Chapter Six: Intentions
A few days later found Colin in the Bridgerton family carriage with his mother and siblings, dressed in their finery, making their way to the next society event on the season's calendar – the Countess of Macclesfield's ball. The announced theme for the evening had been, in a rather optimistic choice, 'Summer Heat'. It certainly created a situation that would, Colin thought with a stifled smile, be rather advantageous for Penelope's usual attire – the theme was suggested to involve every conceivable shade of yellow and gold.
Eloise and Violet were dressed in delicate buttercream pale yellow silks – no other family shared the Featherington tendency towards bright citrus colours, thankfully – and himself, Benedict and Anthony all had similarly pale-yellow flowers pinned to their formal black jackets.
Colin allowed the chatter and banter of his family to wash over him as he stared out the side of the carriage, slipping into his own thoughts. He had successfully completed the first mission of getting Lady Whistledown to the print shop, thanks to the help of his loyal household staff, and it had duly been published but two days before. He had observed with fresh eyes the reaction of the ton to the newest edition of their scandal sheet – the gasps, the giggles, the whispers, the speculation, the merry go round of conversation, the complete and total inability for people to speak about anything else.
He thought he could begin to understand what Penelope had been talking about, when she had explained to him why she had continued publishing in the first place.
You don't know what a sensation it is to me to speak, and to actually have people listen, even if it's only through words on paper.
Power like this in the hands of non-royalty was hard to fathom. He wondered what it felt like to her, to have that ability at the end of her quill, to write knowing she could control conversation, push public opinion in one way or another, bring someone down or lift someone up.
As he'd told her in the library, he had done some writing himself in the form of diary entries during his travels in Greece, but that had just been to record his own thoughts and feelings for his own posterity. It has not been with any specific aim or purpose but just to create an account of the places he'd visited and the things he'd seen, that he could perhaps look back upon and re-read in his old age.
Mostly the entries had been just a meandering reflection of his own thoughts, but there had been some passages where, seized with inspiration by a particular beautiful landscape or ocean setting or seaside town, he had described what he saw and how it made him feel, and the words had… flowed, almost in disconnect to his own consciousness, like they were meant to come out of him. Like the page was his block of marble and he was sculpting and moulding it to what he wanted it to be. It was the most curious sensation, and one that he had enjoyed beyond measure. Those were the entries he was most proud of. He wondered if writing was anything like that for Pen too.
The soft screech of the wheels of the carriage as the horses pulled up to the front of the Countess' residence disturbed him from his train of thought, bringing him back to the present. Deftly, he and his brothers hopped out first, and he and Benedict gallantly assisted Violet and Eloise respectively down from the carriage in their turn. Only Anthony walked alone, striding out slightly ahead of them as they made their way inside, jaw set and looking like he was on a mission indeed.
Stepping into the Countess' reception hall was… blinding, to say the least. The decorations of choice involved sunflowers, daffodils, and daisies woven into garlands and elaborate floral arrangements, then hung and draped artfully everywhere, matched with yellow and gold ribbons. Paired with the gold candelabras and the glittering gold chandelier that was the centrepiece of the room, the visual effect amounted to an almost assault on the eyes. Rather, Colin thought ruefully, like staring into the sun. Clever. Perhaps that was the Countess' intention with this theme.
The Bridgerton party stood, temporarily stunned, at the hall's entrance doors.
"It's…lovely," Violet said faintly, staring around.
"It's bright!" Benedict exclaimed cheerfully.
"It's ghastly," Eloise scoffed.
"It…will have to do," Anthony muttered, looking displeased. With a short bow, he took his leave of his family, stalking away through the crowd.
Colin looked questioningly to Benedict. "I know Anthony isn't always, shall we say, a ray of sunshine…" (Eloise groaned in annoyance at the pun) "…but he seems particularly out of sorts this evening?"
Benedict carefully gestured to Colin and took him aside, speaking in hushed tones. "He intends," his brother whispered, "to propose tonight to Miss Edwina Sharma. Because he chickened out in the country."
"Oh. Oh!" Colin blinked. He'd been so absorbed by Penelope, by Lady Whistledown, by moving into his new lodgings… he had scarce been paying much attention to how his eldest brother's courtship attempts had been coming along. "Well, that's, er, good I suppose. Isn't it?"
Benedict, alone of the Bridgerton children, had eyes of a clear hazel colour, deceptive in their mildness, and Colin watched them crinkle as his older brother smiled quizzically. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"
Colin held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Don't ask me. I confess I've had other things on my mind lately than Anthony's attempts at wooing the diamond."
Benedict cocked his head to the side. "What kind of things?"
