Anthony, Benedict and Violet Bridgerton exited the dining hall, anxiety weighing heavily on them after the confrontation with Colin. As they reached the foyer, they spotted Eloise ascending the grand staircase, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Eloise!" Anthony immediately zeroes in on his younger sister. "Where is Penelope?"
Eloise froze, panic flitting across her features as she took in the intense gazes of her mother and brothers. How could she begin to explain what had transpired – Penelope regaining her memories only to flee Aubrey Hall in haste?
"Eloise, answer your brother." Violet prompted gently when the young lady remained mute.
Eloise's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before the words finally tumbled out in a rush. "Penelope received an urgent missive from Lady Featherington requiring her to return to London straightaway. She... Pen had to leave immediately."
The lie felt like ash on Eloise's tongue, bitter and wretched. But she could not bear to ruin her mother's upcoming birthday celebrations with the real reason for Penelope's abrupt departure.
"She wished to convey her deepest regrets for not bidding you all farewell in person." Eloise went on, hating herself a little more with each fabrication. "But she was in such a hurry to depart..."
Anthony's expression crumbled into one of dismay and confusion. "That cannot be the entire truth." He searched Eloise's averted gaze intently. "Did Penelope leave because of what transpired with Colin earlier?"
Eloise's heart stuttered in her chest. So he knew of Colin's foolish actions then. But she could never reveal that Penelope's memories were fully restored - the shock and devastation would be too much for Anthony to bear, especially if he is to learn that his betrothed does not have any idea of their engagement and the love they share.
"She did receive a letter requiring her immediate presence in London." Eloise maintained, sticking to her story with grim resolution. "That is why she left in such haste."
Anthony shook his head slowly, lines of strain etched deep in his forehead. He did not believe his sister, not fully, but neither could he discount that Penelope might had indeed taken her leave of Aubrey Hall. His instincts screamed to take his horse and chase after her carriage immediately. But with Violet's birthday only two days hence, he could not so easily abandon his family.
"I want the truth." He bit out, pinning Eloise with an intense look. "There is more you are not telling me."
Eloise matched his stare, her jaw set mulishly. As much as it pained her to be less than fully candid, she could not bring herself to shatter Anthony's hopes. Not yet.
"The letter from Lady Featherington was most urgent." She repeated, willing her voice not to shake. "That is all you need know for now."
Anthony's fists clenched at his sides, but he gave a terse nod, clearly recognizing the futility of pressing his sister further in that moment. The anguish in his eyes near broke Eloise's heart.
Benedict, sensing the brooding tension in their brother's physique, placed a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "Perhaps we should trust Eloise for now. If Pen had to leave urgently, we can reach out to her once things settle."
Violet nodded, though worry creased her features. "Yes, Portia might have brought up news about Philippa's pregnancy. It should be a pressing matter for the Featheringtons."
Anthony's jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly. "Very well. But we will discuss this again. I want to know exactly what happened."
Eloise felt another pang of guilt but continued to maintain her resolve. "Of course, brother. We'll see and speak with Penelope once we're back in London."
As the family dispersed, Anthony remained, his thoughts swirling with concern and doubt. He couldn't shake the feeling that Eloise was hiding something, but for now, he had to put on a brave face for the sake of his mother's birthday. The truth would have to wait, but he silently vowed to uncover it as soon as he could.
—-
Back in Mayfair
The carriage ride from Aubrey Hall back to the Featherington townhouse seemed to stretch endlessly for Penelope. She stared sightlessly out the window, her mind a whirl of confusion and regret. Leaving so abruptly, without a chance to bid Violet a proper farewell on her birthday - it pained Penelope deeply. Though her bond with the Bridgerton children was irreparably severed, she still held the deepest respect and affection for their matriarch.
Three grueling hours later, the carriage finally clattered to a stop before the Featherington home on Mayfair. Penelope barely registered the coachman's overly deferential manner as he handed her down, addressing her as "my lady". She had more pressing concerns weighing on her than the staff's suddenly obsequious treatment.
Pushing open the front doors, she was greeted by the bewildered visage of Briarly, the Featherington's aged butler.
"Miss Penelope?" He managed, raising an eyebrow at her disheveled appearance and unexpected arrival. "We were not expecting you for several days more."
"Where is mama?" Penelope asked brusquely, sidestepping any explanations for now. Her head gave a vicious throb and she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"The dowager baroness is in the sitting room with your sister, Miss Prudence." Briarly blinked owlishly at her retreating back as she headed that direction without waiting for him to announce her arrival.
