Chapter Five: Agreement
Neither Colin nor Penelope spoke for several moments as they looked at each other, before Colin broke the silence.
"Miss Featherington," he greeted, scrupulously polite with a slight bow of his head. "What are you doing here? Eloise isn't in, I'm afraid, she's at…"
"…the modiste," Penelope finished for him, smiling slightly. "Yes, your footman John told me. He said I'd be welcome to wait up here for her to return. A special arrangement that I think Eloise has requested on my behalf at this residence."
"Ah." Colin considered this. He'd been enjoying his time alone in the room, but her appearance here, while a surprise, was not necessarily an unwelcome one. He had intended to speak to her at the next ball, but perhaps this would be more convenient, to have this conversation here rather than in public. He had been busy indeed since their last meeting.
He gestured to the lounge directly opposite from the one he had just stood up from. "Please, won't you sit? I can call for some tea."
"Oh." Penelope stared at the lounge blankly, then shook herself and smiled politely at him. "Yes, that would be lovely."
She sat. He rang the bell pull and gave instructions to the neatly dressed servant that appeared to arrange some tea, and some sweet cakes and biscuits, and as he did so, he resumed his seat on the lounge opposite Penelope. The servant looked between the two of them, eyebrows slightly raised, and Colin noted how he deliberately left the door open when he departed. Etiquette dictated that a gentleman and an unmarried young lady out in society shouldn't be alone together without a chaperone. But this was him and Penelope, Colin told himself, and it was fine. This was, in fact, him and Lady Whistledown, and surely all the usual rules were out the window now.
A few seconds of silence ticked by; Penelope was near perched on the edge of her lounge, looking a little tense and uncomfortable. No surprises there, given they had not seen or spoken to each other since their conversation at the Hearts and Flowers Ball.
That was not quite accurate, he mentally corrected himself – he'd looked around for her and spotted her on the day of departing Aubrey Hall, standing at a distance waiting for the Featherington coach. Portia Featherington could at least be congratulated on her choices of colour for Penelope's wardrobe, in that the bright citrus tones did at least make her stand out, when perhaps she would rather blend in. He'd thought she might have been looking his way, so he had turned to engage in a joke with Benedict.
Well, it would not do for them to just sit here and stare at each other, no matter what had passed in the country. Colin cleared his throat. "And how are you?"
Penelope blinked at him. "I… I am well," she faltered, her big blue eyes dropping their gaze downwards unthinkingly. "And yourself? Are you…do you find yourself…well?" She cringed inwardly – she hadn't meant to stammer like a ninny, it was just that for a moment, she had been suddenly tempted to tell him everything about Jack and Portia's scheme, about Cressida. But she just couldn't bring herself to drag him into that whole mess too, when he was already keeping her Lady Whistledown secret.
Colin smiled slightly, a little of the tension in his shoulders easing. This was safe, this was comfortable, an old familiar dynamic, Colin at his ease, and Penelope endearingly nervous. "I am very well, I thank you," he replied politely. "It is fortuitous indeed that you ended up here, as I had intended to speak with you."
Penelope's enquiring, slightly panicked look was interrupted by the arrival of the tea and snacks, including some fresh butter biscuits and delicate pastries arranged artfully on a platter, which the servant placed on the table between them, pouring their tea for them. She waited for him to depart before speaking. "You wanted to speak with me?" she prompted him.
"Indeed." Colin leaned forward to select a biscuit. No matter how he aged, his ample appetite never seemed to lessen. "I have been doing a lot of thinking since our last conversation, with this Whistledown business. The idea of you travelling to and from Mayfair alone these past few years, unescorted, at God knows what time of day or night, still just doesn't sit right with me."
Penelope had expected for him to bring up Lady Whistledown again, but she hadn't quite expected this angle. Perhaps instead a round two of the reasons why writing the scandal sheet was deplorable, but certainly not this. It was with an air of impatience that she huffed in reply. "That is awfully chivalrous of you Colin, but like I told you at the ball, it is an arrangement I am quite comfortable with, and which has worked perfectly well thus far; you needn't be concerned."
