Penelope could never let her best friend suffer, so in attempt to save Eloise from the ire of The Queen, Pen finally tells her the truth of her secret identity. Friendship with Eloise still intact, Penelope just might be able to survive the scandals that keep coming her way. That is until an unexpected turn of events sees her betrothed to a Bridgerton, just not the one she wanted.
This will be a Penelope and Anthony happily ever after. While Colin does suffer a bit, he is relatively happy at the end of it all as well. I see this as a bit of a fix it for season 2. There was no way that Penelope would make Eloise suffer like that as opposed to just telling her the truth. I couldn't let my bestie babies go through such torment.
Notes:
(See the end of the work for notes.)
Chapter 1: The Rumors are Terrible and Cruel
Chapter Text
Penelope watched as her dearest friend paced around her room. An endless litany of anxious speech, pouring from her mouth.
"The Queen!" Eloise mimed placing a crown on her head, "Thinks I," she points emphatically about herself, "am Whistledown! Me. She sincerely thinks that I have been fooling and afronting the entire ton for two seasons. I could not even walk into my presentation into society without feeling faint. How can she think me capable of this?" Eloise turned on the spot to face Penelope head on. "And my family, Pen. She will ruin them. And there is no way that I can possibly convince her otherwise."
Penelope took advantage of the brief pause, "Eloise, we will find a solution. I am sure of it."
"What possible solution could there be? No one tells the Queen she is wrong. The least of all me. Not even the Bridgertons could withstand this. I have ruined my family's prospects because of my own stubborn inclinations. You warned me, Pen. You told me no good could come from visiting Theo and you were right." She plopped unceremoniously onto the settee beside Penelope and hid her face in her hands.
Penelope gently patted her back.The calm surface of her demeanor disguising the war within. She could not let her friend live in such agony. She could not curse the Bridgertons in this way when they had so often been kinder and gentler than her own mother and sisters. Penelope had guarded her secret so closely. It had felt good to unburden herself to Madame Delacroix perhaps it could be just as freeing to confide in her dearest friend?
"I think I may have a solution," said Penelope as she turned to face her friend head on.
"There can be no solution. I will simply run away. If I am gone, she cannot think I am Whistledown, as the scandal sheet will still be published. It will make my family quite sad, I should think, but in the end, I will find a way to show them it was for the best. Will you help me . . . "
"Eloise, you must be calm!"
Eloise was stunned into silence as her always docile friend had never spoken as harshly or as loudly to her. Penelope closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.
"I have something to tell you," said Penelope, "Something that will help you if you will let me. Do you promise to hear me to the end? It will make many things clear."
Eloise nodded and sat back against the arm of the settee.
"Where do I begin," said Penelope as she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. "You see last year without you with me at balls and parties, I was quite lonely. I observed a great deal. I would come home and write down my observations, just little things to amuse myself, and perhaps to tell you about later. However, one day, I left my writing unattended and my father's solicitor saw it. It was at his behest that I began to publish my writings, under a nom de plume, of course." Penelope avoided Eloise's eyes.
If she had been looking, she would have seen the creeping realization to be replaced by a wicked grin.
"Penelope Featherington! You are Lady Whistledown?"
Penelope's head snapped up and she looked sternly at Eloise, "Shhhhh, keep your voice down. God forbid my sisters or a servant find out. My goose would be well and truly cooked if they did, and might I remind you, so would yours!"
"How ever did you keep this secret? I visited a print shop some 3 times and was discovered outright?"
Penelope shrugged, "It's simple, no one notices me."
"That isn't true," said Eloise. She took her friend's hand in her own.
Penelope smiled at her. "I know you see me, but to most people, I am invisible. It once bothered me a great deal, but it has actually become quite the boon for me."
"So you sneak about town, and publish secret scandal sheets. Do you also fight duels? Are you a pirate during your time in the country? What else do I not know of you?"
Penelope laughed good-naturedly. "I promise, El, I am still very much the same person you have always known and called friend. Were it not for Whisledown, I would be the dullest person with whom you were acquainted!"
The friends were silent for a moment. Eloise drew back from the catalog of her memory. What had she missed in the interactions with her friends? What seeds of deception had she overlooked? Eloise was not angry. She understood the need for secrecy. She found herself most perplexed by the unkind words Penelope had said of herself and of her sisters and of Marina.
"Penelope, please know that as your friend, I will not judge your decisions, but you ruined your cousin? What could have driven you to such a decision? You must have known that Colin would raise a child even were it not his own."
Penelope diverted her eyes once more. "I know. I know Colin would have wed her despite her situation. You must know I tried to tell him. I could think of no other way. Colin is too good to be tied down in such a way."
"And if he married Marina, he would not be free to one day marry you?" Eloise's tone was surprisingly gentle.
Penelope's cheeks flushed and her eyes welled with embarrassed tears. "You must think me awful. I ruined a family member to save a man who has no intention of marrying me. I could not let him marry her, Eloise. I could not watch her trick him. I know it was selfish and childish. It tortured me, but I made a choice, and I would make it again."
Eloise clutched her friend's hand. "I am thankful to you for that. You must also know that I would gladly marry you off to any of my brothers so we could really and truly be sisters. It seems to me that of the wrongs done in this situation neither yours or Marina's were the greatest. Society forces women to love in secret, and tells us nothing of the things men know freely. I am surprised more young women do not end up in your cousin's state."
"Thank you, for not thinking ill of me. You would have a right to be angry not just about Marina but about the secrets as well."
"I know now when it is most important that I do. However, I do not know how this fixes our problem. The Queen will not believe that we are not lying simply to save my reputation."
"I have an idea, but we must take a promenade today. We are going to bump into Lady Danbury, and we will enlist her help to gain the ear of the Queen."
Lady Danbury took a walk around Rotten Row every Thursday afternoon like clockwork. It was important that she remain in the forefront of the minds of the ton lest they cease to fear her. She took quite a perverse delight in the way that promenading couples and families would attempt a not so subtle about face when they heard the familiar step, step, tap, step, step, tap of her approach. The cane was necessary to aide her speed to make their hasty retreats useless. There was no escaping Lady Danbury no matter how others tried. It was, therefore, a great surprise when she saw a pair of heads, one fiery red and one dark brown, hurrying purposefully in her direction.
"Lady Danbury," called Penelope as they approached, "What a pleasant surprise!"
"This is quite the furthest thing from a surprise, and no one is pleased to see me, so that must mean that you require my services in some way?" Lady Danbury tilted her head to look at the girls impassively.
Penelope smiled brightly. "You see, Eloise, I knew Lady Danbury was just the person to come to."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Featherington."
"In my experience, flattery will get one everywhere, Lady Danbury, but perhaps we could walk to a more private place to make our request?"
A half an hour later on a bench under the shade of an ancient elm, Lady Danbury sat open mouthed and surprised as she ever had been in her not insubstantial number of years on this earth.
"Am I to understand that you are Lady Whistledown, Miss Featherington?" asked Lady Danbury.
"She is," said Eloise with a tinge of pride, "and she is brilliant, is she not?"
"Quite brilliant, indeed. I must say I am surprised, but I am also rather pleased to discover that you have such wit and daring in you. I knew you could not have been as insipid as your sisters. I have a very keen sense of people, you know?"
"Thank you," said Penelope. "However, that is not all there is to the story, and this is where we might beg your assistance!"
Lady Danbury inclined her head for Penelope to continue.
"Through a curious misunderstanding, Her Majesty is of the very decided opinion that Eloise is Lady Whistledown, and has threatened to ruin her family's good name should Eloise not comply with the Queen's requests in publishing only favorable and approved reports of the Crown. As you can imagine, the machinations of my scheme can hardly bear more secrecy, and having to wait to receive secret word from Eloise of the Queen's wishes would be needlessly burdensome for everyone involved. However, I would be willing to take on her Majesty's request if only you could help us obtain an audience, and help convince her of Lady Whistledown's true identity."
"You two certainly have a curious talent for trouble. I can and will offer what assistance I can. Lady Bridgerton has been a dear friend for quite some years, and no matter what this one has done," she waved her cane vaguely in the direction of Eloise, "Her sisters and brothers do not deserve to have their prospects ruined."
Eloise crossed her arms in a huff. "Lady Danbury, please know that I feel nothing short of wretched about the harm I could potentially cause my family. I am headstrong and willful and backwards, but I love them dearly. I will do whatever I must to save their good names."
Lady Danbury sighed. "I will warn you. I can assure you an audience, and I can assure my corroboration with your story, but Queen Charlotte is unused to being told she is wrong, and your plan may bring about unintended consequences. You must prepare yourselves for disappointment."
The two girls shared a meaningful glance, and finally Eloise gave Penelope a slight nod. "We are willing to try," said Penelope.
"It is at the moment our best and only option," added Eloise.
"Then you must be ready as soon as I send word," said Lady Danbury as she rose slowly and regally from the bench, "Now for all of my time and gracious offer of assistance, I believe you girls owe me an ice."
Gunter's was crowded, but the girls soon discovered that traveling in the company of Lady Danbury had many advantages. Chiefly that in people's haste to avoid her, they vacated tables and chairs with comical swiftness, so that was how the three eldest Bridgerton brothers happened upon the three ladies seated happily eating ices and listening to the reminisce of Lady Danbury's debut season.
"Why what an unlikely surprise to find three such lovely ladies all in one place," said Benedict as they approached them.
"Mr. Bridgerton, you are the most appalling flirt," said Lady Danbury.
"And so complimentary as well," joked Benedict good-naturedly.
"Benedict, spare your charm for others. I can assure you that it will have no effect on anyone here," said Eloise while giving her spoon a final unladylike swipe of her tongue.
"I don't know, Miss Featherington, do you not find me charming," he batted his eyes at her flirtatiously. Penelope blushed and drew a spoonful of ice cream to her mouth to avoid having to respond.
"Leave, Pen alone, Benedict," said Colin as he pulled a fourth chair to the table and wedged himself between Penelope and Eloise. "Pay no mind to him, Miss Featherington, the paint fumes have addled his brain." He turned to his brother, "Make yourself useful Ben and get us all an ice. I am positively famished."
All three of his Bridgerton siblings gave a snort. "Oh, no, Colin is famished," cried Eloise.
"He must not have eaten for what, a half an hour," said Anthony in mock concern.
"Hush, you all.I am a growing boy, and I must have food to sustain me. Isn't that right, Penelope?" he said as he dipped her abandoned spoon back into her ice cream and took a large bite.
"I do not know, Colin, you seem well enough grown to me," she said with a shy smile.
Anthony and Benedict exchanged sly smiles. "Quite the grown boy aren't you, Col!" ribbed Benedict.
"I do not know, parts of him might still be growing," replied Anthony.
Penelope was startled and confused. This was the way of the world she supposed. There was always some subtext, some under running current of secrecy between men that women were doomed, perhaps forever, to never understand. She knew their words meant more, but without a decided breach of etiquette she could not inquire, and could therefore, never know what her innocent words had implied to the three men. It made her feel foolish and it made her feel angry.
"Upon reflection, perhaps none of you are grown," replied Penelope much to her own surprise.
"Well said, Mrs. Featherington. We have had quite enough of your nonsense. Now, I require an escort home, and you two," she pointed her cane at Colin and Benedict, "are entirely too rapacious to be left alone with Miss Featherington, so you shall both have the honor of walking me."
Neither Bridgerton brother was able to suppress their groan. "Now, if you are both very good on our walk, I will regale you of the many adventures of my days gone by."
"Oh, Lady Danbury, I do not know that my heart could take such excitement," said Benedict, holding his hand to his heart.
"And here I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Mr. Bridgerton."
Penelope grinned openly as she watched the matriarch leave with a young Bridgerton brother on each arm. She did not notice Anthony slipping into the chair beside her.
"I do apologize, Miss Featherington, for mine and my brothers' behavior. We did not wish to embarrass you. It is that you have grown so much like family that we sometimes forget ourselves," said Anthony.
"It is perfectly fine, Lord Bridgerton. I fear the level of comfort must run both ways as I should not have spoken to you all as I did," she blushed prettily down at her hands.
"Oh, Pen, please never apologize to my brothers ever again. They are beasts who should not have been released into society," said Eloise.
"For once Eloise and I are in perfect agreement. You must pay us no mind, Miss Featherington."
But however Penelope tried, she could not erase the friendly smile on Colin's face or the way he had taken her own spoon for himself. Colin was not a beast, but he was a peculiar burden for Penelope to bear.
Chapter 2: I Remember Thinking I Had You
Summary:
Penelope and Anthony each get a surprise from the people they care about most.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Anthony Bridgerton had never felt such trepidation. He was the eldest and had been the head of his family for a decade now. He was usually self-possessed and certain in every move he made, but this evening, he could not dream to predict the outcome of his actions. The Featherington's ball would be the first time he had seen Miss Sharma since their amorous encounter the week prior. If all went well, he would never have to bear this prolonged separation from her again. If all did not go well, he could not bear to think of it.
Kate had been more than amenable during their dance, and fortunately her Majesty had seemed to bestow her blessing upon the match. Now all Anthony had left to do was to speak it into existence. To ask for her hand and end their shared torment.
He found her in the garden. Music and chatter in the distance. "Miss Sharma, I was hoping to have a word with you."
He approached her tentatively. "Oh course, my Lord." She bowed her head in slight deference to him.
"Miss Sharma, you must know how I feel. You must sense how it pains me to be parted from you. I wish, if you will have me, to be a most adoring and stalwart husband, and to never be parted from you again." He smiled at her. A smile he had used a million times to disarm a woman, but he had never used it with such hope and sincerity.
Kate looked back out over the hill. "I have long thought about this moment," she said. "I have dreamed of it since we arrived at Aubrey Hall and we became stuck in the ridiculous mud pit." She smiled fondly and he laughed outright.
"I thought I wanted nothing more than for us to be free to love one another."
Anthony took a step towards her, "And now we may," he said, grasping her hand in his.
"It is true, we may, but I fear that my wishes may have changed," she looked at him for the first time in their brief exchange.
"Kate," he squeezed her hand, "I know I have bungled everything since the beginning. I know I was not the man I should have been, but I can be. I will be for your sake."
"And what of the woman I should have been? I was so content to wait. To ignore everything within myself to play the role the world wanted of me. Much as you were."
"We are of one mind then," he said, grinning openly at her, "we can throw off the expectations and do what we truly want, what we most desire."
She slid her hand from his and turned to face him. "That is the thing. You have never actually had to please anyone but yourself. You are not in want of money or station. Your family wishes only for you to be happy. You could have chosen differently but you did not. You could have chosen to make me your wife. I was the one without a choice. Edwina was without a choice, and I pushed her to you. I robbed my sister of her dignity because you refused to choose me first. You may now live as the man you always wished to be, but I cannot. I have such shame when I think of the way I behaved. I am grieved to have hurt my sister so."
"Kate, I know what I did was deplorable. If I could go back and do it all differently I would. You must know that," Anthony pleaded.
"We cannot change who we once were, Lord Bridgerton, that much is very true. However, I can now more easily than ever choose who I wish to be. I will not be known among your peers as the woman who was chosen second, as a woman who betrayed her sister for a foolish passion. We leave for Prussia in two days. The Queen thinks Edwina and the prince would make a fine match. I will go with her, and I will be the sister I should have been to her while I was here."
"You are in jest. You surely cannot mean this, Kate. It is senseless to deny yourself this."
"What we had was passion. I do not know that it was love," she said.
"Passion and love are very often the same thing," said Anthony.
"You felt passion for the soprano, yes?" she asked, and Anthony's jaw dropped.
"Kate, whatever you have heard, Miss Russo is from my past and . . ."
"And you would change it if you could," Kate interrupted. "Lord Bridgerton, I am leaving. I do not wish you ill, I simply wish a future you do not so quickly wish to change. Goodnight."
And Kate took her leave of him.
Elsewhere at the party, Colin was in his cups. He felt the slight buzz of alcohol and also pride. He had saved Penelope and her family from certain ruin. He knew the looks she gave him and of the secret tenderness she held in her heart. He could not love her that way, but he could take care of her. Be the brother that she so desperately needed. The protection he knew she needed more than a lover.
"Tell us Bridgerton," said Fife gesticulating widely with his half drunk cup of wine, "are you for the continent again soon?"
"Haven't decided yet. My mother is eager to get me married off which is great reason as any for me to leave."
Lord Ferris nudged Lord Fife with his elbow. "I don't know, sir, if it looked perhaps like you had set your cap on a plump little redhead." The men of the circle tittered at the remark.
"Yes, are you courting Penelope Featherinton, Bridgerton? Will she finally make an honest man of you?" joked Fife.
In the deep recesses of his brain, Colin knew that he was entering uncertain waters. He felt a slight pinch in his chest that they could speak of Penelope so. Yes, she was a wallflower. Yes, her mother dressed her in hideous shades of yellow and orange. But she was kind, witty, and thoughtful. A damn site better than any of these fools could marry, but Colin had known these men as boys. In the rough and tumble dormitories of Eaton, they had discussed all the raucous and raunchy things that male minds could conceive of. Colin liked Penelope . He did not want her name and form dragged through the filthy sludge of his former classmate's mind, so he did all he knew to do. He made certain she would be undesirable to them.