Penelope burst through the doors to the sitting room unannounced. Portia looked up from her tea with a startled exclamation, while Prudence's embroidery hoop clattered to the floor.
"Penelope!" Her sister rose from her chair, openly gaping. "What are you doing here?" I thought you were to remain at Aubrey Hall through Lady Bridgerton's birthday celebration?"
Portia had recovered somewhat and eyed Penelope critically. "And in such a dishabille state, honestly child."
Ignoring her mother's chiding, Penelope focused on her sister. "I.. found it necessary to remove myself from the Bridgertons' company sooner than anticipated." Her vice came out clipped, strained.
Prudence's brows knit together in concern. "But why? Surely there must be an explanation for this abrupt departure?" She paused, taking in Penelope's pale, drawn countenance more closely. "Are you quite well, sister?"
"I am well enough." Penelope replied tightly. The throbbing in her skull was intensifying, dark spots flickering at the edges of her vision.
Portia set her teacup down with a clatter. "This has something to do with Lord Bridgerton, does it not?" Her lips thinned with disapproval. "If he has compromised you in any way, I shall have his head!"
"Mama!" Prudence gasped while her features looked scandalized.
But Penelope swayed alarmingly, clutching the door frame for support. Memories were battering against her aching mind - memories of Eloise's anguished apologies, of Aubrey Hall, of.. Of Anthony?
Prudence was at her side in an instant. "Penelope? Are you ill? You are trembling!"
But Penelope could barely hear her over the pounding in her skull. Images and voices swirled dizzyingly. Then, mercifully, darkness crashed over her and she knew no more.
—-
An hour after collapsing in the Featherington sitting room, Penelope slowly blinked her eyes open. She was in her own bedchamber, tucked comfortably beneath the covers. The throbbing ache in her head has subsided to a dull throb for now.
As she carefully pushed herself uptight, she noticed two figures occupying the chairs beside her bed – her sister Prudence and her mother Lady Portia Featherington. Prudence spotted her first and quickly alerted Portia.
"Mama, Penelope is awake."
Portia's head whipped around, her expression one of immense relief and lingering worry. She was at Penelope's bedside in an instant.
"Oh my dearest girl." She fretted, taking Penelope's hand and peering at her critically. "How do you feel? Are you quite well?"
Penelope squeezed her mother's hand reassuringly. "I am physically well, mama. Just a lingering fuzziness in my head and the occasional ache."
A crease formed between Portia's brows as she studied her youngest daughter's pale complexion. The last time she had seen Penelope in such a state was after her accident going to Scotland when she first beheld her unconscious form. Portia's heart clenched at the memory.
An uneasy silence fell over the trio until Penelope found her voice again.
"Mama.. what is going on?" She asked hesitantly. "Why was I at Aubrey Hall? I thought I was traveling to Scotland?"
Twin gasps sounded from Portia and Prudence as the realization struck them – Penelope's lost memories of the past year had fully resurfaced. Prudence shot Portia a worried look.
Portia swallowed hard before gently prodding. "What is the last thing you recollect, my dear?"
Penelope's forehead furrowed in concentration as she dredged up the fragmented memories. "I remember being on the carriage, heading to Scotland.. The horses grew skittish, then..." She shook her head slowly. "Everything went black. I felt as if I were tumbling endlessly."
Prudence paled at the recounting while Portia squeezed Penelope's hand more tightly, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"You were in an accident, Penelope." Portia said shakily. "A terrible accident that robbed you most of your memories during this past year's time."
Penelope stared at her mother in shock, her heart pounding violently as fragments of memories began slamming back into her mind's eye. Faces, conversations, emotions all started spinning dizzyingly.
"What.. what happened?" She rasped out, clutching Portia's hand like a lifeline.
Portia exchanged a fraught look with Prudence before taking a steadying breath. There was no choice now but to reveal the full truth that Penelope's missing memories had so mercifully allowed them all to avoid until this point. Penelope deserved to understand what had transpired since her accident.
Steeling herself, Portia began to recount the events of the last year and a half – a narrative that would no doubt shatter her daughter's world all over again.
Penelope Featherington watched her mother take a steadying breath before beginning her explanation. "When you took your journey to Scotland as you have planned, a man came calling on us the next day." Portia's voice trembled slightly. "He informed us that your carriage had been involved in a dreadful accident on the roads near Doncaster."
