela’s. “Your ears do not deceive you, it is truly awful.” She glanced back and shared a knowing look with Francesca.
“Well why do you attend these horrid shows?” Miss Stirling asked with an incredulous tone. “Many people attend these shows to make fun of the poor girls performing on stage, Miss Bridgerton and I attend them to at least be the two people who do not mock them.” Penelope replied quietly. Michaela nodded solemnly, seemingly moved by such kindness. “That is very admirable of you two.” She mumbled in awe.
She and Penelope conversed as the three of them circled the room, Francesca being more than happy to have her mouth full of an eclair or lemonade so as to not say anything humiliated once more.
“May I call on the both of you?” She asked suddenly, looking between the two of them. Penelope opened her mouth to reply but was stopped by Francesca suddenly blurting out “We are not out yet; we cannot receive callers.” She inwardly cringed. She and Penelope did not look like they were still in leading strings in the slightest. Miss Stirling seemed to accept her sorry excuse of a lie and nodded. “I do apologize. I hope once you are both out in society we can become good friends.” She said and Francesca noticed a deeper flush on the tips of her ears.
Michaela swiftly said her goodbyes, and as Francesca and Penelope watched her retreating form, Penelope turned to her. “Why did you lie to Miss Stirling about us not being out in society?” Francesca tried to think of a decent cover story. “Well, you know how nervous I can get with new people…” She bit her lip, hoping the vague explanation would be enough. Penelope eyed her suspiciously but said nothing more as they made their way toward the exit.
The tension from lying to Penelope did not fade until Francesca sank into a hot bath she had requested be prepared upon her return. She thought back to Miss Stirling, she could not be certain, but Francesca was sure the woman had been flirting with them.
She never imagined a time in her life where she would be flirted with by a woman, and she never could have imagined that she would have liked it.
She shook her head as if to shake the thoughts away. She instead thought about Penelope. Poor Colin. Without him around, Penelope was being pursued by men and women alike. Being the most observant of the Bridgertons, Francesca noticed the rest of her elder siblings' agreement to steer suitors away from Penelope until Colin’s return, although she had not expected to have played a helping hand in their ruse.
She supposed she should inform Anthony or her mother of this new development as she stared out the window at the moon silently creeping up into the sky. It was late, and Francesca supposed she could hold on to the memory of being flirted with by Michaela Stirling, at least just until morning.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, you may rejoice for the Stirlings have returned from their Scotland estate for the social season! Earl John Stirling and his cousin, Miss Michaela Stirling have graced the ton with their presences and more importantly, their extremely notable good looks.
Miss Stirling was spotted Wednesday evening attending the Smythe-Smith musicale in the company of Miss Francesca Bridgerton and Miss Penelope Featherington. Newcomers beware! The Bridgertons have laid claim on Penelope Featherington, and it appears Miss Michaela Stirling shall be next!’
-Excerpt from Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, May 20, 1815
Gregory
Penelope was coming around more and more often. She came by to discuss literature with Eloise as usual but now it seemed she stopped by for anything and everything under the sun!
She was there to critique Benedict’s artwork or to simply take tea with his mother and Kate with Anthony often using the time to take a break from his work. Gregory saw her around so often he began to believe she was a ghost, haunting his house and his mind.
On a sunny afternoon, with only a week and a half before Colin returned from his most recent trip, did Gregory understand his siblings’ insistence on Penelope’s presence in their home and just around them overall. He was playing a game of frisbee with a few of his soon-to-be classmates at Eton when one of them threw the disk too far. Not unused to fetching his own Pall Mall balls with his family, Gregory offered to run and collect it.
After shuffling through the bushes for a few minutes, he snatched the disc and raised it above his head in victory. He turned back and marched through the brush to the rest of the group to find most of them huddled together, whispering and pointing up the hill toward the walking path.
Gregory followed their gazes which were pointed towards Penelope, and one of the other boys was on one knee in front of her, presenting her with a rose Gregory knew was plucked from one of the garden beds nearby.
