DEAR FAMILY
Colin held the stick of red sealing wax in the flickering candle flame and watched as it slowly melted. Once satisfied it was ready, he deftly held it over the folds of his recently finished letter and allowed several drips to fall onto the paper. Putting the stick to one side, he picked up his silver seal and pressed it firmly into the rapidly cooling wax for several seconds until he was certain that it was set.
Flipping it over, he wrote his sisters name and new address upon the front before adding it to the small pile of other missives he had written that morning.
Satisfied with a job well done, he gave a slight nod of his head and returned his quill to its holder.
Glancing at the clock he noted that it was almost nine thirty and he had yet to breakfast. He had been waiting for Penelope to awaken but it seemed that all the emotional upheaval from the previous evenings' Ball had taken its toll. His wife was bound to be exhausted.
Standing up, he walked around his desk over to the door of their bed chamber then entered quietly and padded towards the bed. Coming to a halt by her side, he gazed down at her and a soft smile touched his lips. Lovingly, he reached out and gently brushed back an errant curl that was resting upon her cheek.
She was on her back, head turned towards him, an arm flung out to the side and those perfect, perfect lips of hers were slightly parted.
A gentle snore reached his ears and his smile widened. It only happened if she lay on her back, which really wasn't often as she was invariably wrapped in his arms. He found it endearing. Penelope, however, did not and so, like any good husband, he'd made the very wise decision never to mention it again.
She shifted slightly in her sleep and his hopes that she might be awakening were dashed when rolled onto her side away from him.
His pang of disappointment was only matched by the pang of hunger that swirled in his gut. As if to reinforce its need even further, his stomach gave a low grumble and Colin sighed.
He needed to eat.
He also needed to get those letters to the post as soon as possible. They had a fair way to travel and he wanted their good news to reach their destination as soon as possible.
With one last lingering look at his wife, he left their bed chamber and picked up his letters then headed out of their suite.
He'd just reached the bottom of the stairs when Penelope's maid, Rae, appeared and gave a quick curtsey.
"You have visitors, Sir," she informed him with a smile, gesturing towards the sitting room.
"Visitors?" he replied in surprise, glancing over at the closed door. Wondering who it could be so early in the morning, he took a couple of steps before remembering the letters and turned back to Rae holding them out. "Please see that these are sent out by morning post." He turned away again as she took them with a nod and headed to greet their unexpected guests.
"Mother!" he exclaimed when he opened the door and saw her standing in front of the fireplace. "What are you doing here at this hour? Is everything well with you?"
"Oh, don't mind me," grumbled Benedict from where he lounged on the sofa perusing a newspaper.
"Brother," Colin acknowledged with a cursory nod as Violet smiled at her son then walked over and gave him a hug.
"All is fine, Colin," she told him reassuringly. "We have just come to see how Penelope is this morning. Does she feel better?"
"She is not yet awake," he told her regretfully and gestured for his parent to sit. "Would you like some tea?"
"I've already asked for some," Benedict put in helpfully, still reading.
Colin shot him a mildly irritated look then, as if on cue, there was a knock at the door and a maid entered with a tray. When she put it down, he was grateful to note that there was a plate full of pastries alongside the china teapot and cups.
"It is good that Penelope is resting still. Hopefully whatever malady she is suffering from will pass quickly," his mother stated kindly as she watched him pour tea for them all.
Colin paused and stared at her with a slight frown. He was sure that Penelope had told him that his mother had guessed her condition. He was about to say as much when he suddenly also remembered that she'd also suggested that they may consider delaying their announcement.
But surely she didn't mean to the family?
"I rather think Penelope's malady will last a few months yet considering she is with child," he finally remarked with a smile.
"Oh! Colin, that is wonderful news!" Violet exclaimed, a study in perfect surprise. Colin was quite impressed. She rose from her seat and crossed the room to embrace him again.
He managed to put the teapot down before he spilled anything and when his mother released him, Benedict was there to offer his own felicitations.
"My heartiest congratulations to you both," he said, pulling Colin into a hug that almost took his breath away. Then he stood back and added with a knowing smirk, "It seems it all did happen very swiftly indeed, brother."
Colin felt his cheeks warm.