"Heavens, no. We are just good family friends." The other gentlemen laughed. Colin liked Penelope, yes. But Colin liked being liked more. "You'd have to be mad to court Miss Featherington. Can you imagine such insanity?" He laughed with them and took a swallow of claret. He had succeeded in one aim, but with each passing moment he realized that he had failed in many many others.
Penelope was stunned. She had set out to find Eloise and tell her of Colin's revelations, but instead she discovered another of Colin's secrets. "You'd have to be mad to court Miss Featherington." Not a half hour previous he had sworn to protect her. To ensure her safety. And now she sat in a small, shadowed alcove of her home hiding from her mother, and her best friend, and the man she thought she loved. She had allowed herself several moments of bitter tears. Now she sat, scornful and brooding in her solitude.
"Stupid, stupid girl," she chidied herself. "Colin Bridgerton could not love someone like you. Disgusting, backwards, shy. You've nothing to offer." Penelope knew that no matter what her secret persona said about anyone of the ton, those words were not filled with as much venom as the ones she saved for herself. Penelope had known Colin never intended to marry her. It was a warm fantasy to cling to before bed. She had prepared herself to marry some lesser Lord who sought an heir. She would have been a good wife to him. But now, with a few drunken words, Colin had exposed her to the ridicule and open disdain of the entire peerage.
There was a slight ruffle of the curtain that shrouded the alcove from view, and a tall form backed into the space. Penelope gave a surprised sniffle, and the form spun around. "Miss Featherington," Anthony exclaimed. He caught a glimpse of her tear stained face in the dim light of the small space. He quickly knelt before her. "What is wrong?" he asked with great urgency. Being the eldest of 8 siblings had given him quite a lot of experience with tending hurt feelings and skinned knees.
Penelope straightened herself up. "Lord Bridgerton, you need not trouble yourself. I am fine." She wiped pathetically at the sheen of tears on her cheek. Anthony reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief. She took it gratefully and dabbed her eyes.
He eased himself to standing and looked down at her. "Oh it would be no trouble, Miss Featherington. In fact, I find myself in need of a good distraction, and I like nothing so much as solving other people's problems." Penelope gave him a weak smile as he sat on the bench a respectful distance away.
"It is nothing really," she said, shaking her head. "Just silliness is all. It has been quite an overwhelming few months."
Anthony eyed her critically. It was no secret among the upper crust that Lord Featherington had been a bad businessman and likely a worse father. Penelope had perhaps shouldered much in her brief life, and in that way, he felt a sudden kinship for the girl who he had before only viewed as his troublesome sister's shy friend.
"Fine, if you will not tell me I will have to guess at the problem," he crossed his legs at the ankles and threaded his hands behind his head. Penelope could not help but laugh at the relaxed tableau he presented. For just a moment she would let herself pretend that she had been born a Bridgerton, and that Anthony was a solid if meddlesome older brother.
"I do not think you could guess this particular trouble, my Lord."
"Nonsense, I have a feeling, knowing my brothers the way I do that one of them is likely at the heart of it. Perhaps a third Bridgerton brother," he cast his eyes warily at her, cautious and afraid to overstep his bounds.
Penelope allowed her head to drop back against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. "Does everyone know? Have I been that transparent?"
"No, Penelope, honestly. You spend a great deal of time in our home. I have had the opportunity to observe you without the critical eye of society on you. I do not think others know."
"It does not matter if they did." Penelope sighed and turned to face Anthony head on. "He has made it quite clear that my admiration is not to be born."
"Well, then more fool him, Penelope. Trust me when I say that there are few things I am certain of, but one of them is that Bridgerton men are blind fools when it comes to matters of the heart. It takes us quite a long time to learn what our hearts want. We are rather late bloomers in that way." He gave her a hesitant smile and a shrug.
"And do you think you have learned?" She asked and he looked at her quizzically.
"Of what your heart wants?" She paused. "I am sorry, my Lord, I have overstepped."
"No, you haven't. It was I who pressed the conversation. All I will say on the matter, Miss Featherington, is that of all the Bridgerton men, I may be the most blind of us all."
Penelope folded his handkerchief into a neat square and extended it toward him. "Thank you, Lord Bridgerton, I am feeling much better now."
"Keep it," he said. "I believe you've yet to talk to Benedict tonight, so you may still be in need of it." He smiled at her, genuinely and broadly. Anthony felt a keen sense of pride when she smiled back at him.
"I think I will retire for the evening. There has been so much excitement already." She rose and headed toward the curtained egress of the alcove. "And Anthony, thank you."
"You are most welcome, Miss Featherington. Sleep well."
As Penelope sat at her desk, trying to form the words to secure her own ruin and Colin's unending shame she could not help but look upon the handkerchief Anthony had offered her and smiled. She may have earned the ridicule of one Bridgerton tonight, but she felt suddenly that she had gained a meaningful friendship with another.
Notes:
I have finished the fic and I plan to post a few chapters each Sunday! Hopefully, you all like it!
Chapter 3: All the Wisest Women Had to Do It This Way
Summary:
Lady Whistledown exposes Colin's actions at the Featherington Ball, and Anthony makes certain that Colin will make atonement. Other secrets are brought to light when Pen and Eloise are granted an audience with the Queen.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dearest Gentle Reader,
It would appear that not one but two Bridgerton's have been courting not fine young women but rather scandal itself. It appears Mr. Colin Bridgerton will not be taking a wife in the near future, and he was certain to relieve the minds of many who worried he might be setting his cap on the wholly unworthy Penelope Featherington. It appears that the gentleman in questions feels that one must be addled in the brain to even consider such a plight.
While not as open with his declarations, it appears that Lord Bridgerton has failed in his suit of Miss Sharma the elder not to be confused with his very public declaration to Miss Sharma the younger. The Miss Sharmas, in the company of their dear mother, are decamping to Prussia where at least one Miss Sharma will catch the eye of an eligible young gentleman . . .
"That damnable woman," thought Anthony as he smacked the gossip sheet down on his desk. He deserved what he got. He was man enough to admit that, but the Miss Sharmas did not. And Penelope Featherinton certainly did not. He could do nothing for himself or Kate, but he could potentially do something for Penelope.
Ten minutes later, he barged rather loudly and unceremoniously into his brother's bedroom.
"Get up," Anthony barked as he pulled back the shades of his brother's room. Colin grunted in his bed and burrowed more deeply into the covers. Anthony yanked the blankets back revealing Colin in all his glory.
"What the devil, Anthony," cried Colin now fully awake and scrambling to place a pillow over his lap.
"You haven't happened to read Whistledown this morning, have you brother, dear?" He did not wait for a response, "I suppose you haven't had time as it was not all that long ago that Benedict and I were called to drag you from Will Mondrich's club while you were composing sonnets about Penelope Featherington's bosom."
Colin blanched at these words. "Which would have been bad enough, had I not discovered this morning the way in which you maligned that poor girl's character in front of half the eligible bachelors of the ton, in her own home no less! So do pray tell, how does one go from deriding the desirability of a young woman to penning lascivious verses about her breasts because I am most confused and decidedly vexed by it all."
Colin had put his head in his hands, and his reply was muffled.
"Do speak up, Colin. You had no trouble making your words plain for all to hear last night."
"I am so ashamed Anthony," said Colin, still unable to meet his eldest brother's eyes. "I regretted what I said about Pen almost immediately. You just know how Lord Fife and his cronies get under my skin. Always have."
"But you cannot say the things you did about a woman of breeding in public. No matter how they goad you. You know this."
"I know. Father raised us better than this," Colin let his head fall back against the headboard, "you taught me better than this. But Anthony, it is so obvious how she feels for me, and I worry that she will expect too much of me. I want to be a good friend to Penelope, but I do not know that I want to marry her."
"That as well may be, Colin, but to publicly declare it is worse than bad form, it is the behavior of a callous and shallow man, and it still doesn't answer the question of how we went from subverting expectations to poetry."
"I do not know. I felt badly and then I drank more and then I felt worse. And in a certain light there is something rather appealing about Penelope's naivety and her affection for me. I suppose in the drunken light of it all, I could see how others might want her. She is rather . . . soft."
Anthony saw in that moment how young his brother still was. The love and affection of a woman was a heady thing, and Anthony had done a poor job of showing his younger brother how one should care for it.
"It is not enough to want her admiration," Anthony said as he sat down gently on the foot of the bed. "If you cannot offer Miss Featherington your respect and your honesty then you cannot hoard her affection no matter how soft she may seem. You must go and apologize to her today."
Here Colin truly showed his youth. Where before he had seen his error, pride, and Bridgerton stubbornness refused to take orders from his older brother. He was a man and men must make their own decisions.
"I refuse to be dictated to by a man who loved one woman and offered for her sister," Colin said.
Anthony closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I will forgive you that statement because you are drunk and confused, but Colin, learn from my mistakes. I very much took for granted the love of a good woman, and it has left us both unhappy. Do not leave yourself and Miss Featherington to the same fate. Let my experience at least spare you that."
Penelope had decided to allow herself a day to wallow. Despite all the disappointments of her young life, of which she felt there had been many, she had always braced herself and faced each new day with a cheerful optimism she did not always truly possess. It was a skill she had learned in her life. One could be frumpy and fat, but one could not be dour, frumpy, and fat. A cheerful good nature was essential for a wallflower. It was the only way to abide the tedium of society. Today, however, Penelope had decided to wallow, so when the invitation arrived on a silver slaver, she was hesitant to open a letter sealed tight with Lady Danbury's seal.
Be prepared within the hour. You will have your audience with the Queen. My carriage will arrive shortly to retrieve yourself and Miss Bridgerton. I will forewarn you, neither her Majesty nor myself like to be kept waiting.
Penelope and her maid sprang into action and made quick work of her hair. In terms of dress, Penelope was not sure what one might wear when given an audience with a royal. Her white presentation gown seemed a bit much for their given circumstances. She selected a soft green day dress. It was a color and style that her mother had allowed her, in a fit of good humor, to select on her own.
When the wheels of Lady Danbury's carriage could be heard along the cobbles outside Penelope was ready, if not in spirit than at least in body. As the carriage rolled to a stop, a footman jumped down and held out his hand for Penelope to enter. She was surprised to find Eloise already seated apprehensively on the bench opposite Lady Danbury.
"Miss Featherinton," Lady Danbury inclined her head toward her as Penelope situated herself next to Eloise. "Now that we are all here I must press upon you two things. First, it was at great personal effort that this meeting was arranged at all, therefore, when I give you the indication that you are not to proceed further you will follow it." Both girls nodded in understanding. "Secondly, Queen Charlotte is quite changeable, and she likes nothing so much as a challenge all while hating people who challenge her. She is likely to demand much from you. If you think that you will be unwilling or unable to meet her request then we should stop the carriage here and simply not continue."
Penelope gave Eloise a long and meaningful look. "Penelope, you are the one who is most likely to be affected by all of this. I know it is for my sake, but if you do not wish to continue, I would not think ill of you."
Penelope squared her shoulders. "I will do my very best to meet the Queen's demands. I have sacrificed much for Whisltedown already. It will be easier to sacrifice, I think, in the service of a friend."
"Very well," said Lady Danbury. "I had expected to spend the carriage ride dissuading you both from this foolish scheme, but I keep finding you so surprising Miss Featherington. I rather find myself hoping you will succeed in this scatterbrained plot. It is rare to witness such true friendship between two such young girls."
Eloise squeezed Penelope's hand and gave her a thankful smile. "Pen, is the absolute best of us, Lady Danbury."
Queen Charlotte knew she was as magnanimous and gracious as one could be in her situation. She had the burden of running an entire empire without giving the appearance that she was, in fact, in control. Beyond the great responsibilities she shouldered, she was also lonely, and honestly, quite bored. When Lady Danbury had suggested a clandestine meeting with a mystery party, she had been too intrigued to deny her request.
"Miss Bridgerton and Miss Featherington," said Her Majesty with the raise of one perfectly arched brow.
The girls curtseyed and kept their eyes averted. The Queen's eyes shifted to Lady Danbury, "Well, Agatha, you promised me it would not be dull, and I begin to believe you." Queen Charlotte turned back to the two young misses. "Tell me girls, I was led to believe that what you had to share was of utmost importance, and I am quite busy, so would be rather put out should all this come to be disappointing."
Penelope and Eloise exchanged glances, and finally Eloise lifted her head slightly in order to speak. "Your Majesty, some days ago you asserted that I was Lady Whistledown and while, I would love to oblige you in being such . . . "
The Queen interrupted, "You have come all this way to again tell me I am wrong?" She gave an unamused huff. "I told you, Miss Bridggerton, I have my proof."
Penelope dared to speak, "Your Majesty, I see how your evidence would lead you to believe that Eloise was the writer in question, but you must believe me that I know the true identity of Whisltedown and it is not Eloise."
"You, Miss Bridgerton's closest friend and ally have a sudden and seemingly miraculous knowledge of the identity of this, this, this, pox upon society." Queen Charlotte flipped open her fan and rolled her eyes.
"I know it appears convenient," said Penelope as the Queen snorted behind her fan. "But it is true because I . . . I am Lady Whistledown." Penelope squared her shoulders and finally raised her gaze to fix on the alabaster smoothness of the Queen's slightly raised hand.
The Queen lowered her fan, considered Penelope for a moment and then laughed outright. "Do you expect me to believe that you are the author of the very gossip sheet that just ensured your ruin? You would have to be mad, girl."
"It is the unfortunate way of things your Majesty, if I am not to be suspected I must write of myself when the need arises. The perks of being a wallflower are such that until very recently the most scathing thing I was required to report was that I resembled an overripe citrus fruit."
Here the Queen turned to Lady Danbury, "And you believe this nonsense?"
Lady Danbury leaned heavily on her cane and bowed her head slightly, "I do, my Queen."
"I shall need proof," she said.
Eloise let go of her anxiously bated breath and relaxed her entire frame. "I thought you would desire as much, your Majesty. My next publication is to be distributed the day after tomorrow. I am prepared to print whatever you would wish for me to prove my identity," said Penelope.
"Yes, I will send word with one of my servants this evening with the exact phrasing I would like for you to use, but I am still not satisfied." Penelope's shoulders slumped and the ill contained glee Eloise had felt all but drained away. "You have deceived me, and I do not like such deception. However, what I do enjoy are very clever women, and you, Miss Featherington, just might be the cleverest of my recent acquaintance. I must demand payment though for the anguish you have caused me, and not to mention the rather unflattering words you have printed about myself."
"Whatever is in my power to give your highness, I will gladly do," said Penelope with much trepidation but equal sincerity.
"I require two things of you Lady Whistledown," she said rather derisively, "First, you will never write of my husband, do you understand my meaning?"
"Of course, your majesty. I understand perfectly, and I would never malign the good name of my King," said Penelope.
"Second, I wish to make a project of you, Miss Featherington. You shall be my secret diamond of the first water, and you will allow me to ensure a match is made for you this season."
Penelope and Eloise's mouths dropped open in unison. Penelope shook her head slowly. "Your majesty. I . . . I cannot . . . I do not know what to say."
"You must say nothing. These are my conditions. Do you accept?"
"I, yes, of course," she cast a questioning glance at Lady Danbury for guidance, but all she saw was an ill disguised smile as the older woman looked sidelong at her Queen. "But surely, you must realize what a challenge that will be, your highness. I have never . . . even before Mr. Bridgerton said what he did, I did not truly entertain the thought of making a match this season, or probably even the next!"
The Queen snapped her fan shut with an emphatic twist of her wrist. "Do not doubt me, Miss Featherington. I could have very easily made an enemy of you, and I dare say, your family could survive little more scandal. I am willing to overlook your response as one of shock at my unending graciousness, but I have been robbed of my victorious match for the season, so now I choose another one, a greater one! That is all ladies."
And with that, they were dismissed. The carriage ride home was a quiet affair. Eloise had made an attempt at consolation for her friend, but Lady Danbury brought her up short.
"I think your friend might like a moment alone with her thoughts, Miss Bridgerton," said the older woman, and Penelope was left blessedly in silence.
As the carriage approached Grovenor's Square, Lady Danbury spoke once more, "I fear Miss Featherington, your quiet reprieve will be cut short," for out the carriage window, all three ladies could see Colin Bridgerton walking purposefully towards Penelope's front door.
Notes:
Thank you all for your sweet comments and kudos. I tried to respond to everyone this first go round, but I will be honest that is not my greatest strength so please do not be offended if I don't respond in the future. I promise I read them all and each one fills me up just a little more!
Chapter 4: I Wish You Were a Better Man
Summary:
Colin attempts to apologize to Penelope, but things do not go quite as he planned. Penelope also receives a surprise caller!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Colin and Penelope sat in silence while Mrs. Varley poured tea and exited the room. The tinkling of tea spoons and quiet slurps of too warm tea were all that kept the moment from being unbearable.
