A/N: HAPPY POLIN WEEK EVERYONE!
What do you know, I actually wasn't /that late in updating this chapter.
Now, one thing to say before we begin: As some might have noticed, the book is also influencing this story, as much as the show is. So, I must say that IF anyone doesn't want ANY spoilers from the book... then this is my spoiler alert for you. No, the story will not be exactly like the books in any way; however, I'm using key elements of the books in certain parts of the story, so if you hate spoilers of any kind, this is just a warning.
I have two more comments, but they will be in the final notes. If you have questions about Eloise's story or Polin's past, just relax, keep reading, and wait for those notes.
Happy reading!
"Uh, oh, Colin has a crush on someone."
The boy's face contorted in a grimace as he forcefully pushed his brother, struggling to budge him even an inch.
"Not in your dreams, Benedict," he said.
Benedict laughed, playfully tousling his brother's hair. He affectionately placed his arm around Colin's shoulder as they both observed Penelope from afar. Crouching near the garden bed, she seemed fascinated by something out of their view at that distance.
"No need to worry, Colin. As you grow older, you will come to understand these things," he said as his brother wrestled out of his grasp.
"Benedict, stop tormenting him, he's just a boy." Edmund interjected as he distanced himself from a draining conversation with Lord Fife and the Earl of Pembroke.
They found themselves surrounded by the spirited conversations of the ton's influential families, as was customary in Aubrey Hall during that time of year. The Featherington family, whose children were the same age as some of the Bridgertons, saw it as a great opportunity for their girls to socialise and experience the beauty of the countryside. But, strangely, they always seemed to overlook their youngest daughter, who played alone in the dirt, making a mess of her tiny yellow dress.
Colin's father bent down beside him. "Disregard the opinions of your brother, as his intelligence does not match his appearance." He glanced at Benedict, who responded by shaking his head and rolling his eyes, a familiar reaction to his father's teasing. As Edmund shifted his attention back to his daughter's friend, who was busy ransacking the garden, he asked, "Where's Eloise?"
"She is not yet ready. Mama scolded her about her choice of dress and insisted she change," Colin said. "Pen's sisters left her alone, and she was upset. I told her to pick up anything she liked so we could make a crown, like Mama does."
Edmund furrowed his eyebrows. "A birthday crown?" he asked, and Colin nodded.
Without getting the chance to question why her family wasn't accompanying her, if it was her birthday, or even how his ten-year-old son knew, they were abruptly interrupted by the subject of the conversation. Gleefully, Penelope Featherington bounded towards them, her vibrant energy palpable with each step she took.
"Colin, look!" she exclaimed, holding out white daisies in between her small gloved fingers.
"Has she just plucked that from Mama's garden?" Benedict raised his eyebrows, horrified, prompting Edmund to nudge him in the ribs to keep him quiet.
"Wonderful choice, Pen," Colin said, smiling at her.
The girl nodded, beaming as she looked at him. "It is my favourite flower. Did you know that? Although…" Her expression suddenly turned serious as she turned around to look at the garden, "I think I saw a snake in there."
The trio of Bridgertons widened their eyes, each for a different reason
"Really?" Colin said, and she nodded. Before Edmund or even Benedict could attempt to say something, the boy was already exclaiming, "Let me see!" before taking off and running towards utter and absolute danger, with Penelope following closely behind, her giggles echoing through the air.
Edmund blinked in shock, his forehead wrinkling as he yelled, "Colin Bridgerton, return here this instant!" before taking off after the children.
Meanwhile, Benedict could only watch the scene from afar, one hand on his hip and another on his face as he murmured to himself, "These two are bound to create trouble."
There are certain moments in life that make you reevaluate every single action you have ever taken.
As his lips touched Penelope's, Colin Bridgerton realised how little he knew about life. One can be familiar with someone for years but remain oblivious to the warm touch of their skin or the softness of their mouth. But now that he had determined exactly how delicate she felt, it seemed as if his very soul was about to burst out from his body.
And perhaps he would have gladly stayed there for hours, ignoring reason and consequences. But then he felt Penelope's hitched breath, and that brought him back to real life fast.
In an instant, Colin's body jerked back, and he sprang up from the sofa, his eyes widening in astonishment while he tried to catch his breath. As she stared back at him in shock, Penelope's hand instinctively moved to her chest, her breaths coming out in heavy, laboured gasps.
"Pen... I—" his mouth hung open, his mind searching for the right words to say. What did one even say in a situation like that? That he apologised?
And why was he so ridiculously out of breath, for crying out loud?
Squeezing his eyes shut, he inhaled shakily and started pacing.
And Penelope... Penelope was convinced she had fallen victim to an exotic, tropical fever. Because there was no way Colin Bridgerton had just kissed her in her own drawing room on the most ordinary of Fridays.
But there he was, regardless. Running his hands through his perfect hair and walking frenetically in circles as if he were a very well-dressed hurricane. She would have laughed if she didn't feel like crying.
"Alright." Colin said, disrupting her ridiculous flow of thought. He took a deep breath, and attempted to adjust his outfit and his hair, as if it would also adjust his life, "I will talk to your mother first, then, with mine, we shall start the necessary preparations no later than the end of the week."
Penelope furrowed her eyebrows, certain that, besides hallucinating, she was now hearing things.
"Preparations?" she asked, brushing a few unruly strands away from her forehead.
"Regarding our marriage, naturally," he stated, as he firmly planted his hands on his hips, concealing his breathlessness as best he could.
As Penelope stared at him wide-eyed, she thought about how someone can finally hear the words they've longed for their entire life, and yet feel nothing but dread.
"Colin." She rose from her seat, positioning herself before him. "What marriage?"
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
"Pen, I just kissed you," he said.
Penelope almost laughed again. Colin didn't need to narrate it back to her. She remembered the last five minutes perfectly. She had a pathetic inkling that she would remember it for the rest of her life.
