A blank sheet of paper lay before her, crisp and ready to gather her unspoken thoughts. There it was, the sound of a quill scraping back and forth as it drew lines and circles, dots and dashes, forming words on its way. A sound so distinct, so soothing to her ear. A sound that meant the world to her.
Penelope unwillingly stopped to dip the tip of the quill into the ink pot. It occurred to her that the deep black fluid had run a little dry over the course of the past weeks. Even though this meant for her train of thought to come alive in written word on paper less quickly, she wasn't the least bit exasperated about that – like she used to be when her head had become so full of ideas, and her fingers so jittery, she could not wait to get it all out and published for the Ton to read.
She hadn't touched her quill in a while, had almost forgotten it always lay ready on the study. There had been a time her fingers had been constantly covered in ink because the act of writing had been all she'd had left in her life to draw happiness from. Thus, there had never been any chance of her ink running dry in the pot.
Once refilled, her quill flew across the paper, leaving a trace of words that she so desperately needed to write down. However, those words were not meant for the Ton. Those words were addressed to one significant person only.
Another refill, another scrape sounded through the stillness of the night. She had previously been so accustomed to make use of the privacy of nighttime in order to bring her thoughts onto paper. There had been no doubt about doing it just now, even though she was no longer all by herself when writing.
Her gaze travelled across the dimly lit room, landing on the wooden cradle that had been placed close to her side of the bed. As if on cue, a whimsical sigh emerged from the small bundle that lay inside of it. Penelope held her breath and listened, waiting patiently. But when her ear did not pick up on any more noises, she continued with her writing. A look at the clock on the mantle told her it had only been a half hour since the last time she had breastfed and put the infant to bed.
Oh, how she reveled in that new life that was hers now. A mere twelve months ago there had been nothing but anguish and sadness in her life. Back then, writing in secret had been her only joy. And she remembered vividly how she used to dwell on that giddy feeling that arose inside of her every time a new edition of Lady Whistledown was distributed amongst the Ton, especially with the eruption of chit-chat that it always seemed to cause. It still filled her with pride that people had been craving her writing because other than dancing at balls and courting during the daily promenades, the Ton barely seemed to have any leisurely pleasures. In Mayfair, one always valued a good gossip, especially when it concerned members of the Ton other than oneself. And she – Penelope Bridgerton, formerly known as Penelope Featherington and her alter-ego Lady Whistledown – had for the longest time been there to deliver it to them. Until the excitement of writing a gossip column had started to faze out because no-one would ever really spill anything juicy anymore as soon as she appeared at balls or anywhere outside of her own four walls. Thus, she was still in the middle of figuring out how to proceed with her own need to write. She wanted to dip her toes into the waters as a novelist, if there would be enough time at hand. For the time being, she had limited herself to writing letters to people that were near and dear to her heart.
Somewhere in the distance, church bells struck thrice, bringing Penelope's thoughts back to the reality of her bedroom at Featherington House. She lit a few more candles and cleared her throat. She remembered she was supposed to be drinking a lot of fluids those days. But it wasn't before the cold china touched her lips that she remembered her cup of tea had been emptied hours before. She didn't want to bother calling Rae to prepare a new pot, so she simply put it back to where it sat on her desk before: a pile of books waiting to be read during her childbed.
A small chuckle escaped from her lips as it dawned on her how her own life had turned into the plot of one of those Jane Austen romance novels. She could barely believe it herself were it not for the absolute proof of her better-than-fiction reality, which was lying sound asleep in the cradle, breathing the softest breaths under a light-blue muslin blanket.
She had considered herself to be a writer for quite a while but she couldn't have come up with a better plot than the story of her own life. Good heavens, she was a mother now! The mother of the Featherington Heir – no less! And she was a wife now, too. The wife of Colin Bridgerton, her former childhood friend who always made her feel cherished and loved and who kept treating her like the absolute center of his universe. That was more than what she had even been dreaming about for so long. Friends. Lovers. Husband and wife. Soulmates. All romance novels she had ever read paled in comparison. She would give it her all in order to remain on the path of their own happily-ever-after.