Several images flashed across Colin's minds' eye – Penelope aghast in the candlelight at the library, Penelope staring up at him pleadingly on the terrace, Penelope laughing with him over the tea and biscuits in the drawing room…
He cleared his throat and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Moving into my new lodgings. Food. You know, the usual."
As he'd expected, Benedict laughed at that and clapped him on the shoulder appreciatively. He then leaned in to mutter in Colin's ear so Violet couldn't hear. "Mother knows Anthony wanted to propose, but she doesn't know he intended it to be tonight, so don't mention anything to her – she doesn't strictly approve of the match."
This was not altogether surprising given Violet's own matrimonial history of a true love match. "She doesn't want to see her eldest son betrothed to the season's diamond?" Colin murmured back.
Benedict grimaced. "Well, no, ordinarily she would love that, but…" he sighed, "she doesn't want her sons betrothed to women they don't love."
Colin glanced over and saw his mother anxiously scanning the room, clearly searching for Anthony. Knowing his oldest brother, once he had made up his mind to a course of action, there was no deterring him from it, and Colin didn't want to be the person to break that to Violet. She knew her children well, but her determination to meddle to ensure their happiness was… well intentioned but sometimes misguided, to say the least.
"What are you two mumbling about over there?" Eloise said irritably. Benedict and Colin startled and looked up, trying not to appear guilty.
"Nothing at all, sister," Benedict said soothingly, walking to her and taking her arm in his. "Shall we perform the obligatory turn about the room?"
Eloise's muttered curse and Benedict's laugh echoed back to Colin as the two set off around the perimeter of the grand space, leaving Colin with Violet. He gallantly offered his arm to his mother. "Shall we?" The pair of them set off into the sea of yellow and gold.
Across the hall, Penelope was standing with her mother, sisters, and Jack, not far from the edge of the dance floor. Musicians were playing elegant, sweeping numbers allowing for the dancing couples to whirl and twirl around gracefully. Portia had chosen the brightest canary yellow for Penelope's dress, and she tugged unhappily at one of the vivid sleeves, staring around. She was the closest she could have ever been to blending in with the surroundings here; but while admittedly everyone around them was dressed in yellow and gold hues of all kinds, her dress still somehow managed to achieve a brightness unrivalled by any other.
Prudence and Philippa were bickering noisily behind her, and to her side, Portia and Jack were talking in low, tense undertones, unfortunately too low for her to hear over the background music. Really, they could be more considerate when she was doing her best to eavesdrop.
Glancing around, Penelope spotted Cressida and her mother, Lady Cowper, approaching their group. Cressida was dressed in a beautiful, shimmering pale gold dress with enormous, ornate sleeves that seemed to only accentuate her slim figure and the elaborate pale blonde halo of her hair. The two reached Jack and curtseyed elegantly before him. Penelope snuck a glance at her mother's face and saw the fake, polite smile that was frozen there.
"My lord," Cressida came out of her curtsey, eyelashes demurely lowered, chin jutted forward just so to enhance the beauty of her long neck. She looked up at Jack, smiling charmingly, and it struck Penelope again how unfair it was that someone who could look so pleasing on the outside could be so wretched on the inside.
"Lady Cowper, Miss Cowper," Jack greeted them with a pleasant smile and bow of his head. "How delightful to see you both again."
The Cowpers exchanged simpering smiles with Portia, and there was one smirking, darting look from Cressida to Penelope, before Cressida's pale blue gaze returned to Jack.
"Cressida has been telling me how much she enjoyed speaking with you at the last ball about the gems at your mines, Lord Featherington," Lady Cowper said smoothly.
"Indeed?" Jack looked at Cressida, and Penelope had to hand it to him – the man was an incredible actor. If she hadn't witnessed the scheme between he and Portia, she too may have thought the warmth and delight in his eyes was genuine, and not an utter farce. "In that case, Miss Cowper, I hope you might do me the honour of saving one of the spots on your dance card for me tonight, and I am sure I can answer any other questions you might have."
Cressida glowed, practically preening under his attention. "Of course, my lord," she simpered, holding up one pale gold glove to show the dangling dance card looped at her wrist, so that he could put his name down and reserve a dance.
Penelope felt a crushing panic in her chest watching this scene unfold. Jack's plan to woo Cressida needed very little cunning, it seemed, as Cressida, aided by her mother, was practically offering herself up to Jack, clearly keenly driven by Cressida's desire to be even wealthier from Jack's supposedly successful mines. And, Penelope imagined, everything she knew about Cressida suggested that she was probably motivated by the idea of becoming Lady Featherington, head of the family and in a position of power over Penelope, her sisters and mother.