However, if her entire relationship with Colin Bridgerton taught her anything, it was the importance of rationalising things. Yes, he had kissed her; but prior to that, he had vehemently proclaimed multiple times that he regarded her only as a friend. On several occasions, he had been alone with her without a chaperone, held her hand without gloves, corresponded with her through personal letters, and even visited her during the late hours of the night—actions that could bring disgrace to her honour and perhaps demand a marriage proposal, should anyone discover them. But she took none of them as a sign of his romantic affection for her, and his actions certainly didn't suggest otherwise.
So, although his explanation and solution were logical in their society, they were entirely nonsensical for their relationship. And as much as Penelope wanted nothing more than to marry Colin Bridgerton, she couldn't think of a crueller fate than being together only by the rules of society and nothing more.
With that thought in mind, she took a deep breath and pretended to be ignorant.
"I fail to understand how these two things are connected," she said
"Fail to unders-" Colin shook his head and took a step closer to her, "I'm sure you are aware that it is a gentleman's duty to marry a lady should he bring dishonour upon her."
"Yes, but you're not a gentleman, you're Colin," she interrupted him, her blue eyes boring into his. "You don't count."
Taken aback by the explanation, he could only stare at her in disbelief. Those words were familiar to him, yet they made him feel strange.
"Just look at our surroundings," Penelope gestured to the empty room. "We are without a chaperone, as we have been on multiple occasions. Suppose someone were to enter through those doors at this very moment, we would be under an obligation to marry, regardless of whether or not we kissed. So, what difference does it make?"
Colin leaned back, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief as her unexpected rebuttal sank in.
In his rational mind, he understood her meaning. Their friendship was far from proper, and they had disregarded societal norms for years. Being physically close, engaging in private conversations, and addressing each other by their given names had become second nature to them. It was never a dishonourable act, nor was it driven by deliberate passion, so why complicate matters unnecessarily?
However, in his heart, Colin knew that situation was different. In his heart, he began to question the extent to which they could violate propriety rules and attribute it to their unconventional bond.
Penelope looked at his perplexed expression, only able to speculate what thoughts were churning in his mind.
But she knew Colin almost too well; despite his reputation as the carefree and adventure-seeking Bridgerton, he placed a high value on honour. And if honour alone wasn't enough, anyone who knew him at all would anticipate that he was determined to do right by her. All she had to do was make sure he understood what that entailed.
With a deep inhale, she accepted the fact that she had to do what was necessary rather than opting for the easier route. Because she could marry him, couldn't she? One yes from her lips, and all her problems would be over. She would no longer be the spinster, the laughing stock of the ton. No longer the neglected daughter who, still in her youth, would have to take care of her meddlesome mother. Gone would be the days of imagining walking down the aisle to Colin Bridgerton, because they would become a reality.
However, not once in that conversation had he shown any indication that his words about their marriage stemmed from a genuine longing, whether profound or superficial. She had known Colin all of her life, had seen him in sadness, in indifference, in laughter, and even in anger as of late. More significantly, she had observed his enamoured behaviour towards Marina—constantly trailing behind her, showering her with an abundance of flowers, and hastily proposing marriage. Penelope knew what Colin looked like when he was in love, and that right there, on that ordinary Friday, wasn't it.
If, even for a moment, he had the same feelings for her as he did for Marina, he wouldn't even pause at Penelope's rebuttal.
No, the reality, the rationality of their situation, was this: he had sat far too close to her and ended up kissing her. As grown adults, they had innate desires that society's regulations were meant to govern in the first place.
"Colin, may I pose a question to you?" she said, mustering courage to clear his head and break her own heart. "By any chance, do you have a genuine interest in marrying me?"
Colin's eyebrows shot up, reaching his hairline, and he froze in place. That question was so unexpected, so unfathomable, that he was at a loss for words.
However, as another second ticked away, a realisation dawned upon him, offering a bigger and better reason for his astonishment. He did not know what the answer was.
How could that even be? How could he outright refuse to court this woman and yet have no clue whether he wanted to marry her or not? It should have been a simple answer. It was Pen they were talking about. She would forever be one of his oldest friends. The idea of being romantic around her, of courting her, of marrying her, of… of having children with her should be utterly preposterous.
So then why, for the life of him, why when she asked him that, the one clear answer his mind provided was a resounding yes.
"Precisely," Pen said, her eyes becoming suspiciously moist as she interpreted his wordless reaction as an obvious rejection.
He blinked, almost as if remembering they were in an actual conversation and not within the depths of his troubled mind.
"Colin, we have been lifelong friends," she continued. "I know you better than most, and I can attest that you're far from being a dishonourable man. For what reason would you advocate for a wedding you have no desire for? Propriety? Is it truly your belief that I would pressure you to do that? Are you truly convinced that I would hold a lower opinion of you if you didn't? Would you hold a lower opinion of me if I decided not to do so?"
Regardless of the circumstances, he would never hold a lower opinion of her—that was the only question he could answer with certainty. Besides that, the only thought that occupied his brain was: could things, for once, stop their alarmingly rapid pace?
He opened his mouth to reply something; What it was, he wasn't even sure yet. But then the drawing room doors opened, halting their entire conversation at once.
"Mrs Varley now is not—" Penelope said, with a slight tremor to her voice as she lifted her hand for the housekeeper to not bother them.
"I apologise, Miss Penelope," the older woman said, yet she remained resolute by the door, as motionless as a stiff plank. "I must inform you that a gentleman caller has arrived."
Both Colin and Penelope stared at her as if she had just spoken a foreign language.
"A… what?" Penelope asked.
Soon enough, the footman arrived, delivering the same message. "A gentleman caller. Lord Emil Debling."
And soon enough, Lord Debling emerged from behind the footman, all smiles, cordiality, and a magnificent bouquet of yellow tulips in his hands. If only he had arrived ten minutes earlier, the biggest crisis of Penelope's and Colin's life would have been averted.
He greeted them with a grin, saying "Good afternoon," while they could only respond with barely concealed shock. "It appears that you are already in the company of a guest, Miss Penelope. I can—"
"Not at all," Colin interjected.
