Chapter Text
Rising early and leaving the house before anyone took note of her presence was not a novelty in the life of Penelope Featherington. Her whereabouts were a rather private affair, both out of necessity and disinterest of those around her. Accustomed to roaming the streets of Bloomsbury at night, she had no trouble getting places during the early hours of the day as well. The only person who knew of her excursions was Rae, her trusted maid who swiftly became her only friend.
There was no one else to confide in within her household.
From the moment she arose to greet the day until the very hour she bid it goodbye, Mother became increasingly preoccupied with the demands and scrutiny of society. Like a certain Mrs. Bennet, her sole focus rested on the marriage prospects of her daughters. Two of them, that is. From the moment of their debut, she never truly took any interest in Penelope’s future.
Having her hands full with maneuvering the eligibility of Prudence and Phillipa was challenging enough — one appeared void of compassion. At the same time, the other seemed unperturbed by any sense of understanding of reality. They both had their own set of expectations out of life, aligned with Mother’s hopes and dreams — marriage and financial stability. While Phillipa cared more about the romance within a marriage, Prudence was simply satisfied with possessing the title of wife and all that came along with it.
After all, observing young ladies vying to attain the status of someone's wife was the sole interest of the Ton. In order to avoid being maligned by it, one needed to play by its rules and join in the chess game that was the marriage mart. Every household was in possession of an eligible piece, be it a son or a daughter.
Well aware of the game in her third year out, Penelope caved at last. Bidding goodbye to her hopes and dreams, which seemed both vivid and unattainable, she chose to escape the prison of spinsterhood by her Mother’s side by finding a husband for herself. No one else was ever there to care about such things in her life. Mother has never considered her prospects; Father, on the Other Hand, evidently only cared about the thrills of his vices, which led him to ruin and demise. As with everything else in life, she would have to do this herself.
However, when she least expected it, help came her way from an entirely unexpected source.
Fate had a twisted sense of humor. If she dared to think about it, Penelope would even proclaim it to be a cruel one. The moment she decided to step into the unknown and carve out a new path for her life, Colin returned to prove his heart held no ill will towards her. On the contrary, it was filled with remorse and honesty — a true desire to start anew.
As friends — the only thing they ever were and will remain to be.
Hurt as she was by his remarks, for they had annihilated the only pure thing within her life, Penelope could not allow him to think her unfeeling and resentful when his repentance was as genuine as the kindness of his character.
Her anger withered into dust. It happened as quickly as it had formed, on that harrowing night of the ball, as if being crossed with him was a foreign entity within her body, tearing the remains of her devotion for him into shreds never to be made whole again. Having gone through the torment of it, she chose to embrace what always freely belonged to her — his friendship.
Accepting their past as their only future brought her peace, for it meant she could keep him close to her for a moment longer. Until her marriage transformed the closeness, honesty, and humor of their friendship into a nod and a greeting of two neighbours, Penelope shall remain his Pen.
The one he proclaimed to miss.
The one who will spend the rest of her days missing him.
She would miss everything about him, even the moments that brought her anguish, for no pain would be greater than not belonging to him — not having him next to her through every moment of joy and sorrow that awaited. The torment of what could have been was already a heavy and palpable burden upon her soul.
Becoming a Bridgerton, truly belonging to them as her heart always dreamt she would. Living a life rich with laughter, devotion, and dedication to the family that had always cherished her presence. All of that was never to come true for her. She would remain as she always is, someone admiring and craving their harmony from afar. Some dreams and hopes remained forever close at hand and yet so far away.
All of these thoughts played out within her mind like pieces of a puzzle, a future foretold by observing the entrance doors to the house she would never have the honor to call her home. Bridgerton House stood before her, enveloped in blooming wisteria vines. Proud and joyful amidst many opulent houses, it beckoned her to enter into the safety it has always offered.
Pausing to take a deep breath, all Penelope could do at this very moment was ponder over one single and most important question — what on earth possessed her to agree to Colin’s ludicrous invitation?
Knocking on the doors offered her nothing but a slight reprieve before she stepped into madness. Foregoing every sense of propriety, as was her custom where Edmund Bridgerton’s third son was concerned, the moment her eyes met those of a footman, Penelope heard herself uttering:
“Miss Penelope Featherington to see Mr. Colin Bridgerton.”
If he thought her request odd in any way, the footman did not show it. Working for this household has certainly taught him that one can never be too shocked by anything that happens or consider it unexpected. Out of the ordinary was a sentiment that had long been accepted as the norm of any behaviour within the family, even though their members still clung to some semblance of propriety, until a new scandal knocked upon their doors that is. Every scandal being a product of love was what prompted the Bridgerton staff to refrain from any malicious comment on those living here and to instead pass their time by guessing what new mischief would be on the agenda for the day.