"That is not…we didn't…"
He stopped and glanced at his mother's mildly reproving face then to Benedict's amused one and let out a heavy sigh of resignation.
"What I mean to say is that the news should remain within the family for now. We'll put a formal announcement out in a few weeks in Pen's column."
"That is probably wise," Violet commented meaningfully.
"Mama…" he began, even more heat flooding into his cheeks.
He felt the need to come up with some kind of explanation that could possibly excuse such ungentlemanly behaviour from him in regards to Penelope before they were married.
Violet held up her hand and shook her head. "Please, Colin, you do not need to say anything more. I am not so naïve as you'd like to believe," she assured him hastily as she picked up one of the teas he had poured out. Raising the steaming brew to her lips, she added with a wry mutter, "And you are your father's son, after all."
The brief, shocked silence that followed her comment was broken by Benedict all but choking on his own sip of tea and a clatter of china.
"Mother!" Colin groaned in embarrassment.
He didn't want to know.
Violet merely resumed her seat and continued to drink her tea with a serene smile.
"Yes, well, I too think it a good idea that you delay any announcement to the rest of the Ton," Benedict suddenly declared in an overly bright voice, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had once again descended over them.
Colin shot him a grateful look and nodded in agreement, eager to steer the conversation away from the mere hint that their parents had done anything untoward before they were wed.
"I would not want people to speculate upon our marriage."
"You should not concern yourself with that. You know the truth, that is all that matters," Benedict commented dismissively.
"Yes, but ever since Whistledown was revealed, there are some that have been unpleasant even with the Queen's endorsement," he replied on a sigh.
"You can hardly blame them, brother."
"I do not, but that does not mean that I wish for Penelope to hear such things," he retorted, bristling at the thought of his wife being the target of malicious untruths.
Whistledown sheets might have been harsh at times, but there were never lies.
"That is understandable," Benedict agreed and reached out to give his younger brother's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "And you can be assured that I, for one, will defend my dear sister's good name should I overhear even the faintest suggestion that your marriage is anything other than a true, love match."
For once, Colin didn't see the usual whimsical smile or hear the lightness in his voice that he was so used to with Benedict and he knew he'd meant what he said.
"Thank you, brother."
Benedict nodded then poured himself another tea and picked up one of the pastries before adding with a grin, "Except for Anthony. You're on your own with him."
Colin let out a huff of laughter at that and picked up the plate to offer a pastry to his mother who was watching them in amusement. She shook her head and he plucked a sweet treat for himself.
"I have already written to him. I thought it better that he receives the news whilst in another country."
"For you or for him?" Benedict queried, still smiling.
"Probably both," Colin admitted with another chuckle.
The men took their seats and they all spent another half an hour chatting before Violet and Benedict took their leave.
He saw them out with a promise of giving Penelope their best regards, then called a maid to arrange for tea and toast to be brought to his and his wife's suite. Eagerly, he headed upstairs to see if she was awake and found her sitting on the edge of their bed, in her robe, looking a little pale.
She visibly brightened when she saw him and smiled happily.
"Good morning, my love," he greeted and bent over to give her a brief kiss. Sitting down by her side, he took hold of her hand and laced their fingers together. "How are you feeling?"
Exhausted. And a tiny bit queasy. And she couldn't be happier because it was a reminder of the tiny life that was growing inside of her.
"I am well."
His gaze ran over her wan features and noted the tiredness that still lingered in her eyes in concern.
"Are you sure? I've asked the maid to bring up a tray for you so there's no need to hurry, our day is quite clear. We can stay here as long as you like."
In truth, some time alone with her husband did sound wonderful. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it softly enjoying the slight hitch in his breathing at the simple act. It was a heady thing to know that she affected him as much as he did her.
"Have I told you lately just what a very good man you are?"
"Yes, but I am always happy to hear you say it one more time," he revealed with a grin.
She laughed and he captured her lips with his again. A slow, tender kiss that promised more but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
It was the tray he'd requested and Penelope joined him in the salon where he, very attentively, poured her a cup of tea and buttered some toast. She ate her food, relieved when she felt her stomach settle and listened as Colin told her of Violet and Benedict's visit.