Suddenly straightening his back, he looked at Penelope and his throat tightened as he swiftly came to a decision. Just before he took the incredibly inappropriate action of kissing her, she was on the verge of tears because Lord Debling seemed like he wouldn't visit her. Furthermore, it wasn't her who made advances on Colin, but the other way around. And it seemed like their marriage wasn't something she desired at all. Now here Debling was, calling upon her, offering her the opportunity to have the life she actually wanted.
And Colin couldn't bear to deny Penelope of that.
"I was about to take my leave," he continued.
Sparing one last significant look at Penelope, he nodded his goodbye to Debling and exited the room.
Frozen in her spot, she watched him go, unsure of what to do next after everything that had transpired between them. It seemed like he had accepted the way out she had offered him, didn't it?
"Um." She squeezed her eyes shut, then made an effort to regain her focus on Lord Debling. "If you'll excuse me for a brief moment, I need to request the cook to prepare refreshments for us," she said.
Without waiting for an answer, she rushed out of the room.
"Miss Penelope, I can ask the cook—" Mrs Varley interjected.
"No, let me," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly before she strode towards the kitchen.
However, just before she reached her destination, she veered into an empty, dark hallway. Leaning her left arm against the wall, she clutched her chest with her right hand.
There, alone in the quiet, she cried.
Words couldn't express the depth of Kate Bridgerton's love for her husband. He brought immense joy to her life and perfectly complemented her temperament. Kate had many incredible things to say about the man who had completely turned her world around. She had, however, one bad thing to say.
Ever since joining his family, Kate hadn't experienced a single moment of peace.
Bursting into the drawing room like a mad woman, Eloise's first words were, "Tell me you have tea," her tone filled with urgency. With a quick glance to the left and right, she moved towards the table, swiftly grabbing the first teacup she saw and gulping down its contents in one go.
"Yes, I do," Kate said through gritted teeth. "It was mine."
"Oh, you can make another one." Eloise waved her off, placing a hand on her hip as she took a deep breath.
"Have you not just come back from your tea gathering with Cressida Cowper?" Kate questioned.
Eloise opened her mouth to answer when none other than Colin Bridgerton walked into the room.
Now Kate had to admit, in all the time she had known the third Bridgerton brother, she had never witnessed him lose his composure, not even once. Eloise had a penchant for the dramatic, whether she acknowledged it or not. But Colin? The man epitomised the charm and restraint required of a Bridgerton.
And now that same man was tightly gripping the back of the sofa, visibly shaking as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Where… is Benedict?" he managed to ask between breaths.
Both Kate and Eloise watched him wide eyed.
"I do not know," Eloise said, gazing anxiously at her brother.
"He is currently in the process of reviewing recommendation letters for new maids," Kate replied.
A look of utter perplexity crossed Colin's face, his features twisting and his brows knitting together. If he wasn't so consumed by his own problems, he would notice the same expression mirrored on his sister's face.
"He is what?" He asked, realising that the world had unquestionably been upended on that day.
"Anthony has asked for his assistance," Kate explained with a sigh. It was clear that Violet was the more capable Bridgerton for that task, but Anthony's attention had turned towards aiding his brother in finding a sense of purpose, or at the very least, an occupation.
Why Benedict suddenly decided to listen to him, Kate couldn't say.
"Just when I need him the most, he opts to transform into Anthony. Fantastic," Colin muttered.
Having reached her limit with her brother's unruly behaviour, Eloise asked, "What in the world has happened to you?"
"Nothing," he replied immediately, his voice cracking like a pubescent boy. "What has happened to you?" He fired right back
"To me?" In complete indignation, she pointed at her own chest, her voice turning shrill as she exclaimed, "I have absolutely no awareness of what you are referring to."
"Why you are still wearing a hat while at home?" He pointed at her head with both hands as he narrowed his eyes at her.
"Clearly, I have just arrived," she declared, waving her hands in the air. Kate's eyes widened as she watched Eloise and Colin's chaotic scene unfold before her. "May I inquire about your objections towards individuals' arrivals and the reason behind your visibly agitated demea—"
"I am not—"
"What is all this commotion?" Anthony emerged at the door, the papers still clutched in his hands, hinting at the work he had been immersed in. His eyes darted from a dishevelled Colin, to an accusing Eloise, and finally to his bewildered wife.
"What is happening to them?" He asked.
"I do not know," Kate answered, raising her hands in a gesture of uncertainty. "They are your family."
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "As much as Newton is yours."
"This utterly absurd," Eloise said while crossing her arms. "It is evident that Newton possesses a higher level of civility compared to Colin."
The man in question made a face at her. "As always, wonderful talking to you, my dear sister," he declared sarcastically before leaving the room as chaotically as he came. One thing was certain—it would be wiser to deal with his confusion privately, rather than allowing Anthony to join in their inquiries.
Confused, the eldest Bridgerton glanced at him as he walked past, then turned his attention back to the women inside the room, who shrugged in response.
With an exasperated sigh, Anthony shook his head. "I cannot afford to waste any time on this. I have important work that requires my undivided attention," he declared before turning on his heel and exiting the room.
Then, realising he had forgotten something, he hurried back and planted a quick kiss on Kate's lips, which elicited a disapproving groan from Eloise. Then he left for a second time.
With a shake of her head and a smile, Kate redirected her attention from her husband's antics to her sister-in-law.
"Would you like another cup of tea, or may I proceed with my reading?" she asked impatiently, pointing to the book resting on the table.
"No, I am in need of your counsel," Eloise declared, swiftly pulling up a chair and taking a seat at the table. "You are the sole individual in the household with intelligence, making you the only person capable of aiding me."
Kate raised her eyebrows. Despite Eloise enjoying conversations with her and developing a strong bond based on their similarities, she couldn't recall Eloise ever directly seeking advice from anyone. The Bridgerton girl was consistently confident in her opinions and ideals, leading many to believe she considered herself superior to others.
In retrospect, perhaps that is the reason for the similarities between her and Kate.