"You are looking well today, Pen," said Colin.
"Thank you, Mr. Bridgeton." It was the iciest tone Penelope had ever used with him, and she still did not skim the surface of her rage and hurt.
"The weather promises to be fine for the next several days," he supplied hopefully.
"Mr. Bridgerton, I have a very busy schedule today, so if you have simply come to discuss the weather, perhaps, I might cut your visit short," said Penelope as she rose from the sofa.
"Penelope, please let us not be like this. I have come here to apologize," said Colin in exasperation.
"And now you have done. Good day, Mr. Bridgerton."
"Pen, please just sit for a moment and let me explain."
"What is there to explain, Colin. You made yourself quite clear," said Penelope.
He came to stand in front of her and reached out as if to take her hand, but she stepped back and slid her hands behind her back.
Colin was undeterred. "I feel wretched for what I said. It wasn't true. You must know I did not mean it. How could I, Pen? You are my dearest friend."
Penelope marshaled all of her will and commanded herself not to cry. "Dearest friend? Those were not the words of a dear friend. It was not the behavior of a gentleman."
"I know." He carded his hand through his hair in frustration. "You must understand that there are expectations on me. I am a third son. I must make a good match."
"I am aware of the way society works, Colin. I am the third daughter of a widowed woman. I know something of expectation myself."
"I am going about this badly. I know of the . . . tender feelings you hold for me," he began while Penelope looked quickly away embarrassed and vulnerable. "You are such a good person, Penelope. The weight of your affection sometimes troubles me. I do not want to mislead you."
Penelope was not a good person. She knew it. She was a person who did things in secret. A person who used her words to put a pin in every silly person who exposed themselves to ridicule. But what she was was an honest person, at least when she was Whistledown, she could use her words to reveal the heart of people, the motive behind their actions, the feelings behind their glances. She steeled herself with a deep breath.
"I have expected nothing of you Colin. I have not even expected your friendship. I am sorry if my feelings for you, though I have endeavored to conceal them, have caused you unhappiness. But it was not I who persuaded you into a private room at a public ball. It was not I who made declarations of protection and fidelity. It was not I who exposed me to such ridicule and scorn. You have dealt me a winning hand and told the whole world that I cheated to get it. So I am sorry if you are unhappy, Mr. Bridgerton, but I am unhappy too. I am unbelievably sad to discover that a person who claimed to be my friend was simply tolerating my misguided affections." She crossed the room to the half opened door and pushed it wide open. "I will bid you goodbye, Mr. Bridgerton. You are released from any obligations you may have harbored."
Colin paused in the open doorway. "I am leaving in two days. I am returning to Cyprus until the season's end. Might I write to you?"
Penelope's eyes were cast into the distance, somewhere over his shoulder. They contained such hardened resolve that he knew the answer before she gave it. "I do not think that would be appropriate. I wish you well on your journey." At this she turned to leave the room. "Mrs. Varley will see you out."
Colin watched as Penelope retreated up the stairs. "Time. Time is all she needs," thought Colin. "When I return we shall be friends again."
Penelope could not be coaxed out of her room for dinner. She penned her latest Whistledown with the Queen's directive in abject misery, and sent it on with a trusted stable boy. It was not until the following morning when her lady's maid announced that Miss Eloise Bridgerton had come to visit her did she relent to be seen. Eloise crashed into the room with her usual flourish.
"Colin is an idiot. I need you to know that we have all dressed him down for his abhorrent behavior. Hyacinth and I have disowned him. And Anthony is furious. He says he will not finance his upcoming trip, and Benedict had to keep them from coming to blows. He is a vile creature, and I wish you had been born my sibling instead of him!" At the end of her diatribe, she flung herself down on the settee next to Pen. She noticed the sparkle of tears in her friend's eyes and reached out to take her hand. "I am truly sorry, Penelope. I am mortified when I think of all you have done for my family and how precious little we have offered you in return."
"You offer me much, El. I have no better friend than you, and when I am a decrepit spinster, and you are married to some fine Russian count, you will take me in and let me be governess to your 17 children," Penelope joked with a watery smile.
"Unlikely," responded Eloise. "It is more likely that the Queen will see you married to a fabulously wealthy prince who will whisk you away, and I shall never see you again!"
Penelope groaned. "In all of the . . . emotion of yesterday afternoon, I had almost forgotten about that facet of my deal with the devil." She sighed and rested her head upon her friend's shoulder. "Do you think it possible that she will grow tired of trying to find me a match and perhaps release me from that particular caveat."
"I think that is as unlikely as my turning into a top hat."
"You would make a most fashionable top hat," replied Penelope.
"I would, wouldn't I?" The girls were giggling and conversing on the means a haberdasher would best fashion Eloise into a chapeaux when there was a knock at her door, and Penelope's maid, Alice entered.
"Excuse me, Miss Penelope, Miss Bridgerton," she said with a curtsey, "but there is a young man down stairs who has come to call on you."
"On me?" Penelope was too unprepared for such a declaration to keep her shock from her voice.
"Yes, m'am. I had already pressed your day dress. I instructed Mrs. Varley to tell him it would be a moment before you were down."
Penelope moved to her vanity as her maid began gathering the tools to set her mistress's hair to rights. "Did you recognize the gentleman?" she asked.
"No, m'am. I do not think I've seen him before."
"Penelope, have you a secret admirer?" teased Eloise.
"Hardly," laughed Penelope, "It is likely some unsuspecting suitor her majesty has sent to me."
"This is quite intriguing. I will leave you to get dressed, but I expect a full report very soon," said Eloise as she pressed a quick kiss to her friend's cheek as she made her exit.
"I will call tomorrow," said Penelope, "We will go shopping, and I shall tell you all."
In a short 20 minutes time, Penelope was deemed presentable enough for her mystery guest. On her way down to the sitting room, her mother caught her gently by the wrist. "I had no idea you had an agreement with anyone, Penelope. When did this happen?"
"I assure you, mother, I am as much amazed as you are. I do not as yet know who the gentleman is."
"That is rather unusual. I would simply caution you to tread carefully dear," and with that they two women descended the stairs to greet their guest.
The gentleman rose from his chair and bowed slightly to each lady as they entered, "Lady Featherington, Miss Featherington, thank you both for accepting my call." He smiled charmingly at the pair.
"Lord Fife?" questioned Penelope.
"I was rather hoping Miss Penelope might be permitted to take a walk with me in the park. That of course being if a maid were free to chaperone."
A wide eyed Mrs. Featherington gave her consent, and that was how Penelope Featherington found herself on the arm of one of the ton's most notorious rakes, promenading through Hyde Park for all the world to see.
Notes:
This chapter is a little shorter, but I promise you will love the Wednesday upload. We get out first glimpse at a protective Anthony! Again, thank you for all the kind comments. I read them all, and I just cherish your support and encouragement!
Chapter 5: The Playful Conversation Starts
Summary:
Where we learn more about Fife's intentions, and Anthony shows more of his hand than he would care to!
Chapter Text
Penelope was keenly aware of the shocked gazes and barely hushed whispers of surprise as she and Lord Fife made their way through the promenade.
"Tell me, Miss Featherington," said Lord Fife, "what do you do for diversion?"
They had been so silent since they left the Featherington home that Penelope had assumed that they would take an awkward but blessedly quiet turn around the park before he deposited her safely at home, obligation complete and neither party too badly ruffled from the experience.
"Lord Fife, I am sorry, but what is the meaning of this walk?" asked Penelope, surprising even herself with her own boldness.
He chuckled. "I simply wish to know you more. I fear you have always been a mystery to me."
"Why now?" she queried. "This is my second season. You have had ample opportunity to know me before."
He stopped their progress and turned to look at her head on. "I find your candor refreshing, and I will match it with my own. You see, I feel rather badly about the whole business with Bridgerton. I teased him into making such an appalling public declaration, and I thought perhaps I could make amends. I am desperately sorry for what happened, and if you are agreeable, I would like for us to be friends."
Penelope put her hand to her forehead and said, "I think I need to sit."
Lord Fife ushered her quickly to a nearby bench and looked on with growing concern. "Miss Featherington, are you alright? Should I call for a carriage to take you home?"
"I apologize, my lord. It has been a trying few days, and I have been caught unawares more times than I care to own at this point," she peeked at him from beneath her lashes, "Are you in earnest?"
He gently patted her hand. "I am, Miss Featherington, we behaved as boys that evening when we should have behaved as men. I am truly sorry for the embarrassment it caused you."
"Thank you. I think I should like to be friends, Lord Fife, if you still wish to be mine?"
"I would like nothing more."
They continued their walk in a steady stream of friendly conversation. Likes. Dislikes. Humorous stories from the nursery and Eaton. And one rather touching remembrance of Lord Fife's mother who had passed on three years prior. Penelope was surprised at how she enjoyed herself. She was so caught up in the carefree enjoyment of the moment that she did not see what or rather who was approaching.
"Penelope?" cried Eloise.
"Eloise! How lovely to see you here," Penelope said with a rather pointed tone. Eloise must have suspected that her visitor would suggest a walk, and where else would they be on such a fine day. Eloise was accompanied by her eldest brother who bore his usual serious disposition as he inclined his head to her.
"Miss Featherington. Fife." he said.
"Bridgerton, nice to see you, and Miss Eloise," he bowed in her direction.
Eloise forced a smile. "Lord Fife, you will forgive me if I steal Penelope for a moment. I have a private matter to discuss with her," she turned to Anthony, "we will not go far brother." And with as much grace as Eloise endeavored to do anything, she latched onto Penelope's hand and dragged her away to a shaded spot close to the tree line.
"Will you be going to Ascot next week?" asked Lord Fife of Anthony.
"I will."
"Good. Good. I am hoping to find just the right young lady to serve as my good luck charm for the race," he gave Anthony a knowing smile.
"And you believe that lady to be Miss Featherington," said Anthony, broadening his stance as if he were preparing for a sudden strong wind that might push him over.
"I see no reason why it could not be," said Fife.
"Strange as I see several," replied Anthony, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I am not surprised that you would, Bridgerton."
"Penelope is a good girl. She is sweet and kind and very, very innocent. She is not one to be dallied with," said Anthony.
"I must be horribly exhausting to be so falsely pious all the time, Anthony. That's the thing with you Bridgertons you think you are so above all of us. Lord Bridgerton, the protector of innocent women, but you have spent the past several weeks openly courting a woman only to jilt her at the altar. My intentions towards Miss Featherington are none of your concern. I am just as fit a suitor for her as you and any of your brothers."
Anthony gave a derisive laugh. "You are not half the man my brothers are."
"It would not be so sad if you did not truly believe it. The whole ton knows of your affair with the actress, and your brother's with the modiste not to mention all the time in that den of iniquity Benedict calls an art school. And Colin, such a floundering puppy that he was nearly cuckolded if he had not been saved by the well timed publication of a gossip rag. You may think the Bridgerton name makes you invincible, but we see who you are. You are not better than the rest of us. Miss Featherington may choose whom she associates with. You are not her warden, and I imagine she is a damn site more clever than you," and with that Lord Fife turned on his heels and walked off toward Penelope.
"What are you thinking," hissed Eloise as she led her friend away from her brother and the rake.
"He called on me and asked me to walk with him. What was I to do?"
"Tell him no. Tell him you are ill. Tell him that the sight of him makes you apoplectic!" Eloise's voice began to rise.
"Shhhhhh," admonished Penelope, "He will hear you!"
"I hope he does. He is a rake and a . . . and a scoundrel," Eloise half shouted the words over her shoulder.
Penelope tugged on her arm. "He has been very nice, Eloise. I'll admit it came as a surprise, but we have had quite a nice time."
"You cannot be in earnest, Pen. I once heard him refer to education for women as the first horseman of the apocalypse!"
"Honestly, Eloise, most men of our acquaintance think that. Anthony probably believes that!"
"Exactly, and it is why we should entertain none of them."
Penelope laughed. "There is a certain inevitably that we will all one day submit to being one of their wives. I could do much worse than Lord Fife, besides, he has spoken only of friendship. I do not think you need to worry about him whisking me away to Gretna Green."
"You could do worse than Lord Fife? Good gracious, Pen, would you go on a walk with Lord Berbrooke were he to ask you? You could certainly do worse, but you could also certainly do better!"
"That is an unfair comparison. Lord Fife is young and perhaps shallow but he is not malicious, I do not think," said Penelope.
"I am mistrusting of him," said Eloise, "And I can tell that Anthony does not care for him."
"Well, then it is fortunate that he has not asked Anthony to take a walk with him," replied Penelope and from her tone, Eloise could tell that Penelope was becoming exasperated.
"I just want to make sure that you are not hurt, Penelope. My insipid brother has done enough of that, and if my mother had not expressly forbid me, I would have murdered Colin in his sleep on your behalf. I do not think my mother would mind if I killed Fife though."
Penelope smiled at her friend, "I promise you, El. I am not getting carried away nor do I think is Lord Fife. We will be friends, and I doubt much more than that will come from it."
Lord Fife approached them quickly now. "Miss Featherington, it is growing late. I think it best if I escort you home." He extended his arm for her to take. "Miss Bridgerton, a pleasure to see you."
"And you, Lord Fife," she turned to Penelope, "I will call on you tomorrow, Pen. I feel we still have much to discuss."
Penelope suppressed a roll of her eyes. "I will see you tomorrow, Eloise."
Lord Fife and Penelope had just made their way back to the well worn path, when the sudden approach of hasty footsteps caused them both to turn. Anthony was bearing down on them with alarming speed and purpose.
"Miss Featherington," he began without so much as a glance to her companion, "I wanted to ask if my family may beg your company at the Royal Ascot next week? In fact, it was my mother's express wish that you join us. She thinks you may bring us all good luck," he looked pointedly at Fife.
"Of course, Lord Bridgerton," Penelope's reply was kind but clearly perplexed. "I would greatly enjoy spending the day with the Bridgertons."
"Excellent. I shall have my mother communicate the details with you," and with that he bowed in her direction. "Good day, Fife." Eloise could be seen grinning widely in the background.
:"Bridgerton," said Lord Fife with a decided note of steel in his voice.
Penelope Featherington was quite certain that her life had never been so interesting, however, as Lady Whistledown, she had often learned that interest courted trouble, and she did not know that she was entirely prepared for what lay ahead.
Chapter 6: Don't Want No Other Shade of Blue but You
Summary:
Violet Bridgerton finally gets her say and Penelope presses her advantage with her mother!
Chapter Text
It was no surprise that Violet Bridgerton held all her children in deep affection. It was perhaps not fashionable to dote on one's brood in such a way, and it was certainly not fashionable to have 8 children all together. But despite the love and devotion she felt for them, she was not blind to their faults. Anthony was overbearing and arrogant. Benedict was entirely too whimsical and flirtatious. And Colin, Colin's heart was tender but terribly, horribly misguided. When she had seen the most recent copy of Whistledown, she was not surprised exactly. Colin was the type of child who broke a toy and expected to find it wholly restored the next time he wished to play with it. He was not cruel, but life had been very easy on him, and Violet feared that all of the hard lessons one should have learned long ago were bearing down suddenly and deservedly upon her son.
She had convinced Anthony to allow for Colin's most recent adventure in the hopes that time away would quiet rumors for Penelope's sake. She saw so much of herself in the youngest Featherington daughter. She loved Colin, she did, but she impressed on him how badly he had done, and her wish that he take this time to reflect and become the man she knew he could. He had been much chastened and rather downhearted when he departed the dock that morning.
"Mother, have you reached out to Penelope about next week?" asked Anthony as he sauntered into the drawing room with newspaper in hand.
"I have, dearest. I told you I had sent word yesterday," she said with an amused smile.
"I simply wished to confirm. It is important to me that Penelope join us."
"And why again, is that, Anthony?" she asked with a sly smile.
"It is as I told you. I have decided since the Bridgertons have brought scandal to the Featherington doorstep, it is my job to fix it, and I would prefer she attend with us rather than someone unsuitable."
"And have you not considered the fact that denying the opportunity for her to attend with a potential match could have quite the opposite effect from that which you intend?" she asked.
"There will be time for us to help her find a suitable man. I fear what will happen should she be left to her own devices, she will be caught up with some rather undesirable sorts. It is best if we keep her close, mother. Please trust my judgment on this."
"Oh, darling, I would never dream of questioning your judgment."
Anthony flipped down the corner of his paper and pinned his mother with a stare. "You question me constantly."
"Anthony, I always cherish your counsel. Eloise, do I not always pay heed to the wise word of your brother."
Eloise who did not even glance up from her most recently acquired tome, mumbled, "Yes, mother."
"You see," said Violet with an illustrative wave of her hand, "we are all of the same mind."
Anthony rolled his eyes and went back to his reading.
Just a short walk away the Feathering house was in a tizzy. The prospect of Penelope being invited to attend the Royal Ascot with a viscount was almost too much for her dear Mama to bear.