There was another whimper coming from across the room, and Penelope braced herself, knowing she would have to leave her work behind for it could only be a matter of time before the quiet mewl of her son would turn into nothing less than cries of outrage when the feeling of hunger hit him. He was his father's child after all.
Every bone and muscle in her body ached. She had been spending almost all of her waking hours in the past weeks in bed, resting. She was no longer used to sitting at her desk holding a quill for hours on end. Stretching her fingers, Penelope sat upright to give her lower back muscles a bit of relief. Her eyes rested on the face of her son for a moment who had turned quiet again, much to her surprise. However, his tiny mouth was twitching as he kept on dreaming in his own little world.
From where she was sitting, she could barely make out his features in the semi-darkness of the room. But there was no need. She had every small detail about him memorized. Perfect eyelashes, perfect ears, perfect dark-blue eyes and above all the most perfect little nose. Her mother-in-law Violet Bridgerton kept saying how much he reminded her of Colin when he was a baby. Thus, Penelope adored her son's soft brown curls and she secretly hoped they would stay that way instead eventually turning ginger like her own hair had when she was about a year old.
She lowered her head and tried to focus on the letter in front of her. The late hour was starting to pay a toll on her, and she was well aware that she should be sleeping while the baby was. Together, they had gone through many sleepless nights, and oftentimes, Colin would stay awake with her for as long as it was taking their son to find a peaceful dream to hang on to. But just like Colin, Penelope would never dare to complain. Their son was a true wonder. The fact that she was alive to see him flourish now was just as wondrous. The birth had not been easy. The unborn baby had been of remarkable size, which had resulted in a complete standstill of the birthing process as Penelope's strengths had started to subside. She'd had to endure many additional hours of painful labor until the doctor finally thought to use medical equipment in order to help bring their baby into the world.
Per doctor's order she had unquestioningly agreed to stay in bed for the first couple of weeks. She hadn't had the energy to protest any of the well-intentioned advice given to her by all mothers in her family. But she did have enough bravery and perseverance to convince Colin that their son was to never leave her side, even though her own mother had suggested she better leave him with a nurse in order to regain her strength more quickly.
And so, Penelope had relished in soaking up every move and every sound of their child, feeling exhausted yet profoundly fulfilled. And more so, feeling utterly besotted in those moments when Colin was there with them, and when she could watch him dote on his son so lovingly. She had yet to come up with fitting words in her writer's brain which could properly describe her feelings during those first days when she had observed her husband as he grew into his new role of a father. It still was wholesome.
There had been many moments in the past months when she'd felt like she could not possibly get any happier. Like when Colin had admitted he had feelings for her… or when Colin had told her that he loved her… or the first time they had made love… Their wedding… Colin not only accepting she was Lady Whistledown, but more the way Colin tried to support her as she struggled to find her voice after she had revealed in front of the entire Ton that she was the famous gossip writer. Or more recent, Colin's elated reaction when she had confided in him that she thought she had fallen ill, suffering from symptoms which had eventually turned out to be early signs of a pregnancy… And lastly and more importantly the birth of their first child. So many life-changing memories came to her mind.
But then again, she'd had no idea that even everyday life sometimes turned out to spark the greatest joys. On that particular morning, their son had smiled his very first smile just as Colin was in the middle of bidding farewell to him with a story and a song before leaving the house on a business matter (but not without promising to be back before sunrise). It had marked the first time he had left the house without Penelope for more than three hours straight, and his son's smile had almost caused a change of plans as Colin had felt challenged to get that same reaction from him again. But to no avail, and so he had reluctantly called for their carriage and left.
Hours later, she had still been feeling righteously giddy and considered leaving childbed only for a few minutes in order to get back to her desk and pick up her quill. Even though Colin still hadn't returned home, she could almost hear his words of protest against her undertaking in her head. Her well-being usually was all he ever seemed to think about. Thus, it had taken a little bit of conviction from her side until he had finally agreed to go out and meet with his book publisher. Final editing details for his very first travel diary needed to be discussed as his book was nearing its publication. And Pen could not be any happier about the fact that he would finally get the recognition he deserved.
