Chapter Text
The last thing Penelope remembered was falling asleep in her husband's arms after a night of love in 1818. The next moment she awoke in her old room at her family's country estate. She was confused. She couldn't believe it, at first. She thought she was dreaming or had had some kind of accident, but there were signs that couldn't be denied. First of all her appearance: looking in the mirror, she saw that she was seventeen again. Of course, her face wasn't all that different, but in the five years that had passed, her features had gone from those of a teenager to those of a young woman; it wasn't a radical change or in anything in particular, it was just time that had passed. And her body was different. The signs of her first pregnancy, which Colin loved to caress so much, were no longer there. Or rather, they weren't there yet.
Penelope had run downstairs, into her family's drawing room, still in her night attire, and there she had seen the most important confirmation of her return to the past: her father, Archibald Faetherington, sitting on a chair reading the newspaper, the usual bored expression that Penelope remembered. The girl remained looking at him for a long time, while Portia scolded her, scandalized, for coming down for breakfast in those conditions. But her words did not reach her daughter's ears. The only thing she could hear was the deafening sound of her heart racing, her breathing becoming shallow, her hands starting to tremble. With quick strides, without saying a word, Penelope walked towards her father and snatched the newspaper from his hands to read the date: 1812. Some months before her debut, the year of the man's death, the year her life would change forever. Somehow, she didn't know how, Penelope had gone back in time.
She fainted.
From the day she woke up, the girl locked herself in her room, writing. She wrote and wrote and wrote, wrote everything she remembered about the future that was to come. She was terrified that she would forget her life, and no one else would be there to remember it with her. She wrote for days, for weeks. Having everything written down in black and white was a way to not feel crazy. In retrospect, Penelope recognized that she had had a complete nervous breakdown: for months she had not set foot out of the room, except to go to the bathing room, and sometimes to the library. She could not accept being trapped with her family again, she could not bear them. So, she did not sit with them to eat meals. Well, in general, she had almost stopped eating. She had constant nausea, and as soon as she tried to eat, she felt like throwing up; she constantly had headaches. She couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe. Melancholy, her doctor diagnosed her, the only time Portia had called him to visit her. In the past Penelope would have been almost touched by her mother's concern. But now she was grieving for the life she had lost, for her husband, for their family. For their daughter.
The girl cried all the tears she had in her body.
Outside, the summer was thriving, but inside her room, with the curtains perpetually drawn and the candles lit, Penelope remained in a perpetual night. She hoped, foolishly, that if all of her remained as she had when she woke up, perhaps by closing her eyes she would wake up in the future. And just as she had come, she would come back. But obviously she didn't succeed. And after the pain, came the anger: why? Why always her? Why now that she had everything she wanted in her life, had she been brought back to her most miserable time? Why was she never allowed to be happy? What had she done wrong? And then rationality had arrived: if she had gone back, at exactly that moment in her life, God must have had a reason. Maybe He wanted her to correct all her wrongdoings. All the mean things she had written with Lady Whistledown, the Marina scandal, the Eloise scandal, the questioning of the Queen's authority. Maybe she had been given the chance to do things differently, and in the end she would have her happy ending again. And things would have been even better. Penelope had to have hope, or the only thing left was death.
With this new belief, the girl finally opened the curtains, letting herself be blinded by the sunlight.
Looking around, she realized the pitiful condition her room was in. In which pitiful condition she was. After hiding the papers with the future she had lived written on them, she called the maids. When the first among them arrived, the lady asked them the date of the day: it had been 6 months since she had woken up in that year. Penelope knew that, after the doctor's diagnosis, Portia had decided not to insist that she go out, and to leave her abandoned to herself, because it was better that her condition remained a secret. What reputation would they have had if it was known that they had a daughter suffering from such a... senseless disease? Surely her mother thought that it was just a moment, maybe even an adolescent whim, and that it would pass on its own. And now it was time for her to return to the world.
While she was in the tub from the bathroom, the maids cleaned her room from top to bottom and opened all the windows, allowing clean air to circulate. Then, when it was time to get dressed, Penelope looked at herself in the mirror again after months, and she almost didn't recognize herself: the time of confinement had made her skin pale, a sickly undertone to it, all the spots and freckles she had her face had disappeared; her hair had grown longer than her mother had ever allowed her to wear; her eyes surrounded by a dark circles. But the most obvious change was her face – her body, really. As dissociated as she had been from reality, she hadn't noticed how much weight she had lost. She really hadn't noticed. Now, looking at herself in that reflective surface, she was thinner than she had ever been. Her cheeks had lost much of their usual plumpness, giving her a more mature appearance; her collarbones were visible now, her wrist thinner, her waist more snatched; her chest, although she was still blessed with a larger than average lady's chest, was smaller; her hips less rounded and her legs, still short, but more tapered.
Penelope was finally as her mother had always wanted her, and as society required her to be.
Penelope found herself ugly.
All the clothes she had now were too large, and her maids tried to fit one on her – the simplest one she could find in the closet – as best they could. When the maid took the iron to style her hair in those tight curls that her mother imposed on her, Penelope almost wanted to vomit. She ordered that iron to be taken away, never to be brought near her again, and her hair to be styled simply, soft waves held in an updo. Once she was ready, she took a deep breath: it was time to begin her plan.
When she entered her family drawing room, her sisters opened their mouths, probably to tease her in some way, but when they laid their eyes on her they remained silent. Even Portia just looked at her in surprise.
“Good morning,” Penelope said calmly, putting a light smile on her face, then going to sit next to her mother to pour herself a cup of tea. She could feel the woman beside her staring, studying her from head to toe. After moments of silence the older woman cleared her throat.
“Are you...normal again?” he said, in an uncertain tone, so uncharacteristic for her.
“I am,” her daughter simply replied nonchalantly.
"Oh. Well, perfect. Now that you have deigned to leave your room I can finally tell you too that we have to go back to the city after new year. I've decided that you and your sisters will all debut together this season, and we must hurry to the modiste. We have to order a lot of dresses! This year you have to find a husband! So, enough with your dramatic behavior and enough with your useless books!” Portia told her, now back to her old self.
“As you wish, mother” commented Penelope, as she took a long sip of tea and looked at the sweets on the table. She would have liked to take one - more out of desire than hunger - but her stomach was still locked in a perpetual knot.
“What?” her mother asked, confused again.
Penelope turned to look at her with a blank expression in her face “I said, as you want, mother. I will debut with my sisters. I have no objections.”
"Oh. Good” the woman could only say, amazed.
Suddenly Penelope remembered that it had probably been months since he had responded to Eloise's letters. But she couldn't tell her friend that she'd had a nervous
breakdown, if she could call it that. She would have to think of an excuse to tell her when they saw each other again. For now, the girl promised herself to write her friend a letter that same afternoon, so as not to worry her. Penlope remained silent, reflecting on all the things that awaited her back in London. It would have been an intense season.
♦
The first conflict with her mother occurred a few days after their return to Mayfair. Portia had ordered her to accompany her to the modiste, so that Madame Delacroix could take new measurements for her future dresses. Usually, her mother used to choose the colors and fabrics for her daughter's gown, following her own personal taste.
And that was what she expected to do that time too, especially now that all of her daughters were about to debut. Penelope was almost – almost – sorry to ruin her fun.
“I want bright colors, the brightest you have Madame Delacroix! And for my Penelope, I want yellow dresses! Yellow is a happy color, this way it will attract the attention of the gentlemen, I'm sure of it!” She was telling her mother about her with excitement.
Before Guinevere – who Penelope was ecstatic to see again – could agree, the girl anticipated her, with a peremptory tone.
"No"
“Excuse me?” Portia said, turning so quickly to look at her daughter that she almost lost her balance.
Penelope looked at her mother through her mirror, from the little platform on which she stood to allow the modiste to take her measurements.
“No more yellows. I will choose the colour, fabrics, style and lines of my clothes.” the little redhead said nonchalantly. The two women remained silent for a while, both completely bewildered.
Portia was the first to recover from her surprise. “What do you think you're doing?” she said, impatience evident in her tone.
Penelope sighed “Madame, can you leave me and my mother alone for a moment?” she asked kindly, facing Guinevere.
The woman nodded, uncertain. “Of course, mademoiselle,” she said, before walking away, closing the curtains to give them privacy and walking towards the front of the shop.
The girl turned to look at her mother. “You want me to make my debut in society, right? That means that I'm old enough to marry, to have children, to have a house on my own and be independent. So I'm old enough to make my decisions, and that includes, at least, choose my own dresses and how to do my hair”
“Well, but you should remember that you're still not married and not independent. And that I pay for those dresses,” said Portia arrogantly, believing she had her under control in this way.
“You don't” replied her daughter calmly.
“What?”
“You do not pay for them, father does. But fine, let's say that you manage those type of expenses: you don't want to pay for my clothes because you don't agree with my choices? Then don't do it. But I won't wear what you want and I won't debut, not this year, nor the next, nor ever, until I can do as I want. And what can you do? Force me? Drag me by the hair?” her daughter continued to say, in a mocking tone. Almost with hatred. She imagined that this new behavior of hers was a shock to her mother. But she was no longer a scared little girl.
Portia remained silent, looking at the girl but not recognizing her. “What happened to you?” she said, after a while
“I'm your daughter. More then you think, and more that I would like to be, unfortunately” Penelope concluded with a cold tone, looking the woman straight in her eyes.
Portia returned her gaze devoid of affection and warmth “Do what you want. But then don't come crying to me” she said, before leaving her alone.
♦
It was the big day. All the debutantes and their mothers were at the palace, in their white dresses and feathers on their heads, ready to be introduced one by one. In the crowd, Penelope could see Violet and Daphne, in all their elegance. Her heart sank at the thought that now, in this year, she was not part of their family, so she could not be with them. She, on the other hand, was forced to stay next to her mother and her
sisters.
In the previous weeks, the younger daughter had tried to avoid them as much as possible, busy taking care of the details for her debut, the clothes, the accessories, the make-up. She tried to find relief in these trivial things, so as not to think about the important things.
She was silent now, while Portia obsessively arranged her sisters' clothes, waiting for their turn. Penelope took a position as far away from her mother as possible, leaving that spot to Prudence, with a ditzy Philippa separating them.
Suddenly, one of the royal footmen announced that they would be next, and invited them to come to the door. Penelope turned to her mother and sisters “Prudence will go through the door first, then Philippa and then me. After mother comes in, we will all walk together"
Philippa made an annoyed face “Why should she come in first?!”
Penelope took a deep breath “Because she's the eldest and she'll be named first and because the door isn't wide enough for all three to walk through at the same time. We will have to huddle together and we will make fools of ourselves. We don't want to be ridiculous in front of the queen, do we?” she said looking at her mother. As much as Portia might resent her younger daughter for constantly questioning her authority, she recognized that the most important thing was to make a good impression on the queen. And she would have done anything to avoid being ridiculed in front of the ton.
“Do as your sister says” said Lady Faetherington resolutely “And please, chest out, back straight. And make sure you don't trip” she hissed.
Penelope rolled her eyes, and turned back to the door, waiting. She couldn't wait for all this to end. On the other hand, however, she was relieved: having already faced the debut, she knew what to expect and she was aware of how insignificant it would be. The sovereing will not notice her now. But in a few years, Penelope would find herself in front of her, head held high, confessing to her that she was Lady Whistldown; and the queen would congratulate her, admiring the editorial feat that she had accomplished at just 17 years old.
With this knowledge, and the life experiences she brought with her, Penelope did not fear Charlotte, nor did she fear the ton's judgment of her. She was no longer Penelope Faetherngton, the insecure, scared little girl she had been. Inside herself she was Penelope Bridgerton, a confident woman, aware of her own value and abilities.
“Miss Prudence Faetherington. Miss Philippa Faetherington. And Miss Penelope Faetherington. All presented by her mother, the illustrious Lady Faetherington." she finally heard a deep male voice announce.
The door in front of them slowly opened, revealing them to the nobles present, and of course, the queen.
Luckily for her, her sisters and mother did as she suggested, and managed to get into the room without too much trouble. When all four were lined up, they advanced towards the sovereign. Penelope walked calmly, head held high, almost smiling at the absurdity of the situation: something magical had happened to her that she couldn't explain, she had traveled through time, and now she was reliving the same moment twice. No one else could say the same.
Once they arrived in front of the royal chair, under the bored gaze of the queen, Penelope bowed confidently, slowly and elegantly. With her eye she could see her sisters bowing awkwardly, unsure of how far to bend, and her mother trying to adjust their position, embarrassed. Penelope almost laughed: when she was seventeen, Portia had always seemed like a confident and terrifying woman. Now that she too had been a woman and mother, she could see how in reality her mother was also uncertain, nevrotic and perpetually anxious. She was relieved to know that she was no longer influenced by the judgment of such a woman, nor was she no longer subject to her follies.