The problem was, Penelope had no idea what she was going to do about it. She hadn't figured out how to stop Portia and Jack from their plan, or decided whether to tell them that she knew about their scheme, and there was a dark, shameful part of her that was still quite nastily suggesting she should question even telling Cressida. It was to be sure a very small part of her, motivated only by avid memories of cruelty and unkindness at the hands of her personal bully. But it was there. She was only human, and it would be an unusual person indeed who suffered torment at the hands of one person for years, who didn't envision enacting revenge against them without at least some satisfaction.
But the vast majority of her, that always overcame that tiny bitter part, still argued the same thing as when she had first found out about Jack's plan; no one, no matter how cruel, deserved to be entrapped into a loveless marriage, or to be used for their wealth. Whether Cressida could find a gentleman that cared for her and that she cared for too to enter into a genuine marriage, well… she at least deserved the chance to do so.
Jack excused himself with a slight bow, escorting the Cowpers over towards the refreshments table, and Penelope watched as he fetched the Cowper women glasses of lemonade, and stood talking and smiling with them.
"…ridiculous." Portia murmured to herself, angrily.
"Pardon, Mama?" Penelope turned to her mother.
"Nothing, nothing," Portia waved her off impatiently, her gaze fixed anxiously on Jack and the Cowpers, and Penelope had to let it drop, because even if she did decide to confront her mother on what she knew, the Macclesfield ball was hardly the time and place for it.
The chatter and laughter in the room hushed suddenly, the crowd dropping their conversations with heads turning towards the main entrance doors. Penelope, craning her neck, couldn't quite see past the gawking masses (the diminutive stature that was helpful for listening surreptitiously to conversations had distinct disadvantages when one was trying to see over a crowd).
As they watched, those closest to the entrance doors seemed to bow, and part, stepping aside to allow whoever had just arrived to make their way further into the room. Penelope saw the elaborate hairstyle, and the dazzling crown, before she saw who everyone was deferring to, who the Countess of Macclesfield was now greeting enthusiastically.
Queen Charlotte had arrived.
The atmosphere, Colin reflected, of society balls always changed once the Queen was present. The Queen arrived in a hushed silence, which gradually resumed into the usual buzz of chatter once the royalty had been suitably greeted and everyone had stood in respectful quiet for the appropriate amount of time.
The Queen usually had an unobtrusive but elaborate spot set up for her at society balls, where she could observe her subjects away from prying ears but still easily summon those she wished to converse with. With the Queen present, people stood up straighter, talked louder, laughed more, knowing that their sovereign was watching and that if they wanted to impress her, that time was now. Knowing too, that at any moment the Queen may grow bored and leave, or take herself off for a garden stroll with her attendants or her confidant Lady Danbury if the evening weather was fair, like tonight.
A little while after the Queen's arrival, Colin was standing near the refreshments table, partaking of some of the fruit and nuts provided, watching the room. He could see nearby Jack Featherington in the middle of what appeared to be a very funny conversation with Cressida Cowper, from the way that she was trilling with laughter and coyly fanning herself. He saw Eloise in conversation with Benedict and Violet, and based on Eloise's stubborn crossed arms, he would wager the topic was dancing with one's suitors, or in Eloise's case, refusing to dance with them. As he watched, Eloise uncrossed and waved her arms around to emphasise the point that she was making (most likely loudly).
He continued looking around, scanning before realising to himself that truly, there was only one person he was looking for – Penelope. He hadn't seen her since their conversation in the drawing room, after which he had pulled off the first assisted publication, and he wanted… well, he wanted to make sure she was happy with how everything had gone. It was just harder now to spot her amongst all the yellow outfits tonight…
In the end, he spotted her vivid red curls before he even saw the bright canary shade of her gown. She was away from the dance floor, closer to the wall, standing still and quiet amongst the chatter of the groups around her, and he felt anew a surge of annoyance that once again, no one was regarding her, no one was paying attention to her… well, he would see about that.
With his refreshments finished, he strode purposefully through the crowd to where she stood, stopping with a short bow of his head to her and smiling as she looked up at him with surprise.
"Colin!" She greeted, a returning smile stealing over her face. "Where did you come from? I… I was wondering when I might see you…"
"I came from the snacks," Colin supplied helpfully, gesturing back towards the refreshment table. He grinned at her and offered his hand. "Might you do me the honour of the next dance?"
"Oh!" Penelope blushed, and not for the first time it occurred to Colin that it quite became her when she blushed, as it made the bright blue of her eyes stand out all the more strongly. "I thank you, it would be my pleasure," she answered, a little shyly, and as she placed her hand in his he smiled down at her reassuringly, hoping to calm her nerves – she didn't tend to dance in public as much as he did, indeed she tended only to dance in public when he asked her.
