Full Summary: Rather than being forced to marry the vile man her father intends for her, Penelope Featherington plans to escape. With the help of her brother and his best friend, Colin Bridgerton, she finds her way to Colin's abandoned hunting lodge, where she will be kept safe and hidden until she comes of age—at which time she will be whisked off to London in the hopes of finding a suitable match who might secure her a place far from her father's reach.
Secluded from society, Penelope enlists Colin's help as she prepares for her London debut. Ever serious and unromantic, he teaches her the essential skills of catching a husband, leaving her with no question that he sees her as he always has—a friend, a child—perhaps even a sister.
But when she discovers an old diary in the library, everything she thought she knew is called into question.
It's Colin's diary.
And if its contents are to be believed, he isn't unromantic in the slightest.
...and he most certainly doesn't see her as a sister.
"Let us step out into the night
and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."
―Albus Dumbledore, "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince"
︵‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿︵
Choosing what to wear for my first kidnapping is more difficult than I originally anticipated.
I stare at the contents of my armoire, biting the tip of my fingernail. The various fabrics and colors blur together. Is it bad to wear a dull color―perhaps beige, brown, or black? Or is something more vibrant a better choice? I reach for my bright yellow spencer jacket, hold it up in front of me, and stand in front of the looking glass.
I grin at my reflection. A giggle escapes my throat.
Yes. Yellow is the perfect choice. I need to ensure I'm noticed. The yellow spencer with my bright white gown beneath it will be sure to catch my father's eye from the window of his study when my kidnapper sweeps me away.
My heart races as I slide my arms into the long sleeves of the jacket and fasten the buttons. Phillip, my elder brother, has already sneaked my trunk to the carriage that is waiting beyond the treeline―the one that will take me to my hiding place in Northumberland. I have only packed a few items in order to make my disappearance appear accidental. A kidnapper wouldn't allow me to bring all of my favorite gowns, now would he? As frightening as the ordeal is, I feel like a ninny with the smile that is plastered on my face.
How much time do I have? I check the pocket watch on my writing desk.
Good.
I still have time to write the beginning of the story.
Nestling into my chair, I dip my quill, touching the tip to a fresh page in an empty book. I have only ever written fictional stories up until now, but I have a feeling that my upcoming adventure will be worth documenting. My real life has always been too dull to write about. The novels I have written are full of danger and romance and secrets, and finally my life is about to include at least two of those things.
I rub the feather across my lower lip. How will it begin? I can't very well write it as a novel if I have no idea how the story is to end. Perhaps these writings will serve me better as a diary of sorts. If I take notes about all of my experiences, then I can draft it all into a novel when the adventure is over.
I give a swift nod, agreeing with my own logic as I come up with a title. This entire adventure is about the year leading up to my twenty-first birthday, so I title it:
'Penelope Featherington's Coming of Age Diary
June 27th, 1816
Yellow is a rather cheerful color to wear on the day of my kidnapping. Most young ladies, I imagine, do not have the chance to prepare for a kidnapping the way I have. This is a dreadful thought, to be sure. Speaking of dreadful thoughts, with each day that passes, Father makes further plans for my marriage to Mr. Verwood. I shudder to even write his name.
If there is to be a villain in this story, Mr. Verwood is the only suitable character―besides Father, of course.
Mr. Verwood is more than twice my age and has a thick mustache that is constantly dusted with snuff and particles of his most recent meal. Each time he looks at me, I feel like a horse being appraised. After returning from Bath, I overheard my father and Mr. Verwood in the study, discussing what price my father required for me. I nearly barged inside and informed them that I am not for sale, but the truth of the matter is that I can indeed be forced to marry that revolting man, at least for another year and a week.
It does not sound quite dismal, but do not fret. There are two heroes in this tale, and an additional heroine as well.
First, my brother, Phillip. He has never agreed with my father's plans for me, so he has made arrangements with his best friend, Colin Bridgerton, to have me secretly transported to a place where I will be kept hidden for the upcoming year. As my kidnapper, one might think that Colin is the villain. He often has a villainous demeanor to someone who doesn't know him as well as I do. He can certainly be a bit irritable or peevish, but he is actually the second hero. I suspect he will look quite intimidating and handsome in his highwayman disguise.
Could this journey to Northumberland include the danger element of my story?
I laugh under my breath.
In truth, there is nothing dangerous about Colin. He is the best of men. He and Phillip have always protected me, and they have gone to these great lengths to ensure my father believes I won't be returning. Any search will be in vain by the time I reach the old hunting lodge, Foxwell House, in Northumberland. Colin will be making frequent visits to help ensure I am safe and comfortable.
Finally, Eloise (Colin's sister), has been kind enough to accompany me on the journey and live with me at the hunting lodge for the entire year. Eloise will be acting as my sister, and I will assume the false identity of 'Miss Jane Flowers.' No one shall know that I am Lady Penelope, or that my father is the Baron of Swindon.
As you can see, there are many secrets involved in this tale as well.
I pause, stretching my hand as I blow the ink dry. There is still room for a few more lines.
Any good story ought to include elements of romance, but I am afraid it will have to wait until the end of the year, when I come out of hiding and travel to London to find a husband of my own choosing. Once I've reached the age of majority, any union will not require my father's approval, and I shall be free to marry for love.'
A thrill races across my skin. Perhaps this story can include romance after all. I will simply have to be patient. A year is a very long time, and London seems like a distant dream. My heart races as I read over what I've just written. It doesn't seem real...
The door creaks behind me, making me jump. I whirl around.
Father stands in the doorway. I snap my diary closed. His large frame is partially shadowed, pepper hair is swirled inward around his long side-whiskers. His pipe is clamped between his teeth, and a plume of smoke fills my room. The smell has always made my stomach hurt.