While she was still bowing, a long red ringlet slipped from her hairstyle, shining in the sunlight. Seeing that, Penelope couldn't hold back a smile: her mother will go
crazy to see that her hairstyle was no longer perfect because she had chosen to have a softer hairstyle compared to the tight curls that Portia wanted her to have. Oh yes, her mother will freak out and blame her for the failure of their debut, rather than face reality and admit that she and her daughters were simply akward, ridiculous women.
Her fantasies about the chaos that would ensue as soon as they returned home were interrupted by the queen's peremptory voice.
“The little one. Raise your head”
What? Penelope blinked, surprised. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that her sisters had already risen. She was the small one the queen was referring to. Except she shouldn't have gone like this: the queen should have given nothing more than a bored nod, and Prudence would have pretended to faint for god knows what reason, creating even more embarrassment. Remaining calm, Penelope raised her head, straightening her back, and looked the queen in the eyes. And in her gaze the ruler must have seen something she didn't expect because she took on an intrigued expression, and she leaned slightly out of her chair.
“One step forward” the sovereign told her.
Inside, despite Penelope was deeply confused by that change of events, she was intrigued by those changelings and at the same time they didn't care about her, as if they weren't happening to her. As if she were just a reader of a book she had already read. With a quiet smile, the girl took a step forward, enveloped in the bright sunlight streaming in through the large windows.
At that point, to everyone's bewilderment, the queen rose to her feet, and advanced towards the Featherington women. Once she arrived in front of the girl, she took the long lock of the red hair between her gloved fingers, twisting it in the sunlight.
“Such a fierce color”
Now the Faetherington could no longer hide her surprise. Something like this had never happened to her even in the future. Penelope looked up, her full lips slightly parted in surprise, her blue eyes wide open, made almost transparent by the light, framed by long and thick eyelashes, a light blush decorating her pale and smooth skin.
“Repeat your name” said the sovereign in a serious tone.
“Penelope...” the girl stopped before saying her last name. By force of habit she was about to say Bridgerton.
The queen let go of the lock of hair, which fell delicately across her generous chest. Charlotte looked at the girl's face again, almost studying her. Penelope blinked and didn't look away, now more intrigued than ever by what was happening.
“What a pretty little thing you are. Good” said the queen, smirking with satisfaction, then making a dismissive gesture with her hand and returning to her seat.
Penelope joined her father at the sides of the room and took his arm, without looking around her, but she knew that now everyone was staring at her.
What the hell had just happened? Never in her life had anything like this happened to her, nor had she ever thought it could happen. Throughout her life she had always been subjected to criticism from her family and society regarding her physical appearance. And for many years she too had been convinced that she was ugly. Or at most acceptable, when arranged as best she could. As she matured, she had found a style that suited her more and - thanks to the help of Genevieve and her maid Rae - she had managed to appear to her tone like a woman. And then Colin, her love, had shown her and taught her to see how truly beautiful, even sensual, she was. And besides, Penelope had learned that sometimes self-confidence is one of the things that makes a person attractive. And now she was. And all of her future knowledge of her, the changes she had made, her maturity, were transferred into her seventeen-year old body. But she never expected to be called "pretty" by the queen herself, in front of the whole ton. This would have brought about enormous changes in the course of events. Things wouldn't go the way they did in the past.
Fortunately, what remained the same was the reaction that the queen had at the sight of Daphne Bridgerton - going towards her, leaving a delicate kiss on her forehead, showing her favor towards the young lady.
Penelope let out a sigh of relief, knowing that she could now call Daphne, once again, the diamond of the season. And this time she would be spared the sarcastic comments or the dire predictions about her eventual downfall. The thing that worried her most now was: what would she write about herself? Lady Whisteldown would have had to write that the Queen had shown some interest in her. Penelope had never had any problems writing deplorable things about herself, because she only wrote the truth. Or, at the very least, what she believed to be the truth. Now that it was time to write positive things, she felt somewhat embarrassed.
So, she decided that she would limit to reporting the facts that happened, without comments for or against them. As soon as she got home she would write her pamphlet and take it to the copy shop.
That evening would be the birth of Lady Whistldown. And this time Penelope would not repeat the same mistakes.
As the Faetherington family entered the family carriage, Portia began to scream in ecstasy, tugging on her husband's arm.
“Dear have you seen?! The queen has shown clear favor towards our Penelope! And she called her pretty! Oh my, we will have a living room full of callers, I'm sure of it! And this will be good for Prudence and Philippa too!”
Lord Faetherington nodded, uninterested in the conversation, but his eyes were intent on his youngest daughter.
Prudence let out an inelegant grunt. “I don't understand why the queen noticed her. She's not that pretty, even if she lost weight”
Penelope rolled her eyes at her sister's superficiality. All her life she had wanted nothing more than to be different from what she was, and the old Penelope would have jumped for joy at her weight loss. But the older Penelope did not rejoice in that change: she had learned to love that full body that had been criticized so much. Colin loved it.
“Oh Penelope, I always knew you would have a bright future!” she continued to exclaim Portia.
Penelope smiled bitterly at such falsehood “I hope that now you'll trust my judgment and let me do things my way”
“If these are the results you can do whatever you want! Oh dear, if all goes well, we could have three married daughters by the end of the season,” Portia said excitedly to her husband.
Lord Faetherington remained silent, but exchanging a look with Penelope, the two told each other everything they knew: there was no dowry at the moment, and there would be no wedding, if they did not recover the money Archibald had lost. It was
time to start betting.
♦
That afternoon, Penelope stayed in her room reading the newspaper, especially the horse racing section. At that moment she was thanking heaven for her good memory, because reading the names of the participants she remembered who would win the season. She would direct her father to bet on the winning horse.
Every now and then, of course, she would have to lose - small sums, so as not to arouse the suspicion of the other gentlemen - but the bigger money bets she would win. Also, Will Mordrich would be coming that season, and he would rack up win after win in the ring for some time. Penelope suggested that her father bet on him.
If everything had gone well, and if her father had managed to gradually win at the bets, the girl would have to keep an eye on him: she couldn't allow the man to squander the money he won again. Her priorities were to pay off the debts and rearrange the dowries of Prudence and Philippa – particularly Philippa, so that she could marry Albion as soon as possible.
Furthermore, there was a very important event that Penelope didn't know how to deal with: the death of her father. After she got married, the girl found out, through Will, about the scam that her father had organized to win a large amount of money all at once. And that was probably the reason he had been killed by disreputable men who had lost the bet.
Now, if her father had started betting on Mordrich from the beginning of the season, he couldn't suddenly bet against him, and precisely in the one match that the man would lose. That would have been too suspicious. But maybe, if they had managed to win enough bets, her father wouldn't have felt the need to make such a rash move.
She prayed that her father would listen to her, and that he would stop losing the money - that they didn't have - on gambling – which he had no talent for – and prostitutes. Penelope continued reading the sport section, trying to remember which one of the name were the winners' ones in the various categories. Which names her father should have focused on.
Lost in her research and taking notes, the girl forgot that Marina would be arriving that afternoon, and therefore their first meeting did not take place in the living room - as it had originally been - but in the house's entrance hall, where the Featherington women gathered to go to Lady Danbury's ball.
Penelope joined the others after listing to her father the bets he would have to make in the next few days. She looked at Marina, as beautiful as she remembered her, and smiled politely. Marina was about to speak when Portia arrived hastily pushing her daughters out the door, yelling that they were late.
Once they got into the carriage, Penelope stared at the street passing by outside the window: she had no desire to go to the ball. This would have been the moment when Colin first saw Marina. Captivated by her beauty, he would have chosen to pursue her. Meanwhile, Penelope could only linger in the shadows, observing the scene unfold.
“Penelope! Are you listening to me?!" Portia shouted at her, snapping her out of her memories.
"What?" the girl asked, blinking.
Portia sighed impatiently “This is an important evening Penelope, you have to stay focused! Tonight is your night! Surely many gentlemen will ask you to dance, be polite, be submissive, and also direct them towards your sisters!”
Penelope nodded without really thinking. Deep down, she doubted she would go as her mother suggested. Sure, with the queen's attention, more people would notice her, and a gentleman might approach, but she definitely wouldn't have the line of suitors her mother envisioned. And even if that were the case, she would be always interested only in one man.
The girl sighed, smoothing the skirt of her silk dress - that was the same color as her eyes – decorated with small beads in delicate floral embroidery. Penelope smiled: Guinevere's hand was unmistakable, the line of her dress highlighted her body to perfection.
The girl had to be grateful that the last money they had had been used for the commission of those new gowns. She couldn't bear to wear the ridiculous yellow clothes her mother had always forced her to wear. They didn't suit her. On the contrary, they made her more unpleasant than she actually was.
Looking at her sisters, she couldn't help but notice the contrast between the rest of the Faetheringtons – eccentric, brightly colored dresses, large, showy jewellery, rich hairstyles – and herself and Marina, who wore more delicate and simple clothes and accessories. A further sign that Penelope had never felt part of her family.
Lady Danbury's ball went smoothly. Surprisingly, many gentlemen asked her to dance that night, nearly as many as asked Marina. But Penelope was in trepidation about only one event: the first meeting between Daphne and the Duke of Hastings. Her sister-in-law had told her about that moment several times: the good and bad feelings she had about the man, along with all her thoughts.
The redhead was determined not to miss it. And in fact, when the moment arrived, she was present to see it. She felt happiness thinking about the bright future for the couple and the little ones that would come from their love. She loved those babies and looked forward to holding them again.
♦
The following morning, all the ladies in the Faetherington household were awakened at dawn, in order to prepare in time for the calling hours. Penelope sat at the round wooden table, across from her father, quietly sipping tea. She watched with amusem*nt as her mother busied herself with her sisters, who were sitting close together, polished and nervous, filled with hopes, bright colors, and bows. On the other sofa, Marina sat quietly, elegant and simple, seeming a bit indifferent to what was happening.
“Penelope! Come sit next to your sisters! The suitors are about to arrive!” Portia admonished her.
“If we sit on top of each other where will the gentlemen sit, mother? You should calm down. We must not appear too eager, or they will think we are desperate" said
Penelope smiling, without even trying to hide her irony, knowing that her sisters would not have caught it, and her mother would not scold her because she knew that her daughter was right.
The girl felt a little sorry for her sisters at that moment, because she knew that they would not receive any calls that day. Or in the days to come. All attention would be on Marina, and Marina alone.
Suddenly one of the valets entered the living room.
“A call, my lady. Mister Davis…” the man began to say.
Here we go. Penelope looked at Marina and thought that the girl was not ready for the crowd of men that would soon appear before her.
“For Miss Penelope,” concluded the valet.
What? Penelope slammed the ceramic cup onto it saucer with little grace. Why would anyone call on her? Yes, the night before she had danced with all the gentlemen who had signed her card and she had conversed with them all. But she had been clearly disinterested, her conversations kept to vague and superficial topics, her smiles were purely incidental. She had done nothing to attract their attention, in fact, she had thought that her cold manners would discourage them. It was a behavior in clear contrast to the rest of the ladies present, who attempted to attract attention with bewitching smiles, batting of eyelashes and suggestive movements with their fans. Penelope was well aware that the queen's opinion held significant weight among the ton, but she didn't believe it mattered as much to the men.
Mr Davis entered the living room with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and Penelope remembered dancing a dance with him. And that their brief conversation had also been terribly flat. The girl was quite dumbfounded.
Portia approached the man, more excited than ever.
“Welcome Mr. Davis, please take a seat,” she said quickly, directing him to the table. Lord Faetherington lowered the newspaper for a moment, eyeing the approaching
man.
“Lord Faetherington,” Mr. Davis said politely, nodding his head, then turning to the redhead. “Miss Penelope,” he said, as he bowed briefly and kissed her hand.
“For you,” he continued, handing her the bouquet of flowers, “I saw them and I thought of you. Pretty flower for a pretty lady”
Penelope accepted the bouquet, and by pretending to smell the flowers she hid the hilarity that that very lame phrase had caused her. However, she decided to take pity on the poor man, and appreciate his intention.
“Thank you, Lord Davis. Please sit down."
In the following hours their living room filled with gentlemen, not only for Marina, but also for herself. Penelope was a little overwhelmed but at the same time amused: she was now confident enough to converse without any embarrassment, and it also helped that she had no interest in any of those men, and their judgment didn't interest her; but still it was the first time that so many people tried to capture her attention, and sometimes even in a ridiculous way, throwing barbs at each other or interrupting each other's sentences. And then Penelope decided to concentrate just on her callers, to try not to look at Colin who had arrived to call on Marina and was looking at her, enchanted.