"Suppose you were cross with someone," Eloise started in a low tone, while Kate waited. "And I am not referring to a minor level of irritation. I mean profoundly disruptive, relationship-ruining fury."
"Alright…" Kate trailed off, pouring hot water into her teacup and then into a fresh one that she passed to Eloise.
"However, you have stumbled upon knowledge that might cause harm to them," she stated, accepting the teacup offered by Kate. "But the fact remains that you no longer have any connection with the person in question whom you harbour resentment towards but… but…," she blinked, struggling to convey the weight of emotions that lingered in her heart.
"You still care for them," her listener provided the answer.
"No, absolutely not." Eloise leaned back in the chair. "That's preposterous."
Kate arched her eyebrow once more while she gently placed the spices into her teacup and stirred. "If your level of concern is nonexistent, I cannot comprehend the purpose of your inquiry."
The girl's shoulders drooped as Kate's unfiltered honesty weighed on her. "Fine," she spat, then leaning in, as though Kate herself had committed the offense, she stated, "But I do not forgive and I do not forget."
"And that is alright," Kate calmly stated, unaffected by Eloise's outburst. "No one is insisting that you must do these things to care for someone."
At that moment, Eloise realised that she had made the right decision by seeking advice from Kate. Without a doubt, she was the most intelligent individual in the household.
Feeling like the world was lifted off her shoulders, she asked, "Very well. If I am aware of a potential harm befalling them, what course of action should I take?"
"You clearly wish for them to be informed," Kate said, while adding ginger to her tea.
"Yes, but I have no interest in speaking to her… Or him." With a huff, Eloise leaned back in her chair, attempting to conceal her slip-up.
"Then seek out another person to relay the information to her—or him—for you," Kate answered effortlessly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
And as Eloise considered that, she realised that maybe, indeed, it was.
"Miss Penelope, you have been rather quiet," Lord Debling remarked, delicately placing his teacup on the saucer.
Her eyes widened momentarily. Throughout their entire conversation, her mind was elsewhere. How could it not be?
Penelope then shook her head. "I apologise. The engagement of my sister has brought about a whirlwind of activity here. My mind is racing," she feigned a chuckle.
"I'm sure." With an appealing smile, he took another sip of his tea. Upon placing his teacup back on the saucer, he furrowed his brow, appearing lost in deep reflection.
"May I pose a rather bold question?" he asked.
Her eyebrows furrowed in a deep crease as the conversation veered off into unexpected territory. "Um," she hesitated before taking a sip of her tea. "Of course," she said.
"Is Mr Bridgerton courting you?" He asked, and Penelope's hand faltered, causing the teacup and saucer to collide in a loud, jarring clank.
From the room's corner, Mrs Varley, the surrogate chaperone, shot a quick sideways glance at them from the corner of her eye.
"Forgive me for my directness," he said, and Penelope could only stare at him. "As you are aware, I am a newcomer to this town. But it is well known that news travels fast in London. However I have always held the belief that face-to-face conversations are more reliable than relying on hearsay." He then took a deep breath as he continued, "Allow me to clarify, Miss Penelope, that a lady as exceptional as yourself warrants a long list of suitors. And, despite the rumours regarding himself and your ladyship, should Mr Bridgerton possess any sense, he would be wise to count himself among them. Nevertheless, I find it important to have a precise knowledge of my competition when it comes to courting. Because I am. Courting you, that is." He cleared his throat. "Another point I would like to clarify."
Penelope's breath hitched, and she carefully set down her teacup and saucer on the side table, afraid that any sudden movement would cause a disastrous mess. And as she did so, one clear phrase echoed persistently in her mind.
She hated Colin Bridgerton. She despised him with every fiber of her being.
Because what Lord Debling said was exactly what she wanted to hear. One hour earlier, her mind was consumed by fear and doubt, convinced that there was something inherently unappealing about her, as no man on that earth seemed willing to court her. And just like that, Debling managed to put her mind at ease.
If only, within that short hour, she hadn't kissed another man.
A man who swore they were only friends. A man who had no desire to marry her, her mind reminded her.
"No." Penelope forced a smile, her throat tight with unease, hoping he wouldn't see through her facade. "Rest assured, Mr Bridgerton has no intentions of courting me. He is one of my oldest friends."
Lord Debling then smiled, his eyes twinkling, as he picked up his own tea again and said, "That is splendid news. For a multitude of reasons."
Confused, she tilted her head. She couldn't help but bitterly think that the news was anything but fantastic.
"My sister informs me that, as a recent arrival in town, it would be advisable to extend invitations to my new acquaintances for a luncheon. The Viscount Bridgerton has made contact regarding the matters concerning both of our states within the country. He has provided significant assistance, for which I am deeply indebted. Consequently, I had the desire to extend an invitation to his family, but I was uncertain of its appropriateness, given my intention to invite your family as well, naturally," he explained.
"Oh," Penelope said, her feelings on the matter still unclear. "That would be…I would be honoured. My family would be deeply honoured," she said, although she wasn't sure if she wanted him in such proximity with any of her tumultuous sisters; or even how her mother would react. Not to mention that the idea of meeting Colin in this situation was so absurd that she decided not to dwell on it.
Before she started spiralling too much, she shifted her attention to a less confusing topic of discussion. "I was not aware you had a sister. Is she in London as well?"
"Unfortunately not." He sighed, a tired smile gracing his features. "She married at a terribly young age and currently resides in Ireland. However, we engage in weekly correspondence, and it is safe to assume that she possesses a greater familiarity with social etiquette compared to me."
Penelope giggled. "I reckon we all require the guidance of a wise counsellor to navigate these social hardships."
"Ah, so you can relate?" He grinned. "You seem so well versed in social etiquette, Miss Penelope."
If he only knew. The primary catalyst for their courtship was her decision to heed the wise counsel of her advisor. And then she remembered who said advisor was, and a renewed sense of sorrow washed over her.
Truth be told, that entire conversation reminded Penelope that she required a different type of counsellor altogether. However, the redhead wasn't sure if even she would be able to help her, considering the person involved in Penelope's troubles.