The paper before her had filled with even more neat lines in her elegant cursive. Penelope yawned and she suddenly felt the heaviness of her tired eyelids. Yet another stream of sentences came to her mind, making her fingers dance across the velvety surface of the Bridgerton stationary.
Focusing on her spelling and style, she wasn't aware that all of a sudden, the door opened quietly. However, the sound of it being shut firmly only seconds later caused her to jerk in her chair. She blushed immediately and looked up.
"Pen! You're up," Colin said with some surprise as he entered the bedroom, stalling right by the door. He was almost ready for bed, having ridded himself of his boots, coat, dress shirt and breeches in the other room as to not disturb her, thinking she would already be fast asleep at that hour.
"Colin!" She put the quill down, a smile spreading across her face. A smile that bore no sign of regret.
Their eyes met for a brief second before he looked around the room in order to assess the situation. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "This morning when I left, you gave me your word that you would stay in bed and rest."
"I'm feeling much better," she tried to appease. "Your mother joined me for tea this afternoon and she said it should be alright if I got up. You know… to get my circulation going. And your mother has eight children. Surely, she would know about this, would she not?"
Colin furrowed his brow. "But… the bleeding?"
"It has been a month. The bleeding has almost stopped." Penelope said, her smile unwavering. "It's alright, Colin. I really am well. I think it is time you stop worrying about me."
He swiftly crossed the room and stopped on the opposite side of the writing desk. Supporting himself with his hands on the table, he leaned down in order to bring his face close to hers. His movement caused the candles she had set up right next to the ink pot to flicker, their light reflecting in Penelope's eyes. He saw her confidence shining in them as she pleaded with him, yet he couldn't help himself. "Pen, I thought I would lose you during the birth. Not the first time I thought I would lose you if I am being totally honest."
She held his gaze, gulping once as she was processing his honest confession. But before she could say anything, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead and put on a solemn expression. "If I ever lost you, I'd be losing myself. So forgive me, but I will never stop worrying about you, and you cannot tell me to stop doing so. Ever!"
There was a moment of silence in which neither dared to look away as his words of love lingered between them.
"Listen to me. I felt rested and downright energized today," Penelope said as she brought her hands to his face, cupping his jaw. "And I am not going anywhere. I promise."
"Alright," Colin answered with a smirk and slowly started to round the writing desk. "But – you will be… going… to bed with me any moment now. And you and me, we are… going… to take a little… detour on the way."
She looked up at him, confused and also slightly alarmed.
"Are you really feeling well?" he asked as he approached her right by the chair.
"Yes, but –" Penelope felt her confidence falter.
Extending his hand for her to help her stand, he softly said, "I have been waiting for you to feel better for so long."
"But –" She could see the desire in his eyes and felt terrible. Hesitantly, she stood.
Colin kept holding her hand as he led her away from the table, only halting when they had reached the foot of the bed. "Dance with me."
She stared at him, astonished and somewhat relieved.
"You're in your underpants," was all she managed to say at the turn of events.
"I'd ask for you to join me in a similar costume, but I have to say you look breathtaking just as you are."
His words made her blush as she hadn't thought of herself as looking attractive to him in any way, merely weeks after she had birthed their child.
"Dance with me, Pen," he requested once more, his words barely audible in her ears as she became aware of the eroticism of their situation, and it was causing her heartbeat to speed up.
He looked at her longingly, waiting for her approval, his hands nervously playing with the belt of her dressing gown.
"Very well then," she finally gave in. "But how are we supposed to dance if there is no music?" she teased him in a final attempt to relieve a little bit of the tension between them.
"We do not need any music. We do not need cellists or fiddlers, nor do we need anyone playing the pianoforte tonight. It is all in my mind, Pen. Can you not hear it, too? There is so much music in our home, and every day is like a new symphony that I am wishing to hear until my dying day. Just listen… It is all up here," he gently took a hold of her right arm and brought it upwards, then slightly touched the tips of their fingers against his temple. "And it is here," he continued, his voice just the faintest rasp in her ears as he brought her arm back down again before placing it on his chest right where his heart was beating in a steady rhythm.