Evidently, it was Colin’s turn today to court scandal. Though not one member of the staff saw it as such. They had all been hoping for a marriage proposal since the young Mr. Bridgerton burst into the kitchen one day, requesting a plate of biscuits to share with his new friend Penelope. Mrs. Wilson and a few others, older members of the staff, were very fond of that tale to this day. Every new arrival to their ranks simply joined in on the fun of observing the young couple and waiting for the inevitable. That left the footman, at present, very eager to relay this new development to the rest of the staff. To the guest before him, he merely nodded and offered for her to wait in the reception room for the arrival of Mr. Bridgerton.
“No, thank you. I am happy to wait here…” Penelope said with some trepidation in her voice, while she took a moment to inspect her surroundings.
The footman offered her a small bow of his head in parting and went on his way. At the same time, Penelope was left to wonder if such a brazen move on her part as calling in on an eligible suitor would eventually transform into gossip to be shared between servants on Grosvenor Square. She was well aware that the Viscount prided himself on hiring a trusted, praiseworthy staff, one well equipped to deal with any eventuality. Nonetheless, they were all, young and old, nothing but curious people who found a bit of delight in relaying tales within their household to their friends. Rich and poor alike, humans were the same in many regards — their love for gossip in particular.
As was her custom by now, Penelope would be there to listen.
That thought aside, she had a more pressing matter to attend to right this minute — she was meeting Colin at Bridgerton House. For what purpose he chose his own home, she knew not. Still, Penelope hoped this location could swiftly be exchanged for something more suitable and less close to Eloise. Promenading would surely not be an option if they wanted to avoid any talk, for they had been spotted on Rotten Row together only a few days ago. Colin voiced his future thrill at the downfall of Whistledown; he was convinced such an occurrence was bound to happen with the way her pen had been dedicated to taunting the Queen and members of her Ton. Penelope had no choice but to smile, as she always has done in the past when her nom de plume was mentioned.
If he only knew Whistledown was standing under his roof at present, awaiting his assistance in courtship, and to secure a husband for herself. If Eloise only knew of this, even she would have to laugh. She’d be amongst the first to do so.
It was utterly ridiculous and yet so easy to believe. If anyone ever only tried to observe Penelope herself, they would see the truth, plain as day — she was never able not to pay close attention to Colin’s every word or to deny him anything. This brief distance she forced herself to place between them hurt her more than it did him, for she was in full knowledge of every painful fact and aware of a secret that so clearly resided within her gaze whenever she looked at him.
It has been years, and no one saw it.
Clearly, no one ever will.
It was her curse and her blessing.
She did not have a moment to let out a sigh at this injustice before she spotted Colin approaching her with a spring to his step, joy evident upon his countenance.
“Penelope,” he offered in greeting, declaring in a cheerful tone, “I’ve been eagerly awaiting your visit.”
“As have I…” Penelope could not help but agree before pointing out, “But perhaps it’d be better for me to meet you at the market instead of coming here first.”
“We are not going to the market this time. We are going to the Bridgerton drawing room,” Colin announced and turned to lead them there.
“But why?” Penelope counterclaimed his information with an urgent question.
Colin’s step faltered as he swiftly turned to offer the most logical answer, “Your next lesson, of course.” After granting her a reply, his body returned to its initial idea of getting him to the drawing room. Penelope’s voice made him pause his movement once again, “But Colin, my maid is outside, and Eloise…”
“Is out for the afternoon at the modiste with Francesca and our mother,” Colin interjected to provide her with yet another answer.
Penelope could not allow herself to be deterred by that explanation, “And the rest of your family?”
“They are playing cards in the garden,” Colin solved that mystery as well, his arm coming gently over her shoulder and moving her towards the staircase that would, at last, lead them to their destination. While they were both on the same course, he carried on with his explanation, “You’ve seen my family play Pall Mall, you know how competitive we are… Hyacinth loves to win, Gregory hates to lose to her, and Benedict will refuse to miss the spectacle. Trust me, not one of them will be leaving that table in the immediate future.”
As his sentence came to a close, the doors opened to reveal the room Penelope had adored spending her time in.
“You mentioned you were comfortable at Bridgerton House…” Colin stated. “So, we are gonna practice here.”
She mentioned to him how much she missed tea time at Bridgerton House during their last outing at the market. It was touching for him to remember how much these moments meant to her, for she could not hide the sorrow that permeated her voice while she was speaking on the subject.
Nonetheless, she now heard herself clarifying her previous statement. “I was comfortable at Bridgerton House, previously…”
Colin carried on as if no objection to his idea had been offered, “We needed a place to be alone. Here, your maid can wait outside, and we can pretend we’re at a ball.”
“Have you gone mad?” Penelope could not help but voice her shock at his outlandish plan.
His first reply, met with her bemused countenance, was to give her a small smile and proceed to explain every detail of his grand scheme. “Imagine it with me, Pen,” he turned to the room and raised his hands as if he was about to conduct a duet live on stage, with portraits on the wall serving as their sole audience. “The quartet is by the pianoforte, preparing for the Parisian quadrille. Here, on the sofa, some mamas are debating the merits of the decorations… Across the room, gentlemen are asking young ladies to dance. And here…” he pointed towards the refreshment table at last, “we have the lemonade table, which is where we shall begin.”