Nevertheless, on such a day, it was hard to ignore how she direly needed Eloise's opinions.
"You don't fancy my brother, do you?"
"What?" Penelope's blue pall-mall mallet nearly slipped from her grasp as with her heart pounded in her chest. "Eloise, have you gone mad?"
Eloise narrowed her eyes, her gaze piercing as she regarded her idiotic brother. Colin stood just ahead of them, laughing at Anthony after sending his ball into a tree. Penelope, on the other hand, did not need to look as she always had precise knowledge of Colin's whereabouts.
After all, Eloise was right, wasn't she? Penelope's best friend wasn't daft. The most surprising thing about that whole interaction was how long it had taken her to notice. Still, if she were to tell Eloise the truth, it would ruin not one but two friendships she had with the Bridgertons.
Penelope wasn't daft herself; she knew that developing feelings for Eloise's brother would complicate her visits to their household.
"I thought I saw a private conversation between the two of you in that deserted gazebo by the lake," Eloise remarked, surprising Penelope. Of all things, she didn't expect that to bother Eloise.
"Oh, that? We sometimes go there and feed the ducks, ever since…" Penelope trailed off, unsure if it she should continue. With raised eyebrows, Eloise urged her to go on. "Since your father's wake," Penelope concluded.
Confusion clouded Eloise's face as she tried to process the information. It had been years since their father's passing, and they were both so young at the time.
Penelope, however, remembered it all vividly. She recalled her seven-year-old self innocently advising Colin not to cry; Then leading him to her favourite spot in Aubrey Hall, now an abandoned gazebo, where she described to him the solace she found in observing the ducks. Most of all, she distinctly recalled the moment when, after shedding enough tears, he fixed his gaze upon her and finally smiled.
"Who on earth wears a yellow gown to a wake?" he asked.
Back then, she was too young to comprehend her feelings for Colin, let alone understand the nuances of infatuation. But she still remembered every single thing about him, cursed from an early age to care for that boy in every way, shape, and form.
Shaking herself from her memories, Penelope refocused on the conversation at hand.
"But Colin and I converse regularly. This has never been a concern for you before," she said.
The brunette contorted her face into one of her renowned, exaggerated grimaces. "I suppose you are right." She sighed, leaning on her mallet as she regarded her friend. "One can't help but find it peculiar, the experience of getting older, don't you think? In previous times, I paid no attention to such matters, but now I am burdened with absurd concerns."
Penelope chucked at her friend's dramatics. "We are only three-and-ten, Eloise. I must inform you that most of our concerns still lie ahead."
Tilting her head in agreement, Eloise then walked towards her siblings, ready to pick up where they left off in the game. Penelope lingered for an extra minute, captivated by the distant sight of the Bridgertons. Glancing at Colin, she inhaled deeply, convinced in her innermost being that any concerns Eloise might have were futile.
Penelope was still too young to fully comprehend life and love. But she was old enough to know one thing: her silly crush on her best friend's older brother was destined to be unrequited.
Colin Bridgerton had a problem.
It was worth noting that he had been reassuring himself for weeks that everything was simply a one-off incident. His trembling hands and shortness of breath, the odd feeling on his stomach whenever she smiled, his constant need to touch her, even the depth of his longing for her and her constant presence in his thoughts that exceeded the frequency expected for a friend—it was all a chance occurrence.
Above it all, he had no doubt in his mind that the only reason he kissed her was because he had been too close to her during one of those occurrences.
However, he hadn't been in her presence for days.
Yet he longed for the feeling of her arm against his, the gentleness of her hand, the twinkle in her eyes, and the sound of her laughter. Incessantly, he missed her. His mind wandered to her, wondering how she would react to a certain matter and envisioning her amusement in response to a certain comment.
And, oh, hard as it was to admit, how he yearned for the taste of her lips.
Coincidentally, that was the one thing he could never do again.
So, he did the only thing he could do—he watched her. Like a fool, he lingered by the window, eagerly hoping to catch a glimpse of her coming or going from the Featherington house. On the streets, he couldn't help but constantly scan his surroundings, searching for any sign of her presence. If anyone were to ask, he knew the wisest choice would be to either avoid her altogether or have an honest conversation to ease the tension between them. But Colin hadn't made wise decisions in a long, long time.
"Goodness, are you drinking already?"
Colin paused for a moment, shooting Benedict a sideways glare. He held his brother solely responsible for his struggles with alcohol, considering his absence during Colin's most desperate moments. Granted, now that he could seek his brother's advice, he hesitated to open up about what had happened, fearing it would make the situation even more real and frightening. But that was beside the point.
Not receiving an answer, Benedict sighed. "At the very least, avoid being caught by our mother."
Once again, Colin stopped in his tracks, his hand resting on the glass, memories of the previous year flooding back, including Benedict's tea mishaps. Squinting his eyes, Colin declared, "You are unequivocally the last individual on Earth who possesses the right to say that." Then, downing his drink in one gulp, he said, "But rest assured, I am not inebriated. Unfortunately."
With that, he departed the room, leaving Benedict with a distinct impression that the evening's event would be turbulent.
In fact, the knowledge that the Cowpers were hosting the ball that night was reason enough to expect trouble.
It didn't even take long for Benedict to be proven right; as soon as he entered the ballroom, he found himself flanked by a restless Eloise on his right and a tormented Colin on his left. The only relief he felt was knowing that their mother's full attention was still focused on Francesca, who effortlessly accompanied John Sterling, seemingly without a care in the world.
"Eloise, I would greatly appreciate it if you could enlighten me on what is transpiring," he finally said to his sister, who seemed on edge as she scanned the ballroom.
"I assure you, dear brother, that you will be promptly informed once I am aware myself," she muttered mysteriously. She stared at Cressida, who seemed lost in a different conversation and oblivious to her presence, then Eloise shifted her attention to the Queen, who appeared to have made a deliberate choice to attend that particular ball.