"Close your eyes!" came his quiet request, and Penelope did as she was being told. "Are you listening?"
She nodded. It was all she could do as she felt her fingers tremble against the pulse on his skin.
"This is giving us a beat to work with." Colin held out his left hand for Penelope, wordlessly asking her to adopt a dancing position, holding her other hand in place on his chest. Slowly, he started to sway, taking Penelope's body along with him.
"And then…" he whispered, "I can hear the soft sounds of our beautiful son when you are nursing him. A rather simple melody, regular. At times loud and swift, but mostly quiet, like the strum of a guitar. Can you hear that?"
A small smile played at her lips in response and she relaxed her body a bit in order to adapt to his swift movements. Colin let go of her hand, bringing his own to the small of her back where he could feel the silken fabric of her nightgown. Penelope's fingers traveled across his pectoral muscles, taking in his warmth. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart now beneath her ear. They stood close together, swaying softly to their imaginary rhythm.
"But there's more, Pen," Colin went on as he bent down, shortening the distance between them until he was able to brush a soft kiss against the top of her head. "There's the sound of your laugh… sometimes it's just the softest chuckle… And oftentimes it's like this…" His mouth wandered even lower until he reached her earlobe. Then he gently bit the sensitive skin, knowing very well the effect this would have on her. Her reaction didn't disappoint. He bit her once more, tickling her with his hot breath. "Oftentimes it's cackling and infectious… so bright and cheerful… like a flute chiming in here and there, vibrant and tinkling."
Penelope stood swaying in his arms, letting his whispery words wash over her, feeling fully at peace. They moved in unison, their bodies fitting perfectly together. In that intimate space between them, everything felt right. There were no more worries.
Colin's hand that was still holding hers in a dancing position shifted as he brought their palms together, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. "Did you know that your fingers would always tap nervously on the paper every time I'd give you a new page of my manuscript to peruse? I love that noise… It is like…a steady drum beat, building in intensity from time to time, but it's always present, occasionally accompanied by a quizzical look on your face or that blush whenever you read passages involving my activities with the women in Paris or Milan. Then the tapping would straight up evolve into beats of a kettledrum." He laughed teasingly before he continued, "It would show me your excitement for something that wasn't your own writing. It is proof of your dedication to editing my work with the same care as if it were your own… proof of your unwavering reassurance… for me, Pen!"
Maintaining a supportive hold, he gently dipped her backwards. The sudden movement made her open her eyes as she realized that he was kind of bowing down to her in admiration. They stayed like that for a moment, locking eyes with each other, until Colin brought them back up to a standing position and continued to sway. He looked down at her, his eyes reflecting the dim light and a depth of emotion that – as Penelope had come to find - written words could never fully capture. "You know," he said softly, "I could dance with you like this forever. But I still think something is missing."
Her eyes widened, thoughts racing through her mind as she tried to understand what he might have been alluding to. Almost expecting him to kiss her, she closed her eyes again and pursed her lips. But instead of his mouth on hers she felt the tip of this thumb on her cheek as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Smiling, he said, "No orchestra is complete without violins. To me, the sound of your uninhibited moans of pleasure when we make love and subsequently, the sound of your soft breaths when you fall asleep on my chest afterwards are like the sweet, lyrical melodies of violins. They're of utmost beauty and they are what round off our symphony. Are you imagining it with me, Pen?"
She could feel her cheeks flush with heat at certain memories they shared. After all, it had been a while since they were intimate. And she couldn't help but wonder if it would be the same again eventually now that they had a baby. At that, her head turned to catch a glimpse of the cradle on the other side of the room, but there was no sound in response. Their son was still fast asleep.
As if he had been reading her thoughts, Colin lifted her chin, saying, "I know that I will have to remain patient. And this…," he twirled her gently, then again and again with more fervor before pulling her back into his arms. "…will have to do to sweep you off your feet and get you out of breath for now."