He ground his teeth at the display, stomping towards the group and tossing the frisbee to the ground. “What is Anderson doing?” He asked, attempting to feign nonchalance. One of the other boys, Kingsley, snickered. “He’s asking Miss Featherington to wait for him until he returns from Eton. It appears to be going poorly.” He chortled.
Gregory watched as Penelope helped the boy up, and despite her short stature he still only measured up to her chin. She took the rose and tucked it behind her ear with a grateful yet pity-filled smile. He could not hear what was being said but he did notice how Anderson slumped his shoulders, most likely in defeat. She patted one of them gently and gestured toward their group, waving when she noticed Gregory.
Anderson turned and trudged back to the group, his defeat clear on his face. “Well, what did she say, Anderson?” Kingsley asked slyly, slinging his arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “She told me to save any promises until after I have finished my education.” He answered glumly. Gregory snorted. “Well, of course. She is eight and ten, you are only two and ten. Besides, she is to marry my brother.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
The rest of the group turned to him, far too many of them looking disappointed for Gregory’s liking. “Which brother? Benedict?” Anderson asked and Gregory shook his head. “No, she shall marry Colin once he returns.” If only either of them knew that.
Anderson’s face lost all colour. “You do not think she will tell him, do you?” He asked in a weak voice. Gregory shrugged, looking at him incredulously. “I do not know, why?” Kingsley jumped back into the conversation. “My father said no one goes near Miss Featherington when your brother is home, some say they fear for their lives if he catches one so much as looking at her.” He said, attempting to make his voice sound as if he was telling a scary story.
Gregory laughed at that “Colin? Harming someone who is not his sibling? It is unheard of.” He said, patting his friend on the shoulder placatingly. Kingsley shook his head in disbelief. “Regardless, you Bridgertons took all the good looks in the ton, you could not have at least allowed us to have some of the ladies of no biological relation to you?” He asked, punching Gregory’s arm lightly.
Gregory punched him right back, perhaps a little harder than necessary and replied “Do not speak of my sisters, my friend. For my brothers will not hesitate to issue a challenge of honor.” He said light heartedly, but the underlying threat remained.
Later that night Gregory stared at the portrait of his father in the study. Being the only brother to not have really known their father was sometimes too much of a burden. He wanted to be included with his elder brothers, but he sometimes felt as though he would always be seen as their baby brother, and not the man he was becoming.
Anthony stepped into the study. “I figured I would find you here. Hyacinth said you had an argument at the park today?” He said, standing beside Gregory and looking up at their father’s portrait. The younger of the two rolled his eyes. “She is so dramatic. I did not have an argument, I was simply informing some of my acquaintances that Miss Featherington was already spoken for.”
Anthony choked out a laugh. “What did Penelope have to do with your game of frisbee?” He asked, wrapping his arm around Gregory’s shoulders. Gregory huffed. “The frisbee was thrown too far, so I went to fetch it and when I had returned, Lord Anderson’s son was on one knee, asking Penelope to wait for him until he finished with his education at Eton.”
His elder brother covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh as he nodded. “I see.” Gregory nodded. “They said the most peculiar things about Colin as well.” Anthony’s shoulders no longer shook with laughter as he looked back up at the portrait of their father. “Such as?” He pushed Gregory to continue.
“Well, Knightly said his father says that no one courts Penelope when Colin is home because they fear for their lives when they just look at her.” He finished as Anthony could not help the bark of laughter he could not keep in. “Do they? Well Colin should probably be more discreet.” He chuckled. “How did Colin come up in your conversation about Penelope?” Gregory shrugged. “Of course I had to inform them that she was to marry Colin, and Anderson nearly passed out in fear.”
Anthony nodded sagely. “So you were protecting Penelope as you would Francesca or Hyacinth?” Gregory nodded eagerly, that was exactly what he was doing! He looked up at his brother, grateful that he understood for once.
Anthony placed an approving hand on his shoulder. “One of the most important values of a Bridgerton is to protect who you care for. I am proud of you Gregory, Father would be as well.” At that, Gregory’s eyes burned and he roughly wiped away any tears that may or may not have escaped when Anthony had turned to collect two glasses and a canister of brandy.