Her brother leaned back, completely confused by her demeanour. He planned to turn to Colin and ask for his opinion, however, his mother got to them first. Proving to Benedict that even if he believed the unmarried trio was off the hook, he was sorely mistaken.
"Would you look at that," she said, motioning with her head towards a brunette in a stunning turquoise gown and a blonde woman wearing a shimmery teal dress, "Lady Fortescue and Lady Arnold are in attendance."
Her second oldest son answered a dry, "Indeed," while the third appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, paying no attention to the conversation whatsoever.
Violet eyed them impatiently, glancing at the ladies before focusing back on them. "Benedict, perhaps you should consider asking Lady Fortescue for a dance? Her family is well-regarded and—"
"Mama," he interrupted her with a sigh, pointedly eying Francesca and John as they headed to the dancefloor. "Do we not have an adequate number of weddings for this season?"
With averted eyes, Violet conveyed a stubborn sort of sadness that showed her determination to see all her children married. She then swiftly focused on her daughter and said, "Eloise, I have received word that Lord Pottinger has expressed a desire to dance with you."
Eloise offered a strained smile as she said, "Certainly, Mama," then turned towards Benedict with wide eyes. Fortunately for Eloise, the man understood her unspoken plea for help in addition to having an exceptional memory—particularly when it came to Lord Pottinger's age, which was just shy of fourteen years old.
With a grimace, he made up his mind to provide a distraction. "Upon further reflection," he declared, "I shall request the honour of a dance from Lady Fortescue."
With a beaming expression, Violet watched as he stiffly made his way towards the brunette, like a convict approaching the gallows.
"What about you, Colin?" she said, turning to her third victim. "Do you not find Lady Arnold to be of your preference?"
With his mind clearly preoccupied, Colin's eyes remained fixed on the floor, only briefly flicking towards the lady in question when his mother engaged him in conversation.
"I suppose she is of acceptable appearance," he distractedly commented, while his eyes wandered around the room.
"Lady Bridgerton," Portia's voice unexpectedly echoed, achieving the seemingly impossible task of the night: capturing Colin's full attention.
And sure enough, he turned around, only to find himself face to face with the Featheringtons, who had arrived just minutes after his own family.
His gaze immediately locked onto Penelope, who was already looking at him. Startled, she quickly glanced away when he caught her. His heart clenched in his chest, a bitter realisation that he had to suppress his natural impulse to greet her, let alone touch her. And then Penelope's eyes inexplicably darted back to him and his mind went blank.
"… in a matter of weeks," Violet was in the middle of a phrase they both had missed completely.
"That's excellent news." Portia smiled, then gesturing towards her eldest daughter, she added, "Prudence and Lord Dankworth were originally scheduled to be married by the end of the season but Lord Dankworth's family has insisted on an earlier date. However, Lord Dankworth strongly insists on having an extravagant wedding, so I assume the earlier date will not pose a problem," her eyes gleamed with greed as she emphasised extravagant.
Violet smiled back only half sincerely and said, "I am sure."
The conversation concluded on a somewhat positive note with that. And as Portia and Prudence walked past, the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton's sight set on someone else entirely.
"And you, Penelope? How have you been? It has been a considerable amount of time since we last met, my dear," she acknowledged, aware that reasons number one and two for Penelope's absence were standing right behind her.
"I have been well, Lady Bridgerton," she smiled, both feeling the sourness of her lie and the warmth of Violet's care. She promptly ignored both Colin's and Eloise's stares and contemplated whether she should adhere to proper etiquette and inquire about Violet's well-being, even if it meant facing more discomfort.
Nonetheless, before she could decide, she found out that she would have to face discomfort regardless of her choice. Lord Debling had apparently noticed her the moment she entered the ballroom. And, naturally, he made his way towards her.
"Good evening, Miss Penelope. Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton, and Mr Bridgerton," he said, a certain humour tinging tone as he listed so many Bridgertons.
"Lord Debling," Colin replied in a contrasting, stern tone that wouldn't raise suspicion from any unsuspecting stranger.
Eloise, however, glanced at him, immediately picking up on the foreign mood in Colin's voice.
"Lord Debling," Violet greeted with a smile, "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Anthony has spoken highly of you."
"I am truly humbled and would be even more honoured if you would grace my luncheon with your presence, Your Ladyship," he stated, embodying the epitome of propriety.
Colin, on the other hand, had no knowledge of the luncheon they were discussing, yet he already despised it. However, what he would detest the most would soon follow, as Debling said, "Now, if you would kindly pardon me," then directing his attention towards Penelope, he asked, "May I inquire of Miss Penelope if she would grace me with her first dance this evening?"
By reflex, Penelope glanced at Colin, unsure why herself. But before she could read his reaction, she turned her attention back to the gentleman who was eagerly waiting and gracefully accepted his invitation to dance, allowing him to lead her towards the dancefloor.
"What wonderful news," Violet commented as she observed Penelope being escorted by Lord Debling. "She could not have found a better match. Nonetheless, as your sister Daphne can attest," she chuckled softly. "The presence of one suitor typically captures the interest of others."
She smiled at her two children as if they should be happy for Penelope. As if Colin should be relieved that the significant damage he caused her had been undone, and she would have a queue of suitable men competing for her attention.
And for the thousandth time, he reminded himself that he should be. After all, Colin had walked away in the drawing room so Penelope could find her happiness. His frequent lapses in judgement should have no significance in light of that. But still, as he observed her dance with Debling, all he could think about was that it wasn't funny anymore.
Because the entire situation could be nothing more than a colossal joke, couldn't it?
Being unable to talk to Penelope, being unable to dance with her, to touch her. Fated to watch her smile at someone else, hold someone else's arm, and be embraced by another. The world could only be backwards, upside down, and sideways.
Unbeknownst to him, his hands curled into tight fists by his sides, his jaw clenching so hard that his teeth creaked. And while everyone was captivated by Penelope and Debling's blossoming romance, someone had their focus elsewhere entirely.
As everyone looked at the dancing couples, Eloise looked at Colin.
With a furrowed brow, she then directed her gaze towards Penelope, realising that, in all the years she had witnessed their friendship, she had never seen Colin like that.