Every conversation ceased for a moment. She observed him completely befuddled and amused by his imagination. He, in turn, looked hopeful. At last, she relented and decided there was no going back from bringing his imagination to life. As always, she was willing to play along. After all, he put in great care and effort to bring about that missing sense of comfort she mentioned to him earlier. Who can resist playing out their most significant fears while safely enveloped in the place that brought them pure happiness? Placing her shawl on the chair, she approached the table and decided to accept and embrace the challenge he offered. Whatever comes next.
“Very well,” she acquiesced and, with amusement in her voice, posed yet another question, “Shall I pretend to flirt with the imaginary cellist?"
“No. With a dashing suitor you just met by the refreshments…” raising a glass to illustrate his idea better, he uttered a simple word, “Me.”
“You?” Penelope could not help but sound crestfallen at the suggestion.
“I’m the perfect person to practice on. You don’t have to be embarrassed — you know me.” Colin expanded on his reasoning.
Still, Penelope persisted and exclaimed, “That is exactly why I’ll feel even more embarrassed — because I know you.”
Colin could only sigh after sensing they had reached an impasse, a thing he obviously did not foresee, for such a thing had never occurred before in all of their years of friendship. Their earlier pause in communication was not taken into consideration, for it had swiftly been resolved and transformed into an act of atonement and desire to aid a friend whose brilliance and attentiveness had so much to offer to the world. If only the world in question were not so utterly blind to the splendor of her charm and character.
Explaining her sentiment on the matter felt crucial to Penelope, for both their sakes, so she resumed talking and thus ended Colin’s musings, “Forgive me… It is only… Deep inside, I know I can be clever and amusing, but… Somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth, and I find myself saying the wrong thing or, more likely, nothing at all.”
“Forget what is wrong or right,” Colin simply said. “Imagine what you would want to say to me, if I were a suitor, without concerning yourself with how I might receive it.”
After voicing this most unbelievable sentence, he ceased talking and began to wait for her following words. Patiently and calmly.
If she lived to be a hundred, Penelope would never fully believe she actually lived through this moment. She was gazing at a man she had loved since she had known how love was supposed to feel, the man whose parents taught her what dedication to family and love match looked like. In a twist of fate, Colin’s imagination and desire to help her now made it possible for a portrait of Edmund and Violet Bridgerton to bear witness to her address to him as her suitor. As her future and her intended. It was never to be, but alas, it was a nice dream to playact. The one that hurt and felt like a treasure at the same time, much like observing the portrait that depicts her marital harmony must have felt for Lady Bridgerton after losing her husband.
Penelope gazed at Colin’s eyes while her whole being was filled with wonder at this very moment, a true gift she shall always cherish. He was still standing, like time itself, awaiting to hear the cadence of her voice.
For once, there was no time like the present. And there never will be again, her only option was to seize it and revel in it. With that in mind, Penelope Featherington began to put into words a fragment of her adoration for Colin Bridgerton.
“Your eyes… The most remarkable shade of blue, and yet somehow they shine even brighter when you are kind.”
Colin’s shock at her words was evident, for he was left speechless at her comment. He could offer no counterclaim or a word of encouragement.
Before he could gather his thoughts into any semblance of order, Penelope concluded her declaration by lowering her gaze and simply pointing out, “I thought I might say something like that, if you were a suitor.”
Apparently, no words yet came to Colin’s mind since he was, all of a sudden, rather busy with consuming every drop of his lemonade, like a man parched in the desert would be after discovering a spring of much needed water. He cleared his throat and, perhaps, his mind from the remnants of evident shock at her daring words, and, at last, noted, “Well, that was rather direct.”
The sense of awkwardness crept its way into their moment, unbidden and unwelcome. Akin to a foreign entity within their relationship, one they were encountering for the very first time.
The small slice of silence it afforded them was swiftly shattered like glass breaking on the floor, for a voice could be heard from the hallway getting closer to their poorly chosen hiding place.
“Eloise is here!” Penelope proclaimed, sensing the inevitable wrath of her friend that was to unfold before her, for she was not known as an understanding person as of late — at least not to where Penelope was concerned.
Quick to choose the safest means of escape, Colin suggested, “You can hide in the study.”
Before they could put any course of action into motion, the doors to the drawing room were opened with such force as if the person entering the room had no sense of decorum or was in a great hurry. One of the two could be true. Or both, if a person entering the room was Anthony, for he often lost his decorum when he had to address the newest mischief being committed by one of his siblings. Frozen in place, feeling guilty for being found out, and curious at the same time, Colin and Penelope could not help but frown in puzzlement at the person who had entered into the sanctuary that the drawing room offered.
In front of them stood a child, a little girl.
One they have never seen before.