“We should celebrate you moving onto Eton, right?” Anthony asked, pouring them each a glass. Gregory sniffled, tackling his brother in a tight embrace instead of taking the cup. “Thanks, Ant.”
‘Children are often the most honest. They do not know yet of the social cues where lying may be acceptable. This fact can be proven by Miss Penelope Featherington’s ever-increasing popularity over this season.
David Anderson II, son of Earl David Anderson was spotted in Hyde Park requesting Miss Featherington’s patience with his continued education at Eton, so he could return to wed her.
Miss Featherington was then spotted helping the boy up good-naturedly and sent him on his way with what this Author presumes, was a gentle-let down.
If this Author is somehow incorrect, then she offers her sincerest congratulations to the future Lord and Lady Anderson in six years’ time.
-Excerpt from Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers ,
May 31, 1815.
Hyacinth
Hyacinth had a knack for figuring out even the most tangled of mysteries. She prided herself on being able to read each and every single one of her siblings with just a look at their faces, but now? Now even she was just plain confused. The tension in Bridgerton House seemed to grow thicker now that Colin was only a day or so away from returning home.
Should her family not be more excited to see their brother back on English soil?
Hyacinth pondered as she strolled through the market with her mother, Eloise and Penelope. They were shopping for Colin’s homecoming gift, and while Hyacinth was endlessly bored as her mother seemed to want to inspect every single item inside of every single shop, she was grateful that Penelope had joined them on their outing.
As the ladies perused the market square, Hyacinth noticed a merchant cart selling so many crystals and gems she worried the old wood would splinter and crack under the weight of it all. Tugging on her mama’s skirts as she inspected a large variety of quills that all looked the exact same, Hyacinth pointed at the cart. “Mama, may we please go look at those jewels?” She begged childishly.
Violet straightened and looked to where her youngest daughter was pointing and gave one of her great motherly sighs that she seemed to have reserved specifically for herself and Eloise as she turned to Penelope. “Penelope, darling, will you accompany Hyacinth across the market to that merchant cart? I am almost done selecting the perfect quill for Colin.” She said before quietly murmuring to herself “perhaps it shall spur him to write home more often.”
Penelope huffed a quiet laugh, nodding. “Of course Lady Bridgerton, we shall be right over there.” She took Hyacinth’s hand in her own and allowed the young girl to nearly drag her away with a giggle.
They perused the items for sale, Hyacinth quickly disappearing around the other side to find a full and blooming florist cart. She looked at the colorful array of roses, forget-me-nots, daffodils, and daisies. It was almost every single type of flower and with the jewel cart momentarily forgotten, Hyacinth stepped forward to breathe in their sweet aromas.
She paused when she heard a merchant address someone.
“Are you going to buy the lady a gem, sir? You must be a very devoted suitor indeed.” The merchant praised jovially. Hyacinth heard Penelope speak up. “Oh, no sir we are not-“ but a faceless man cut her off. “I hope to be, sir.” The young girl frowned. Penelope was not being courted by anyone, not even (frustratingly so) Colin! She turned to the lady selling the flowers. “May I have a bouquet that represents love and devotion please?” She asked, a plan forming quickly in her head. The lady smiled kindly and handed the flowers to Hyacinth, collecting the money she held out in exchange. Colin was definitely going to owe her.
Rushing back around the jewel cart, Hyacinth spotted Penelope who had been joined by Lord Fife. Hyacinth recognized him from the few social gatherings she was permitted to attend and issues of Lady Whistledown she stole away when Eloise was finished reading them.
Hyacinth also knew of all of the unfavorably true things about the man from overhearing her brother’s conversations about him when she was supposed to have been asleep in bed.
“Penelope!” She said brightly, rushing toward the older girl. “Colin sent these for you!” She held out the flowers excitedly, ignoring Lord Fife’s disgruntled look in her direction. Penelope took the flowers gingerly, an expression of doubt crossing her face, which in turn flared into a bright red when she realized their meaning. She stared at the assembly in awe, petting the petals as if they were made of glass, with Lord Fife all but forgotten beside her.
He cleared his throat awkwardly before bowing slightly to Penelope. “Well, I must be on my way. Have a good day, Miss Featherington.” He said before turning on his heel and tersely walking away, grumbled complaints following him as he went.