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he breathed in response as they both brought their faces closer together. Their lips met softly at first – a tentative brush that deepened into a fierce kiss that sent shivers down their spines.
"I missed you today," he breathlessly gasped, breaking their kiss before it could turn into an uncontrollable wildfire, as much as he would have preferred to have that happen in their bedroom again. He had to try and maintain his composure, for the sake of Penelope's health.
He returned to swaying back and forth, taking her along in a smooth rhythm, and the worries of the world faded away. Colin held her steadily, and she breathed in his scent – a strange blend of wine and book dust that reminded her of where he had been most of the day.
"How did your gathering with the publishers go? " she asked.
"It was tedious," Colin groaned. "They were very adamant on having certain parts removed from my manuscript. They think it would be quite scandalous and that I should think about my family or…"
"So they will not publish it?" Penelope cut in, looking taken aback. "Are you going to yield to their conditions?"
"They are still going to publish it," he asserted.
"Good." She sighed with relief. "How did you convince them to keep those passages in?"
"I told them that my manuscript had already been edited by London's most formidable writer-dash-editor. And as such, my wife would keep persisting I shall leave the more peccable passages in as she thinks they're most enjoyable."
"You did not say that, Colin!" Blushing, she covered her mouth with her vacant hand, eyeing him in mock embarrassment.
"I sure did, Penelope!" At that he took her hand and kissed it lightly. "Is it not true though?"
She feigned offense but couldn't help but beam at him. He had been complimenting her after all. And he had surely spoken the truth about her. "What am I going to do with you?" she wondered out loud and gave him a playful pat on his bottom. Feeling his tense muscles there caused her wide smile to falter. For heaven's sake, she shouldn't have done that.
"Stop writing for now and come to bed with me," Colin suggested, noticing the shifting atmosphere in the room.
Penelope looked at the filled page on the desk and said, "I was finished anyway."
"You must be tired. It is almost 4 in the morning. How long have you been up already?" Colin guided her towards their bed and gently sat her down.
"It wasn't that long," she fibbed. "And I just felt like I had to get some writing done. I was starting to miss it, you know."
Kneeling before her, he took his time removing her slippers one after the other before devoting himself with care to loosening the belt of her dressing gown. "You do know that we can afford to pay for a live-in nurse if you want more time for your writing?"
"You are mad. After all the hard labor I had to endure whilst giving birth, I deserve to be forever the first person our son smiles at in the morning and then the last before he falls asleep."
"Fair enough." Colin reached out and caressed her shoulder, sliding the fabric of her gown down her arms in the process, repeating the movement on her other arm. He stilled, holding his breath.
"Careful, Mister Bridgerton," Penelope whispered as she became well aware of the effect her bare shoulders had on him. "We cannot… I mean… not yet. Our little private concert ends here, I'm afraid."
He gulped, nodding in agreement, and then proceeded to tuck her in. "I shall look forward to our next… concert then."
At that, the small bundle in the cradle started fidgeting and soon enough, a loud cry cut through the silence. Penelope stirred instantaneously, knowing as usual when her presence was needed.
"No, you stay put. I will go and take care of him," Colin said as he got up from his knees. He crossed the short distance to the cradle and looked at his son. The little boy stopped crying for a moment as if to figure out whose shadow was towering above him. The final realization did not seem to please him, which resulted in him weeping even louder.
"Charles Eli Penn Bridgerton, how dare you interrupt when I put your beautiful mother to sleep?" Colin teased his son and smiled at him. He folded back the light-blue woolen blanket and then picked him up, supporting the infant's head with one hand and his bottom with the other.
Penelope watched them tenderly as she waited in bed. She would never grow tired of that view. She had spent so many nights crying for hours on end when she was an adolescent girl swooning over Colin, trying so hard to get herself to stop thinking about a future with him. Her current view was blissful redemption – even though it involved a crying baby and the certainty that she would not be able to fall asleep on her husband's shoulder later because she would beg him not to stay up with her so he could rest after his long day's outing and business talks.