No. Penelope didn't want to see it. If when she was seventeen that sight had hurt her, now that she was used to having Colin as hers, everything was unbearable.
In the end, all the gentlemen left the living room, and Colin himself was the last to remain, lost in the last goodbyes with Miss Thompson. Penelope looked at him for a moment, then announced that she was retiring, and left the room.
She had taken a few steps when she heard herself called.
“Pen!”
The girl stopped in her tracks, and she took a deep breath before turning to the boy
“Colin. Haven't seen each other in a while. How are you?"
“Good, as always, fortunately. Will you see me out?” the boy asked, smiling cheerfully.
Penelope couldn't help but nod, and join him to walk alongside her.
"And how are you?" asked her friend.
“...Good” the girl replied, after a brief moment of hesitation.
“Since we returned from the country you haven't come to have tea with us anymore. Eloise is starting to worry,” the boy said jokingly.
“I had a lot to organize for the debut. My mother took me hostage” replied the redhead.
“Well, you absolutely must come one of these afternoons. Anyway, congratulations, your efforts have surprisingly caught the Queen's attention,” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, no one would have ever expected this. What a surprise, right?” she replied, with a hint of sarcasm. Sarcasm that Colin didn't get, too cheerful to notice anything other than his happiness.
“A surprise, indeed. And how surprised I was this morning: I didn't expect all these callers for you”
“Why not?” Penelope asked, her tone flat. She knew that question would put him in difficulty, and she knew why Colin was surprised: because at that moment in their life, he still didn't see her as a woman. He couldn't blame her, but she couldn't help but resent it.
“I...well...maybe we've known each other for so long that when I see you I think of Eloise. And she is my little sister, and immature. I couldn't imagine her talking to suitors” he said hesitantly, losing the cheerful tone he had had until a moment before.
“Well, I'm not Eloise. And I am not a child anymore. We're not children anymore, Colin.” the girl said harshly.
"I..."
“And I am just one year younger than Daphne. Do you see Daphne as a child?” she continued to say, provoking him.
Colin looked at her surprised, because never had little docile Penelope addressed him like that.
“I didn't mean to offend you,” he said immediately. And Penelope knew she meant it. Colin had never intended to offend her.
Penelope stopped, when we reached the foyer of the house, and looked into his eyes. “You didn't.” she said in a softer, but still firm tone “You told me what you thought, I'm telling you what it is. You're right when you say that Eloise is still immature. I'm not. In more than one way. I hope that you can remember that”
“I will,” he replied immediately, bowing his head.
“Good day Colin” and having said this, the girl turned to go back upstairs and lock herself in her room.
♦
In the following days Penelope wrote about the unfortunate situation Daphne found herself in: no one had called her for days, intimidated by Anthony's abrupt ways.
Lady Whistldown made sure to praise the commitment with which the young Viscount - finding himself faced with the duties of his position at such a young age - attempted to protect his younger sister, underlining how much this was a sign of affection and concern, but perhaps would have had to loosen his grip if he didn't want to jeopardize Daphne's marital opportunities.
“[...] But then again, a diamond is still a diamond. No matter how many adversities one has to face to achieve it, a true gentleman knows not to give up to achieve the conquest. Is so little enough to discourage our fearless men? How can they think they can face marriage and become fathers if they can't even face a slightly aggressive display of brotherly love? Gentlemen continually like to define themselves as such, but are they really? Or are they just kids who like to have their toy right away, without the slightest effort? The judgment is yours, dear readers.”
She had written in the pamhplet that she was now rereading. She hoped that this way Daphne wouldn't be too distressed by the fact that most English gentlemen were
spineless. And in any case, very soon, Simon would arrive to help her. And Penelope had made sure to write about him too, so that he would be mobbed by the debutantes' mothers. This would lead the two to make their own pact to get what they wanted: suitors for Daphne and freedom for the duke. And then they would fall in love.
Penelope was aware of the truth, having heard it directly from Daphne one evening during their stay at Aubrey Hall for the Christmas festivities. She was determined to assist them in every way she could, hoping to to keep things like they used to be. The next step would be to get rid of Berbrooke. But everything at its own time.
Her thoughts about her future were interrupted by a nudge from Eloise, seated next to her in the living room of the Faetherington house. One of Marina's many suitors in the room - including Colin, again - was on his knees and reciting a sonnet. The exposition was somewhat ridiculous but the effort was commendable, so
Penelope tried not to laugh at him and as soon as the man finished his recitation, she clapped for him along with Portia. The latter – and for once Pen had to thank her - announced that it was time for the gentlemen to leave. As they left, the men who had come for her stopped each one to kiss her hand or exchange their last words of farewell. From the corner of her eye Penelope could see Eloise looking at them with
disgust.
Colin reached the two girls and was about to say something to the redhead when
Eloise stood up, interrupting him:
“Are you coming to have tea with us Pen?”
Penelope smiled and stood up “Gladly” she said, taking her friend by the arm and briefly greeting her mother.
Once she entered the Bridgerton room she noticed that everyone was present, except Anthony: Violet and Daphne were sitting on one of the sofas, Francesca was at the piano, Gregory and Benedict at the chess table in front of the window, and Hyacinth was on the carpet playing with a doll.
Penelope smiled at the familiar sight. Oh, how much she had missed everyone.
Greeting the family warmly, the redhead and Eloise took their places on the free sofa, facing the matriarch, while Colin sat next to her mother. The women began to chat while Francesca played the piano pleasantly.
Penelope was pouring herself a cup of tea when Eloise brought her a plate full of biscuits.
“Here, Pen, have a biscuit. Your so much skinnier since last season”
“Eloise!” her mother said reproachfully for having made such an ambiguous comment about her friend's appearance.
“Ah, I didn't mean to say that before you were...” the girl began to say, uncomfortably.
Penelope interrupted her, smirking in amusem*nt “Don't worry, I'm not offended. I think everyone has noticed my physical change, there's no point in denying it. But it's not due to some diet or anything like that. When we were in the country, I fell ill”
“What?!” Eloise and Colin exclaimed at the same time.
The redhead glanced at Colin, then looked back at her friend. “Yeah. I couldn't eat. I was constantly nauseous, and every time I ate I felt like throwing up. Even the thought of it made me nauseous. I think the stress of the new season contributed."
“Why didn't you write to me about your illness?” Eloise asked, slightly outraged.
“I knew if I told you, you would want to come visit. I didn't know if it was contagious or not. Turned out that it wasn't, but I didn't want to risk it. My appetite still isn't back to what it was before, and sometimes I still feel a little nauseous, so I'm being careful not to eat too much” said Penelope, who had thought about the excuse to tell her friend many times. She couldn't tell her that she had locked herself in her room for days on end, like a madwoman, writing about the future and crying.
“To tell you the truth, we all noticed that you were paler than usual, and that you looked a little...absent. But despite this you made a wonderful debut. Of course you did, you are a really pretty girl, but you always were” Violet intervened, with her usual sweetness, but there was clearly some concern on her face.
Penelope couldn't help but feel moved by those words “Thank you Violet”
Lady Bridgerton blinked, trying to hide her surprise at hearing her name called, and smiled with satisfaction: for years the viscountess had insisted on Penelope to use her name - after all she was like another daughter for her - but the girl had always continued to address her formally.
Yet, Penelope found it impossible to resist the urge to call the other woman by her name. To her, Violet was more than just the mother of her closest friend; she was also her mother-in-law—or would be once more. Penelope cherished Violet as a maternal figure, even more so than her own mother. The redhead felt her heart clench again at the thought of the future she had lost, at the thought of not having to go through obstacles and tribulations again to achieve happiness.
“Anyway, Daphne, I haven't given you my congratulations yet. A diamond of the first water. I guess the season started well” adds Penelope smiling politely, shifting the attention away from herself.
Daphne smiled slightly, straightening her back and nodded “It started well but now it could be better. I guess you read what Lady Whisteldown writes: I don't have any more suitors because Anthony behaved like a mastiff ready to bite. As much as Whistledown's words were in my favor, my brother has insulted the pride of too many gentlemen for them to return so quickly."
“It's better this way” said Eloise, throwing a biscuit into her mouth “What's the hurry? I don't understand why you and all the other debutantes are so eager to be locked into the trap that is marriage!”
“Eloise…” Violet said exasperated.
“Do you think your mother was trapped?” Penelope asked in a calm tone.
"What?" her friend asked, clearly not expecting such a question.
“Do you think your mother was foolish to marry your father and that her marriage to him was a prison?” repeated the redhead.
"NO! Of course not!” Eloise immediately exclaimed, probably in defense of her father, and of the love that everyone knew existed between her parents.
“Then why should it be for your sister?” Penelope insisted.
“My parents' marriage is clearly the exception. My father was the exception,” the girl replied, now clearly serious.
“There are other men as honorable and loving as your father, Eloise. Need I remind you that you have four brothers, three of whom are present here?” Penelope said, in a joking tone, trying to ease the tension a little.
Benedict raised the cup of tea in the redhead direction, as if he were making a toast to her. “Glad to know that at least someone appreciate us.”
“Daphne can't marry one of our brothers, can she?” said Eloise, almost with the tone of a child who is having a tantrum and wants to be right at all costs.
“I just mean that men should not be the enemy. There are good men, and there are despicable men. As there are despicable women"
“Yes, but society is in the hands of men, and therefore there are despicable men who command over women's lives! You will agree with me that a woman should be able to aim more for something more than marriage" Eloise exclaimed frustrated.
“Yes, I agree that women should be able to choose to want something more out of life than just marriage, but they may not want to. Just because Daphne wants nothing more than to be a wife and mother doesn't mean she's any dumber than you. Indeed, it would be egocentric to believe otherwise."
Eloise opened her mouth in shock, and then took on an indignant expression. “So you're saying I'm egocentric?”
“So you think your sister is dumber than you because she wants different things than you? And do you think your mother was stupid for marrying young and having eight children?” Penelope asked, now also a little impatient with her friend's immaturity. She had almost forgotten how stubborn and limited Eloise had been at that age. She pursed her lips, and composing herself, she continued to say in a more calm manner:
“I just think it's presumptuous to think you have the truth in your mouth. Who are you to say that you are the only one who is right and everyone else is stupid and wrong? And anyway, there are many reasons why a woman may want to get married. Sometimes marriage is the only way to get affection, or respect, or to escape from an abusive family, or to have some semblance of independence. And not all women can afford to be spinsters, even if they wanted to. Not everyone has loving older siblings willing to support them. If you want to be a champion of women, you must also support those who think differently than you. Try to understand them and put yourself in their shoes, and don't try to force your opinion on them by belittling their thoughts.
Otherwise you are no different from a man"
“Pen! How can you tell me something like that?!” Eloise asked indignantly.
Penelope shrugged and took a sip from her cup “That's what I think. Do I think you are right when you say that sometimes marriage can be a trap and that women deserve to have the same opportunities as men? I do. At the same time, do I think that marriage can be a wonderful thing and that it can offer love, care and companionship? Yes, I do. The world is not only black or white, Eloise. Both things can be true. And, as a woman, I can desire both things. It's rare to get, but it exists. You and your sisters are in a position to aspire to the best. Many don't have this privilege” the girl said confidently. She was deeply convinced of what she said: a woman could want marriage and at the same time want her own independence. She wanted that, and she had it. With Colin, she had it all. She had his love, his respect and his support in her work. She had a perfect daughter and at the same time she had a work that she loved. She was a wife, a mother and a writer. It was
challenging to have a balance, and there were moments that were more difficult than others, but she was not alone, because she knew that Colin was with her through and through. It was her perfect, imperfect life.
Eloise fell silent, while she looked thoughtfully at Penelope, as if she didn't recognize her.
Daphne, sensing the tension between the two friends, quickly changed the subject.
“Anyway, I imagine there have been callers at your house these days. Is your father an oppressive chaperon like Anthony?” she asked, smiling benevolently.
Penelope smiled ironically “No, quite the opposite. He doesn't care at all. he is indifferent to everything and everyone, no matter who enters our living room."
“Well, that's a good thing for you, is it not, brother?” Hyacinth said cheerfully, turning to Colin. “You were going to call on Miss Thompson again, weren't you?”
Colin cleared his throat “Yes. I have the intention to call on her again”
Penelope ran a hand over her lap, smoothing invisible folds. “You still have time to change your mind,” she said, more to herself than to the others. but he heard
her anyway.
Colin looked at her confused “Why would I? There are others that intend to do the very same”
Penelope scoffed “If you see someone jump off a bridge, do you follow them and jump too?”