They had made their way to the modiste for a new dress for just the occasion. Penelope was being prodded and poked among her many protestations.
"Mama, Lord Bridgerton only asked me as a friend of the family. There is no need for this air of urgency."
"Nonsense, my dear. It was well reported that Lord Fife and Lord Bridgerton exchanged harsh words the day you walked out in the park. I will admit, Penelope, I am quite proud of the way you are handling the attention of two suitors. Though I am surprised that Whistledown has not mentioned it yet," she said and she picked at invisible threads on Penelope's new dress.
"It likely has not come up because it signifies nothing." That was an unforeseen hindrance of being in the thick of things as opposed to being a wallflower. Penelope had not thought to write about the interaction between the two Lords because she had not witnessed it. She was too close to the situation to correctly view it. She could not, as they say, see the forest for the trees.
"Nothing to signify? My love 4 days ago you were ruined publicly by that cowardly nobody of whom we shall not speak, and now you are the object of desire, being sought by two eligible men. My love, you must press your advantage."
"I have no advantage! Neither man has indicated anything other than friendship."
"Then we must be prepared to dazzle. If these men do not mean to offer for you, I care not. What I do care about is how others perceive you now. Men want what other men want, and right now in the eyes of society two very eligible men appear to want you. I want you to be happy and taken care of. Please, for once, take my advice and do as I ask."
Penelope sighed. "Might I make one small request, mother?"
"And what is that, dear," said Lady Featherington as she riffled through a box of ribbons and baubles.
"No yellow or orange this time," said Penelope.
"But that is our signature color," said her mother.
"Yes, it has become quite distinct, but I have overheard Lord Bridgerton telling his mother that he enjoys more muted colors," she bluffed. Her mother did not need to know that Anthony had never given any indication of her color selection or dress.
Mrs. Featherington's smile turned positively predatory. "What color do you think he would most like?"
"Blue, perhaps?" said Penelope uncertainly.
"Clever, clever girl. Bridgerton blue. We will make a bride of you yet."
Part of Penelope hated deceiving her mother in this way, but another part of her was so relieved at her acquiescence, she wondered what other colors she could claim to be favorites of eligible men of the ton. It was at this time that Madame Delacroix returned with bolts of several shades of blue. Penelope settled on a robin's egg of sprigged muslin for a day dress.
"May I recommend," said the modiste, "a slight alteration to the silhouette. I feel a more modern style would best suit Miss Penelope's figure."
"Fine," said Lady Featherington, "as long as it is not too revealing. We cannot afford for there to be rumors that she is a light skirt."
"Mama," admonished Penelope.
"Oh darling, do relax."
Penelope was far from relaxed as the day of the race dawned and she sat twisting a handkerchief anxiously awaiting the moment when Anthony Bridgerton bounded up to her door and requested her company for the day.
She eased slightly when she caught sight of Eloise waving frantically from the barouche. "You look lovely, Miss Featherington," said Anthony as he helped her ascend the step of the carriage and positioned himself across from the pair of women.
"You do, Pen. However did you convince your mother to let you wear something other than yellow?"
Penelope blushed slightly, but laughed. "It was easy. I simply told my mother that Lord Bridgerton did not care for the color," she said with a shrug.
Anthony could not help but smile. "Well, I am glad to be of assistance to you, but you look pretty in every color you wear, Miss Featherington. I do, however, prefer this shade of blue."
"Do not listen to him. The yellow is ghastly. You must insist that your mother allow you to choose your own material from here on in," said Eloise with an emphatic poke to Pen's thigh with each word.
"Eloise," chided Anthony, "Miss Featherington, please pay her no mind. We actually let a stablehand raise her for most of her life. She's practically feral."
Penelope laughed, the crystal tinkling of a chime on the wind. Eloise scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.
"You forget, Anthony, I could tell Penelope such appalling stories of your behavior during Pall Mall, or whist, or charades," said Eloise.
He shrugged. "I like to win," he said dismissively, "I do not think Miss Featherington will find that a surprise."
"You forget, Eloise," said Penelope jokingly, "I have also played quite a few games with you, and I would wager that I could tell your brother quite a few tales of you as well."
"Penelope Featherington," cried Eloise, "I expected such from Anthony, but you truly surprise me."
"I am sorry, Eloise, but you are all entirely too competitive for your own good."
They spent the remainder of their ride regaling Penelope with stories of growing up at Number 5. Everything was good natured, and Penelope spent much of the time laughing in disbelief and genuine enjoyment of the trouble the 8 siblings managed to get into. So they arrived at the race a jovial picture of domesticity that drew the eyes and speculation of quite a few others.
When Anthony had handed Penelope down from the carriage he kept hold of her hand and threaded it through his proffered arm. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he said, "I hope I am not being presumptuous, Miss Featherington, but I would like to keep you close by today. No one will speak of my brother's words in my presence, and it is the least I can do to shield you from the idle gossip and censure of others."
Penelope could not speak so simply nodded her assent. She knew it was a simple act of friendship, but she also knew that to the rest of their peers it would look love or at least purposeful intention, and they would expect the ever watchful Whistledown to comment on it.
Chapter 7: I Think It's Strange That You Think I'm Funny
Summary:
We attend the Ascot and Penelope tires of being a part of the Bon Ton.
Notes:
Thank you all for your kind words and kudos. I never dreamed my little fic would get such ardent support. I also decided to name all the chapters with Taylor Swift lyrics which now that we're in the thick of it, I realize is often a stretch, but we're in it now!
Happy Reading!
Cosetta
Chapter Text
Dear Gentle Reader,
It would appear that a woman scorned becomes a woman most desirable, as one Miss Penelope Featherington enjoyed the attention of not one but two fine Lords at the Royal Ascot. Could Miss Featherington achieve the biggest boon of the season. Should Lord Bridgerton prevail in his suit, this author may find herself bound to end this little column as I once professed I would be forced into retirement should any of the Bridgerton Brothers make an offer for a Featherington. Perhaps, Lord Fife will save me from such a plight.
Edward Fife was hot and uncomfortable. He would have skipped the race entirely had Bridgerton not issued such a direct challenge. He was tired of relenting to men like Colin and Anthony Bridgerton. Despite public appearance, Edward had been a quiet boy, but he had his timidness beaten out of him by his father and his schoolmates. He learned that to be a Lord and a man one must swagger, boast, hold his drink, fight his battles, and never, ever back down from direct challenges.
So he found himself on horseback, in the sweltering heat trotting toward Ascot and Penelope Featherington. His pursuit of her had begun in jest. He goaded Colin about her because he could see quite plainly that Colin was taken with her, and after hearing him wax poetic about her breast for the better part of a half hour the other evening, Edward was intrigued. He had set out to spark jealousy in Colin, but he had found he had strangely enjoyed his time with her. She was not a beauty, but she was kind and clever, and reminded him of his mother. Besides, one did not need a beautiful wife. One needed a pliant wife and a sensuous mistress.
Lord Fife tugged at his cravat as he scanned the crowd for her petite frame. He eyed each woman bedecked in yellow and orange, but did not find her among them. He walked around a section of tents, and saw her at last, hanging from the arm of Anthony head to toe in Bridgerton blue.
Penelope could feel the judgmental and envious eyes of the Ton on her. Anthony had not released her from his side all morning. She was growing more anxious and uncomfortable by the moment. She could feel the perspiration growing where her arm was firmly tucked beneath Anthony's. She hoped his layers of wool and linen kept him from feeling it. She had to find a way to escape.
Her plotting was interrupted by a deep voice behind her. "Miss Featherington, you are looking rather lovely today." She turned her head to see Lord Fife approaching. "I hope you do not mind, but I brought you a lemonade. It is quite warm out. I would not want you to be uncomfortable," here Fife looked pointedly at Anthony. Penelope gently disengaged her arm from Anthony's and took the proffered cup.
"Thank you," said Penelope as she took a delicate sip from the crystal cup.
"Lord Fife, what do we owe the honor of your company here," said Anthony.
"I did not know I needed an invitation from you for the races," replied Fife. Penelope could sense the growing unease between the two gentlemen.
"Of course, you do not," said Penelope, "Do you have your eye on a particular horse today, sir?"
"I've not yet had the pleasure of looking over the sheets. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to place my bets?" asked Fife.
"I would be delighted, my Lord," said Penelope.
"That is a capital idea, Lord Fife, I think I shall join you both," said Anthony as he thrust Penelope's glass back into Lord Fife's hand and again placed her arm through his.
Penelope gave a startled "Oh," and cast an apologetic gaze at Lord Fife.
Bets placed and seats acquired, Penelope found herself wedged between two overbearingly attentive gentlemen. She had been offered 5 glasses of lemonade, cake, the offer to switch seats, this had been Anthony as he claimed the sun would not be so glaring were she to sit to his left and away from Lord Fife. She had once thought she wanted nothing more than to be lavished with attention and favor from two such men, but the harsh truth of it all was that she was hot and tired and growing crosser by the moment. Her sudden salvation came from an unlikely place.
All around them the stands began to hush and lower their heads. The Queen was approaching, ladies and lap dogs trailing behind her. She stopped before the Bridgerton party. "Miss Featherington, I require your presence. Take a turn with me before the races begin." Penelope sprang to her feet as around her rose an astonished murmur.
"Of course, your Majesty," Penelope curtsied as she made her way to the packed dirt beneath the stands.
"I will admit, Miss Featherington, I had thought finding you a match might prove more difficult, but it seems you are doing a fine job on your own," said the Queen.
"I . . . no, your majesty. Did you not send Lord Fife to me?" asked Penelope.
The Queen gave a mirthless laugh. "I told you that I wanted to make a sensational match. One that would make you the envy of others. Lord Fife may be nobility but he lacks fortune and he is not a wit. While you might be clever enough for the both of you, you would grow bored. I can sense it."
"I do not mean to disagree, your Highness," Penelope was cut off.
"Then do not," the Queen replied archly.
"I only meant to say that he has been kind, but that he has not asked to court me. I believe him to only extend friendship," said Penelope.
"How old are you, Miss Featherington?" asked the Queen.
"I have just turned 18, your Majesty."
"Such youth. My dear, I am afraid to tell you that men do not usually seek new friendships with girls your age. If a man is paying you attention he is in earnest or his the worst type of rake. You are unaccustomed to such open flirtation, I know, but you must trust me as your Queen and mentor, you will have to make a choice between those two men and likely more." The Queen stopped and Penelope drew up short from her position a few steps back and to the side. "Select wisely, Miss Featherington, the rush of young love is intoxicating, but believe me, there will come a time in your marriage where love will not be enough. You will be forced to call upon all your trust and strength and fortitude. Make sure you have aligned yourself with someone who can do the same."
"I will do my best, your Highness. I will confess, I am much confused. I never dreamed I would have options. I never thought I would have to choose," she said with a shrug.
"I think you will prove to be most deserving of it, but do not seek to take advantage of my good heartedness. I am pleased for your choices, but I still require your cooperations in other areas. And when I have blessed the match of your choosing, you will cease your false identity and you will live in unbothersome peace."
Penelope blanched. Giving up Whistledown had never been a condition of their agreement, but here in front of all of society, with every eye and ear inclined in their direction, Penelope could not dare to argue. The Queen looked meaningfully over her shoulder causing Penelope to turn. Lord Fife and Lord Brdigerton were standing in agitated silence as they tracked her movements through the crowd.
"I think it is time for you to return to your gentlemen." Penelope dropped a curtsey and hurried off in the opposite direction of the two waiting men.
Penelope Featherington was tired. For weeks now, she had been promenading, dining, dancing, and flirting with two eligible Lords. In addition, the Queen was often demanding in her requests on Whistledown, and when one's dance card was full it was very difficult to accumulate the amount of gossip one needed for a fulsome publication. Not to mention the necessity of sneaking was much more difficult when you were waltzed around a dance floor as opposed to relegated to the wall.
The morning of Lady Danbury's annual ball found her lying in her dressing gown as Eloise was trying to recount her theory about how a Scottish gentleman might actually have been a missing foreign dignitary. In Penelope's new found popularity, Eloise had been trying to fill the void of gossip in her dear friend's life, but Eloise did not quite have the knack for it. She was observant, of course, but she had a powerful imagination and usually skipped several plausible theories to leap to ones of great daring and grandeur.
"I think, Eloise, that we may wish to wait to publish your findings. We must be very certain before we court international scandal. I do not know that I could bear much more scrutiny at the moment."
Eloise visibly deflated, "Fine, I also discovered that Lady Wentworth has been paying several late night calls to Lord Sherringford's home."
Penelope's eyes widened in shock, "No, her husband has only been dead for 6 weeks now."
"I know," said Eloise, as she swung herself around the post of the bed and landed fast first next to her friend, "hasn't even had the good grace to disguise her late husband's carriage."
"Well, that will make a delightful bookend for this week's addition barring any major scandal at this evenings' events," said Penelope.
As if called by the mention of the night's festivities, Penelope's maid appeared at the door. "Excuse me miss, but your mother says it's time to dress for the ball."
Across the way at Number 5, Anthony had been cornered by his mother. "People are starting to talk, Anthony," she said as she tidied some papers on his desk much to his annoyance.
"People are always talking, mother, you must be more specific as to the subject," he replied disheveling the stack of papers she had just put to rights.
She rolled her eyes affectionately. "Of your intentions toward Miss Featherington. You have done your duty, and it appears Penelope is well set up to find a match. You must not occupy so much of her time, dearest."
Anthony looked up, surprised. "Did she indicate that she had settled one's affection?" He asked with an air of affront.
"Well, no, but, Anthony, if your wish is for her to find a proper match, you must remove yourself from the pool of eligible suitors in the eyes of the public. You are a much sought after bachelor. Others may feel too intimidated to approach Penelope with you always hovering," said Violet.
He scoffed at the idea. "Any man who is so easily intimidated is no match for Miss Featherington. I assure you mother, I can best help her find an appropriate suitor, but keen observation does require a certain proximity," said Anthony.
"I see," said his mother in a tone that implied she had seen but perhaps not truly heard.
"I sense there is more you wish to say, and I have much to do before this evening's ball, so could you simply say it, mother," he tried to keep his tone from being too biting, but sensed he may be failing.
"As you wish, I think you may have feelings for Miss Featherington."
Anthony threw his head back and laughed. "I will truly never understand the mind of a woman," said Anthony. "She is Eloise's age. She is just a child. Feelings for Miss Featherington," he chuckled again.
"You forget, Miss Edwina Sharma, was also Eloise's age and you allowed her to walk down the aisle." Anthony's face blanched, so Violet continued quickly on, "I do not wish to censure you, dear, but I am merely pointing out that Penelope is of a marriageable age. She may find herself the wife of someone even older than you."
"I would certainly not allow that to happen," said Anthony, "I do see your meaning, but the difference between Miss Sharma and Penelope was that I have watched Penelope grow up. I once bandaged her skinned knees and listened into all hours of the night as she and Eloise kept the whole house up with their giggling. I do not see Miss Featherington as anything but my younger sister's friend."
Violet sighed, "I will say this once more. I know your intentions are good and true, but I simply ask that you do not let your own pride and certainty become a hindrance to that girl's prospects. Penelope is stronger than she looks, but I would spare her further pain."
"As would I, mother. I have seen her goodness and her humor, and her wit over the past several weeks. It has made me all the more sure that I must help her find a good man. One who is truly worthy of such affection. I will keep your words in mind though. I can see now the errors of my past, but I do ask that you trust that I know my own feelings."
"I would never dream of doubting that, dear," said Violet with an ill concealed smile. Her son knew nothing of his feelings, at least not yet.
Anthony found Penelope hidden away in a curtained alcove yet again. She looked lovely. After her initial push, her mother had begun allowing her to select the material of her dresses and Madame Delacroix's pattern choices did wonders for her silhouette. And in her pale green gown, Anthony could admit that Penelope was rather pretty.
"We must stop meeting like this, Miss Featherington, people will talk," said Anthony with a smirk.
"Oh, thank goodness it is you," said Penlope as she once again relaxed her shoulders and slouched further into the bench.
"I do not know if I should be offended or flattered," said Anthony with a laugh.
"I miss being a wallflower," said Penelope petulantly, "Being desirable is far too tiring, and I have begun to wonder," she brought her words up short. "Nevermind."
"Now, now, I will not countenance that. You cannot begin such a phrase and then not continue," he said leaning one shoulder nonchalantly against the alcove wall.
"I know it is not seemly to talk of marriage prospects with a single man, but it's just that I worry that when I marry my husband will expect me to keep up this facade of gaiety and vivaciousness all the time. I do not know that it would suit me," said Penelope.
"We will find you a suitable match. It's like finding the proper pair of shoes. Everyone has preferences, yes, and different sizes, and it might even take some time to wear them in, but ultimately we all find something," he said.
"Such poetry," laughed Penelope, "You should have given that speech at Edwina's poetry spectacle. You would have won over many a heart. Tell me, Lord Bridgerton, am I the foot or the shoe in this metaphor?"