But before she could dwell on the subject any longer, or even ask her brother about it, she observed his muscles tightening even more. And indeed, when she glanced at her former best friend once more, her mother's hypothesis had been confirmed.
Another gentleman was asking her to dance.
Colin quietly muttered, "Excuse me," before disappearing into the crowd.
Eloise decided not to follow him, knowing that he would never confide in her about anything. Plus, she had more important things to worry about, like keeping a close eye on Cressida Cowper for the rest of the night.
So, Eloise waited.
Standing on the sidelines, she watched the hosts' daughter, as well as a variety of dances, some of which featured Penelope, which surprised her. She listened to the music and avoided unwanted advances. And she waited. Until the small orchestra set down their instruments and the songs came to an end.
Eloise felt a chill run through her as Cressida confidently made her way to the centre of the ballroom with her parents, a smirk on her face and a glass of champagne in hand. All eyes were naturally fixed on them, as the music at a ball would only pause for an announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you all for gracing us with your presence tonight," Lord Cowper said, his voice resonating with elegance. "According to my daughter, there is a significant announcement she needs to make this evening, therefore, I will yield the floor to her."
Cressida smiled at the guests around her, playing the role of a gracious hostess. And just before she spoke, she cast one last lingering glance towards the Queen.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I feel compelled to emphasise that tonight's message will be brief, yet its importance is far from trivial," she said, her pleasant smile turning sly. "As you all are undoubtedly aware, and as our esteemed columnist frequently points out, this season has been conspicuously calm, and unfortunately, it appears that there is no longer any need for her expertise. Most notably, she finds herself in a state of profound boredom."
The blonde then turned her gaze towards Eloise, a cold, sinister gleam in her eyes that the Bridgerton girl would not soon forget.
"Therefore, I am here to formally announce a retirement: my own," she said. "For I am Lady Whistledown."
When the world reached its demise, Colin was peering through the window.
His minimal contemptuous and amused reactions to Cressida's announcement demonstrated the gravity of his situation. Heated discussions and astonished gasps consumed the room like an urgent fire, yet he found himself once again debating whether to return home or endure the agony of seeing Penelope once more.
"Colin!"
He rolled his eyes before turning to his sister. "No, Eloise, I have no interest in Lady Whistledown. Your correct or incorrect guesses about her identity and—"
"Be quiet," she interjected, her eyes wide, hair dishevelled, and face flushed. "You must do me a favour, and you must do it immediately."
"Favour?" Colin's face contorted in a perplexed expression as he asked, "Eloise, what are you on about?"
Disregarding his confusion, she locked her gaze into his eyes and firmly clasped both of his hands, demanding his undivided focus. "I need you to relay a message to Penelope for me," she said.
Colin's hands slipped from her grasp, going slack. Now she definitely had his attention.
"Eloise, what are you talking about?" he asked pointedly. "Why can you not tell her yourself?"
Emitting a grunt, she straightened her back and leaned away from him, her right hand tightly clenched into a fist, as she firmly declared, "Because I shall never grant her my forgiveness, not now, not ever."
His brother blinked at her, realising that he was completely out of the loop when it came to understanding Eloise and Penelope's relationship. "Eloise—"
"For crying out loud, listen to me," she exclaimed, her voice filled with frustration, she took a deep breath and placed a hand on her forehead. "In a perfect world, I would request the aid of a more competent person who would have the opportunity to attend these miserable balls rather than solely create dresses for them. But she is not here, and you are the only one I have."
Colin couldn't even find it in him to be offended. The conversation was so confusing that he could only stare at her in bewilderment.
Despite her outburst, Eloise quickly composed herself before saying, "Tell her not to do what she is planning to do. Tell her it is a trick."
He furrowed his eyebrows. Now that was a cryptic message, if he had ever heard one.
"Colin," With a penetrating gaze fixed on Colin, she pleaded for him to stop being shocked and instead listen to her words. "You do not have to comprehend me, but if you possess any level of care for Penelope, do as I say."
After that, she didn't have to repeat herself to him. At the very least, he had found a pretext to talk to Penelope, he thought to himself.
Turning around, he deftly weaved through the crowd, determined to find the Featheringtons' youngest daughter. Fiercely, he searched for her in the crowd. And if he were honest, part of him wanted to locate her with a potential suitor solely to tear them apart, with Eloise's message being an unintended result.
However, among the sea of gossiping ball attendees, Penelope was nowhere to be found.
A wisp of red hair, a hint of an azure blue gown, he scanned every corner for any sign of her, and found nothing. But just as he was about to lose hope, he caught sight of her. Near the exit doors, she moved swiftly, unnoticed by anyone in the vicinity. Or almost everyone.
From a considerable distance, Colin discreetly moved towards her in the crowded ballroom, choosing not to call out her name and risk causing a scene. Once he left the main saloon, he spotted her in the distance, moving swiftly towards a carriage with determined steps. Silently, he quickened his pace to reach her.
It didn't take long for him to realise that he wouldn't be able to reach her before she boarded the carriage. Noticing her entry into the carriage, he furrowed his brow upon observing that it was not her family's, but a hired hack.
Faced with a short amount of time to think, he immediately opted to locate his own carriage and set off on her trail. Watching Penelope step into such a vehicle alone made a wave of realisation crash over Colin—whatever Eloise was referring to was far more serious than he had anticipated.
So he directed his driver to follow the hack, unsure of what awaited them at the end.
And he tried to maintain his composure as the carriage continued to roll on …and on …and on. But anxiety consumed him as they neared the streets of Bloomsbury. What was an unmarried young lady doing alone at night, heading into that side of town? Had Penelope completely lost her sanity?
As her vehicle came to a halt, in his impatience, he impulsively commanded his driver to stop. Which would later prove to be a completely idiotic decision, as he had to cover the remaining distance on foot.
As he strode towards her, he caught a glimpse of her wearing a blue cloak that billowed behind her as she swiftly disappeared into a dimly lit shop.