Colin lowered the cup of tea he was bringing to his lips and looked at her friend with a bewildered expression “I think wanting to do a courtship is not the same thing as jumping off a bridge. What could Miss Thompson have done that was so wrong to earn your dislike? She seems like a perfect, polite lady to me."
“There are family matters that no one knows about outside the doors of a home.”
Penelope said trying to maintain an indifferent tone, then she turned to look at Eloise
who was sitting next to her “Isn't it amusing, El? Society often links beauty with innocence in such a curious way. Just because someone has an attractive face, we tend to believe they are incapable of any wrongdoing or unpleasantness, as if loveliness is their only trait. Your critique of this notion is absolutely valid.” she said in an sarcastic tone. The importance that society placed on external beauty and appearances was something that she had always thought about, and that she had
always suffered from. And she couldn't help but hate it even now that she was technically one of those pretty faces – just because the queen had defined her as such.
Colin rolled his eyes. “So tell me, what are these family matters that would make Miss Thompson an unsuitable candidate for courtship” he said, and Penelope knew
him too well not to hear the presumption behind that polite tone.
“Are you my brother?” the girl asked, unperturbed.
“What?” Colin asked confused, surprised by that absurd question.
“I asked you: are you my brother?” the redhead repeated, in the same flat tone.
“Of course I'm not,” Colin said, in a tone that underlined the absurdity of that thought.
“Are you a cousin of mine? Or are you perhaps related to me by some kinship of which I am not aware?” he continued to ask the girl.
Now Colin clenched his jaw, understanding what Penelope was getting at. “No, I'm not” he said through gritted teeth.
“Then you're not part of my family. And so there are things you can't know” said Penelope, taking a bite of a butter biscuit. Bridgerton's biscuits were one of her
favourites. They had been one of her major cravings during her pregnancy.
“But I'm your friend” Colin said, with a convinced tone.
Penelope smiled wryly to herself. How many times had she heard him say that phrase. And in the future it would be true: their friendship would be the foundation of their love. But now, in this very moment, they weren't really friends. Or at least not good friends. And the girl knew that one day Colin would mature; that looking back he would see all the failings he had had towards her, and he would regret not having really seen it before. Now wasn't the time yet, it was too soon. But Penelope couldn't help but speak to him as if he were her Colin, with honesty and without reservation. She couldn't help but be his Penelope.
“But are you really?” she asked, looking into his eyes. “So, if I told you that Marina Thompson is not what she seems to be, to take my word for it and not to court her,
not to pursue her, would you? Would you do what I ask?” At that question Colin fell silent, and looked away from her. His silence was his response. Her Colin trusted her with his life. Her Colin would do what she asked before she could even ask. This Colin wasn't hers. This Colin thought so low of her that he didn't take anything she said into consideration.
“Then we are not even friends,” she said in a cold tone, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
“You're not being fair,” he said weakly.
“Believe me, this is the fairest I can be on the matter” she said, her face a mask of indifference, her voice empty, but her eyes full of anger and pain, which would have been evident to someone who he really knew her.
“And by the way…didn't you always say you wanted to travel and see the world? What better time in life than now?” she continued to say.
Colin continued to remain silent, fidgeting nervously with his hands. The rest of the family watched in stunned silence as the conversation unfolded between the two, taken aback by Penelope's newfound confidence. It was a stark contrast to the timid girl they once knew, who could barely string a sentence together without stumbling. Most surprising of all was her audacity in speaking to Colin, the very person everyone believed she had always admired from afar.
And all eyes were still on her when, elegantly, she stood up, smiling politely at Violet
"It's time for me to go, thanks for the tea" and then, turning to look at Eloise, she added "I'll see you tomorrow morning for a promenade? I need to leave my house or I will lose my mind"
Her friend stammered a confirmation and so Penelope, after greeting everyone with a delicate nod of her head, started to walk toward the door. She had not yet reached the door when she was interrupted by the last voice she wanted to hear about her:
“Don't you need a chaperone?” Colin asked.
Flashbacks of the same phrase uttered in a totally different situation flashed through her mind, and Penelope couldn't help but smile to herself at the irony of the situation. This time her response would be different.
“I don't need a chaperone to come here. I live across the square”
In truth, due to rules imposed by the ton, a lady of her age, who had just made her debut, had to be accompanied by a chaperone everywhere and at all times. Penelope guessed that she had to thank the excitement that the callers had brought to the Featherington household, because Portia was too distracted and happy to pay attention to what her daughter was doing. And the redhead, as a married woman as she was inside, was now used to having a certain freedom, and to going around without being accompanied by anyone, except her husband.
“Still, you shouldn't be walking around alone” Colin continued to say.
Penelope took a deep breath, annoyed by the constraints placed on her again at that age, but understanding that the boy had only good intentions.
“There is no need to bother any of your maids. One minute and I'll be home" insisted the girl in a calm tone.
“I'll accompany you,” the boy said, standing up, now attracting the curious and surprised looks of the rest of the family.
Penelope opened her mouth to refuse, to point out that a young, single man was not a suitable chaperone, and then closed it again. She imagined that walking together in the square, under everyone's eyes – and for only a moment - wasn't so scandalous and against the rules.
“Very well,” she ended up saying, giving in to the beaten-dog look he was giving her.
At those words, Colin reached her in two strides and, to everyone's surprise, offered her his arm. Penelope raised an eyebrow at him, then she let out a resigned sigh, and grabbing his arm, they went out.
After a brief moment of silence Colin cleared his throat. “You're angry with me” he said lightly.
Penelope's hold on his arm grew a bit firmer, as a rush of affection enveloped her. He had always been the kind of boy who was sensitive and aware of the emotions of those around him, always striving to make others happy. His kindness had initially captured her heart and was the reason her love for him had persisted over the years. But now, she found herself questioning whether he had ever been this mindful of her feelings. She remembered a time when, after he met Marina, he seemed oblivious to everything else, especially Penelope's moods.
“I'm…” Penelope started to say, but she couldn't explain how she felt. She was angry, of course, but not exactly with him: at that moment he had no fault other than that of being a green boy, anxious to prove to his family and his brothers that he was now a man, excited for a new pretty face. Penelope knew that in the end he would be irremediably, completely devout to her. No, Penelope's anger was directed elsewhere.
To destiny? To life? She was angry because she had to go through it all again, to witness again the affection that the love of her life had had – even if for a brief moment – for another; witness of her own invisibility in the world. She's angry at being forced to be just a wallflower once again.
“I'm not exactly angry. I just don't approve your decision to court Marina, for valid reasons that I can't tell you. But, of course, your a grown man, you have your own
mind, and you can do whatever you want. Just don't...rush things. A good thing takes time to do, right?” said the girl as they crossed the square, thinking about how, in a few days, Marina and Portia would plan to frame Colin in a sham of a marriage.
“You have become very wise Pen. I don't know how you can be friends with Eloise,” Colin said, smiling, trying to make a joke. Pen smiled back at him, thinking of the
future difficulties she would have to face in her friendship with his sister.
“Maybe I'm still here to pass on some of my wisdom to you too”
“Good luck with that,” he said, smirking.
When they arrived in front of the Faetherington house they stopped. Penelope was about to open her mouth to thank him for accompanying her when he beat her to it.
“So are you really going to find a husband?” he asked uncertainly, as if the very thought was absurd to him.
Penelope shrugged “Well, I don't think this season, but in the future yes” she replied calmly.
Colin frowned “Why not this season? You had callers"
The girl absentmindedly touched her left ring finger, where her engagement ring used to be. She often played with it when she felt anxious. Now, her finger was bare, and Penelope felt the heaviness of that emptiness.
“No one has caught my attention yet. To my mother's chagrin, I'm quite a romantic. I don't want a loveless marriage. I won't settle.” she said confidently, looking into his eyes.
At first he was surprised by the conviction of the girl's voice, then he smiled sweetly at her “And you shouldn't. You deserve to have everything you want”
Penelope snorted at those words, because he was everything she ever wanted.
“Thank you for accompanying me.” she said and then went up the steps of the house.
“See you soon, Pen,” he said, drawing her attention.
“See you soon” she said, trying to smile as naturally as possible, before walking back into the house.
♦
The next morning, the two friends had been walking in silence for quite some time. And silence was an unusual thing when she was in the company of Eloise Bridgerton. Penelope sighed, and taking the brunette by the arm, brought her closer to her side.
“Come on, El. What's wrong?” she asked softly.
“How do you know that there is something wrong?” Eloise asked stubbornly.
“I know you too well” Penelope replied, smiling.
“But maybe I don't know you,” the other one replied, pouting.
“Is for what I said yesterday at your house? I'm sorry if I offended you, but we're friends. And shouldn't friends always tell each other what they think, honestly, even if
sometimes it's not what we want to hear?” the redhead asked in a calm tone, while he caressed her arm without thinking about it.
Eloise thought for a moment about what her friend had said, and then frowned at her
"I appreciate the honesty, even if that means insulting me …"
“I didn't insult you,” Penelope interrupted, smiling at her friend's dramatics.
“You said that I'm egocentric and presumptuous and limited” said Eloise indignantly.
“I said that someone who thinks in that way that I criticize yesterdy is egocentric and presumptuous and limited. You still have time to change your way of thinking” said the friend, teasing the other a little.
“I just thought that...we were on the same page. Me and you. That we thought the same way" said Bridgerton, now in a somewhat dejected tone.
“And that's how it is. We think alike about many things. And differently on others, and that's normal. Do you love me less because I want to get married?”
“No, of course not” she replied immediately.
“And do you think that I love you less because, on the contrary, you hate the idea of
marriage?” she continued asking for the short girl.
“Well, I hope not,” Eloise said with a grimace.
Penelope pinched her playfully, and her friend smiled slightly. And then get serious again.
“It's just that...before, I thought you also had the same vision of the world as me. And that gave me comfort. An assurance that what I thought wasn't wrong, but that the rest of society was. But now…now she seems to be the only one who thinks differently, and maybe I'm the wrong one” the brunette said sadly.
Penelope sighed, touched by her friend's insecurities. Squeezing her arm, she tried to make her feel her closeness.
”Eloise, what you think is not wrong, even if society pushes you to think the opposite. Often there is no right and wrong. The world is not always that simple. If
you don't want to get married, if you don't want to have children, that's fine, your family will always support you. You will not be the first or the last spinster in this
world. If you want to spend your time reading innovative books and advocate for woman right, that's a noble thing, and I agree. What I think is wrong is the prejudice you have towards others, and how you look down on other girls because maybe their only interest is embroidery or playing the harp. It's alright if you want to be something else other than a wife and a mother. But it's also alright if someone else wants to be just that”
Eloise sighed, then clenched her fists in frustration “It's just that it's not fair! I can never be what I want, because I am a woman. I can't go to university, I can't travel. Everything must be forbidden, or more difficult for us. And to be something more, as you said, we have to use subterfuge. Take Lady Whistldown, for example. I think she's brilliant, she's a writer, but she is a woman. This means that she must use a fake name because writing using her real name would not be permitted. I wish I could meet her. I wish I could be like her”
“You can” the redhead affirmed.
“What do you mean?” asked Eloise, confused.
“If you were Lady Whistldown, what would you write about?”
“I don't know...maybe about the injustices of our society, about the role of women, about gender equality”
“And why don't you do it? If Lady Whisteldown, a woman like you, has found a way to be a writer and publish what she wants, why can't you?” said Penelope, looking at her friend smiling.
“But...how would I do it? My family would never agree. Should I find a publisher? How do you reach an agreement with a publisher? And the topics that I would talk about…I would be considered a political radical. If I were discovered it could be the ruin not only for my reputation, but also for that of my family. You see? Do you understand what I mean? For a man everything would be simpler"
“Do you think that by writing what Lady Whistledown writes, she's not putting her reputation in jeopardy? Don't she risk every time that someone might discover her?
Yet, she writes. I think Whistledown is just a lady like all the others, with perhaps a little more courage and imagination. And talent in writing. And it's arlight if you are not ready to follow her example, and if you will never be. But think about what I said.”
After a moment of silence Eloise spoke again "So you're not interested in knowing who Whistledown is?"
“No” she replied smiling Penelope “And we shouldn't look for her. Wouldn't finding out her identity put her in danger? If her wish is anonymity we should respect it. One day, when she decides, she will reveal herself to the public"
“But I'm curious” Eloise said in a peuting tone, pouting adorably.
Penelope smiled sweetly “I know. But is your curiosity more important than her safety or greater than her will?