Tears slipped down the dowager baroness' cheeks as she recalled the harrowing memory. "By the time Prudence and I reached you, you were so still and lifeless on the bed. The physician feared your life in most grave danger."
Penelope paled, her hand tightening almost convulsively around her mother's. Prudence reached over to grasp her other hand, offering silent support.
"For weeks you lingered betwixt life and death." Portia continued hoarsely. "We had nearly given up hope and one evening, your solicitor, Mister John Brown, arrived unexpectedly."
Penelope's breath caught in her throat as dread washed over her. Surely not...
"He revealed to us the truth, sister." Prudence said gently. "That you were the mysterious Lady Whistledown who had been keeping our family's finances afloat these many years through your writings."
Penelope's gaze flitted between her mother and sister, searching their expressions for disgust or censure. But she found only resigned understanding and pride.
A solitary tear traced its way down her cheek as the burden of her secret weighing her down for so long finally lifted. This was all she had ever wanted - her family's acceptance, their gratitude for the sacrifices she had made to keep them solvent.
"We had no notion not a single inkling." Portia said, smiling tremulously." Though in hindsight, it makes such perfect sense. Who better to observe the ton's every move than our very own wallflower? An intelligent one that is."
"Indeed, we are in your debt Penelope." Prudence added fondly. "Thanks to your efforts, our family's situation is far more tenable."
Penelope could only nod, too overcome to find her voice in that moment.
Portia squeezed her hand. "While you remained insensate, many in the ton wrote concerns for your wellbeing." She paused delicately. "The Smythe-Smith ladies, Lady Danbury and the Bridgertons chief among them."
Penelope's back stiffened slightly at that name, fragments of recent memories stirring uneasily.
"Lord Bridgerton in particular seemed most.. Invested in your recovery." Lady Featherington went on carefully. "He and Miss Eloise arrived in Doncaster unexpectedly during those early weeks."
Penelope's brow furrowed in bewilderment as her mother described Eloise's heartbroken cries at her bedside, and Anthony's cold determination that she receive only the finest care – even going so far as to make arrangements for her to be moved to Aubrey Hall to recuperate.
"But I did not accept his overtures." Portia assured her swiftly. "I wished to safeguard our family's privacy and your reputation."
The dowager baroness smiled sadly. "Though in hindsight, perhaps that was a mistake given what transpired between yourself and the Viscount in recent months."
Penelope's head swam with confusion and a kaleidoscope of disjointed images – Aubrey Hall's grand facade, Eloise's tear-stained face, Anthony looking at her with an unfamiliar tenderness. She shook her head slowly, struggling to make sense of it all.
Prudence picked up the thread. "It was many weeks before you regained consciousness, sister. And even then, your lack of memories was most distressing." She shot a look at their mother. "We knew not how to proceed."
"The upcoming season afforded us a reprieve." Portia said pragmatically. "With your recovery in mind, it provided a reasonable pretext for you to remain out of the public eye while you regained your strength."
"Upon our return to London this season, however, the Bridgertons insinuated themselves back into your life." The redhead mama went on, a slight crease forming between her brows. "Miss Eloise especially was insistent on rekindling your friendship and reintroducing you to society."
Penelope frowned as more disjointed scenes flashed through her mind – warmly lit parlor rooms, walking the gardens of an estate, a heated argument perhaps?
"It was through such reintegration that you and Lord Bridgerton developed.. An understanding." Portia said delicately. "One that eventually led to your becoming betrothed to the Viscount just this past month."
"TOh, and the Queen also named you as the season's emerald!" Prudence added with glee. Portia explained to her youngest daughter how she had captured the Queen's attention during the Danbury Ball, making it known to the ton how her Majesty favors her eloquence and grace, thus bestowing the esteemed title to Penelope.
The breath left Penelope's lungs in a harsh exhale as the final piece clicked into place. She, the invisible wallflower becoming the season's jewel? Betrothed even? To Viscount Anthony Bridgerton? Her mind rebelled against the notion even as an indelible image burned itself into her consciousness – Anthony, gazing at her with unmasked longing as he brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek in a tender caress.
Dizziness swamped her senses as Penelope struggled to reconcile the man she had known - aloof, coolly polished, perpetually disinterested - with the obvious tenderness and affection she had clearly developed for him in the interim her memories were lost.
How was such a thing even possible?