"Nevertheless, I remain so," he retorted, biting with emphasis into the biscuit, chewing, swallowing. He waved the biscuit in the air to stress his point, rather taking away from the serious protector image he seemed to be trying to project. "You know my opinion on revealing your identity, and I gather that you intend to continue publishing in the meantime, yes?"
Penelope watched him waving the biscuit around and fought the most absurd urge to laugh. She covered it with a slight cough. "Yes, I intend to continue publishing."
Colin passed his biscuit-less hand over his face, a look of resolve coming across his features. "That settles the matter, then."
"What matter?" Penelope asked uncomprehendingly, watching as he finished off the rest of the biscuit with relish. "I don't understand."
Swallowing his mouthful, Colin waved an airy hand. "If you will continue to publish, that means you intend to continue to travel to and from the city by yourself, which is an unacceptable risk. Instead, I shall assist you," he declared, proud despite himself of the solution.
Another confused blink from those bright blue eyes. "Colin, what are you talking about?"
He leaned forward earnestly. "I can assist you," he repeated. "I had been considering seeking bachelor's lodgings for myself in the city anyway, and since returning from the country I have been looking at properties. I have found the most charming and elegant little townhouse in Bloomsbury, at Bedford Square, and I have accepted the lease on it this morning." He leaned back on the lounge, clearly pleased with himself. "I'm sure we can conceive a way for me to get the finalised drafts from you. I will have some of our household staff with me at my new residence; they are loyal to the Bridgerton family, well-trained and discreet. They can safely take the drafts to the print shop undetected, without any further risk to you."
Penelope could only stare at him. It was, she had to admit, on the face of it, a good idea. It had always been a calculated risk she'd had to take, getting to the print shop, a process which she suspected had only worked thus far because of her position in society, indeed even in her own home, as Penelope Featherington: Wallflower. No one noticed missing the person that no one noticed normally. But it had also been a point of pride for her, that she had managed to avoid detection herself for so long, had managed to achieve and build something of her very own.
But, she reminded herself, Colin wasn't saying that she had to stop doing the sheet, he was offering her an opportunity to continue to do so, without the risks associated with disguise and sneaking around. In fact, by offering to essentially work for her, he was being, as it turned out, incredibly… supportive? Helpful?
She frowned, struck by the thought. Not a few days ago in the library, he had stormed away from her in anger when discovering she was Lady Whistledown, and now he wanted to help her? She couldn't understand it.
"Why," she asked slowly, "would you want to help me in this, Colin? I thought you hated Lady Whistledown and hated the idea that she and I would be one and the same."
Colin exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. In truth, though he couldn't admit this to her, he had been asking himself the same question. It was a mix of complicated feelings, this situation he found himself in with her. He didn't like what she had written in the past, but he had to acknowledge that she was a damn fine writer. He deplored some of the choices she had made, but he admired her ambition and determination to set up this business for herself. Part of him wanted her to do as she had promised and not just come clean to the ton, but also put down the pen for good.
But overall, it was the mental image of her walking unescorted down a city alleyway, alone and vulnerable, being accosted and robbed and what else, he shuddered to think… that was the image he just couldn't get out of his head.
Penelope was an important person in his life, and a valued friend. This was something he could offer to both make himself feel useful and purposeful, and to protect her all in one. He had rushed the bachelor's lodgings process once they returned to Mayfair, once his idea had occurred to him. Truthfully, he had been thinking since returning from his travels this season of finding his own residence anyway, and the situation had lined up perfectly with his own inclinations and desires for independence from the family home.
She was watching him expectantly. "I would shudder to think if anything would happen to you while you were travelling unescorted, Pen, especially if there was something I could have done to prevent it," he answered earnestly, meeting her gaze with sincerity. "As I am the only other person who knows, the responsibility falls on me, as your friend, to help you if I can, even if I don't agree with everything you've written."
Penelope almost had to look away from the shining seriousness in those deep ocean eyes. She had always known and believed him to be kind, but this gesture and his acceptance and protectiveness had truly floored her. "Thank you, Colin," she murmured, blinking away the tears threatening to form. "I am happy, then, to accept your help."