The friend snorted “You're right, I think. But listen, if I ever decide to write something and publish it under an assumed name, will you help me keep it from my family? They are a noisy bunch”
Penelope smirked and hugged her friend “Of course I'll help you. Can you imagine Anthony's face if he were to find out? But I have to be honest, I think Benedict would be on our side. I can see him sharing your aversion to the rigid rules of society, in favor of a more libertine lifestyle” she said, and the two friends laughed together, continuing to imagine the reactions of every single member of the family. Penelope knew that the day would come when she would finally share her true identity with Eloise, rather than letting her discover it on her own as she initially intended. Perhaps this revelation could have spared them the heart-wrenching argument that drove a wedge between them. However, for that moment of honesty to happen, Penelope needed to be patient and allow her friend to grow a bit more. For now, her priority was to stop Eloise from embarking on a quest to find the writer, which would lead to a cascade of unforeseen consequences.
♦
A few nights later, as they made their way to the ball at Vauxhall Gardens, Penelope thought about how significant the night would be. Anthony was set to tell Daphne that he had promised her to Berbrooke, and Daphne would agree to her secret pact with the duke. That same night, Cressida Cowper would splash lemonade on Penelope, and Colin would pull her onto the dance floor to help her escape her embarrassment. It would be their first dance together.
But honestly, Penelope had no intention of letting Cressida humiliate her and dirty her new dress. The girl wondered if there would be any changes from the original events. Furthermore, that same evening, her mother would discover that Marina was pregnant.
What a night.
When they arrived at the gardens, Penelope thought that her father would leave them to go to the other gentlemen, Prudence and Philippa would go together to gossip somewhere, and she would be left alone. Instead, against all her expectations, Lord Faetherington took her arm, and began walking with her. Why was he doing this? Maybe because her help was bringing him profits? Being useful was the only way to be loved in her family.
Her father introduced her to her acquaintances, leaving her confused initially, but then, seeing how he spoke and acted, she understood: it was a fiction. By acting as a loving family man, he somehow wanted to make people believe he was trustworthy. He tried to make the men he owed money to feel sorry for him so that they would give him more time and put less pressure on him. At that thought, Penelope just wanted to scream and run away into a dark corner of the garden.
When the first gentleman came to ask her to dance, she was grateful to be able to leave her father to himself. Moving from one man's arms to another, Penelope couldn't recall what she talked about with them. Fortunately, during the brief pauses between dances, she could still catch snippets of gossip floating around the crowd. She would have had material for her pamphlet.
It was during one of these moments, while eavesdropping on a group of mothers, that she spotted Cressida Cowper twirling on the dance floor with Colin Bridgerton. In that instant, it struck her that she had once again altered her own history, and she had just let her first dance with Colin slip through her fingers.
She sighed deeply, telling herself that there would be other times, when everyone was called away to watch a light show. She followed the crowd absently.
She stood there, just like everyone else, beneath the canopy of low-hanging trees adorned with pots that likely contained some sort of flammable powder. Suddenly, each pot lit up, creating a small glow. She had completely forgotten the beauty of this moment and how deeply she had cherished that experiment. So captivated by the lights, she didn't notice someone getting closer than what was polite.
“Pen,” the boy greeted her politely.
The lady smiled at him “Good evening Colin. Beautiful, are they not?” she said, enchanted.
“They are. Very beautiful” he confirmed in a calm tone. They looked at the lights again for a moment, then he looked back at her.
“Pen. Since the season started you seem so… so…” she heard the boy say.
“Tired?” she said Penelope because, suddenly, under that comforting sky of yellow lights, that was all the girl could feel.
“Different. But also tired, I guess” Colin said in a soft tone.
“I am. Both.” the redhead admitted, seeing no point in lying.
“Why? Why are you tired?” his friend asked, with curiosity but also concern.
“It's only been only months since we saw each other before the summer. But for me it feels like years have passed.” the girl whispered, in a bitter tone, telling a half truth “I...I have a lot to think about. Thoughts that don't let me sleep” she concluded, because she would never have been able to confess to him everything that had happened to her. And everything that would happen to both of them.
“What thoughts? “ insisted the boy.
Penelope sighed, shaking her head. “Colin, don't...”
“I want to help Pen. You're Eloise's best friend, you are my friend. You are dear to our entire family.” Colin said, almost as if he had an urgent need to convince her.
He was so sweet. So eager to help others. Penelope wished for nothing more than to kiss him, hold him close, and never let him go. Yet, that was a wish she couldn't fulfill, and it felt like it would be a long time before she could. The harsh truth was that Penelope found it impossible to sleep without him next to her, without the comfort of his arms or the warmth radiating from him. Whenever she did manage to drift off, she would dream about her daughter calling out for her, searching for her, longing for her, and crying in despair. This would wake Penelope abruptly, leaving her in tears.
But she couldn't say it.
She sighed, and reaching out one of her gloved hands, she grasped one of his, squeezing it lightly.
“It's just that my family is different than yours, Colin. Living inside my house is not so pleasant. But I know that one day it will get better. Thanks for your concern.” She said softly.
Hearing the orchestra starting to play again in the distance, Colin, instead of letting
her go, squeezed her hand even tighter:
“The last dance?” he asked her, smiling so charmingly.
Penelope would never be able to say no to him.
As they headed to the dance floor, the girl saw that Daphne and Simon were doing the same, and all her eyes were on them. Penelope smiled: at least, as far as they were concerned, everything had gone as it supposed to.
And she already knew what would be written in the Lady Whistledown the next day. Once they arrived on the dance floor, among the more than one couple, another thought sprang to the girl's mind: she shouldn't have been there. She should have been in a corner, or behind a pillar, with her eyes on Daphne and the Duke, like everyone else. Instead, she was among the dancers, in the arms of Miss Thompson's most coveted suitor. What a scandal. Scandal that perhaps Lady Whistldown would not have reported, as it was meaningless.
Suddenly, she heard Colin make a huff, and lifting her head to look at him, she noticed that she was smiling, but she had a confused look in her eyes.
“What?” the girl asked, curious.
“It's curious” he simply replied, without losing his smile.
“What is curious?” she continued to ask, as she began to smile too. What a silly man. She adored him.
“Your hair” he began to say with wonder “With this light, it's the same color as the flames. I wonder how I never noticed this before. What a fierce color, indeed.”
Penelope swallowed, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe, just for that last dance, she could pretend that the one there was her Colin, her husband, her partner in crime, her best friend. Maybe, just for a few moments, she could pretend that there, in his arms, she was home again.
♦
The morning after the Vauxhall ball, Penelope sent an anonymous letter to Romney Hall, addressed to Sir Philip Crane. The letter stated how George Crane had taken
liberties and compromised the young Miss Marina Thompson, without marrying her, and that the said lady - now residing at the Faetherington house in Mayfair - was
pregnant. It was also highlighted that Miss Thompson had sent letters to
George, but received no response. And so Philip's help was required to get the right thing done. Penelope had written the letter using a different handwriting, a different style than her usual, even making some spelling mistakes. If everything had gone as she thought, in a few days Philip Crane would have arrived at their home to give the sad news of George's death, and to ask for Marina's hand. That way there would be no reason to trick Colin, nor need for Lady Whistldown to publish the news. The Faetherington family would not have been ruined, Colin would not have been publicly humiliated, Marina would not have lost her honor and her dignity, and no one but the family would have known. It was the best solution for everyone. It was the best way Penelope could think of to make amends for her mistakes.
At the same time, Penelope avoided Marina: if she had known nothing of her affair with George, and had never spoken to her, the redhead would never be suspected of having contacted Sir Crane.
As for Daphne, Penelope avoided writing – and therefore confirming – her engagement with Berbrooke, not wanting to associate her with such a being. But when word of it spread so far that she heard whispers about it in ballrooms, she couldn't put it off any longer.
“[...] It's rumored that Nigel Berbrooke intends to marry the virtuous Daphne Bridgerton. This author, however, hopes that such despicable man did not really dare to aim for the diamond of the season, when very scandalous things happen within the walls of his house. Indeed, it has come to your author's ears that Baron Berbrooke took liberties with one of his young servants, and after the poor girl became pregnant, he fired her and sent her away before the child was born. Having been denied any maintenance, mother and child are forced to beg, living in hardship. How such a creepy man can walk around with his head held high among gentlemen and gentleladies, it's a wonder. It wouldn't surprise me if Lord Berbrooke was called out of town on an urgent matter. A deal which, we suppose, could consist of overpaying the aforementioned former maid and her son, who we can only hope resembles her mother."
Lord Berbrooke left tquickly and, clearly, Daphne Bridgerton was free again.
In the meantime, with a bit of luck, Lord Faetherington started winning some bets, thanks to his daughter's guidance. Penelope always went with him to the horse races to stop him from spending money before they got home. It was tougher to persuade him to take her to boxing matches, but after threatening again to tell Portia about the situation, he finally said yes. Penelope began to handle all their wins and losses, splitting the money between their debts and her sisters' dowries. Initially, her father pushed back, saying she was just a child who didn't know about society or men's world. Penelope had no time or kindness to help her father understand.
Looking back, she recognized that the words she had thrown at him were undeniably harsh, enough to bring him to tears. Like a torrent overflowing its banks, she unleashed all the pent-up frustrations, criticisms, and insults she had longed to express but had never found the courage or the right moment to do so. And Penelope knew that her father wouldn’t react physically against her, as he was not an angry or violent man. He was just a miserable little man, trapped in his aspirations of becoming something greater, only to be met with disappointment. His way of coping with this letdown was through and seeking the slightest comfort was through betting and gambling. Since he wasn’t good at that either, Penelope felt she couldn’t allow him that small comfort, or he would end up ruining the rest of the family.
♦
The arrival of the prince Friedrich had given new excitement to the ton, and all the lady and their respective mothers were eager to see him and talk to him. Any event could have been the right occasion. The opening of the art gallery they were heading to that morning was one such.
It was also the first event Marina attended after recovering from her "illness", because Portia couldn't wait to introduce her to some drooling old man. Penelope hoped for Sir Philip's speedy arrival.
After a while, walking away from the main room, Penelope looked for a quiet place to rest. She soon found herself captivated by a painting depicting a lovely nymph basking in the sun on a lush meadow, while her lover spied on her from behind a tree; nearby, a small forest spirit, resembling a chubby child, playfully braided her hair. Penelope felt tears welling up in her eyes at the sight. It was ridiculous, really. But at the sight of that beautiful and plump child, with red curls framing his red chubby cheeks, the girl couldn't help but think of her daughter. Her little perfect baby. The most beautiful little girl she had ever seen. And she was a part of her. Penelope and Colin created her with their love. The longing for them both was so intense that it felt like a weight on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
Alone, in that large room, she got lost in the memory of the last moment she had spent with them:
Penelope was sitting in the garden of their country residence, her back leaning against the trunk of a large oak, her knees bent and brought
towards her chest on which the papers on which she was moving her quill were placed. She was finishing writing the last scene of her novel. Next to her, in a nest of pillows and blankets, Agatha was napping. The woman took a moment to observe her: her little red curls framed her face, her long eyelashes resting in her rosy chubby cheecks; her little mouth opened in a little pout as she breathed in little light breaths. Colin was over the moon that their daughter was a mini version of his wife.
In one of her little fists she held Penelope's shawl. The baby had gotten into the habit of falling asleep with which garment or piece of fabric that beared her mother scent. Without that, there was no way to put her to sleep. It was incredibly sweet. Penelope was so absorbed in contemplating her baby that she didn't hear his footsteps approaching her.
“How are my darlings?”
The woman looked up to smile at her husband, still in his traveling clothes, took a seat next to them. He took off his hat and gloves, then leaned in and placed his lips on hers.
“Welcome home, love” she whispered when they parted.
The man beamed with joy as he reached out to softly stroke the baby’s curls and cheek with his fingertips. His touch was tender, and he gazed at her as if he were still in awe of her presence. Penelope noticed that, despite their brief separation, Colin had truly missed them.
He had to return to London for a few days, to go and talk to his publisher. Penelope spent several days tirelessly persuading him to visit the city, as he was reluctant to leave them behind for any reason.
"So? How did it go?” she asked him, smiling, as she put her papers aside and stretched out her legs.
"Everything is going as planned. By the end of the year we shall have my second book published"
She smiled and kissed on the lips "Congratulations Mr. Bridgerton"
"Thank you, editor" he said, pecking her again.
They both remained silent for a while, enjoying the light and the soothing sound of the wind passing through the leaves. Penelope was contemplating taking a nap, leaning against her husband's chest, when he began to gently caress her side.
“Pen, about what we talked about before I left…”
The woman turned slightly to look at him "Yes?"
"We can wait, you know?"
"Why?"