He led her out to the floor, where pairs were assembling for the next song. Looking around, he spotted Anthony taking his own place on the dance floor, and opposite from Anthony, Colin could see the back of the head of Miss Sharma, with her beautiful raven-black hair. Perhaps this was the dance he intended to propose – but no, Colin frowned, the figure standing opposite Anthony was taller than Edwina, more statuesque… he was dancing with Kate Sharma. Perhaps he meant to ensure he had the elder sister's favour first?
Penelope followed Colin's line of sight, her eyes flicking from Lord Bridgerton to Kate and back again, assessing the scene. Anthony and Kate dancing again? How… odd. Surely, he should be partnering his rumoured intended? There was a hard set of his jaw line that she recognised from the ball in the country, as though he was trying to control himself…
But then, the opening strains began for the next dance, and Colin and Penelope both looked away from Anthony and Kate and back to each other. Seeing they were both observing the curious couple on the dance floor, they both smiled wryly.
"Do you see that?" Colin whispered to her, raising his eyebrows, and Penelope hid a giggle, murmuring back, "Indeed. My business never ceases." Colin smiled at that, and bowed, and Penelope curtseyed to signal the start of the dance. They began the steps, coming together then twirling apart, and Colin watched with pleasure the deftness and ease with which Penelope danced – for all that she should be out of practice, she was surprisingly good at the steps, and moved rather elegantly considering that the ladies around them had danced more often than her.
In one of the moments where the dance steps brought them close together, with hands held and feet performing the nimble footwork required, Colin chanced to comment to her, "It seems Lady Whistledown had published again."
Penelope only barely stumbled, somehow keeping pace with the steps without too visibly falling behind in her surprise before she straightened her gait and raised her chin. "Indeed," she replied, barely containing her smile. "I was rather pleased to see the latest edition delivered. There was concern that she had stopped for good."
The dance steps kept them apart from each other for a few moments as they partook in the graceful twirls required next, where one circled around the couple to their left, before they came back together with their hands clasped to continue their conversation.
"One hopes that she will continue, at least for now," Colin said softly, and Penelope suddenly found it quite hard to breathe with the soft and warm smile on his face that was aimed at her. To have Colin find out about her secret identity had been unthinkable, but to have him assisting her and supporting her… it felt like something beyond her imagining.
Indeed, the only response she could manage for him was a returning smile, warm and radiant, and for the remainder of their dance they spoke no further, both in their own thoughts and enjoying the easy way that they moved together through the steps. Penelope practiced dance steps alone in her bedchamber all the time, and in her head at balls, but she preferred not to let anyone know that.
The musicians signalled the end of the song with a final flourish of the violin, and all the couples on the floor, including Penelope and Colin, performed their obligatory final bow and curtsy to each other to accompany its end.
All couples that is apart from Anthony and Kate, who appeared to have come to an abrupt halt, and were currently standing stock still, staring at each other in a most intense way. From where Penelope stood, she could see Kate's face as the elder Sharma gazed at Anthony. Abruptly, Penelope remembered back at the country ball a similar moment when she'd been standing in the shadows, watching Kate accept a dance with Anthony. The look on Kate's face back then seemed the same as right now - a barely controlled restraint, a fevered anguish, a rigidity to her jaw and shoulders. All at once, a suspicion came to Penelope and quickly solidified until it was surely the most obvious thing she'd ever seen:
Kate Sharma was in love with Anthony Bridgerton.
It was evident, because Penelope knew she herself had felt that same turmoil before being around Colin, and in crystal clear clarity, she knew that Kate was suffering the same pains of love, because how else to explain the ache and longing in that expression?
Penelope could see the matching rigid line of Anthony's back where he stood opposite Kate, his fingers flexing in frustration at his sides, and she remembered his grim tension at the country ball too, and a matching suspicion reared its head and similarly hardened in her mind as an undisputed truth:
Anthony Bridgerton was in love with Kate Sharma.
It had been the space of only a few moments. Penelope watched as something in Kate's face wavered, collapsed, and the elder Miss Sharma curtseyed and abruptly turned and left the dance floor, melting into the crowd and leaving Anthony standing. Those close by enough to observe the event murmured interestedly to each other, and Anthony, seemingly coming back to himself, looked around with a set jaw at the gawking observers before stalking off the floor himself.
Penelope turned back to Colin, who had also been watching the events unfold, and they both looked to each other with raised eyebrows. Colin merely appeared confused, but Penelope's mind was in turmoil.
This, Penelope thought in shock, would certainly put a spoke in the wheel of Anthony's courtship plans for Kate's younger sister.