Anthony laughed. This was what his mother did not see. The ease with which they conversed now. The absolute silliness of their talks. This could not be love. He had felt deep, passionate, all consuming love, and it burned. This was a warmth that stole gently into him. He enjoyed it. He even at times found himself craving it, but it did not devour. No, love felt different, he was sure of that. "I think you are somehow both the foot and the shoe," he said as he held out his hand to her, "But my little slipper, you have been hiding for too long, and you have not even danced with me once this evening."
"Oh, goodness, not once? I fear my card has been so full I had not even noticed," she said, straightening from the bench and taking his arm.
Anthony held his hand to his heart in an affronted gesture. "You wound me madam, and here after I plied you with such beautiful and heartfelt words."
Their mirth could not be contained even on the dance floor, as Anthony teased and chided her good naturedly each time they passed. There were quite a few among the Ton who in those moments who may have also confused Anthony's gentle fondness for a look of love.
Chapter 8: How You Lose the Girl
Summary:
TRIGGER WARNING! Please be aware that there is a scene of attempted SA. It is not graphic in any way, but I know that the fear and anxiety this causes people is real and pernicious, so I just wanted to make readers aware that there is triggering content. I will indicate a beginning and end to the trigger warning within the text itself.
Chapter Text
Lord Fife had been a faithful suitor. He had called on her most days. He had sent flowers. He had read the insipid book she loaned him and tried earnestly to discuss it with her. At ever turn, he had been bested by Lord Bridgerton. Anthony was everywhere Penelope was, and it irked him the deference she showed him. He had tried to broach the subject with her once, "You know, it is not very good manners to flirt with others around a suitor, Miss Featherington." He had tried for a teasing tone but she had sensed the steel in his voice.
"Lord Bridgerton, is a friend. He is much like a brother to me," she had replied.
"A very attentive brother," he said.
"Yes, but he is only interested in what is best for me," she replied.
"Then I fear my prospects are sunk," he said, "As Brdigerton and I have never once agreed on anything."
"You need not worry, My Lord," she said sweetly, "I enjoy your company, and that is what matters most, is it not?" And he had been forced to leave the matter be.
He was on his third drink of the ball. Not to mention the ones he had at White's before departing. He could feel the thrum of alcohol coursing through him. The mad energy balling in his fists as he watched Bridgerton and Penelope giggle and grin across the dance floor. He had sworn to himself that he would have her. She was obviously important to all of the Bridgertons, not just Colin, and he wanted, for once in his wretched life, to have something they did not. He would make her his tonight before it became too late.
Penelope escaped into the garden. Her face was flushed from drink, and dance, and flirtation. She welcomed the coolness of the night air and the relative quiet of the gardens. Groups of jovial guests and couples cloistered around lit lanterns and their soft murmurs joined the chorus of night sounds. She breathed in the fresh, crisp air and made quickly for the north corner of the garden behind a tall tree illuminated only by starlight.
She had just rounded the tree and alighted upon a bench when she heard a deep voice behind her.
"Here you are. I've been waiting for you."
Anthony had been cornered by the Cowpers. It was bad enough being civil to Lady Cowper, but it was positively insufferable to be amiable with both. He smiled tightly and scanned the room for an escape. Perhaps he could find Penelope again, and they could take a turn around the room. He had found he had begun to enjoy her wit and insight into their contemporaries. She was a rare wit indeed. He was so busy searching for her petite frame and flaming hair that he was quite startled by the crack of a cane on the floor dangerously close to his toes. "Mr. Bridgerton," came the distinct voice of Lady Danbury.
"Lady Danbury," said Anthony with a polite bow of his head.
"I was hoping to speak with your young friend. You have not seen her recently have you?" she asked.
"Of which young friend do you speak, Lady Danbury?"
She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Why Miss Featherington, of course. How many other ladies do you claim as friends?"
Anthony could not help but smile. Lady Danbury's surly disposition was legendary, but she had recently taken a keen liking to Penelope, which Anthony felt was rather a mark in her favor. "I have not seen her in some time. The last I saw she was dancing with Lord Perry, and I feared for the state of her toes."
"Ah," said Lady Danbury, "he has more enthusiasm than skill. It's strange, I thought I saw her escape to the garden," she paused for effect, "followed, I think, by Lord Fife, but you know an old lady's eyes might not be best trusted."
Anthony's blood ran cold. "Excuse me, ladies," he said as he made a hasty retreat to the open terrace doors.
"Lord Fife," said Penelope with her hand to her heart. "You startled me."
He grinned at her and stepped shakily closer.
"How could you be waiting for me," she asked, "When I did not even know I would be coming here myself?"
"I hoped you would come here," he said. "I wished it."
She could tell he had been drinking. Certainly more than she had ever known him to do before. She felt uneasy in a way she had never felt in his presence before.
"We should probably return to the ball room," she said, taking a few steps back from him where he loomed half in the shadows. "I'm sure they will be looking for us."
He tsked and took another step in your direction, "Tis a shame you aren't a wallflower anymore, Miss Featherington, no one would have come looking for you then, and I could have had you all to myself."
She laughed uneasily. "I'm afraid if you had me all to yourself you would get rather bored of me."
He had her penned between himself and the tree. He slunk closer and Penelope pressed as tightly as she could to the rough bark of the tree. "Oh, I think we could keep one another quite amused," he said. She could feel the warmth and smell the mix of alcohol on his breath.
"I think you are drunk," she said in a near whisper.
TRIGGER WARNING BEGINS *
"Always so clever," he said as he twisted a lock of hair between his fingers. Tears began to build in her eyes. She had never found herself in such a situation. She had never dreamed of being in such a situation. She thought desperately about a means of escape. She could scream but she would be ruined if discovered by the wrong people. She could try to fend him off, but he was large and fit, and even drunk, she did not think she could match his power and speed. His fingers had come to trace the collar of her dress near her left shoulder. She closed her eyes and bit her check at the revulsion that rose in her. "You made me envious tonight. Parading around with Bridgerton. Like he already owned you. Like I had not spent the better part of the last few weeks courting you." His nose brushed hers, and that was the moment when she pushed him away with as much strength as she could muster. He stumbled back slightly and she made to run from him, but he grabbed her wrist tightly in his own.
"So it's to be like that, is it?" he said in a menacing growl as he pushed her back against the tree. "That's alright," he said as he pulled lewdly on her hips and pulled her against him, "I like a little fight in a girl.
She is crying in earnest now. "Please stop," she sobbed. "I thought we were friends." She yanked ineffectually at the manacle of his hands that were clasped around her wrists now.
"Is that what Bridgerton tells you, that you are friends," his voice was hot and accusing in her ear. "That you are friends. Does he call you friend when he takes himself in hand at night?" His voice was growing in volume and in rage.
"Please stop," she cried.
END OF TRIGGER WARNING*
"Unhand my fiance," came a fierce shout from behind them. Penelope immediately quit her struggle from the shock of his voice, and Fife turned abruptly to see who their intruder was.
"Anthony," said Penelope with a sob as she crumpled against the tree.
"You fiance," hissed Fife. "Since when. You have made no formal declaration. The banns are not being read."
"It was just recently decided. I have both Penelope's and Lady Featherington's consent in the matter. We saw no rush to proceed, but now I see I was quite mistaken." He walked towards Penelope and gently pulled her to standing.
Anthony was seething. He had never felt such rage. Not with Hastings when he had taken advantage of his sister. Not with himself for his misguided dalliance with Kate. Were it not for the clearly distraught young woman before him, he would have ripped Fife limb from limb.
Anthony turned his steely gaze back to Edward. "You should leave now before I do something I regret."
"I'm not afraid of you, Anthony," said Fife, but even Penelope could tell the fight in him was waning.
"I always thought you rather stupid," said Anthony without a trace of humor, "because after what I have just seen, you should be very, very afraid of me."
Edward turned to Penelope, "I am just as deserving as he," he said.
Penelope was full of astonishment. "We will neither of us ever deserve her, Fife, but I would never dream of brutalizing her in the way you have tonight. Leave us," said Anthony. It was a command and Penelope breathed a sigh of relief that Lord Fife heeded it.
Penelope began to cry again and Anthony could do nothing but gently hold her hand and offer what reassuring words he could. When she was finally calm enough to speak, "He will tell everyone that we are engaged. What are we to do?"
"I am sorry to have trapped you in this way, but we must wed, Penelope. It was the only option I could think of that would not bring you ruin or would not tie you to that brute forever." He kicked ineffectually at the ground beneath him.
She began to cry again, "You cannot want to marry me."
He took both her hands in his and bent slightly to catch her eyes. "I could most assuredly want to marry you. I know this is not ideal, and I am sorry you could not make a love match, and I am sorry I presumed that you would want me as opposed to the alternatives."
"I . . . of course I would rather want to marry you than . . . that blaggard. It's just that it has left me with quite a good prospect and you with, well, me," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
"We get along famously, Penelope. Everyone hopes for a love match but how many are actually made each season. One if people are very lucky, but marriages are often begun on much unfriendlier ground than we find ourselves now," he said, giving her hands a little shake to loosen the tension in her shoulders. "Besides, you cannot let me have a third failed marriage proposal all in one season. It would be cruel."
She let out a watery laugh. "What will we tell our families?"
"That we have come to a mutual understanding and wish to wed," he threaded her arm through his own, "And I think given the circumstances, it would be best were we to tell them now." And with that they headed back to the ballroom to face their families and their future.
Chapter 9: I Don't Want To Keep Secrets Just to Keep You
Summary:
Old flames return and truths come out.
Chapter Text
Dear Gentle Reader,
The time has come for me to lay down my quill. I once pronounced that were Miss Penelope Featherington ever able to convince a Bridgerton to marry her, I would be forced to retire. The author is rarely wrong, but in this case, the young miss in question has made quite the match. While the Ton suspected she had set her cap at the 3rd brother, she has instead hitched her wagon to a star, and soon will be Viscountess Bridgerton. Therefore, as a woman of my word, I must quit this particular scene, but know that Lady Whistledown will always be watching you.
Penelope had poured over each word with painstaking deliberation. It was to be her final column, so perfect was key. She would never again get to dazzle with her turn of phrase and rapier wit. At least not in such a forthright manner that her anonymity allowed. She had pleaded with the Queen to allow her to continue her writings, but she had been adamant. Penelope was to be raised to a level of society that could not withstand such secrecy and clandestine roaming. Penelope was forced to concede that the work of publishing Lady Whistledown's Society Paper has increased greatly since her designation as a desirable match, and had become next to impossible with her pending nuptials. With a final flourish of her quill, she signed her very last column and sat looking morosely out the window. That was when she saw the chestnut head of her dear friend whip past the sill of the sitting room window. She was escorted in a moment later by Mrs. Varley.
"Pen, you will not guess where I have just been," she said.
Penelope sat up straighter. "Where?"
"Well, you know despite having married off two children, my mother still has quite the brood at home, and Anthony does not have the heart to displace us all, so he has decided to arrange for other accommodations for you both in town after you are wed, and Penelope, he has shown me the library! You will positively die, and he said it will all be yours to do with exactly as you wish!"
Penelope's face broke out into a smile. "Oh, was it beautiful, Eloise?"
"It was perfect. I have never been more envious, although, you will have to be married to Anthony in order to acquire it," she scrunched up her nose a bit.
Penelope laughed. "Your brother is not that bad. He is much better than who I could have ended up with. Anthony behaved quite nobly on my behalf."
"That as well may be, Pen, and I am so glad you do not have to marry such an odious cad, but I do not see why the actions of one bad man should force you into marriage with another?"
"I would have been ruined. I think Lord Fife intended me great harm that night," a small shudder ran down her spine.
"Yes, but if he had been brutish, why must you pay the price? I would put my money on the fact that far more women are trapped into marriages than men. Men just get the greater pleasure of being choosy about who traps them."
"In the end, I am glad to be marrying Anthony. At least he is kind, and he will not expect too much of me," said Penelope.
"But will he expect enough?" questioned Eloise. "You have run an entire business right under everyone's nose, and now you are to give it all up to play house with Anthony. He could at least find a way to put your brilliant mind to use."
"I am sure I will need quite a lot of that brain power for running a home and organizing a library," said Penelope.
Eloise began to reply when Lady Featherington entered the room. "Dearest, have you made the decisions about the seating arrangements?" she asked not even bothering to greet Eloise.
"Not yet, mother. I have been consulting the book but some of the placements of rankings are giving me trouble."
"Penelope, you must take this role seriously. This engagement ball will be the ton's first glimpse into your capabilities at being a Viscountess. It is imperative that we show them that your Lord Bridgerton has picked well," said Portia, running a smoothing hand along the crown of Penelope's head, "We would not want anyone to change their mind."
That had been her mother's constant refrain since Anthony had announced their engagement. "Do not give him a reason to leave, Penelope?" "It would be such a shame were he to recant his offer, Penelope." "Think of what your Viscount would want, Penelope, it is essential that you please him." Penelope had once thought planning a wedding would be an exciting and precious time, but she found it was a constant string of decisions over which she felt entirely inept to choose. The seating for the dinner at their engagement ball had been plaguing her for days. The placement of nobility, the distance to be kept between people who hated one another, her proximity to any of the people who could possibly keep her sane were all diametrically opposed to one another.
"Actually, mother wanted me to ask if Penelope might be given the afternoon to have tea at Number 5. Anthony is anxious to see her, and I'm sure she could bring her seating chart and work on it with his direct counsel," said Eloise.
"Oh, Miss Bridgerton," said Portia, "I had not noticed you there." Mrs. Featherington turned back to Penelope, "Yes, you must make haste. You heard Eloise, your beloved awaits your arrival." Penelope popped up from her seat and began the hectic scramble to grab her copy of Debrett's and several sheafs of half scribbled papers. Portia lay a staying hand on her wrist, "Penelope, do not let him see you in such a state. Let him at least believe you are capable."
Penelope was enjoying her engagement ball much more so than the planning. Violet Bridgerton was a blessing who helped Penelope plan everything in the end. Down to her emerald gown and pearl encrusted ryband. Anthony had grinned openly at her when he had first seen her. "Penelope, believe me when I say that you have never looked more beautiful," and he had stood with her proudly on his arm while they greeted each of their many guests.
Penelope was on her second glass of champagne and was about to embark on her second dance with Benedict when a low murmur began at the back of the room and spread towards the safe cloister of Bridgertons around her. She looked quickly to the source of the commotion and gasped. There stood Miss Edwina Sharma on the arm of none other than Prince Fredrick, and standing as beautiful and equally regal behind her was her sister, Miss Kate Sharma.
Anthony quickly caught Penelope's eye. There was a mix of fear and astonishment. He looked away quickly fearing what she would see in his own eyes. He had not thought of Kate in some weeks. She had left so abruptly and with such finality that he firmly believed he would never see her again. He certainly never dreamed he would see her at his engagement celebration. He made his way to Penelope's side and whispered, "We must greet our new guests. It would not do to ignore a prince." Penelope nodded and allowed herself to be led to the empty circle that had grown around the new arrivals.
"Your Highness," said Anthony as he and Penelope dropped a bow and a curtsey respectively. "What a great honor."
"When my beloved said that her friend, Miss Featherington was to marry, I thought you would not mind our unexpected interruption," said the Prince in his soft, Bavarian accent.
"Certainly not," said Penelope. "We had not heard that felicitations were in order. We are most honored and surprised."
"You must forgive me, Miss Featherington, I did not think that the news of our wedding had perhaps not reached you yet. You were so kind to me earlier in the season. I wanted so much to share in your happiness," said Edwina without a note of falseness in her voice.
"It is a lovely surprise," said Penelope, as she cut her eyes to Kate, "And Miss Sharma, we are so glad to have you in our company again." Penelope twisted her fingers together in anxious anticipation. She did not know what she was doing, but she had to say something. Anthony had fallen unexpectedly mute after his initial greeting, and Penelope could not help but notice the heated gaze shared between the two.
Kate looked away from Anthony to reluctantly answer her, "I am most devoted to my sister," said Kate as if that were all the answer that was needed.
Anthony suddenly snapped out of his daze and bowed stiffly, "If you will all excuse me, my brother and I have some business to tend to for a moment." He inclined his head toward Benedict and they retired quickly to his study leaving Penelope standing alone with every eye upon her.
Violet Bridgerton had much practice at smoothing over awkward social situations, but she had never experienced anything quite like this. "Let us continue our dancing," she said loudly. "Penelope, dear, Mr. Grieves has expressed keen interest in dancing with you, have you not Mr. Grieves."
The older gentleman sputtered slightly and quickly acquiesced, "Oh, yes, yes, of course, Miss Featherington, would you do me the honor of a quadrille?"
"Certainly," said Penelope with a tight lipped smile. She was grateful when other dancers began to fill in around them. Lord Grieves had always been a kindly man. Recently widowed and with two, grown and married daughters, he gave off an avuncular air. He joked and teased and did magic tricks for little children. During their dance, he was blessedly quiet. At the end, he squeezed Penelope's hand, "Do not worry," he said, "I've a good sense of people. Why you do not get as many gray hairs as I have without recognizing a thing or two, and your intended, he is a good one. He will do right by you. I can tell."