"Penelope, what in the world are you up to," he muttered under his breath as he practically sprinted to the store.
And upon arrival, he would have immediately stormed inside and demanded answers from anyone he could find. If only he hadn't heard Penelope's voice first.
"This is for today. You must print without delay."
"It's 20, not a penny less." A deep, husky, masculine voice said.
"As long as you do your part, my mistress will uphold her end of the agreement," the person who seemed to be Penelope answered. However, to Colin's utter startlement, with an accent he had never heard in her voice before.
Unable to make sense of the situation and losing track of the conversation, he leaned against the wall next to the door for support. At a point, he even questioned if he had unintentionally trailed the incorrect carriage.
But then he heard footsteps, and before he could even look towards the person approaching, they had already recognised him.
"Colin!" None other than Penelope Featherington let out a startled yelp.
There she stood, paralysed by the door, wearing that wretched blue cloak as her eyes bulged more and more with something that could only be described as sheer terror.
"What are you doing here?" Without any accent, her voice abruptly dropped to the lowest of whispers, her chest heaving as she stared at him.
"What are you doing here?" he repeated back to her, his tone giving off a chilling sensation, even in his own ears.
Colin couldn't comprehend what had come over him. Despite the absurdity of the situation and the restlessness it had caused, somehow he was overtaken by a cold calmness.
Penelope opened her mouth, struggling to find the right words. Her hands fidgeted nervously, folding and unfolding in front of her. Colin quickly came to the realisation that he would not receive a response. With determination and rage, he straightened his posture, deciding to stir things up even more.
"Very well," he said, folding his hands behind his back as if he were merely a messenger, and not one of her oldest friends. "I am here to convey a message from Eloise to you."
Penelope furrowed her eyebrows. "Eloise?"
He ignored her confusion and continued, "She says, 'Tell her not to do what she is planning to do. Tell her it is a trick'." He then poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue and regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "Although I suspect you have already done it."
Despite wanting nothing more than to explain herself to a clearly furious Colin, Penelope paused. Deep in thought, she furrowed her brow and directed her gaze downward. Lately, Eloise had been engaging in conversations with Cressida, but Penelope found it hard to believe that she would request Colin to disclose such information with malicious motives. The girl had been her best friend for years. No, even if they had fought, Eloise was still Eloise, and she knew Penelope better than most.
Determination filled her eyes, and she met his gaze once more. "Stay here," she said before going back into the shop.
Colin's intense stare followed her as she went inside, his jaw tightly clenched. He found her expectation of him taking heed of her words utterly absurd. So, without a shred of hesitation, he walked inside.
And as he followed her steps, his eyes quickly landed on the source of that deep, masculine voice. A big and unkept gentleman standing behind the counter, engaged in a loud argument with Penelope.
"I have just delivered the papers to you, and it is highly improbable for you to experience any detriment if you haven't even started the printing—" she was saying.
"Your mistress cannot just decide—"
From behind them, Colin's voice rang out with authority. "Just do what the lady says," he said, causing both participants in the argument to turn and stare at him in disbelief.
With a sneer, the employee directed his gaze towards Penelope again and asked, "Lady? You're a lady now, huh?"
Penelope, who had initially been defiantly engaged in a fight with the man, now shifted uncomfortably under his depreciating stare. He then turned his attention to Colin and demanded, "And who might you be?"
Colin's attention, however, was entirely on Penelope. Even if he was angry at her, he would never stand for anyone disrespecting her, not even once.
"Unimportant," Colin retorted to the man, casting a livid glare in his direction, "Now, heed her commands, or we shall face complications."
Something in Colin's eyes must have looked downright murderous as the man briefly assessed him, then promptly pivoted and retrieved what resembled a small, folded manuscript. Penelope's hand was mere inches away from it when Colin's long arm swooped in, grabbing it effortlessly, the sound of her protests falling on deaf ears.
With Penelope hot on his heels, he swiftly exited the shop, not interested in hearing the excuse she would try to fabricate. It was evident that there was something suspicious going on, and it became even more obvious that Eloise was in the know. Both girls had been keeping a secret from everyone for months.
For once, he just wanted the truth.
"Colin, this is mine. It is not yours to read," she cried out in desperation, and Colin almost scoffed at the irony of it all.
Yet, as he read the words on the page, his sense of humour vanished completely.
Because there at the bottom of the page, in Penelope's unmistakable handwriting, was a signature he would never forget.
Lady Whistledown.
A/N:
TA-DA!
*whispers* I'm excited because I love mess
Let me say, I love chaotic Colin and Eloise. I love them. I know many people get upset that the show made them more hostile towards each other but I enjoy the potential of that dynamic because it's such a real brother/sister relationship. It also allows their characters to realize they didn't know each other as well as they thought, and we can actually watch them grow closer in adulthood.
Anyway, my two comments:
1-I know how Penelope and Colin met in the books; however, Nicola has hinted that they might have met as children (on the show). So, I'm following the (supposed) show version of that. Honestly I wondered if I should have included a flashback of them, exaclty because of that difference between the show and the books. But I do believe they'll add a flashback of them on the show. And i definitely would, if i were writing season 3. So i did here *shrugs*
2- I know certain aspects of Eloise's story here are confusing, but it is on purpose as I'm not exposing all of what happened on her side yet. The same goes for Anthony/Debling although to a lesser degree.
Since this is a Polin fic, Colin and Penelope's points of view are the ones on which I focus the most; this means certain things will happen "behind the scenes" and will only be explained when Colin or Penelope find out about them (maybe that won't always be the case, but as a general rule for this story, keep that in mind).
PS: I can't believe I had to give Debbers a first name. I mean, someone had to say his name at some point, right?
And, finally, I chose songs 9 and 10 on the Rules of Propriety Playlist for this chapter and let me say they made me laugh sdjhfgsdfjkhsgb I love being a drama queen.
Anyways, don't forget to leave your review for the sole reason that it brings great joy to this author, I love talking with you guys and hearing your thoughts.
Have a good day, and God bless you all!