"Writing your silly stories again, are you?" His raspy voice makes my muscles tense. "You are fortunate Mr. Verwood doesn't care to have an intelligent wife."
I swallow, standing cautiously from my desk. "I think writing makes me more intelligent."
He walks toward me, and I take a step backward, crashing in my desk. I clench my jaw.
Father eyes my diary, and my heart plummets. Why was I foolish enough to write down the entire plan? If he sees it, everything will be ruined. He reaches for it, and I nearly dive in front of him. Despair wrenches at my heart as he examines the leather cover. I count my heartbeats, each one growing louder in my ears.
His grey eyes meet mine, and then he drops the diary onto the floor with a thud. He kicks it toward the hearth, but it doesn't quite reach. I hold perfectly still. Let it be burned. At least then he can't read it.
He is too lazy to kick it again. Instead, he takes another breath from his pipe, exhaling far too close to my face. "Mr. Verwood would like to meet you again in the morning. We will make wedding preparations soon." He starts for the door, then turns around once more. "He requests that you wear your pink dress tomorrow."
My stomach lurches, but I nod.
Father clamps his pipe between his teeth again and marches out of my room. The tension in my body releases, and I hurry to retrieve my diary from the floor. I smooth the soot from the cover, holding it close to my chest. I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my shaking legs. Father rarely barges into my room in such a manner, and it has completely unnerved me. The thought of complying with Mr. Verwood's request for which dress to wear when he comes calling on the morn is enough to make me vomit.
My kidnapping could not come at a more welcome time.
I return to my desk, putting my face in my hands and will myself to relax. Just when my breathing begins to slow, my door opens a second time.
I jump all the way out of my chair, relieved to see my brother, and not Father, slipping into my room. "Oh, Phillip! You frightened me." My nerves are tight, my heart racing in my chest. I can't deny that there is much that could go wrong with the kidnapping plan. As daring and adventurous as it all sounds, it could end in disaster. What if we're caught? What if my father organizes a search more extensive than what Phillip has anticipated? What if I'm eventually found?
"Father is in his study. It's almost time," Phillip says, releasing a nervous breath of his own. His auburn curls sticks out all over his head, the same way mine does.
I cross the room, an anxious bounce in my step. "Is Colin here?"
Phillip nods.
I swallow, rubbing the palms of my hands over my skirts. I know the rest of the plan. I've been rehearsing it in my mind for days.
Taking a long glance about the room, a pang of grief rakes over my skin. Is this to be the last time I ever see my bedchamber? My childhood was one of strange independence, having a father who was indifferent to me. I roamed the wood and grounds with Phillip and Colin, rarely associating with other young ladies, or being accepted by them. I never had a governess, and my knowledge of dancing and other womanly talents is severely lacking. My behaviors are too wild, my disposition too exuberant, Father told me. Even my hair cannot be tamed. Nor can my imagination. I've spent many hours at my writing desk, hunched over countless sheets of foolscap. Leaving behind the place all those memories have been made brings up more emotions than I've expected.
Going into the unknown is as thrilling as it is terrifying. My future is unwritten, and the possibilities are overwhelming. I've always been able to plan what the next day of my life will look like. I'd awake, call my maid to help me dress, eat, read, write, embroider, practice the pianoforte, eat again, drink tea, walk outside, and sleep. Rarely has there been any variation or unpredictability.
Today, however, I'm standing on the edge of a precipice. I no longer know what will come next. All I knew is that if we succeed, what comes next will not be Mr. Verwood and his snuff-and-breadcrumb-coated mustache. That reason alone is enough to make me jump off the edge.
"Will you visit me?" I ask Phillip for what must be the tenth time. I need reassurance more than I care to admit.
"Staying at the estate will be the best way to avoid suspicion, but Colin will visit you at least every three months." He walks closer and wraps his arms around me. I sniff as I bury my face into his shoulder. Phillip is taking a bold risk by hiding me from our father, and I'll forever be grateful. "I promise I will try to visit. Henrietta will come, too."
I pull back to offer a teasing smile. "I would hope so. I wouldn't dare ask you to be parted from your new wife so soon."
He smirks. He doesn't like when I accuse him of having such romantic inclinations, but he can no longer deny his change of character. He is madly in love with his wife, and it inspires me. I want to love someone just as much someday.
"Henrietta will be happy to visit you and Eloise at Foxwell House," Phillip assures me.
I nod as tears sting at my eyes. I've never been one to easily contain my emotions.
Phillips groans, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Don't turn into a watering pot now, Pen."
I sniff as a tear slides down my cheek. "Perhaps 'Miss Jane Flowers' has a weaker constitution."
"A watering pot named Miss Flowers? That is quite fitting."
I snort, wiping beneath my eyes. "I can do this," I say around a deep breath.
"You can. It will be an adventure, and I would trust Colin Bridgerton with my life―and yours. No harm will come to you. I will keep Father in the dark. He will be none the wiser."
That is the part that makes me hesitate. Father isn't a fool. How can I ensure he doesn't suspect Phillip, or even Colin, for creating such an elaborate ruse? How can we make the kidnapping appear realistic from Father's view in his study? How can we escape before we're caught? Dozens of questions flit through my mind, making my lightheaded.
I dry my tears and lift my chin, peering Phillip straight in the eye. "Very well, then. I am ready to be kidnapped."
A/N: I'm a Polin girly. :)
Also, I blame the new Bridgerton season 3 trailer for this little plot idea! The fact that Colin is going to help Pen snag a husband, and then quite possibly realize he has feelings for her in the process...? Yeahhhhh, I couldn't not incorporate that into this story lol.
As most of my stories are, this will be AU.
Please leave any feedback you have!
Until the next chapter,
-Dev