They both took a quiet sip of tea, ending the moment, and Penelope reached for one of the biscuits – the Bridgerton cook's ability with these was renowned. "Did you have any ideas for how the logistics of this would work?' she enquired.
"Hmmm." Colin frowned a little, his brow furrowing in thought. "Well, I will often be back here at Bridgerton House to visit my family, and I know you are often here as well to see Eloise. Perhaps we can contrive for you to secretly pass me the draft when we're both here?"
She tapped a finger against her chin, thinking. "Too risky," she declared a few moments later. "There are – with respect, of course – usually too many Bridgertons around for such an arrangement to successfully work every time, without detection. All of you are," she leaned forward, a teasing glint in her eyes, "particularly adept at getting involved in others' business."
He raised an eyebrow at her, shrugging unremorsefully. "And I would do it again," he quipped, but then lapsed into thought. "What would you suggest, then?"
Penelope thought suddenly of the side gated entrance to Featherington House – the side garden was out of view of the main drawing rooms of her home, adjacent to her bedchamber window upstairs. That was the entry point she had been using to pass in and out undetected on her trips into the print shop. In that small side garden, just inside the gate and the walls, there was a small statuette of… well, Cupid of all of the gods, funnily enough. Large enough at its base to conceal a folded piece of paper underneath, but small enough that she felt confident she could lift it well enough on one side to slip in the paper.
She described its location to Colin. "Once I have a draft ready, I can hide it beneath the statuette. We will have to choose some regularly scheduled days for you to check, or I can get a message to you if anything changes. We can still work with the advantage of you coming often to visit Bridgerton House, without risking attracting any untoward attention about," she cleared her throat and blushed, "any private meetings between us."
He chuckled a little uneasily, hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck again, a reflexive action when he felt awkward or was in thought. It felt so easy to disregard the usual societal decorum when it was just the two of them, but she was quite right that a more discreet arrangement needed to be made. It would not do to have anyone question her honour. "It is an excellent solution," he told her seriously. "I would never dream of risking your reputation, Pen." He paused and considered and could not help flashing a teasing smile at her. "Any less than you're already risking as Lady Whistledown, anyway."
She stared at him, trying to detect any venom, but the humorous glint in his eyes and the grin on his face was genuine, and she found herself laughing out loud, until he laughed too, and his wide smile took his face from handsome to devastatingly handsome. My, but it felt good to be at ease like this with Colin.
"Am I wrong?" he challenged her teasingly.
"It makes little sense to be afraid of being accused of improper behaviour after all that I have said in the column these last years," she sighed, eyes sparkling, "and yet, here we are."
"Here we are," he agreed, and they lapsed into silence, much more comfortable than before. They both reached for another biscuit, and their tea.
"Do you have a new edition to be published?" Colin asked curiously. "I suppose we could start the arrangement soon, if you do."
"Oh!" Penelope started, setting down her teacup with a heavy clink onto the saucer. She had quite forgotten about the draft nestled down the front of her dress. "Why yes, in fact, I do have it here." She absent-mindedly reached for it.
It was the space of only a few seconds, but Colin had looked up sharply at the sound of the teacup clinking, and witnessed thus, her small hands reaching to the front of the golden hues of her dress, reaching inside the dress at her chest level, in fact, which could only bring his gaze to focus on –
He looked away quickly, clearing his throat softly and trying to pretend he had not seen. Which he had not! Seen anything, that is. Not that he had been even trying to look, it was just that that was where her hands happened to be when he looked up, and his eyes had been drawn to the movement, that was all, and the fact was, though he was a gentleman and would never voice the thought out loud, one couldn't ignore the fact that there was a lot to see in that area, if one cared to look… but he hadn't. It was Pen, after all. So, he didn't. So that was fine.
Penelope, draft successfully retrieved, looked up and saw Colin's face pointedly turned away from her, jaw set and staring at the ceiling, and realised in a rush of embarrassment, her face heating, that she'd… in front of…
Oh dear.
"Here it is!" she trilled a touch too loudly and brightly, completely unable to think of anything to do but to wave the paper around stupidly in the air like a flag. "If… would you…" she hesitantly held it out towards him, still blushing.