"You are an amazing mother, and ever since Aggie came into our life, you have devoted yourself completely to her well-being. Now that she is one year old, you can have more free time. For Lady Whistledown, for the novel that you want to write, or just... To enjoy yourself" he said, continuing to caress her side, comforting.
Penelope put a hand on his chest, thoughtful, and then looked into his eyes.
"Don't you want another child?"
Colin looked at her, almost indignant at her question, and hugged her vigorously "Of course I want it!" He exclaimed without hesitation "Our daughter... She's perfect. she's the best gift you could ever give me. How would I not want another one? I just want...I want you to be free and happy and to have everything you want "
What a silly man. Penelope beamed softly, showering his face with gentle kisses before wrapping her arms around his neck and gazing deeply into his eyes.
"I feel free, because I know that you are by my side to support me. I'm happy. I'm the happiest I ever been. And yes, I want to write. But still...I want you to give me another baby" she said, her tone now more seductive.
He smirked, his eyes darkening "Then I have towork hard to give my dear wife everything she wants" he replied in the same tone, as he left a playful bite
on her neck. She giggled as she ran his hands through his hair.
He looked at her, her eyes full of love, adoration and absolute devotion.
"My Pen"
“Pen”
Penelope turned immediately, abruptly torn from the sweet memory. She looked at Colin as he approached her slowly, a worried expression on his face. He paused a short distance from her, uncertainty lingering in the air.
“Why are you crying?” he asked her softly.
Penelope continued to look at him, frowning, confused by his question.
“I'm not crying” she sniffed.
She sniffed. Oh.
She ran her hands over her cheeks only to see that the silk of her gloves was darkened where her tears had soaked them.
“What happened?” he kept pressing, his concern deepening as he shifted nervously on his feet, yearning to move closer to her but hesitating to take that step.
“Nothing happened, don't worry about it” she said, as she took a deep breath and completely dried her face.
“It can't be anything if she made you cry.” he insisted. “Do you want me to go get your mother?”
She scoffed. “As if she could be of any help or comfort,” she replied sarcastically.
“Then Eloise” he proposed.
Penelope smiled slightly at her eagerness to help. “I'm alright, really. Just… moved by all this art,” she said, sketching out an excuse that was also a half-truth. “How come you're not with the others?” she asked him immediately after, so as to change the subject.
"I wanted to greet you. I was walking towards you when I saw you leaving the main room alone. You seemed pale. So, after a while, I came looking for you. I apologize” he said in a slightly contrite tone.
The girl smiled at him tenderly reflecting on how he had sought her out to check on her well-being, even though he could have easily remained in the room chatting with Marina, the woman he was supposedly pursuing.
"Do not apologise. Thank you for your concern” she told him tenderly.
“So...what are you looking at?” he said, trying to lighten the mood, and turned to look at the painting in front of them.
“Nothing so innovative: a naked nymph in a forest, a man in love who looks at her and a little spirit who keeps her company. Of course, Eloise would criticize that the subject is, for the umpteenth time, a beautiful woman without clothes"
“Well, I think it's beautiful”
“Of course you do” she said, teasing him a little.
“I didn't mean ... it's not because of her ... the technique is good ... and the landscape is well represented ...” he began to stutter, embarrassed, while her cheeks they turned red.
Penelope giggled and patted on his arms to reassure him “I know what you mean. I'm just teasing you”
He shook his head, smiling, clearly amused. The girl smiled at him "Now I better go back to the room before anyone notices our
absence."
Colin smiled and nodded “You're right. You go first"
“Thank you, Colin. I really feel better now” said the redhead looking into his eyes, then returning to the main room and joining his mother.
♦
A few mornigs later, when Penelope saw one letter from Spain among the others. She immediately understood that it was the one her mother had fabricated to convince Marina to forget George and get married to someone else. But if Miss Thompson had not seen it, she would not have aimed to marry Colin so quickly. So, Penelope took the letter and, after taking it to her room, burned it.
Some time later Lord Faetherington had scraped together enough money to set aside a small dowry for Philippa again, just in time for Albion Finch's first visit. Seeing him enter the living room, and sneeze loudly because of the bouquet of daisies he was carrying, Penelope couldn't help but smile heartily: the girl adored her brothers-in law, but Albion in particular; he had always been the one to support her, being genuinely happy for her. He was a sweet man and, she had to admit that he and Philippa made a good couple. Somehow he managed to make even her wife sweeter and more pleasant. Penelope was touched by seeing how, from that first call, Mister Finch looked for Philippa at every opportunity, such as that evening at the Trowbirdge ball.
Upon entering the room, Albion made his way over, offering a courteous greeting before turning to Philippa with enthusiasm. In her previous life, Lord Featherington had instructed Mr. Finch to cease his pursuit of his second daughter, having squandered her entire dowry on gambling. However, with that dowry now restored, Penelope suspected that their engagement would be announced soon.
She had literally threatened her father that she would slit his throat if he touched that money. Oh, well, it was the only way to deal with a man like that. Also, if he hadn't stopped his shady ways, she wouldn't have been the one to kill him.
As she watched her sister be led to the dance floor by Finch, Penelope's gaze fell on the prince signing Daphne's dance card. Had everything unfolded as it was meant to, the duke would have made his entrance later that evening. How much simpler it could have been if Simon had chosen to release his bitterness towards his father and prioritized the love he held for Daphne!
The couple would have saved themselves a lot of jealousy, subterfuge, arguments and misunderstandings. Yet, perhaps they all needed to undergo some personal growth, ultimately coming to understand what was truly important at the right moment.
On the other hand, it was exactly the difficulties in their path that would lead them to be so honest with each other, and united more than ever.
Later that evening, during a quiet moment while she was trying to escape being pulled onto the dance floor by a gentleman, Penelope noticed Marina looking around sadly as she danced with Lord Ruthledge. Her cousin would have to wait a bit longer, as Colin would soon arrive to rescue her from the old man's grasp. Penelope wondered if she should intervene.
The less Colin became attached to Marina, the easier it would be for him when she eventually left with Philip. But what could she possibly do? Penelope understood that once Colin set his sights on something, it was nearly impossible to sway him. And right now, his focus was on Marina.
“Our host is a bit fussy” Colin told her, coming up behind her and leaning over her to gossip. “Do you think that if he goes to bed we'll have to leave?” he said jokingly.
Penelope giggled. She remembered that joke well, and she also remembered the answer she had given him. That evening was the first time she had let herself go and,
for a moment, she had allowed him to see her personality that was beneath her all her shyness and insecurity.
“Most lucky that the lady produced an heir before the old Earl died, isn't it?” the boy continued to say. Penelope found it hilarious that Colin had always professed to be uninterested in rumors, but that everytime he was with her, he indulged in gossip worse than an old mama.
“Lucky indeed” said Penelope, with an ironic tone “But do you not think the boy has bears a resemblance of the Lady Trowbridge's footman?”
“Penelope” Colin exclaimed, surprised, but clearly amused “What a barb”
Penelope giggled again, looking at the boy. How many times had she heard that phrase from her husband. Always with the most total affection and admiration, of
course.
“Tell me,” Colin said after a moment, nodding towards Marina. “Surely Miss Thompson cannot be intersted in Lord Rutledge, can she?”
Penelope snorted “What do you think, Colin? Could such a young girl ever be interested in dancing with such an old man? It's disgusting, really.” she said sarcastically.
Her words had no time to leave the girl's lips before another lord, slightly younger than Lord Rutledge, but clearly old, stopped next to Penelope - a little too close -
offering her to dance in a hasty manner. The lady knew she couldn't refuse him, so after taking a deep breath and putting a smile on her face, she raised her hand to place it in the man's palm. Just then, she felt a firm grip on her other hand, pulling her away from the gentleman.
“My apologies, Lord... but it appears this is my turn to dance with Miss Faetherington,” Colin said nonchalantly, his usual charming smile on her face. Without lingering any further, he led her to the dance floor. dance.
Luckily they were both excellent dancers, and they blended in with the rest of the couples without difficulty.
“Ah...mmm...thank you...?” Penelope said looking at her friend, surprised by her impulsive gesture.
"Do not thank me. You said it too: it is disgusting for a man this to ask you to dance" he whispered to her, jokingly.
The girl felt butterflies in her stomach, and her cheeks redden. Colin was not meant to dance with her; he was supposed to save Marina from the old lord and make her laugh while twirling around the ballroom. Why were things so changed when Penelope wasn't even trying to alter them? Why was Colin acting so differently? Was it because she was different, and somehow affecting him?
“I know...how's your search for a husband going? Any notable candidates?” asked her friend, as he twirled her around the room.
Penelope smiled “No, none to my liking. My mother hates me for this. If it were up to her, she would have already promised me to the first earl who gave me a bouquet of flowers. She will hate me even more when at the end of the season I'll refuse every single proposal. If I receive any. But Philippa found the perfect match. There will be at least one wedding at the Faetherington house!” she exclaimed, genuinely excited for her sister.
“Why do you say you will refuse every proposal? Do you have so little faith in the charm of the gentlemen of the Ton?” Colin asked, teasing her.
Penelope snorted, because the most charming man of the Ton was dancing with her at that exact moment, and it wasn't her he was courting. “I think if there was going to be some kind of attraction or feeling for one of my callers, it would have been born by now. I'm almost certain that none of them is the right man for me."
“And how should be the right man for you, Pen? Now I'm curious to know ”said Colin, just before having to push her away from him and to let her go into the arms of her in another dancer. When they were in each other's arms again, Penelope had recovered from the initial nervousness that question had aroused.
“Well, the right man for me is...someone kind, someone funny, caring, smart, gentle and passionate. Someone who loves me more than anything,” she said, smiling and swallowing the lump in her throat.
“I'm sure you'll find it” the boy told her with conviction.
“I'm sure too” Penelope whispered, more to herself than to him.
When the music ended, the two moved back to the edge of the ballroom. Suddenly, Colin looked nervous, and after a moment of uncertainty he began to speak.
“Pen I...I wanted to ask Miss Thompson to dance, but you...”
But Penelope stopped paying attention to him when she noticed Daphne rushing out of the room, leaving Prince Friedrich behind, with an expression of panic on her face.
“Oh God, it's the moment.” Penelope said, thinking aloud.
“What? What moment?” Colin asked confused, as he turned to look in the same direction as Penelope, but his sister had already left.
“What?” the girl asked, returning her attention to him.
“You said 'it's the moment'. What's happening?” he asked her again, more confused than before.
“No…I…I feel…a little dizzy.” Penelope said without thinking.
Colin continued to look at her confused “Should we go outside for a little bit to breathe fresh air? Maybe in the garden?”
"No!" the girl exclaimed as she grabbed his arm with both hands, out of habit, forgetting for a moment that she, a lady, shouldn't have touched a gentleman like that.
Penelope touched her forehead. “I'll feel better after I sit down for a moment,” she told him, smiling uncertainly.
“Alright” the boy said, as he took her hand and placed it under his arm – probably fearing that she might faint – and led her to one of the free chairs at the side of the
room.
Once seated, Colin brought her a glass of lemonade. “Do you feel faint?” he asked her worriedly.
Penelope smiled at him “No, don't worry. I'm already better”
“Are you eating?” the brunet continued to ask.
“I...What?” the girl asked, thinking she had misunderstood.
“I asked if you were eating properly and if you are recovering well from the illness that you had this summer. If you don't eat, and you dance all night, you will surely faint”
Penelope smiled sweetly at him, touched for the umpteenth time by his concern “I'm recovering well, Colin. Don't worry about me. And you don't need to stay by my side. Go and enjoy the rest of the evening”
“I think I'll stay here with you for a while longer. To make sure you're really well, that is” he said, in the tone he used when he was nervous or embarrassed by what he
was saying.
The girl nodded, grateful. “Well, then tell me: if you could leave at the end of the season, which country would you like to visit first?” she asked him, knowing it was
one of her topics of conversation.
And in fact the boy launched into a passionate description of the travel itinerary that he had imagined in his mind. He was so adorable.
And he was still talking when Anthony reached him, pale-faced, his arm around an absent - as if dissociated – Daphne.
“Daphne has a headache, I'm taking her home. Will you escort mother?" the Viscount said to his younger brother, his voice trembling slightly.
Penelope wanted to tell young miss Bridgerton that everything would soon be okay, that she would have the love she wanted, a beautiful marriage and a loving family.
But she couldn't. So she just watched, silently, as Anthony dragged his sister away.
“Anthony was particularly strange, did you notice?” Colin asked her, as he looked at the spot where his siblings were f*cking.
“Maybe he was just tired, it's quite late. I would also have to pick up my mother and sisters to go home. And you have to find your mother” Penelope said, smiling, as she stood up.
“Do you want me to go with you to look for your mother?” the boy asked her softly.