She agreed that announcing their news in her column would be the best idea, although she supposed there would be talk. For the first time, though, she found herself quite uncaring about what other people thought. Her life was different now. She was no longer that shy wallflower who stuttered when someone deigned to speak to her, living on the outskirts of life.
Now, she was a part of something more.
She had a man who loved her; all of her. Her own family were closer than they'd ever been and her extended family were the most loving, forgiving souls she'd ever met.
And, amazingly, she was expecting a child. One borne out of love. A love that had the strongest of foundations – friendship.
Considering how the season had started, she could hardly believe at times how it had ended; with her having everything she'd ever wanted.
"Are you finished?" Colin enquired as Penelope placed her cup down. When she nodded, he got up to call for the maid to come and remove the tray.
"Leave it," she said, grabbing hold of his hand as he walked by. He turned to look at her, brow raised questioningly. She stood up and began walking towards their bed chamber, tugging him along behind. Looking over her shoulder at him, she smiled mischievously. "You did say our day was clear, did you not?"
"Utterly," he confirmed, matching her smile.
"Good, because I have a need to lie down again."
"Oh? Are you tired, love?" Colin asked, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her flush against him as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind them.
"Not at all," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and tilting her face up to gaze at him lovingly.
Her husband laughed and muttered a fervent, "Thank God!" before kissing her thoroughly and taking her to bed for the rest of the day.
A few days later, two letters arrived at the Kilmartin estate in Scotland. One addressed to Francesca and one to Eloise.
Francesca opened hers and shared the delightful news of a future niece or nephew with her husband John and his cousin Michaela. Both were suitably pleased and Fran hoped against hope that she, too, would soon be able to share similar news of her own.
Elosie was in her room when she received her letter from one of the maids. True to her word, she kept to herself as much as was polite so that her sister wouldn't regret the decision to allow her to join them.
She opened it eagerly, keen, as always, to hear from home and smiled when she read her brother and best friends' happy news. Grabbing some paper she quickly penned a reply congratulating them and added her hopes of it being a girl.
Once finished she placed it to one side and fiddled with the quill debating whether she should write another. They hadn't been in Scotland a week before a friend of John's had visited and mentioned in passing that a neighbour of his had recently lost his wife – one Lady Crane.
Although Eloise hadn't known Marina very well herself, she had been Penelope's cousin and now, by extension, family. Therefore, after she'd sent a missive to her friend informing her of the sad news, she'd also sent a short note to Marina's widower offering her condolences.
While she had half expected a polite reply to her message, when it came, she certainly hadn't expected a pressed flower to fall out into her lap. Marina's favourite, he'd written. It was a touching gesture that had her wanting to acknowledge it.
So far, she had restrained herself. She knew it wasn't the proper thing to do, she didn't know the man. But now, seeing how everyone was moving on around her, she felt an urge to have something for herself.
The flower lay nestled in the folds of the letter as she carefully opened it up and reached out to run a finger gently along one of the delicate petals. Red Campion, he had called it but, despite its name, the flower itself was a vibrant pink.
She let out a soft sigh and folded the letter again, keeping its precious contents safe, then, decision made, she took a piece of paper and dipped her quill into the ink.
It was only a letter after all. There was nothing to say he would reply a second time and very likely it would come to naught.
With that in mind, she began to write:
Dear Sir Philip-
Thank you so very much for the charming pressed flower…
A few weeks after that, a letter arrived for the Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton in India.
Anthony's first reaction was one of joy. Another niece or nephew was always a welcome thing and he knew his brother would be a good father.
Truly, he was most pleased for them both.
Then Kate had pointed out, with a knowing smile, that it was likely they'd be having an early baby.
As he'd continued to read and his wife's words had sunk in, his own smile had slowly faded from Anthony's face
He hadn't.
They hadn't.
Oh, but they had.
And as he read Colin's parting words, Anthony was very glad he wasn't still in England because although a part of him wanted to laugh at his younger sibling's flaming audacity, a larger part would dearly have loved to wring the blighter's bloody neck…
"In truth, I wanted to thank you, brother. For if it wasn't for you encouraging me to tell Penelope of my feelings that day, we would not now be celebrating such a happy outcome.
Yours gratefully,
Colin"