He swallowed, and resolutely turned back towards her, seemingly making a point of keeping his gaze directed above the neck as he reached out and took the paper from her, noticing with one part of his brain that the paper was oddly warm to the touch (he dutifully shut off further analysis along that line of thinking), and with the other, noticing the soft pink flush to her face, which somehow made the bright blue of her eyes stand out all the more. He cleared his throat again, waiting for the awkward moment to pass, and looked down at the paper instead, concentrating and scanning over the lines she had written.
She watched him read, thinking that this could not have been a more different circumstance than in the library when he had discovered and read the first draft. As she watched, his eyebrows rose, and she leaned forward enquiringly.
"You removed mention of me," he stated, looking back up at her, an unreadable mix of emotions playing over his face. Relief, curiosity… perhaps was he even a little insulted?
"Yes," she agreed, trying to sound nonchalant. "I decided the detail was not as relevant to the rest of the updates the ton will be waiting to hear about from the country visit. But you should know," she warned him, "I cannot fail to mention you every time, I shall have to make regular comment on you in the column, as I've done before, many…many times…" She trailed off a little awkwardly, cursing herself for the blush of embarrassment that she just could not rid herself of, and for walking willingly into yet another ninny minded thing to say to the man one loved.
Yes, I write about you all the time! Certainly not because I'm in love with you, oh no, that couldn't be it.
Colin smiled slightly, and if he noticed anything odd about the comment, he kindly refrained from bringing it up. "Yes, of course it would look odd if I was never mentioned again," he agreed. "I am prepared for whatever Lady Whistledown may say about me." He smiled to her and bowed his head a little sardonically.
Another silence fell between them, this time a little less comfortable than before. At the halt in their conversation, they could hear downstairs the unmistakable sounds of the front door flinging open, footsteps in the hall, voices murmuring…
"They are back!" Penelope exclaimed, nearly jumping a mile, and feeling oddly guilty all of a sudden. They had come to a secret agreement for the Whistledown arrangement, and absolutely nothing else untoward had occurred, but still... she supposed it would still look odd to the ladies Bridgerton to return home and find them here alone together.
Colin had the presence of mind to immediately tuck the draft securely into his breeches pocket, giving her a small secret smile, with his finger to his lips. "I shall see that this is delivered today, depend on it," he whispered, and she returned the smile gratefully. They both shifted, sitting back on their lounges, retrieving their tea and assuming an air of casual nonchalance just in time for Eloise to burst into the room, followed at statelier pace by Violet and Hyacinth.
After exclamations (Hyacinth) and greetings (everyone else) were exchanged, Hyacinth dragged Colin off to a game of chess on the family's chessboard on the other end of the room, and good naturedly, he accepted the challenge. Colin very carefully carried some biscuits over with him as he settled down to contest his youngest sister. Violet positioned herself at a table nearby with some embroidery in hand, leaving Penelope sitting at the plush lounges with Eloise.
"I declare," Eloise flopped onto the lounge with a sigh, "that I shall use my pin money to send a proxy in my place next time to the modiste."
Penelope chuckled, taking a sip of her tea. "Surely it cannot have been that bad."
"Oh, it was," Eloise said earnestly. "How one could ever get used to standing perfectly still while Madame Delacroix near covers you with floaty material and enthuses about how this one will surely secure you a dance at the next ball…" she grimaced. "Well. I had quite enough of that at the last ball, I assure you."
"Oh!" In between the scheme between Jack and her mother and the Whistledown business with Colin, Penelope thought guiltily, she had quite forgotten about Eloise storming off the dance floor at the Hearts and Flowers ball. "I believe I may have witnessed the tail end of that. What happened?"
Eloise cast a furtive look down the room, but Violet was placidly stitching away and didn't appear to be paying attention to them. "Mother's suitor," she hissed quietly, "turned out to be boorish, rude, and quite insulting about the female sex altogether. I could not stand it a moment longer."
"Ah." Penelope winced sympathetically, remembering Eloise's hasty rush away from the gentleman across the ballroom to the staircase. "I understand."
"I am glad you do, as Mother doesn't seem to," Eloise sighed, leaning forward and taking Penelope's hand in hers. "Thank goodness for you, to share how I feel about the whole rotten business of courtship and marriage."