Propping up pillows behind her back, she positioned herself for another half hour of breastfeeding. If she was lucky.
Colin placed the baby in Penelope's open arms. Charles – or Charlie as they preferred to call him – immediately latched on and started suckling contentedly. Feeling a bit futile, Colin looked around and caught a glimpse of the paper Penelope had been writing on previously.
"So… what was it that made you leave the bed and get back to writing today? A new Whistledown? Though I cannot imagine how that should work, given the fact you haven't been around anybody outside of our family in weeks." Sheepishly, he craned his neck in an attempt to make out more of her writing from the distance, but he was smart enough not to interfere with her work without having been asked.
Penelope looked up and waited to meet his gaze. "I wrote you a letter."
"You wrote me a letter?" He asked with disbelief. "You knew I was going to come back from the meeting, did you not? I'm right here, Pen. What could you have possibly been needing to write to me about when I was merely gone for half a day?"
"Read it. Please," she pleaded with him.
"Now?" He looked at her, warily tilting his head. "You are making me nervous. Are you well?"
"I have never been better. Read it." She smiled encouragingly until he finally started to move towards the desk where the single sheet lay openly.
"The other day," she said, "Rae brought me a dusty cardboard box that she'd found hidden in the back of the fireplace in my father's master bedroom. She asked me if I had intended to burn it and I told her I had no idea what was inside. So, eventually, I opened it and I found a couple of unopened letters you'd sent me from Europe."
Colin's heart sank and he felt like sitting down. "What do you mean by 'unopened letters'?"
Shirking from his gaze, she bent down to check how the baby was doing.
"Penelope?" he pressed on.
Drawing in a deep breath, she started explaining, "After I'd received your first letter, I asked Rae to burn it and do the same with any more letters forthcoming from you. She never told me that you kept writing to me regularly. However, she did not oblige either. She simply put them in the box, hid it from me and eventually forgot about the letters."
She looked up at him again and immediately noticed the hurt expression in his eyes. It made her hurry to declare herself to him. "After I'd overheard what you'd said about never ever wanting to court me, my world shattered. I was so hurt I didn't want to hear or see a word from you ever again."
"You never read any of my letters?" he said, almost choking on his words.
"Not until the other day. No," she answered quietly.
The room fell silent, the only sound coming from Charlie who was suckling a little more noisily every so often.
"I had no idea that you were feeling lonely during your travels, longing to hear from me, telling me how you missed me more with every new city that you visited. Had I known, maybe I would have felt differently after that cruel rejection of yours. I would have figured from your letters that you could not have possibly meant what you'd said to your bachelor friends that night and that you'd only been pretending to depreciate me in order to come off as a callous and insensitive fellow just like them. Why, I will never understand." Her heart had started to race as she worked herself all up about the incident again.
"I was an utter fool!" Colin exclaimed with a firm voice.
"Oh yes!" she agreed and thought for a moment. "But I know now that you wrote about your true feelings, albeit feelings of friendship and loyalty, in your letters when you were speaking directly to me. Colin, those letters… they have always been a testament of that level of honesty we allowed ourselves to share in our writing. I believed every word that you wrote about needing to hear from me. You shared stories about your adventures in Paris or Prague or I've forgotten where, like they were happening to someone else. Unlike before when you'd visited Greece and you'd written to me about everything you'd seen and heard and it was almost like I had been there with you. I could practically sense how your mood was shifting with every new letter you sent."
A sad smile flitted across his face. "It just wasn't the same with no word from home or you, preferably."
"I know that now." Penelope said as she watched him nervously shift his weight from her spot on the bed. "But I'm sure that had I read your letters back then, I would have been simply too heartbroken to see past that. And I'm a stubborn woman, you wouldn't have gotten an answer from me one way or the other. Yet, here we are. We both put in a lot of effort and we worked it out. Knowing what I know now and feeling remorse for having betrayed you for so long, I realized that I owed you a letter."