Hyacinth hooked her arm in Penelope’s and guided them back to her mama and Eloise, who seemed to have witnessed the entire spectacle and wore matching sly grins. “Did you see anything you liked, Pen?” Eloise asked as Violet pulled her youngest daughter in for a hug. “That’s my girl.” She murmured with a kiss to the top of her head as she tucked some coins into Hyacinth’s frock.
Hyacinth grinned at her mother, knowing deep down she would still bribe Colin for the flowers.
‘…Speaking of Lord Reginald Fife, he was spotted conversing with none other than Miss Penelope Featherington and Miss Hyacinth Bridgerton in the market square just two days ago, offering to buy Miss Featherington a jewel of unknown origin or type. It was, in this Author’s esteemed opinion that it had never been in Lord Fife’s wildest fantasies to attempt to woo Miss Featherington, but perhaps this Author forgot to check if Hell had frozen over this morning.
-Excerpt from Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, to be published June 3, 1815.
Violet
If you asked Violet Bridgerton how many children she had, she would tell you she had sixteen children, she had just not met five of them yet as five of her children remained unmarried. Simon, the Duke of Hastings was her tenth child. Her eldest daughter, Daphne had married Simon and had already given her a grandson. He was a dutiful husband to her Daphne, caring for her as the delicate swan Violet had watched her grow into. Kathani, or Kate Bridgerton was Violet’s eleventh child and her successor as Viscountess Bridgerton. She was a strong woman, who spoke up for herself and made sure not only her voice was heard, but those around her as well. A perfect match for hard-headed and righteous Anthony.
Violet’s ninth child, however, was not a member of the Bridgerton family at all; at least not yet .
Penelope Featherington grew up right across the square and had quite literally blown into their lives like the gust of wind that had blown her bonnet from her head and had knocked Colin from his horse and into the mud. Eloise had thought the event so comical she had claimed Penelope to be her best friend on the spot while Colin had laughed the mishap off with an uncharacteristically soft look in his eyes.
The youngest Featherington daughter remained close friends with Colin and Eloise for the remainder of their childhoods, eventually developing relationships with all of Violet’s children in her own special way. All of the Bridgertons considered Penelope family, and would fight tooth and nail for her just as they would each other.
That of course meant Violet had caught the whispers at balls as she watched Colin ask Penelope for dance after dance without her own prompting. The rumors between gentlemen over whether or not Penelope was being courted by Colin, each of them daring the next to attempt a conversation with her only to be nearly killed by her son’s glare.
Over the years, Colin had developed a taste for travel and was consistently out of the country more often than not, and Violet began to hear different rumours. She heard the whispers of men, thanking the heavens and the Queen that Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington’s guard dog was no longer in London and would not be for the foreseeable future.
Well, he would have been gone for that long if Violet’s other children (and herself, if she was being truthful) had not sent letters peppered with small tidbits of information regarding Penelope’s recent popularity; or in Hyacinth’s case, sending full copies of Lady Whistledown when they called specific attention to Penelope.
So on the third day of June, Colin returned home to his family.
Violet could not stand unflattering comparisons to anyone, but currently Guard dog seemed a rather fitting term indeed as Colin paced the drawing room, a list of Penelope’s would-be suitors (promptly provided by Hyacinth) clenched in one hand as another raked through his already messy curls.
Violet sipped her tea calmly as her son raged back and forth in front of her. “I was gone for only ten months and— and these scoundrels dare attempt to court Penelope? My Pen? ” He seethed to himself. His mother could not tell if he was including her in his conversation with himself or not. Violet hummed. “It seems as though without your presence around her; the other men of the ton have deemed her safe to court.”
Colin turned toward his mother so quickly Violet worried for the health of his neck. “Safe to court? What does that even mean mother?” He asked with frustration evident in his tone as he gracelessly flopped on the setteé opposite of her. Violet sighed heavily, leveling her son with a no-nonsense stare that had him instantly sitting up straighter.
“You have stood beside that girl at social gatherings for years, dancing together and gossiping. Most men believed you to be her suitor.” She explained carefully, setting her teacup on the table between them.