Penelope very carefully did not allow herself to look down the room to where Colin was draped in his seat at the chess table, laughing at something Hyacinth had said in a way that made Penelope's heart ache.
"Yes," she echoed faintly with a weak smile. "How fortunate."
"Mother just doesn't seem to understand that the opinions I hold are genuine and aren't to be used as a funny quirk meant to advertise me to potential suitors," Eloise said sadly, and Penelope recalled the heated exchange between Violet and her daughter before Eloise had fled up the stairs at the ball – one could guess now what that had been about.
Eloise continued, "It frustrates me beyond belief why no one in this family – in society – can take what I think seriously. Except you, of course," she added hastily, squeezing Penelope's hand and smiling fondly at her.
"Of course," Penelope hurried to assure her. "I know you do not read the treatises and tracts for display, but because you are genuinely interested in them, and even if…" she paused, considering her words carefully and lowering her voice. It would hardly do for her to scold her friend for travelling to the 'bad' side of town when she herself had done so for so long on Whistledown business. "Even if you do choose to go to some unseemly parts of town for those lectures and meetings, I know you do so in pursuit of a passionately held belief."
Eloise's smiled, the wide and disarmingly genuine smile that all the Bridgertons shared, and Penelope could see the relief in her friend's dark grey eyes. "Thank you, Pen," she said warmly.
"I can only tell you as your friend, to take care," Penelope warned softly. "I may know the reasons why you are doing it, but if people knew your beliefs had progressed beyond the written word to more radical action, they would not be understanding about it."
Eloise scoffed at first, but then sighed. "Yes. Well. Perhaps not. As long as Lady Whistledown does not find out about it, I believe all shall be well."
Penelope smiled weakly again. "You are not still trying to discover her identity, are you?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could, trying to seem like the answer wasn't crucial to her.
Eloise hesitated and then shook her head. "I will," she declared, "continue to pursue any clues or leads I find, but since the misprinted Ks seem to have stopped, I find myself at something of a dead end in my investigations. I will pick up the trail if I notice anything else worth pursuing."
Penelope read the frustration on her friend's face and winced inwardly – Eloise Bridgerton, with one of the sharpest and cleverest minds Penelope knew, also had a distinctive trait for being singularly unable to let a mystery go until she discovered the truth, especially if it was a secret no one else knew the answer to. It would be safer then, to take her words at face value.
Eloise was frowning. "I will pick up the trail, that is, if she ever even publishes again," she joked. "The last issue was before the visit to the country, was it not?"
"I'm sure she will," Penelope said carefully, again studiously not allowing her gaze to stray down the room to where the column draft was sitting, practically burning a hole in Colin's pocket. "A lot happened on that visit."
She bit her lip, fighting the urge to tell her friend about Jack's scheme with Mama against Cressida, but just as with Colin earlier, she hesitated in bringing someone into the same cycle of worries that she was experiencing. Better to try and resolve it on her own first.
She took another sip of tea, leaning forward with a smile. "Do tell me more about the dress that was ordered from the modiste," she encouraged. "I do love to hear about gowns made to actually flatter the wearer."
Eloise huffed a sigh with a slight smile but obliged. As her friend launched into a description, tinted heavily with complaints, Penelope couldn't help but stray her gaze finally to where Colin sat with Hyacinth down the other end of the drawing room.
"Checkmate!" Hyacinth cried triumphantly, her black rook smashing into Colin's king, tumbling the chess piece to the ground. Colin, both laughing and grimacing at the loss, scooped to retrieve it, and as he straightened up, their eyes met for a moment. He gave the barest, slighted nod and hint of crooked smile to her before turning his attention back to his youngest sister, and it occurred to Penelope that for the first time, she didn't just hope that he would be true to his word – she knew that he would.
Author's Note: I will also say, that as far as I am concerned, Theo Sharpe is an inconvenience to my other plans currently in mind for Eloise, thus in my fic, he does not exist. Let's proceed with the understanding that she did get interested in radical tracts and publications on women's rights and marriage and she does attend lectures etc in 'that side of town' but that's it. Cool? Cool.