Still looking quite puzzled, Colin lifted the unheeded piece of paper that he had been holding on to fiercely in the past minutes.
"I have decided that from now on I will write you a letter whenever there is a single day that we do not get to see the sun set together from the window of our drawing room," Penelope told him.
Feeling slightly relieved, Colin let out a sigh. "How can I look forward to the one when I would be dreading the other at the same time?"
"Excuse me but which is the one that you'd be dreading?" she asked with pretend reproach.
They both started laughing together at her quip. Penelope's mouth twitched, and she felt a series of yawns escape.
"I'll decide as soon as I have read this letter," said Colin and started walking over to his side of the bed. Laying down to face Penelope, he watched her switch Charlie to her other breast so that she could continue nursing him. He saw the tiredness in her eyes when her eyelids kept fluttering shut, only to open again a beat later as she fought to stay awake – to no avail. He remained completely still as he waited a few more minutes and watched her doze off. When he thought she was out, he propped himself up against his pillow and eventually began to read.
My dearest Colin,
I trust this letter finds you in the best spirits. It has been but a half day since your departure, yet it feels an eternity without your comforting presence and I find myself yearning for your return with each passing hour.
As of today, our sweet son has now been with us for a whole month, and I feel so blessed you got to witness his very first smile this morning. Wasn't that just the most delightful sight? Yet another wonderful thing he has now learned from watching you and me, both always smiling at each other in our wedded bliss. I wish it will always stay this way until the end of time.
I spent the day in bed, like I promised you I would. Violet visited in the afternoon and brought with her a parcel of your favorite macarons. She sends her fond regards and hopes that your business is proceeding well. She remarked on how the house seems emptier without your laughter and cheer. I must agree, our home is not the same without you and I eagerly await the moment when I shall hear your carriage approaching the house.
I have spent so many hours reading your letters time and again. The more I hear of your travels and the marvelous places you visited, the more I find myself yearning to accompany you one day. The prospect of exploring new lands, experiencing different cultures, and sharing those discoveries fills me with the greatest excitement. I believe that such experiences would not only enrich our lives but also strengthen the bond that we share.
The christening of our beloved son will be in two months time and I suggest we seize this opportunity to create lasting memories as a family as soon as the festivities are over. We shall bring Rae along with us so that Charlie will be taken care of when you and me forget the time as we marvel at the wonders of the world side by side.
I want us to take in the architecture of Budapest as friends, stroll through the streets of Paris as lovers, eat the finest cakes on Sunday afternoons at the cafés in Vienna as husband and wife, and continue to be true soulmates wherever life leads us to.
Shall we?
With all my love and deepest affection,
Your devoted wife,
Pen
Colin put the sheet on the nightstand as a broad smile was playing at his lips. The room was still completely silent. He turned around to check on Penelope and saw her asleep with Charlie still lying in her arms. For a moment, he felt tempted to wake her. After all, her question needed answering to. And his answer to her would always be 'yes', no matter the request. But then it occurred to him that her breathing was so deep and regular, and unlike the previous nights she did not stir in her sleep anymore due to pain, which he immediately thought to be a sign that she had actually recovered from the birth. The realization made his heart feel lighter and he wished nothing more than for his wife to have unencumbered rest for a few more hours. Even if that meant they would have to postpone ruminating together on possible travel arrangements.
He quietly got up and rounded the bed until he stood right by her side, figuring out in his head the best practice for how he could steal the baby from her arms without having her wake up in the process. And he couldn't leave Charlie there as he feared his son might accidentally get under the covers, or worse, roll off the bed.
Bending down over them, Colin held his breath and very slowly slipped one hand beneath his son's head, securing the butt with the other. And then, inch by inch, he brought him closer. Even though he was proceeding with gentle care, his son's eyes suddenly blinked open, looking at him with quiet curiosity.
"Oh no, no, no," Colin whispered, feeling uncertain whether lifting him had been a mistake. "I thought you'd be sleeping by now. What were you doing just then laying all quiet? Simply stare at your mother while she's asleep? Mind you, I cannot blame you as I find myself doing just the same during most nights."