"No. I'm well now. You can go. Thank you for dancing with me tonight” she told him, looking at him serenely.
“It's a pleasure to dance with you, Pen” Colin said, bowing his head gallantly towards her in greeting.
Penelope's smile widened, "Goodnight, Colin," and after one last look, she turned and walked into the crowd in search of her family.
♦
Penelope was sitting at the window in her house's drawing room, reading contentedly in the Lady Whistledown about Daphne Bridgerton's engagement to the Duke of Hastings, when Portia stormed inside the room. She hurriedly went to sit next to her husband, and as much as she tried not to be heard, Penelope was too good at listening to whispers.
“Mrs Varley had trouble at the modiste's this morning. Madame Delacroix refuses to deliver the clothes if we do not pay the bills for the previous months” she hissed.
Lord Faetherington looked towards her younger daughter, and after she nodded to him briefly, the man looked back at her wife. “I'll take care of it as soon as possible” he said, then went back to reading the newspaper, taking a drag on his pipe.
“Ah. Very well" Portia replied, surprised by the ease with which her husband had
agreed.
Later that same morning, Penelope entered the modiste's shop, having told her maid to wait outside for her.
When Madame Delacroix saw her, she straightened her back and cleared her throat.
“Miss Faetherington, I was clear with your housekeeper this morning, your dresses…” Guinevere began to say in her fake French accent.
“Ah yes, the dresses! They're in the back right? There are some changes I would like to make. It's better to talk about it right away” Penelope interrupted her, giving her a significant look, and without giving her time to reply she headed towards the back of the shop, into a room where customers were not supposed to enter. She couldn't risk anyone else hearing her.
The modiste let out an impatient sigh and then followed, closing the door behind her.
“I already said you won't have the clothes if I don't get paid. You shouldn't have come in here, please go and..."
“I'm lady Whistledown” the girl interrupted again.
“What?”
“You heard it. I'm here to make you an offer. I guess you know how popular Lady Whistledown has become in just a few months. Everyone reads her pamphlet. Her
word, and therefore mine, is law. We are both business women, Madame, and as such, we can help each other. I will praise you in my pamphlet, I will advertise you and, in exchange, you will hand over the clothes you have made for us. I'm quite sure that after I'll talk about you, your orders and earnings will increase enough to pay off my family's debt."
“Assuming everything you say is true: would Lady Whistledown do all this just to pay off a debt? If you are who you say you are, you should have the money to pay me directly" said the woman, warily.
“And I have it, but that money is mine, not my family's. It's the fruit of my work, I have no intention of wasting it unless strictly necessary. And you are right, I am not offering you this collaboration just to get my clothes back: I would like you to help me deliver the manuscripts to my publisher. Deliveries alone at night is a danger for me. We would both benefit from this deal” Penelope smiled as she spoke. "There's no rush to respond, and you certainly don't have to take my word for it. I suggest you check out the pamphlet coming out tomorrow morning. You can let me know your answer by tomorrow afternoon. Wishing you a lovely day, madame," she said calmly before strolling out of the shop with an air of ease. Deep down, she was hopeful that her plan would succeed. Over the years, Guinevere had evolved from a mere partner into a cherished friend, and Penelope felt her absence keenly. She hoped she could rebuild the same relationship.
She had just walked out the door when she ran into Daphne and Violet. The two greeted her warmly, but Penelope could see that the young girl was clearly unhappy.
“Congratulations Daphne. I heard about her engagement” she told her softly.
The girl gives her a slight smile “Thank you, Penelope”
Violet placed her hand gently on the redhead's arm. "It's going to be a very intimate ceremony, just for family, but of course, you and your family are all welcome to join us for the wedding breakfast," she explained, almost as if she needed to defend her decision not to send an invitation for the religious ceremony.
“I understand” the girl interrupted, smiling “No offense taken. I'm sure it will be a beautiful ceremony"
Violet nodded enthusiastically “We have an appointment with Madame Delacroix for the wedding dress. Let's hope she can complete it in time” she said smiling a little
anxiously.
“Then I won't keep you any longer.” she said in farewell, but before leaving with her maid, she took one of Daphne's hands in hers, and looked into her eyes with
conviction, “You're very lucky, Daphne. You and the duke love each other, and that it's the only thing that matter. Everything will be alright. Have faith"
Daphne, after her initial surprise, gave her a small but sincere smile “Thank you, Penelope. You are a darling”
Penelope smiled back, and after squeezing her hand one last time, she walked away from the two women, facing home. When she returned she expected to find Colin,
calling on Miss Thompson.
But when she arrived, the only caller present was Albion Finch. Marina's anguished sobs reverberated through the entire house. Penelope hurried upstairs, bursting into the girl's room without a moment's hesitation, only to discover Marina curled up on the floor, consumed by despair.
The redhead knelt next to her “Marina?What happened? Are you feeling sick?!” she asked anxiously.
But then, looking at the ground, she saw the reason of those tears: a letter from Spain, which her mother must have delivered to Marina in person. A letter identical to
the one she had burned. Penelope found herself powerless, simply sitting there with Marina in her arms, fully aware that the girl would be more determined than ever to charm Colin and persuade him to marry her. She could already picture Marina convincing him during his sister's wedding breakfast that Sunday morning. Where the hell was Philip Crane?
The next morning, Lady Whistledown posted her pumphlet, as always. That same afternoon Madame Delacroix's clothes were delivered to the Faetherington house.
Penelope had gotten the answer she wanted.
♦
Sleep had eluded her, and she had barely touched her meals. Even her mother had inquired if she was unwell. How could she ensure that Colin and Marina wouldn’t be left alone? Unfortunately, due to her behavior throughout the season, Penelope and Marina hadn’t formed a bond, leaving the redhead with no reason to stay close. Damn you, Portia! All Penelope needed was a bit more time! Penelope promised herself that she would keep Marina in her sights, ready to intervene whenever the girl attempted to approach the Bridgerton boy.
And on paper it seemed like a pretty good plan, but Penelope hadn't taken one fundamental factor into consideration: Eloise.
And it was her wonderful, infuriating friend who, just as breakfast was winding down, dragged her in a corner to discuss God who knows what. When Penelope finally escaped her clutches—using the excuse of needing the chamber pot—she returned to find Marina had vanished. Colin was nowhere to be seen either.
Panic began to set in, and Penelope leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths and closing her eyes to gather her thoughts. Even if Colin had proposed to Marina that very morning, it wasn’t official yet. Penelope still had time to reach out to Philip again, or find a solution other than writing everything about the pregnancy on Lady Whistldown. The girl just needed a moment of silence and tranquility to reflect.
Out of nowhere, she sensed someone nearby, and as she opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of an enraged Marina, glaring at her with palpable resentment.
“Did he propose?” Penelope asked without thinking once.
“He didn't.” the girl replied harshly.
“What?” she couldn't help but ask the other, probably with a fishy expression on her face.
“He didn't propose and it's your fault.” Marina continued to say, the venom she could sense from her words.
“What?” Penelope repeated, like a fool, even more surprised than before.
“Did you tell him about my condition?”
“No, of course not.” Well, it was the truth. Penelope hadn't told him about her pregnancy.
“I saw you dancing with him, when he was supposed to ask me to dance. You stole him from me”
At those words Penelope saw red, and she felt her blood boiling inside her. Tha audacity of this girl. The redhead had to clench his fists, and push his nails into her flesh to keep her temper under control.
“He was never yours to begin with. If you find yourself in this desperate situation it is only for your own stupidity. I can feel sorry for you and for your situation, but don't blame me for faults that I don't have” Penelope hissed, making sure those around them didn't hear.
“I don't need your pity” Marina replied arrogantly.
“The go home to cry about the proposal you didn't receive and leave me alone”
“If I don't marry soon, everyone will know about my condition. Your whole family will be ruined. YOU will be ruined" the girl continued to tell her, threatening her.
“Then go and find another old man to marry” concluded Penelope and, pushing the girl away from her, she made her way through the people to exit Bridgerton House.
The party was over.
She had just stepped down the last step when he felt his arm being grabbed.
“Pen!”
“Colin!” the girl exclaimed in surprise. “Something happened?”
“I saw you talking to Miss Thompson. And then I saw you leaving. I called your name but you kept walking” the boy said quickly.
“Sorry, I didn't hear you” the girl explained sincerely.
“I thought you were avoiding me,” the friend insisted.
“I just didn't hear you” she repeated.
“Are you going home already?” the boy asked after clearing his throat.
“Yes. I don't feel very well” the redhead replied shortly.
“I'll walk with you,” he said immediately, offering her arm.
Penelope gazed at him, then let out a resigned sigh as she slipped her hand into the bend of his arm.
“I saw that you and Marina left the room together. Without a chaperon. Did you do something?” the girlnasked as soon as they had left the house.
“Of course not! I'm a gentelman!” Colin immediately exclaimed indignantly.
“Well, given Marina's reaction, something must have happened” Penelope insisted with a harsh tone.
The boy remained silent for a moment and then leaned towards her and whispered
"Marina, she...she tried to kiss me"
“And did you let her?”
"No! Of course not!”
“Why not?” Penelope asked nonchalantly.
“What?” the boy asked back, looking at her friend as if she had grown another head.
“You like her, don't you? You courted her for a while. So, why didn't you kiss her?” the girl asked again, now stopping on the sidewalk to look into his eyes.
“Pen, you...” Colin started to say, somehow trying to find the right words “You're my friend. You're dear to my entire family. Your opinion is important. You told me that I shouldn't court her. And I stopped coming to your house lately because of what you told me! And I am convinced that I know Marina, but I am constantly torn! How could I have kissed her and compromised her?!”
Oh. Then Marina was right to say that it was Penelope's fault that she hadn't received his proposal. That awareness brought her a strange and immeasurable
satisfaction.
“Were you tempted?” Penelope asked as she turned to start walking again.
“I was, but I stopped. And then...she told me she has feeling for me. That tempted me more” he said, shame evident on his face.
“And do you believe her?”
“Why would I not?”
“Because she is not a reliable person”
“Ah, and you know her well, don't you? Marina told me how your family treated her when she arrived. And for all the months she was here, you almost didn't even look at
her” he said, defending the girl.
The redhead felt her anger rising inside her, enraged by how easy it was for him to trust Marina, because he was blinded by her beauty, but not Penelope, who he had known for almost his entire life.
“You are a man now. You are capable of making your own judgements. But I already told you: if my words don’t earn your trust while hers do so effortlessly, then we’re not truly friends. It might be best for you to return home, Mr. Bridgerton” the girl said, looking at him coldly, and then she turned to go into the
house, without looking back.
Penelope stayed in her room until the day Colin was set to tell everyone that he had proposed to Marina. In this different reality, things had clearly changed, but Penelope couldn't shake the feAR that the third Bridgerton might still decide to propose. She felt helpless to stop it. So, to get ready for what was coming, she dressed up and styled her hair before heading downstairs to join her family. However, the Featheringtons never made it to the gardens because Philip Crane arrived at their door that morning.
The man explained that he had received an anonymous letter, in which Miss Thompson's situation was revealed to him. He had attempted to contact his brother
George, who was still in Spain, but had received no response. So, he promptly left to go to him and bring him back to England.
Once he arrived, however, he discovered that his brother had died. He gave Marina the letter George was writing to her, in which he told her that he loved her and that they could run away together and raise their child. Given that Philip's journey to London was quite lengthy - and considering George's desire to ensure the safety and well-being of his beloved along with their child - Sir Crane proposed to Miss Thompson the opportunity to marry him immediately, honoring his brother's wishes.
Marina burst from the room in tears, holding the letter from her lover tightly against her heart. The others stood back, respecting her need for solitude as she grieved. Yet, deep down, they all understood the truth: there was no chance that Marina, who had been pregnant for several months, could have turned down Sir Philip's offer.
And so after a few days, just long enough to organize the departure and send a letter to Marina's father, the two left London, headed for Romney Hall.
♦
Mr. Finch proposed to Philippa, and they were to be married at the end of the season. In the past, her sister had been forced to have a small wedding at the Faetherington house, for their lack of founds. Maybe this time they would be able to do something
more elaborate.
For the rest of the season the days blended together: in the evening Penelope participated only in the events that were necessary for her to write Lady Whistledown; some mornings she was forced to stay at home to entertain the last callers she had left, other mornings she managed to run away with Eloise; for the rest of the time she remained locked in her room looking over the family accounts, or simply trying to sleep, hoping that time would pass more quickly.
Everything felt unnaturally serene, and Penelope found herself losing focus. She hadn’t paid enough attention, and it was only when she settled in to watch the boxing match and heard the names of the fighters that the reality hit her: this was the very match where her father had struck a deal with Will Mordirch, wagering everything on his loss. It was the day her father had walked away with a fortune—a fortune that ultimately costed him his life.