Penelope hoped against all hopes that he was correct.
"How could she come back here, right now, of all times. It is cruel and it is madness," said Anthony as he downed two fingers of his best Scotch.
"It is peculiar timing. Do you think it at all fortuitous?" asked Benedict as he picked absently at his dinner vest.
"What do you mean? You cannot possibly believe I would jilt Penelope after all this?" He looked pointedly at his brother.
"Well, you did leave rather abruptly and left her all on her own," said Benedict accusatory.
"If I did not leave I was going to rail at Kate in front of everyone!"
"And does this illicit passion in you or simply anger," asked Benedict.
"Does it matter?" asked Anthony.
"It might. I will not deny you a love match, Anthony. You deserve what mother and father had, but I will say only this, be very sure. You can allow Penelope to break the engagement, but you will also damage your friendship, and I think that while it might not be love or desire, it is something important to you," said Benedict.
"It is important to me. Outside of our siblings and mother, she is most important to me. I do not think I will ever want to shout at Penelope, and in a way that frightens me. I know what it is to burn for someone. I know what it is to be consumed by passion and feeling," said Anthony. "Is it foolishness to give that yearning up?"
"Neither of the times you have felt that passion have served you particularly well, Ant. I do not know what you should choose, but you have been more at peace with Penelope perhaps than I have ever seen you. Maybe love does not have to burn, maybe it can soothe and cool. Maybe it can bring comfort and stability. But you have to deicide, brother, and you must decide quickly," said Benedict.
There was so much truth to what his brother said, Anthony knew that. Penelope was the antithesis of Kate in every way. She would not fight him tooth and nail. She would not goad and prod him into irrational decisions. But she was funny and kind and clever. He did not feel a crippling mania inside himself when she was near. He considered the long span of a life, and knew in that moment he did want what his mother and father had, and he knew there was only one person he could find that companionable, easy affection with.
"I know my choice," said Anthony suddenly and with great surety.
"Well, then go find, Penelope, for god sakes, man," said Benedict with a grin.
Penelope had managed not to cry until Eloises grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs to her bedroom at Number 5. That was where Anthony found them. Two girls huddled together on a bench at the end of the bed. He knocked gently on the door frame. Eloise whispered something to Penelope who nodded gently, and his sister rose and crossed the room to him.
"You have never let me down once, Anthony, please do not begin now," she said.
He leaned down and kissed her check. "I do not intend to, sister."
He approached Penelope slowly. It gave her the moment she needed to wipe her tears and compose her face into a gentle smile.
"I will call off the engagement," she said cheerfully. "I am happy you have the chance at love." She nodded as if this ended the matter.
He knelt before her. "Is that what you wish, Penelope, or is it what you assume I wish?"
"She has returned for you, Anthony, I would not stand in your way. Especially not since we have become such friends," she choked back a sob.
He clasped her hands. "While I appreciate your self-sacrificing nature, I would be quite upset if you called off our engagement as I do not wish to marry anyone other than you."
She turned her face to him in surprise. "But Kate . . . everyone knows how you feel. It was plain to anyone."
He sighed and sat back on his heels. "I fear this requires some candor that society would not deem appropriate between an unmarried man and woman, but may I be frank with you, Pen?"
She nodded meekly.
"I have had two very passionate affairs in my life. They have made me selfish and unkind. I am not proud of the man I was when I was conducting them. I like who I am with you, Penelope. You are so kind and so good. You bring out a gentler and lighter side out of me, so if you are not opposed to it, I would like to keep you?"
Penelope began to cry more forcefully. Anthony cursed beneath his breath. "I have made a mess of this. Tell me how I may fix it?" he said.
"I am not a good person, Anthony! I am deceitful and cruel. I am not the shrinking and dutiful wallflower you think me. I am wretched!" said Penelope.
"I cannot believe that," said Anthony, smoothing her hair back from her face.
"I must tell you something, but I fear it will change everything," said Penelope.
"I promise, it will not change my wish to marry you. I do not think anything you have done can be as bad as you have imagined," he said.
"Anthony . . . I am Lady Whistledown," she said and then burst into fresh tears.
Chapter 10: He Must Like Me for Me
Summary:
We see the fall out from Penelope's confession and a few ex lovers come back into play! And things turn a little bit spicy at the end!
Chapter Text
Anthony had been truly astonished three times in his life - when his father died, when Kate rejected his proposal of marriage, and right at the moment that Penelope confessed her secret identity to him.
His mouth hung open before he snapped it shut. "You cannot be serious?" he asked, all astonishment.
"It is true. I have written horrible things. Even about you and the Miss Sharmas. About Colin. About nearly everyone."
He rose to his full height and began pacing the room. "How could you have even accomplished this? You mean to say you found a publisher and managed the distribution all on your own? Please do not misunderstand, I know you are a clever woman, but that level of subterfuge, how ever could you have managed it?"
"Think back, Anthony, before a few weeks ago no one noticed my comings and goings. I would venture that half of the Ton did not even know my name until you and Lord Fife began to pay me attention."
"I am sorry for that, Penelope. But you wrote such terrible things about yourself. Why, even her last column was about how she could not believe that I was to wed you. You cannot expect me to believe that you could be so cruel to yourself?" he said.
"It was necessary. It would have been noticeable had I never mentioned the slights against me. I did not relish it. I know I am shameful, all I ask is that you allow me to break the engagement. My family can take no more scandal, and for the sake of my sister and mother, I would ask this one last thing of you," said Penelope.
He approached her and pulled her up to standing. Cradling her head in his hands, "I need you to hear me clearly, Miss Featherington, I wish to marry you. What did you say that we have not all said ourselves behind closed doors and open fans. You have ended that stage of your life. Let us both begin a new one."
"Do you want that, truly?" asked Penelope.
"I do. If you will have me, Little Slipper."
She nodded fervently and he pulled her into a warm embrace. She had never been so close to a man before. It felt comforting and terrifying all at once.
They returned to the ball a united front against the growing whispers of their curious guests. Anthony quickly whisked Penelope onto the dance floor and when the song ended, kept a firm grip on her hand and led her into another and then a third. There was a mix of delight and shock from the gazing guests, but it quickly became clear that the arrival of certain parties would not deter the bright, young couple.
Dizzy with champagne and dance, Penelope excused herself to the veranda outside. It was blessedly cool and empty. She allowed a giddy laugh to escape as she threw her head back to take in the stars above.
"Penelope," whispered a voice. She startled and spun toward the sound.
"Lord Fife?" she asked. Confused and slightly tipsy, she watched as he emerged from a nearby shrub and began to make his way towards her. "Do not come any further, my Lord. I do not need to tell you that you are unwelcome here."
He froze several paces from her. "I swear I am not here to hurt you, Miss Featherington, I merely wished to apologize. I . . . I behaved badly," he said.
"Behaved badly?" she said incredulously. "You attempted to force yourself on me. You wished to hurt me."
"No," he said, with a vehement shake of his head. "I never wanted to hurt you. That was not what I intended."
He took two steps forward and Penelope prepared to scream before another voice broke through the crisp evening air.
"I believe it would be best were you to leave, Lord Fife. Miss Featherington is clearly distressed by your presence, and as my sister is now wed to a prince, I feel at liberty to say that I never liked you."
"Miss, Sharma," snapped Fife, "This does not concern you."
"True, but how do you think Lord Bridgerton would respond should I send his fiance in to draw his attention to your presence?"
Fife's eye widened and he took a step back.
"Fine," he said. "I will take my leave. I only wished to tell Penelope that I am sorry."
"Oh, rest assured Lord Fife, the entire Ton knows just exactly how sorry you are," and with Kate's final scathing words, the two women watched as Fife skulked back into the shadows.
"Thank you so much for your assistance, Miss Sharma," said Penelope as she nervously wrung her handkerchief between her hands.
"Please, call me, Kate. I felt that we were becoming friends before my departure."
"Is that something you would still like? My friendship that is?" asked Penelope.
"I . . . do not know, exactly." The women spent a few moments in stilted silence.
"I suppose you have gathered from my interactions with Lord Fife that Anthony and I are not a love match," said Penelope. "I do not know whether that would stifle or encourage a friendship between us, but it seemed important for you to know."
"I'll not lie to you, Penelope. A part of me wanted to return to London and find that he still wanted me," said Kate, and Penelope drew in a shuddering breath, "But I think you are wrong about yours not being a love match."
"I can assure you," said Penelope, "Anthony was simply doing me a kindness by agreeing to marry me."
"And what is love if not a series of selfless choices?" said Kate truly taking in the petite woman before her for the first time all evening. "I thought I was being selfless by disguising my affections, but we hurt so many people, Penelope. I hurt the dearest person to me, and when I saw Lord Bridgerton this evening, all I could feel was the growing chasm of regret that we built between ourselves."
"I am truly sorry to hear that," said Penelope.
The quiet reverie was broken when the man himself came through the veranda doors in search of his fiance.
"Pen," he began and stopped short. "Miss Sharma, forgive me. I did not realize the two of you were conversing." He looked to Penelope for an indication whether he should stay or go, but she merely gave him a shrug.
"Yes," said Kate, "I was just telling Miss Featherington that I am sorry I will miss your nuptials. I am heading home to India the day after tomorrow. I have had one too many cups of your English tea," she said, casting a jovial smile at Penelope.
"I am sorry that you will not be with us, but I truly hope that you will be happy on your return home," said Penelope as she gently touched Kate's arm.
The older woman gave Pen's hand an affectionate squeeze. "I wish you much happiness as well," said Kate as she took her leave from the veranda.
"Are you well?" asked Anthony.
She smiled up at him affectionately, "I am perfectly well, my Lord."
He gathered both her hands to him and dropped a gentle kiss atop each glove. "Then shall we return to our engagement celebration?"
"Only if you agree to dance with me," she said with a coy smile.
"I believe that can be arranged," he said.
The remainder of the ball and dinner passed uneventfully, and Penelope grew in anxiety and anticipation as her wedding day approached. She and Anthony had begun to share more of themselves with the other. As if by eliminating the two large secrets from their courtship, they had erupted a dam that held back the confidences that they now confided in one another. That openness was precisely what brought Penelope to Anthony's study on a clear morning 3 days before their nuptials.
When the footman announced her Anthony was both delighted and surprised. "Penelope," he said, rising to greet her, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He dismissed the footman as he got his fiance settled in a wingback chair.
"I wished to talk with you about something," she said, not quite meeting his eye.
"This seems serious," he said leaning back against his desk, ankles and arms crossed to face her.
"You see," she began as she twisted a handkerchief in her hands, "My mother and I had quite an . . . educational conversation yesterday."
"I see. And what, pray tell, was she educating you about?" he asked.
"It was . . . it was about relations," she paused and looked off to her side. "Between a man and a wife."
"Ah," said Anthony with a smile, "It was 'the' talk. And did you find the information enlightening?"
"Do not tease me, Anthony. I am . . . I find I am rather scared."
Her voice was so pathetic it nearly broke his heart. "I am so very sorry, Penelope. I did not know how serious a matter this was for you," he crouched down in front of her chair, "Could you tell me more specifically what is causing so much worry? Because no matter what it is, I think we can probably find a solution."
Her cheeks were on fire and he admired the rosiness that spread from her décolletage to the tips of her ears.
"Mama said it would be painful, but that I must endure, and in truth, I do not know that I can. I am not one much for discomfort," she looked him in the eye meekly.
"There will be some pain, Penelope, but I promise you that we will be as gentle as possible. And it is only painful the first time," he said, taking her hands gently.
She chewed her lip as she considered her next admission. "Mama said that sometimes men do not find their wives . . . desirable, and that I should not be surprised if you were to seek your comfort elsewhere." Tears had come to prick her eyes. "I understand if you did not want me in that way. Ours was not a usual courtship, but I would like to ask that if you do . . . look outside the home for . . . relations, that you not treat me with disdain."
"I have been an appalling fiance," said Anthony, rising abruptly to his full height. Penelope was so startled that she stood up as well. "Come with me," he said as he escorted her through the halls and out into the garden.
Deep within the Bridgerton estate, there was a secluded gazebo. Anthony and his brothers had often snuck through the trees to this secreted spot to smoke cigarettes and generally behave badly. It was perfect for actions one did not wish others to observe.
"Anthony, what are we doing?" she asked, a bit breathless.
He sat them both down on a stone bench and took her hand in both of his. "Tell me about your happiest childhood memory," said Anthony.
She looked at him quizzically. "I do not recall . . . I do not understand," she said.
"Just tell me about things that make you happy," he said as he swept an errant strand of hair behind her ear. A delicious shiver slid down her spine.
"I like writing," she said, clearing her throat. Anthony had begun running his finger tips along the inside of her arm. "And reading," she considered.
Anthony nodded. His face was very close to hers. "What do you like to read," he asked in a whisper.
"I enjoy the Shakespearean sonnets and Keates," she said with a little uncertainty.
He had moved his fingertips to her wrist and had begun to trace the lines along her palm. Anthony smiled mischievously at her. "Keates? You surprise me, Miss Featherington. Such shocking content."
She blushed a deeper shade of crimson. "Not all of it is salacious. Some of it is quite beautiful."
"Do you recall any of his work?" he asked, entwining their fingers and making lazy patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb.
She began her recitation in tremulous voice,
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night"
He took her hand and brought each finger tip to his lips for a gentle kiss. She shivered slightly.
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
He grazed his finger tips along her inner arm from her wrist to her elbow. Tracing the delicate blue veins and swirling intricate patterns along her skin. She took in a tremulous breath.
"Keep going," he whispered.
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
Anthony began nuzzling her neck gently with his check and began to gently run his lips across her shoulder as his hand traced the elegant curve of her collarbone, and the words died on her lips.
"I am going to kiss you, Pen," he said, holding eye contact in order to seek their depths for her permission. She nodded dumbly, and blinked her doe eyes at him.
He lowered his mouth gently to hers. It was a soft and fluttering kiss. He eased back and searched her face for hesitancy and found none. He proceeded to kiss her again, more firmly. He allowed his hands to cup her face and then gently graze the contours of her neck. He felt the rapid beating of her pulse under the pad of his thumb.
He pulled back and looked at her once more. He pulled her to standing and eased her back against the column of their covering. Penelope had never seen such a wicked smile before. "You can touch me, you know," he said.
"I do not know how," she said truthfully, eyes all full of wonder and innocence.
He gently took her hands in his and placed them both along the hard planes of his chest. "Soon, if it has not already, there is a small part of your brain that will begin to issue you commands. Heed them," he said with a wolfish grin.
He swooped in for a firmer, more passionate grip. Instinctually, her fingers flexed on his muscles and she slowly slid her hands down to rest beneath the lapels of his jacket.
She could feel him smile against her lips. "I always knew you were a quick study," he mumbled against the corner of her lips. His hands had come to encircle her waist and his lips left the familiar contours of her mouth to slide gently across her throat and graze his teeth along her pulse point.
"Anthony," she hissed, as she raised her hands to firmly grip the back of his neck. He dropped delicate kisses along the curve of her neckline.
"When we are wed, I am going to devour your breasts, Penelope," he said with a low growl.
"Anthony!" she cried in astonishment.
He kissed back up her neck to her jaw and whispered in her ear. "I have thought of it often. You have driven me to distraction."
Her nails racked across his scalp at those words. "Me?" she asked breathlessly. "I have made you distracted . . . in that way."
He nodded against her neck. "You can be very alluring when you wish to be. I liked watching you these last weeks. How easy you've become around me. How free. I cannot wait to see you completely unbound for me."
He kissed her again, deeply, and passionately. She clung to his shoulders and reveled in the feel of his chest pressed against hers. She forgot to feel self conscious about the roundness of her stomach and the circumference of her waist. Anthony, for his part was entirely consumed by her. He splayed his hands along her back and slid them from her waist to shoulders and back down again. He clutched her hips and pulled her tight against him pressing the evidence of his need into her soft stomach. He knew he must cool his ardor. They were in a public place on his family grounds.
He pulled back and felt a flush of pride at her hooded eyes and rising color. "Did any of that feel good to you, Penelope," he asked, cupping her face and gently gliding his thumb along her jaw.
She laughed and he grinned at the sound. "I do not think you need to ask that, Anthony." She hid her face timidly against his chest.
He wrapped her in his arms more affection than raging passion. "There will be pain on our wedding night, Penelope. But there will also be many, many, many things that make you feel good. And I hope I have proved that I need not seek comfort elsewhere" He lifted her chin up to look into her eyes, "I desire you, Penelope, and I will ensure that you enjoy our coupling."
She nodded at him meekly. And god help him, but he would. In Anthony's humble opinion, the next few days could not pass soon enough!
Chapter 11: An Ever Lovely Jewel, Whose Shine Reflects on You
Summary:
Colin makes his return.