He looked around the room, his gaze lingering on the cradle just a little longer as he considered his next move. "You're not hungry anymore, I hope?" he asked as if truly expecting an answer from him. "I do remember your mother happily telling me that you have become a big eater. You are one hungry little boy, aren't you?" he teased him.
Adjusting his hold of Charlie in his arms, he grabbed the baby blanket and draped it around him as he wandered through the room. Most of the candles sitting on the writing desk had died down in the meantime except for a single one that was now remaining the only source of light. Smiling, Colin sat down right on the desk, wanting to see his son better. He was starting to enjoy their father-to-son conversation, albeit it being in the wee hours – and a little one-sided. "You most certainly got that from me," he picked up where he'd left. "I used to be just like that, always hungry. Yet somehow your mother never seems to speak with such pride about my appetite." He frowned and began stroking the baby's head gently. "But that's alright. We're glad you are eating well now. Just wait until you're able to eat solid foods. Ooh, heaven awaits you! But let me tell you, it shall pass. Once your mouth finds more enchanting objects to nibble on, I promise, eating actual food will be the last thing on your mind."
Colin froze as he realized he had been saying that out loud: a most inappropriate disclosure in the presence of a child. It was making him blush. "Forgive me, son. That wasn't the kind of bedtime story I should be telling you. I didn't mean to keep you awake with my inadequate ramblings. Let me see if I can help you find sleep more easily."
With the candle in one hand, he carried Charlie to the cradle and put him down. Then he knelt down in order to bring his face closer to the baby's ears. He collected himself for a moment as he tried to remember the lyrics of a lullaby. Eventually, he quietly started to sing the words of 'Rock-a-bye Baby', but stopped dead shortly after.
"Oh, that is awful. Who ever came up with this nonsense?" He looked at the child, who in turn let his eyes dart around between all objects in close proximity. "I'm so sorry, Charlie. My god, they need to come up with better words for a children's song! Of course, I do not want you falling out of your cradle. Falling off a horse, maybe. And in due time. But I digress."
He tried to think of a different song, yet failed to remember the lyrics. So instead, Colin started humming in order to lull the baby to sleep. After a while, inspiration came to him. "Ha! I've got a new one. No wind, no boughs breaking. We should be good here." He cleared his throat and then began to sing in a low voice.
"Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep, pretty darl-… uh… sleep, little Lord Featherington, do not cry,
And I will sing you a lullaby."
He smiled at his son, overcome with pride and gratitude. And then, Charlie smiled back at him. Tentative and barely visible in the semi-darkness, but Colin saw it, for sure. It made his heart swell.
"Oh, for god's sake," he inadvertently let out. "You must not tell your mother about this. Don't you know that she is the first person – and deservedly so – who you're supposed to smile at in the morning? Or the last person before you go to sleep? Either way, save it for your mama," he said lovingly.
Stroking his son's small nose, his cheeks and forehead, he continued to speak quietly, "Let's just keep this a secret between you and me, alright? Your mother said she owed me one anyway."
Colin picked up his singing, repeating the verse over and over until at long last, the baby's eyes finally fluttered shut.
Feeling completely spent, Colin doused the candle and then plopped down on his mattress. He was instantly overcome with fatigue. Penelope was lying completely still next to him with her face turned away, breathing evenly. Colin lifted his head one more time in order to press a soft kiss to her temple, muttering almost inaudibly, "Good night, Pen! I'll see you in my dreams." He was out within seconds.
In the darkened room, a smile flitted across Penelope's face. Her muscles were aching with tension from having to pretend to be fast asleep when in reality, her brain had immediately registered the instant her son was removed from her arms.
Feeling the perfect weight of Colin's hand on her hip, she allowed herself to relax beneath the duvet. She used to think that her life was only ever good when she was alone and able to write down her thoughts on paper. But there in the stillness of the night, being surrounded by the two people dearest to her heart and with the feeling of sweet slumber creeping in, she realized that in moments such as the ones she had just witnessed right there, right then, life was even better.
THE END