Given the wins in the previous months, Penelope thought that her father would not be so desperate as to make such a dangerous deal. There was simply no need for it. True, they couldn't rehire all their staff immediately, and they needed to tighten their belts, but they would find a way. Surely, her father recognized this. Penelope made up her mind to give him one final chance to prove her right. In a flash, the match was over.
Will Mordrich was knocked out, losing the fight.
Her father stood beside her, celebrating and shouting in triumph, but suddenly, the world around her felt muted, her vision blurred, and the cheers faded into the background. Her father was more foolish than she had ever imagined. He had just signed his own death sentence.
Penelope had expected to experience the same heartache and dread that had consumed her when she lost him the first time. Yet, in that moment, she felt utterly empty. With her Colin she had learned that men could be devoted and amorous husbands, they could be attentive and present fathers, they could have passions and hobbies that didn't have to do with betting or alcohol. Every choice his father had made had resulted in a life filled with misery, not just for himself but for his entire family. Penelope found no sympathy for that man.
The girl was standing in the crowd, watching blankly as she waited for her father to collect his winnings, when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.
“Miss Faetherington!” Benedict exclaimed, the usual grin on her face, as he approached her followed by Colin.
“What a surprise to find you here!” he added as he co*cked his head slightly towards her.
“Not exactly a surprise, Mr Bridgerton. I got into the habit of accompanying my father to every match” the girl replied politely, trying to give the man a smile. She
was sorry that she was not in the mood to converse with him: Benedict had always been welcome company to her, and he had always treated her well and with respect, even before she married his younger brother.
“Do you have a passion for boxing?” He continued to ask her curiously, finding the concept somehow amusing.
“No, actually I despise it. I don't like the violence, the blood and to see someone get hurt. But, as you know, my father likes to bet... ”said the girl, now her tone more dark and serious than her.
Obviously the two brothers noticed the change, and after glancing at Lord Faetherington - who was filling his bag with money - they looked back at the tiny redhead.
Benedict cleared his throat “Well, it's good that your father bet today, he won a huge sum. Most people were counting on Mordrich to win, ourselves included. Lord Faetherington was very lucky” the man said benevolently, trying to comfort her in some way, and then looked at his younger brother expectantly. He then turned his attention to her younger brother, clearly hoping Colin would step in and say something to lighten the mood. However, Colin merely stared at her, visibly uneasy. Penelope could sense that he wanted to engage with her, but the weight of their last conversation was clearly holding him back.
“Lucky indeed” the girl simply said.
The conversation was interrupted by her father who, approaching her with a huge smile plastered on her arms, put his hand on her back.
“Mr Bridgerton! And Mr Bridgerton!” he greeted the two men, ridiculously excited, and then turned to look at Penelope “Let us go, daughter! Today we were blessed!”
The girl looked at him, resignation in her eyes, and with a nod she allowed him to be drag her towards the family carriage
♦
The night of the Hastings ball was the last night Penelope saw her father. The night of the Hastings ball was the last time Penelope would see her father. She knew that while the rest of the family attended the party, her father would go to a brothel to celebrate meeting his death.
Because of this, before leaving home, she quietly entered his study and found his bag, knowing it held his winnings. Her father had given them some money to help restore her and Prudence's dowry, but she realized he would take the rest with him that night. She didn't know if he would spend it all or if someone would rob him after killing him. All she knew was that they would not see that money again.
She quickly took some money. By this point, she had come to understand her father well enough; he never bothered to count how much cash he pocketed before leaving the house. How could someone be so obsessed with money yet so careless? Penelope would never understand. After leaving the study, she tucked the money away with Lady Whistledown's other earnings and then went downstairs to say her final goodbye to her father.
Later that evening, she found herself beside a column, taking a breather after dancing, when she noticed the Bridgertons making their entrance. Colin quickly spotted her in the crowd. Upon seeing her, a look of resolve crossed his face, and he began to make his way toward her. She understood that he would be seeking answers—answers she couldn’t provide in such a crowded place. As he approached, she met his gaze and subtly shook her head, then gestured for him to follow her.
Ascending the stairs that led into the house, she left the garden behind and confidently made her way to one of the private terraces. In that moment, she realized she was more familiar with the house than even the new duch*ess. She had visited it countless times in her first life. Leaning against the balustrade, she waited. Soon, she heard the terrace window open and close. Colin joined her, leaning beside her and mirroring her stance. They stood in silence for a moment, enjoying the cool evening air.
Then he spoke:
“Who is Philip Crane? Why did Marina accept that man's proposal so hastily?”
“Marina ... she's pregnant”
"What?"
Penelope took a deep breath and then launched into the story of everything that had happened: Marina's arrival at her house, the discovery of her pregnancy, her affair with George Crane, his death and the involvement of Philip.
Colin was silent for several moments. Then, without looking at her face, he spoke:
“That was the thing that wasn't right with Marina. The family issue that you couldn't tell me” He spoke softly, but his words showed a deep sadness beneath the surface.
“Yes, I'm sorry. It wasn't my secret to tell" she answered sincerely
“I thought she liked me”
“She understood that you are a kind and honorable man, and that if she had managed to marry you you would not have repudiated her once you found out about her
pregnancy”
“But she didn't love me, even though she said she had feelings for me” He echoed it back, tinged with a hint of bitterness.
"I am sorry" she repeated soflty.
“I've been a fool”
“Perphas a little. But, you know, it happens. She was good at telling you what you wanted to hear. She was beautiful and she made you feel good. It was easy to become infatuated with her. Don't torture yourself too much."
After a long moment of silence, Colin inhaled deeply and began to speak once more:
“Thank you, for your sincerity. And for warning me. I thought that you were looking out for me, and now I'm sure of it. I...I have decided that I am leaving. I'm leaving
tomorrow morning for my tour. It was you who inspired me, and reminded me how much I wanted to travel” he said, emotion evident on his face.
“I'll take that as a compliment, but you didn't need inspiration. You already have within yourself what it takes to explore the world. I'm sure it will be a wonderful journey. Perhaps you'll write to me " the girl said with a bright smile.
"I would like to write to you, if that's what you want" he replied without hesitation, his feelings clear on his face.
"I would love that."
♦
The morning of her father's funeral, Penelope was sitting alone in the drawing room on the ground floor, the one they usually used for events and soirees. She
expected Eloise to arrive at any moment to offer her condolences.
While she waited, Penelope reflected on what would happen now: her father's death gave her the perfect excuse to reject the marriage proposals she had received - as
she could pretend to be heartbroken by grief. Philippa's marriage to Albion was moved up because, without a lord in their home, it would be simpler to manage with one less lady. And Portia wanted to make sure the Finch family wouldn't change their minds and cancel the engagement.
At the moment, all the other Faetherington women were locked in their rooms, there were no servants left in the house except the cook, Mrs. Varley and a few chambermaids.
There was only silence.
Penelope didn't realize how long she had waited for Varley to announce Eloise's arrival.
“Let her in,” Penelope told her.
Soon after, it wasn't only her friend who entered the room; her brother Colin followed right behind her. The brunette girl rushed to her, wrapping her arms around her and expressing her sorrow, and assuring her of her unwavering support. Penelope felt a deep sense of comfort, knowing that her friend meant every word. Colin then leaned in, offering her a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and she noticed the family emblem elegantly displayed on the card tied to it.
“I'm sorry, Pen. I can imagine the pain you are feeling. The rest of the family sends you their condolences, and know that the doors of the Bridgerton house will
always be open for you" said the boy in a heavy tone.
Penelope smiled and held the deck close to her. She walked over to her friends, squeezend Eloise's hand, and then sat down on one of the sofas, encouraging them to join her.
“Thank you, for coming. I am really grateful ” said the redhead in a soft tone.
“Where are your mother and sisters?” Eloise asked.
“In their rooms. I think...they all need some time alone,” Penelope replied, then cleared her throat. The first time her father died she had been desperate and she had cried in the arms of her friend. Now she felt nothing, and she didn't know how to act. “So, Colin…weren't you supposed to leave this morning?” she said, trying to
make conversation. She didn't want to stay silent. Not at that moment.
“Yes, the servants are preparing the last things. But when we received the news...I couldn't leave without stopping by” he said, looking into her eyes.
She gave him a sweet smile. “You didn't have to, but thank you.”
They chatted about small topics for a while. Eloise talked almost nonstop, while Colin chimed in now and then. Penelope stayed quiet, appreciating her friend's efforts to keep her mind off things. Then, out of nowhere, a thought popped into her head.
“Ah, the book that you lend me. I finished it, I'll go get it and give it back to you”
Penelope said suddenly, standing up. Eloise and her brother glanced at each other, not saying anything about their friend's unexpected action. They thought that maybe their friend was too shaken up by what had happened.
Following her example, the two also stood up, and the dark-haired girl put a hand on her shoulder:
“Don't bother, I'll go get the book. It's in your room, isn't it?” the girl asked her softly.
Penelope nodded “On the bedside table”
Eloise smiled slightly “Perfect. I'll pick up the book, I'll go back to Bridgerton house to see Colin off with the rest of the family, and then I'll come back
here to keep you company, for as long as you want. All right?"
Penelope responded to her smile “Of course. Thank you, El” she said gratefully, and she looked at her friend who was walking briskly out of the room.
The redhead was lost in thought as Colin took a step towards her, facing her.
“I can postpone my departure,” he said in a serious tone.
Penelope quickly turned her head to look at him, thinking she had misheard "What?"
“I can postpone the departure. Now, you have no male relatives in the house. You may need help. I can stay in London, in case you need assistance, that is” he said,
with a hint of shyness, but mostly with determination.
“Oh, Colin” Penelope sighed, looking at his face. He was still young, he still had the fullness that characterized youth, the naivety of that age; he did not yet have the
experience of the man she had married, nor his chiseled jaw, or his sturdy body. But he was still so beautiful. So kind, and painfully sweet.
“We'll be fine. There is no need to give up or postpone your departure. If I need
anything, I know your family will always be there for me”
“But...” he started to say again.
“But...” the girl interrupted him “If you really insist, there is something you can do for me: leave this morning and don't look back. Enjoy your travels, discover the
world outside. Don't worry about the rest"
Colin shook his head, amused. Then he straightened his back, puffing his chest out “As you wish”
“Can I still write to you? I wouldn't want my letters to disturb you, or to be annoying to you,” he added after a moment, in a more uncertain tone.
Penelope smiled and, moving closer, she took his hand in her smaller hands, without the silk of her usual gloves to act as a barrier between them.
“Of course you still can. You must. Your letters will be one of the few things that will help me not to fall into despair. You will allow me to see the world through you. I'm sure I'll like whatever you write to me. I hope my answers will be equally pleasing to you" she said sweetly and sincerely. She missed his writings. She missed him.
“They will, I'm sure. I will await your answers with trepidation” he replied, nodding with conviction, smiling excitedly.
She was absolutely moved by his enthusiasm and sweetness, remembering all over again why she had remained in love with him for all those years.
Feeling that their time together was coming to an end, Penelope was overcome by a moment of emotion: after their wedding, Colin had never traveled without her again, and after she had become pregnant, he had never left her side of her. Now, the boy was on his first trip, and Penelope knew he would be fine. Despite this, she couldn't help but feel apprehensive at thinking of him so far away, alone.
“Colin just...be careful. Be safe.” the redhead said, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.
Colin looked at her gratefully, and gently sqeezing her delicate hand “I will,” he said softly.
Penelope then, without thinking, forgetting for a moment that her husband was not yet her husband, bent her head to leave a sweet kiss on the back of his hand, her long red curls falling loosely to touch his arm. She heard his breath hitch, like choking on nothing. Penelope realized that this was absolutely scandalous behavior, and that if he hadn't known her as well as he knew her, and their relationship hadn't been what it was, he would have to think she was an absolute wanton. The redhead smiled slightly at the thought that if Portia could see them now, she would drag them to church to get married the next day.
Hearing Eloise's footsteps coming down the stairs, the girl slowly let go of her friend's hand, looking up to look at him: he was looking down on her, surprised, his
beautiful blue eyes absolutely wide, his face flushed up to the tips of his ears.
Penelope gave him one last smile. “Goodbye, Colin” she said, then left the room and went to meet Eloise, to watch the two siblings leave.
Later, sitting at the window of her family drawing room, Penelope saw the boy get on his horse and leave. She could wait. He would return, and in the end, despite the
difficulties, he would belong to her. He would return to her. And if she had to, she would do it all again, all over again. Because he was worth it. He would always be worth it. Yes, she would always wait for him.