Chapter Text
Penelope had never been particularly close with her sisters. They had tried, each of them in their own way to create a connection between themselves, but they were just so different. Prudence and Phillipa had no idea why Penelope spent her time reading and writing. Penelope did not understand how her sisters could not see that rather humorless joke their family with its misfortunes and schemings had become.
There were many in the Ton who envied the Bridgertons. They were wealthy, well liked, and a handsomer brood of 8 children would be difficult to find. However, that was not what Penelope envied about them. She was jealous beyond measure at how much they genuinely liked one another. How they sought one another's company. The easy banter that surrounded the dinner table. The affectionate volley of good natured ribbing. That was why in the days leading up to her nuptials, Penelope found herself drawn again and again to Bridgerton House.
The younger children, in their characteristic forthrightness, had immediately taken a liking to having Penelope visit because she could be convinced to play games with them. And if Penelope played then Anthony played and if Anthony played then the other big Bridgertons could not be outdone.
And two days before the wedding, in the midst of a game of Blind Man's Bluff, the whole Bridgerton family got the surprise of a lifetime.
"Penelope," said Hyacinth, bouncing forward as the grown ups drank tea in the garden, "Gregory says he is the best at blind man's bluff, but I told him that could not be true because he cannot even find us when he has both eyes open."
"Hyacinth," admonished Violet.
"It's true," she said with an emphatic stamp of her foot.
Anthony leaned in. "It's true mother, I do not think Gregory is the keenest detective among us."
"Ha!" shouted Hyacinth triumphantly.
"And who do you suppose is, good brother," said Benedict snidely, "You could not possibly mean yourself."
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Clearly the most observant and discerning one among us is Penelope."
She blushed and worked to maintain her composure through her sip of tea.
"I was quite good when I was a child, but it has been years and years since I have played," she said, setting her saucer and cup down upon the table.
"Oh, please, Penelope," pleaded Hyacinth. "Would you? We can show Gregory he's not best at anything."
Anthony prepared to put up a fight for his fiance. The children took too much advantage of her, and he could not imagine this was how she wished to spend her afternoon. But he never got the chance to respond.
"Oh, well we cannot have him believing that now can we," she said, gathering her skirts as she rose from her chair. "Does anyone happen to have a blindfold?"
The Bridgertons made quick work of setting the game and scattering about the garden. Penelope could feel Anthony behind her, his hands firmly on her shoulders. He exhaled and she felt it along the delicate shell of her ear.
"Are you ready," he whispered. She gently nuzzled her face against him and then gave a brief but determined nod. He spun her quickly four times and then quickly scampered back from her. He was a Bridgerton afterall and he could not let his bride best him before they were even wed.
Penelope stopped momentarily in an attempt to orient herself though with her spinning head and lack of vision it was difficult. She first heard a gentle giggle from Hyacinth.
"Over here," called the youngest sibling, but even as she said it Penelope could sense the growing distance between them. She was already on the move.
"Pen," came Eloise's voice just out of reach. She wobbled forward on less steady feet and cast her arm out wildly to where she supposed her friend had been.
"Darling," called a voice but she knew it was not Anthony's.
"Benedict," came Anthony's angry reproach. It had done the trick. It had drawn him out and Penelope stepped swiftly in his direction. She moved quickly as she could already hear the rustle of shrubs and his retreating feet on the gravel.
She followed the crunch of shoes until she brushed the fabric of a jacket just out of reach. She heard a slight laugh and then "Penelope," just as she was embraced in a firm hug.
She stepped back abruptly and yanked the blindfold from her face, "Colin!"
"Come now, Pen, if you take the blindfold off you've lost the game," he teased good naturedly.
"I . . . Colin, we have not heard from you. We . . . we were quite worried," she stuttered.
"I had a change in plans and spent some time in Malta. Turns out it is very difficult to get post there," he said with a shrug. "Is there tea?" he asked. "I'm famished."
Penelope nodded dumbly as they made their way down the path and back to the veranda. She could hear the intake of breath as soon as the Bridgertons spotted them. She could feel Anthony's dark eyes on her. She found him among his siblings and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
"Colin!" shouted his two youngest siblings as they bounded across the lawn to embrace him.
"Did you bring me a present?" asked Hyacinth as she hung from his side.
Benedict peeled her off of his brother, "Let him get his land legs back before you bother him so much that he decides to leave again," said Benedict, giving his brother an affectionate pat on the back.
"You cannot leave now," cried Gregory, "You would miss the wedding!"
Colin grinned, "A wedding? It seems I have missed much. Ant, I assume someone is making an honest man out of you after all." There was an uncomfortable silence among the group.
"Hyacinth, Gregory, I think it is time for you both to practice your French conjugations," said Violet from her seat still surrounded by discarded tea things.
"Oh, but Colin just got back, Mama," said Gregory.
"Yes, and as you have said he is unlikely to leave before the wedding, so you all will have plenty of time with him. Now get along," she said firmly.
Colin sat and as his mother poured his tea and he piled his plate high with sandwiches and cakes.
"I am assuming from the awkwardness at the mention of Anthony's intended, you all assume that I will not approve of her in some way," he said as he popped an entire cucumber sandwich in his mouth.
Eloise laughed mirthlessly.
"Colin," began Penelope, but she was quickly interrupted when Anthony approached her and looped her arm through his own.
"May I present to you my fiance," said Anthony as he walked Penelope to a seat opposite Colin.
Colin's eyes grew comically wide and he spluttered around his half eaten sandwich.
"Anthony," he finally choked out, "I never took you for the joking kind. I see my absence has brought out a more playful side of you. I rather like it." He winked at Pen as he finished.
"Colin, dearest," began Violet.
"I am not joking, brother. I assure you I am very much in earnest when I say that I will marry Miss Featherington in but two days time."
Colin cast his eyes back and forth between his eldest brother and the woman he had often considered his dearest friend.
"Penelope?" he said her name like a question.
"It is true," she said, giving him a weak smile.
Colin sat back in his chair and ran his hands over his face. He leaned forward suddenly and turned toward Penelope. There were lines of tension all over his body as if he were wound so tightly he might spring apart at any moment. "So that is it then. I leave for a few weeks and you are suddenly in love with Anthony now?"
"Colin," she said gently, "That is not what happened." She cast a wary glance at Anthony but his eyes held only sorrow that she had to explain herself thus.
"Did your mother lay another trap? A viscount is probably quite the boon for her," he said acid dripping from his voice.
Before Penelope could even respond, Anthony stepped forward and put his hand on Penelope's shoulder. "Have a care with your words, brother." The patrician sternness of his voice was at once familiar and irritating to Colin.
"Or what," retorted Colin, "Will it be pistols at dawn again?"
"Colin!" cried Lady Bridgerton. "I forbid you boys to fight in this way."
Colin laughed. It was short and angry. "You cannot forbid us mother. We are men."
"Then act like it," said Eloise.
"You cannot possibly be pleased with this. She is your dearest friend, and he is a . . . a rogue!" Colin had risen and was pacing and gesticulating wildly.
"Colin," Penelope began. Gently as one would talk to an unruly child or a startled animal. "Your brother has been nothing but gentlemanly kindness to me. It is not what either of us had planned, but I do not think it is such a bad match. Do you?" she asked.
"Oh, it is a capital match, Pen. He," began Colin, pointing aggressively at Anthony, "will marry the sweetest angel in all of creation, and I will be your brother in law forced to sit and watch for all of eternity as the two of you parade around in your sordid entanglement."
Eloise rolled her eyes, and really she felt she rolled her eyes for everyone present and everyone who would ever hear of this story.
Penelope rose to her feet. "Well, I do not see that this will be much of a problem then," she cast a level gaze at him, "as you will hardly be here long enough to see it. I am sure that not 15 minutes ago you were already plotting your next escape to some far flung place. The only thing you are angry about, Colin, is that there will now be no one at home pining for you. Not in the way you want. Forget that your mother worries constantly while you are gone. That your siblings miss you and inquire of you constantly. Forget that half the ton awaits with baited breath the grand return of the great and amiable Colin Bridgerton," she drew in a deep breath.
"Pen," Colin began to move toward her, but she put out a firm hand to stop him.
"You do not want a friend, Colin. You want a simpering, and doting fool, who will wait for you and assuage your guilt and make you feel the part of the Homeric hero. But this Penelope is done with waiting. We have pulled one too many threads I fear." And with that she turned, descended the steps and disappeared into the garden below.
Colin had the good grace to look ashamed. "That is not what I want from her," he said to no one in particular.
He received no reply but chilly stares from his siblings and one slightly arched eyebrow from his mother.
Chapter 12: I'd Marry You With Paper Rings
Summary:
Colin and Penelope make their peace, and Anthony and Pen enjoy some alone time!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Anthony found her rather quickly. He had learned that Penelope had a talent for finding the best hiding places. The ones that were always off the beaten path. She attributed it to Whistledown, but Anthony had long since suspected that Whistledown was just a manifestation of the loneliness that Penelope had felt her whole life.
She was among the rose bushes that created a quiet semicircle facing the lake. There was an ancient stone bench there and not much else. He imagined that some far off ancestor had commissioned it in order to romance a woman, but he found the quiet and simple beauty often suited their conversations quite nicely.
Penelope did not look up to greet him though she heard his approach quite clearly. She instead focused on brutally plucking each petal from the bloom she held in front of her. Anthony leaned against a nearby tree and watched her for several reflective moments.
"Are you using the flower to divine which Bridgerton brother you shall marry?" He tried to chuckle as he said it but the words turned bitter and ugly the moment they were set upon the air.
"No," she said with another violent jerk to the poor bloom, "I am using it to determine the way I should kill one of the Bridgerton brothers."
As this, Anthony did laugh fully and genuinely. "And what are your proposed methods," he asked, pushing off of the tree and coming to stand in her direct line of sight.
"Poison which seems too painless, honestly, or perhaps death by a thousand cuts," she threw the mostly denuded flower down on the ground in disgust and frustration. "I actually do not like being cross," she said as she finally cast her eyes up to meet Anthony's.
"Never had that problem myself. I always seemed to relish a good fight." He turned and looked out across the lake for a moment. "It's funny, you know. My father was so even tempered. Everyone says Colin is so much like him in that regard. In fact, I have never known him to argue over anything but you."
They were quiet for several long moments as they watched the sun move closer and closer to the water line like a large stone gathering momentum as it rolled down a hill.
"That does not mean anything, Anthony, or at least it does not have to mean anything," she said with a shrug.
"If you wish to be released from our engagement, if you want it to mean something, you can tell me," he said, finally looking her square in the eye. "I would step aside if you think it will make you happy."
She patted the seat next to her on the bench. He sat and to his great surprise, Penelope looped her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder. It took him a moment, but he finally allowed his own head to rest upon the copper curls.
"You know how when you wake up from a pleasant dream and you wish you could go back to sleep and hold onto it for a little while longer?" she said.
He hummed gently in response.
"You want to go back because the goodness, the joy you feel in the dream never lasts long in the daylight. I want to make a life that I can hold up to the brightest sun and it will stay. It won't get chased away by reality into some corner that you can only grasp pieces of in the dark."
He twined his fingers with her. "Penelope, I've never been one for poetry. So I just need you to tell me plainly what you want."
She lifted her head and smiled at him. "I want to marry you in two days time, and I never want you to forget that you are the person I chose not as a last resort, not as a convenience but because I think we will make a very good life together, Anthony."
When they returned to the house some time later, if each looked slightly more disheveled than they had when they departed, well then, there was no need to call attention to it.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Half of the table was still seething from the interactions of earlier in the day, and the other half were pulled under by the uncomfortable current of chilled glances and requests to pass the peas uttered through gritted teeth. There was a great sense of relief when the meal was ended, and the ladies could take their leave and at last breathe a bit without worrying about the brooding band of brothers they left behind with their port.
Eloise quickly took to Pen's side as she began whispering and turning them in a circuit around the room.
"You missed the best bits when you left," Eloise whispered. "As soon as you and Ant were out of ear shot Benedict gave Colin a proper telling off, and when Colin turned to mother for support she told him that no one had said anything to him that was not true and that he would have to be a grown up about it."
Penelope massaged her temple with her free hand. "Oh, El! How did this become such a mess?"
"I am afraid to say that we Bridgertons are a messy lot. There are so many of us that at least one of us is in a scrape at any given time. I fear you will have to become used to it when you become a Bridgerton yourself."
Penelope smiled up at her friend. "You know, this is the first time it has dawned on me that I will actually be a Bridgerton."
Eloise squeezed her hand and grinned back. "I have thought of nothing else. We shall be true sisters at last!"
The door to the sitting room swung open, and as if attached to the same hinges as the doors, every head in the room swiveled to look at the three Bridgertons. The ton always remarked on how similar they looked, but standing shoulder to shoulder in the frame of the doorway the similarities were undeniable. All three were tall, and brown-headed, and broad. It was no wonder that people often mistook them for one another. She knew in that moment, she could have had Colin with very little fuss. Anthony would be gracious. The bans would have been read and the honeymoon departed for before many of the Ton realized that Penelope had actually married a different brother. But looking upon the rigid set of each of their shoulders she knew the differences well. And she knew with more surety than she had ever known anything that marrying Anthony would make her life happier and fuller than she had ever hoped. In the midst of this revery Colin approached her.
"Penelope, may I speak with you?" He asked, not quite meeting her eyes. She peered over his shoulder and caught Anthony's eye. He smiled but shrugged as if to say she should do as she liked.
"Certainly," she said. He led her over to a private corner of the sitting room and bid her sit down on the settee.
He sat beside her and began to fidget agitatedly. He clenched his fists. He rubbed his palms together. He stole several surreptitious glances at her face before he finally rose and began to pace before her.
Penelope's anxiety grew with each passing moment. Finally, nerves strung too tight to continue in this way she blurted out, "I will not leave Anthony for you."
Colin stopped short and finally turned to face her. He let out a short burst of a laugh. "That is good to know. I promise I would not have asked that of you, but I can see how my previous behavior could lead you to believe that I would be so cruel."
He sat with her once more. "Penelope, I behaved abominably. Not just earlier today but," he paused and quickly raked his hand through his hair, "well, perhaps I've been behaving badly since I've known you."
"That seems a touch unfair," said Penelope.
"No, it is true. I've always known that your feelings were . . . were more than my own, and I liked the way it made me feel even though I knew I did not reciprocate them," he said.
"It is mortifying to see that my preference for you was so plain, but Colin we were so young when we met. Neither one of us had the slightest notion of how difficult any of this would actually be," Penelope replied.
"I do not know that your regard for me was plain to everyone, but I saw it, and I coveted it. It made me feel worthy in a way I never had before. Third sons are not often doted on, you know." He picked mindlessly as the knee of his pant leg. "I was callous to want that forever. I was even more callous to want a life for myself but to always keep you the way we had been."
She sighed but did not speak. "Benedict and I had a long talk this afternoon, and Eloise, though she mostly just shouted at me." Penelope could not help but smile at this admission. He turned to look at her again. "Anthony never spoke of a love match. He never had those dreams like the rest of us, but I think he may have found it without even knowing it. He's a good man as loathe as we all are to admit it sometimes. I am glad that if you must set your affections aside for someone else that it is him. He will be a good husband to you."
"I know," she said, "And besides you have not thought of all the ways I can assist you in annoying him now that I am to be his wife." She gently butted her shoulder against him as he laughed.
"I fear that would backfire as he would be furious with me and still adore you."
"I had also thought of that," she said with a laugh of her own. They grew quiet for a moment.
"Then we shall still be friends then?" He asked, his voice still full of hope.
"No!" cried Pen. "You will be my brother and I think that will be much better.
Sometime later Anthony approached, "Penelope, love, it is time that I escort you home."
"Yes, of course," said Colin as he rose from the settee. "I'll bring that book of Grecian flora to you soon, Pen." He turned to Anthony. "Goodnight, brother."
Anthony gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and bid him goodnight.
Before they had made it more than two steps out the door of Bridgerton house, Anthony had pulled Penelope into a darkened corner of the front garden and had kissed her breathless.
"Not that I am disappointed," Penelope gasped, "But what has sparked this ardor."
"I simply wanted to remind you of my skills lest Benedict steal into your bedroom this evening and try to convince you that he is actually the brother for you."
She threw her head back and laughed. "Nonsense, I could never see Benedict that way, but in a decade's time, should I go missing, you may rest easy knowing that Gregory and I have run away together."
He laughed. "The rapscallion would too. He would steal you right from underneath my nose," he looked at her, feigning deep thought, "I suppose I will have to work diligently to convince you to stay with me always."
He pressed his lips against hers and walked her backwards until her body was flush against the trunk of a sturdy tree.
She broke apart from him. "Anthony, we will be caught."
"I do not care," he rasped before he began placing gentle kisses along her neck and jaw. "We will be apart from one another for an entire day tomorrow." He slid his hand up to cup her breast. Helpless against the feelings rising inside of her she arched her back and pushed herself further into his touch. "I need the memory of you real and firm in my mind."
"Anthony," she breathed again as he continued peppering kisses along the tops of her breasts.