Colin just blinked at his mother for a few moments. “But… she is Pen.”
“Or so I have heard.” Violet replied warily, deciding to not overwhelm him.
Colin slumped once again, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up at her with tired eyes. “Do you suppose this is why she has not replied to my letters?” He asked dryly, cracking a smirk at his mother’s affronted gasp. “Colin Bridgerton!” She exclaimed, leaning forward and smacking his knee. “You did not!” He just shrugged and flashed her a half-hearted cheeky grin. Violet had half a mind to tug him by his ear.
Only after she settled herself from her son’s revelation of carelessness did Violet answer his question. “I did not realize she was… not replying to your letters. She is to attend the Macclesfield ball this evening. Her mother will not be there, she is attending to Phillipa’s illness.” Colin fixed his mother with a blank stare, and she sighed again. She had been sighing quite often these past few weeks.
“Lady Featherington has asked that I keep an eye on Penelope in her absence. I am sure you will be able to find a moment to speak with her properly. ” The dowager Viscountess stressed the final word, hoping her double meaning was not lost on her (normally) clever son.
Colin perked up at that, standing swiftly. “Well then mother, I must be readying myself for this evening.” He kissed her cheek and strode out the door with renewed purpose. Violet took one last sip of her tea and glanced up at the portrait of herself and Edmund. She has always believed Colin looked the most like her own father, the late Lord Ledger, rather than her late husband.
Violet’s father was kind, intelligent and always level-headed even when Edmund had been caught throwing rocks at her window while they had still been just courting. But watching Colin stand to begin preparations for Penelope, a girl who reminded Violet so much of herself in her younger days…
She studied her husband’s face for a moment longer. “He reminds me so much of you, darling.” She whispered into the empty drawing room.
That night, Violet lingered beside Lady Danbury, scanning the ballroom for any sign of Colin or Penelope. “Good God woman, whom are you searching for so desperately?” Lady Danbury asked, craning her neck to see as well (nosey as she was.) Violet placed her hand on the Lady’s arm and shushed at her. “I am looking for Miss Featherington, her mother could not be here this evening due to her second daughter falling ill.” She said in the older Lady’s ear.
Lady Danbury nodded wisely before picking her cane up and using it to point into the crowd. “There she is, speaking with Lord Debling, I believe.” Violet followed where the end of the cane pointed to, and there was Penelope in a seafoam gown that shimmered with every flicker of candlelight as she spoke with a blonde gentleman who towered over her, though not as much as Colin did.
“Thank you, Lady Danbury, I shall find you later.” She promised, making her way toward the pair with haste, not noticing Lady Danbury’s knowing smile following after her.
“Penelope, darling there you are!” Violet said, sweeping into their conversation with grace, “accidentally” cutting off whatever Lord Debling had been about to say. She curstied to him in greeting. “My apologies my Lord, I am Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, I see you have met Penelope, she is such a dear friend to the family, practically my fifth daughter.” She gushed, fanning herself.
Beside her, Penelope blushed as Lord Debling looked at Violet with a polite smile. “It is a pleasure, dowager Viscountess. I am Lord Alfred Debling, I see now why the rumors say you Bridgertons are so protective of Miss Featherington, she is like a sister and daughter to you all.” He smiled easily, picking apart Violet’s subtle hint with as much effort as picking up a teacup.
She could not disagree with his assessment, so instead she just smiled demurely at him before turning to Penelope. “Dear, you must take a turn about the room with me, the decor is simply stunning this evening.” She said, eager to pull Penelope away from this cunning gentleman.
The musicians began to pick up their instruments and Lord Debling reached for Penelope’s hand. “My apologies, but Miss Featherington has promised this dance to me.” He said, guiding Penelope’s wrist gently to show off his signature on her dance card.
Violet smiled tightly. “It appears so. Penelope, you must join me once this dance is over.” She insisted, squeezing the girl’s other hand before slowly making her away off of the dance floor, glancing back at the two as couples began making their way to the floor.
As the music began and Lord Debling pulled Penelope close, Violet bit her lip and prayed for Colin to reveal himself soon.