He slid both hands down to her hips and pulled her tight against him. They both gasped as the heat and friction between them built. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck tugging a gasp from him for her efforts.
He locked eyes with her as he ground his hips against her center. "On our wedding night, I am going to be so gentle with you. But the day after our wedding, I will show you what passion and ardor can be."
She hitched one leg over his hip and clutched his shoulders tightly, "Anthony, please," she stuttered, "I . . . please."
He could not help the chuckle that escaped him and he planted a soft kiss against her neck. "You do not even know what you are asking me for, darling."
"I can feel it," she whispered. Eyes screwed shut and hands scrabbling for purchase.
"Penelope, my love," he breathed as he devoured her breaths with a kiss. "I am going to touch you in a place we have not yet explored. Can you open your eyes for me?"
She blinked her eyes open. They were clouded with want and the smallest touch of fear. "I would like to show you what it can be like for a man and a woman. May I?"
She nodded her head mutely. He kissed her gently again. "You tell me if there is anything you do not like or if you wish to stop, yes?" She nodded again.
Anthony rested his fingertips on the knee that was currently nestled on his hip. He traced lazy circles as he began to slowly trace his way up Penelope's thigh.
Her eyes had gone wide and her cheeks had grown even more flushed. "Do you wish for me to stop?" He asked, pausing his path midthigh.
"No," she gasped. "I . . . it's just that no one has ever touched me there."
"Do you like it?" he asked, a hint of his usual cocky smile returning.
"I feel like I am on fire."
His grin widened, "Then I am doing my job well."
He continued his path up her leg until he reached her hip where he splayed his hand along the top and gripped her more firmly. "Your skin is so soft." He kissed her on the neck as his thumb began to trace the juncture where her leg met her womanhood. "When we are wed, I will kiss you here," he said as his thumb grazed a sensitive spot on her inner thigh." He leaned closer to whisper, "In fact, I intend to kiss you everywhere."
Penelope's grip on his shoulders tightened. "Anthony," she whined.
His breath was warm and erratic against her ear. "Have you ever touched yourself here," he asked as he moved her pantaloons aside to touch her center. He could feel her head shake once and then the sudden intake of breath as he traced light circles around her pearl.
"I like being the only person who has touched you here," he whispered. "I have driven myself crazy thinking of this exact moment," he said as he put slightly more pressure behind his movements.
"I cannot wait until I can see all of you. Every beautiful bare inch spread out before me."
Her breaths were coming hot and fast. "I wonder . . ." he paused, tracing his finger back to her entrance, slowly sliding his middle finger into her center. They both gasped. "Just as I thought, heaven," he said as he slowly and gently worked his finger in and out of her tight core.
"Anthony, I think I may faint," she said.
He pulled his head back quickly to examine her face. "Should we stop?" He began to pull away in earnest but she wrapped her arms more firmly around his neck.
"Don't," said Penelope.
"Are you sure?" he asked, taking his free hand and pressing his palm against her flushed cheek.
"Yes," she said as she nodded vigorously against his chest.
He redoubled his efforts sliding his finger further into her as he made soft, quick circles around her nub. He could feel her bearing down on his hand as she rolled her hips. Her muscles tightened around him. He thrust harder and laid open mouthed kisses against neck, sucking gently at the spot where he could feel her pulse beneath his tongue.
She has begun to repeat his name over and over again. "Anthony, Anthony, Anthony," like an ancient incantation. The magic as old as the beginning of time. Man and woman. Soul to soul.
Finger and thumb still worked furiously at her center, he leaned down and captured her mouth in a bruising kiss. In that moment, Penelope's whole body seemed to tense.
He pulled back to watch the exquisite agony wash over her face as she reached her release. Her head lolled back against the tree and her hitched leg slid slowly down his side. He wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her up right and kissed her brow and cheeks gently as the small tremors of her afterglow coursed through her.
She let her head fall forward into the crook of his neck, and he rubbed his hand from the crown of her head down her back over and over again as one would soothe a startled animal. When she finally looked up at him, he saw a sheen of tears shimmering across her eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked in a panic. "Does anything hurt?" he asked, taking her by the shoulders and looking her up and down as if assessing her for injuries.
"No," she sniffed, "it was lovely. I . . . it felt . . . perfect. I do not know what is wrong with me," she said as she hurriedly dashed a tear away with the back of her hand.
Anthony stooped so they were at eye level. "There is nothing wrong with you," he used his thumbs in tandem to wipe the tears from the apples of her cheeks. "It has been a long and trying day that has been preceded by a long and trying month, and your future husband has just given you the greatest pleasure you have ever known."
She laughed and then gave a pathetic sniff. "No truly," he said, "I am honestly surprised that more women do not cry when they see me. I can have quite the overwhelming effect."
She pulled at the lapels of his jacket and gave him a sweet kiss. "Shush, you. The last thing we need is hordes of crying women at our wedding. You will have to be sure to hide your charm lest we be inundated with wails and weeping as I walk down the aisle." She had begun to trace the sides of his neck with her finger tips.
"I shall do my best," he said as he leaned down and gave her one final kiss.
Notes:
I'm sorry for the delay in posting. Things have been hectic this week. We just have one more chapter to go, and it will be up on Sunday!
Chapter 13: Ladies and Gentlemen Will You Please Stand
Summary:
The wedding day has come, but perhaps more importantly, the wedding night.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The day of wedding dawned beautiful. The sun shone. The birds sang. And Penelope Featherington paced.
"Dear heart, you must be still," chided her mother.
"I do not know what's come over me, mother," said Penelope, a note of panic edging her voice.
"You are a bride," Portia said with a shrug. "All brides feel anxious."
"What if he does not come to the church? Or worse, what if he comes but changes his mind at the altar in front of everyone," Penelope was close to tears.
Portia merely laughed. "Even a Bridgerton could not recover from making that mistake twice. I can assure you, even if it were not for the clear regard the Viscount has for you, there would be no other man more adamant about marrying today."
Her mother crossed the room and gently patted her check. "Now, do not cry and spoil all the work your maid has done. You look quite pretty today."
Penelope clutched her mother's hand, "Thank you, mama."
Portia sniffed and shook her head. "None of that. It is a happy day and we will be happy despite your decidedly uncheerful choice of color for your wedding gown."
Penelope turned and smooth her hand over the front of her silver gown. "I think I rather like it," said Penelope.
Before Portia could respond there was a knock at the door. A maid entered and curtsied. "I am sorry to intrude ma'am, but a gift has arrived for Miss Penelope. I believe it is from the Viscount."
"I will leave you to your package from your amore, but do not be long. You have a groom to meet," and with an uncharacteristic kiss to her daughter's cheek, Portia quitted the room.
Penelope fingered the delicate blue ribbon that surrounded the gift box. She lifted the lid and over sheets of gauzy tissue, she found a card emblazoned with the royal seal. Gasping, she quickly broke the seal in order to get to the note's contents.
Miss Featherington,
Being as you have done exactly as I have asked - both securing a fine husband and ceasing the ghastly business of Whistledown, I began to think that you might grow bored with the tedium of the Ton.
While I cannot approve of your methods or some of your more radical content, I recognize in you a small bit of myself. We are both smart women who history will mostly remember for whom we have married, and not the supreme sacrifices we have made in order to protect those things which we hold dearest.
I hope that you will use this journal as a place to begin a new literary journey. A place to write a new story, and one that you can own for all the world to see your brilliance and your worth. I ask simply that I be allowed to read it before all others having become a patron of sorts to your art.
I will leave you with these words. There are no guarantees in this life. Not even for royals and certainly not for wallflowers. I hope life will treat you and the Viscount kindly, but in the event that troubles come (and they inevitably will), remember that you are much stronger and braver than the rest of the world believes. Your Viscount is lucky to have you.
Your Queen
Peneople's arm was looped through Benedict as they stood in the narthex of the church. "It's not too late to change your mind, you know," he said with a smile. "There are three more Bridgerton men who would happily sweep you off to Gretna Green."
Penelope couldn't help but laugh. "That is a charming offer, Benedict, but I am already dressed for the occasion, it seems a shame to waste such a pretty dress."
"You do look lovely, and you're right, everyone should see you in this frock." He paused for a moment. "He's lucky to have you, you know. We all are."
The doors opened but Penelope's chest swelled with love. She was to be a Bridgerton at last. They were to be her family in name and in devotion and of that she was excessively grateful.
For years, Anthony would claim he did not tear up when he caught sight of Penelope at the end of the aisle, but his bride knew better. She was stunning, and real, and to be his in but a moment's time, so if a few tears were shed, who could deny him this swell of emotion?
After the I dos were said and vows made, the family and guests returned to Bridgerton house to toast the happy couple. For the first time in Pen's life, she was not uncomfortable being the center of attention, for Anthony was stalwart by her side, and she was surrounded by a passel of smiling Bridgertons and Featheringtons.
"Mrs. Bridgerton, at last," said a commanding voice.
"Lady Danbury," said Penelope, "Thank you so much for coming to celebrate with us today!"
"I would not have missed it for anything," she turned her attention to Anthony, "You have had a quite a fortunate turn of events this season, My Lord. Though I like to think I played my small part in your grand love story."
"As ever, Lady Danbury, all good things are thanks to you," said Anthony with no end of cheek in his voice.
"And do not forget that, Anthony Bridgerton. I shall expect you both for tea when you return from your honeymoon tour. I'm sure you will have much to share with me." said Lady Danbury.
Anthony suppressed a goran, but Penelope simply grinned. "We would be delighted to join you," she said, "In fact, we will likely need to make it a weekly occurrence."
Lady Danbury threw her head back and laughed. "We will indeed. I'm sure you thought you would get a doting and docile wife with this one, my Lord, but I am pleased to find that you will be much mistaken," she said to Anthony.
"I knew exactly who I was marrying, ma'am, and I would not have her any other way," replied Anthony.
That evening she sat at her vanity brushing out her copper curls. She wore a delicate nightgown that she had found quite scandalous but Genevie assured her was de rigor. While she and Anthony had been affectionate before, he had never seen her in such a state of undress, and when the gentle knock sounded at the door, she felt the urge to flee the house entirely.
"Come in," she said weakly.
Anthony stood in the doorway looking like a young prince. He wore only a shirt and breeches, his cravat long removed and his feet bare against the plush rug. It stole Penelope's breath away.
He smiled at her. A predatory smile like a cat who had finally cornered some small prey and walked toward her. She faced the mirror again. Frozen with both want and fear. She had no idea what to do or how to proceed. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and slowly began wrapping tendrils of her hair around his fingers.
"I like your hair down," he said. "I like that most people do not get to see it down in this way. You look like a fairy or wood nymph."
She couldn't help but laugh at this. "In the morning when it is a tangled mess, you will think me more an ogre."
He leaned down and kissed her check. "We'll have none of that," he said, "here in our chambers, you must only say kind and lovely things about yourself. You may only say about yourself what I would say about you. And I say you are a goddess."
She turned her head to look up at him, "Any other edicts I should abide by, my lord?" she asked with a sly grin.
He pulled her to standing and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Well, now that you mention it, we will also have none of this 'my lord' business in here. It must always be Anthony, or husband, or lover, or darling." Penelope giggled at this. "Are you nervous, Pen?"
She nuzzled her face into his chest. "I know that we have been," she paused as if searching for a word, "intimate before, but no one has ever seen me so exposed. What if you do not like me?"
He raised her chin up so he could look into her eyes, "Oh, I like you very much. I have imagined what you would look like laid bare before me so many times, and I imagine none of it will have come close to the absolutely breathtaking sight that awaits me."
"But what if it's worse? What if I displease you?"
"What if I displease you?" he asked.
A mirthless guffaw escaped her lips. "That does not seem possible."
"And I have told you that it does not seem possible that you will displease me, so perhaps we should both just take one another at our word."
Penelope nodded. "I don't know what to do," she said feeling rather pathetic.
"What if we begin with what we have already done?" He pulled her with him to the armchair that was placed in front of the fire. Once he had her settled in his lap, he placed a series of gentle kisses on her mouth, her eyes, her neck.
She shifted slightly to run her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and the kiss deepened from gentle pecks to fervent, lustful things that drew the breath from them both.
Penelope pulled away gently. "Is it too bold to ask you to take off your shirt? I think I would like to feel your skin."
He smiled wolfishly at her. "A new edict," he said, as he pulled his shirt over his head, "Nothing you say here could ever be too bold, my love."
He sat back in the chair as she studied the chiseled contours of his chest. Her delicate hands roamed gently over his shoulders and abdomen, scratching lightly at the hair she discovered there. "Do I disappoint?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Not at all," she whispered, still tracing gentle patterns against his skin. "Does it feel nice when I touch you?" she asked, and the sweetness in her voice and her eyes was nearly his undoing.
"It feels far more than nice. I like how soft and gentle your hands are," he said but leaned in to whisper in her ear, "but I will also like it when your hands are fierce and demanding later on this evening."
She looked at him startled. "Do you think I will become fierce during our love making?"
"I think you will absolutely devour me," he said as he sucked a delicate spot on her neck.
Sometime later, Penelope having lost all sense of time, Anthony stood and carried her to their bed. "As lovely as this nightgown is, dearest, I would like to remove it."
Her eyes searched his for a long moment. Once this deed was done, there would be no more mystery. She would know for certain what he thought of her body, and in that moment she decided that Anthony was worth that risk. She gave him a confident nod, and he went to work peeling the garment up her body and flinging it behind them.
She laid back on the bed, arms pulled in close and bottom lip drawn between her teeth. Anthony's eyes became owlish, comically blown wide as he took her in. "Penelope, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."
Her skin glowed pink under his praise. "You don't have to say things like that, Anthony. You've already married me."
"You best get used to it, my love, for I intend to say things like that every day. Now, please be quiet while I attend to the most beautiful pair of breasts in all of creation."
She laughed as his hand skimmed along her collarbone and then gasped as he brought both hands to cup each of her breasts. He experimentally ran his thumb over one of her nipples and smiled at the startled gasp that sprang from his bride. He took the pebbled peak into his mouth and sucked gentle which elicited the most erotic moan he had heard in his life.
"Anthony," Penelope gasped as she clutched the back of his head.
He released her nipple with lascivious pop and grinned up at her, "Yes, my darling?"
"I . . ." she stammered, unsure of how to proceed. "I like that," she said, trying to bury her head in the pillow.
"I thought you might," he said and he took her other nipple in his mouth to do the same. "You know, Pen, I think I will need to spend at least one hour a day with your breasts in my hands or my mouth in order to be completely satisfied in our marriage. Do you think you could accommodate that?" He laughed as she could only muster a frantic nod with her eyes screwed shut and jaw set.
He skimmed his mouth down her stomach to her belly button and began placing soft kisses on the rounded planes of her. He felt her muscles contract as she tried to move away from him.
"Anthony, you do not need to kiss me there. I know that my figure is not what it ought to be. I know it is not what you are used to," she said with false bravado to try to cover up her shame.
He leaned back so he could look her directly in the eye. "That is where you are wrong, wife. I must kiss you here," he placed another kiss on her stomach, he moved up and kissed right above her heart, "and here, and here, and here," he said as he dotted kisses all along her body. "I made a vow today. 'With my body, I thee worship,' and I intend to make good on that vow. I intend to worship every part of you until you love it as much as I do."
She grabbed his face and pulled him into a fierce kiss. He settled between her legs as they began the slow dance of kisses and caresses that have been played out in happy marital beds since the dawn of time.
In a series of steps that Penelope could not exactly chart, Anthony removed his trousers and his under clothes, and she was graced with the glory that was a completely nude Viscount in her bed. He laid back, hands behind his head like a proud sultan while Penelope explored him.
"It is not like I thought it would be," she said as she timidly traced a finger along the underside of his cock.
He hissed a breath, "What did you think it would be like?"
"Angrier," she said with a little laugh. "One time I saw two dogs mating, and it seemed terrible and red. But yours is quite nice," she said as she wrapped her hand around the base.
"Quite nice?" he asked incredulously.
"Well, I have little to compare it to, so quite nice was the best I can do at the moment," she smiled as she ran her hand up his shaft and looked quite triumphant when he moaned.
He grabbed her wrist to stop her ministrations. "I will have you know, it is more than quite nice, and soon you will know exactly how nice it can be." He flipped her suddenly onto her back and she giggled from the surprise and the joy of it all. "Now little wife, I must make sure you are prepared for my quite nice appendage."
He scooted down the bed and spread her legs open. Her pink slit was slick from the time they had already spent kissing and exploring one another. He ran one finger from her clit to her entrance and gloried in the hiss of pleasure that escaped her mouth.
"Penelope, I am going to kiss you here," he said, as he circled her nub with his thumb. She looked at him wide eyed. "I did not know that was a thing that could be done!"
Instead of answering with words, he leaned and swiped his tongue up the same path that his finger had followed. Again and again he licked, he sucked, he kissed until Penelope was a writhing mess on the very precipice of release. He gently inserted a finger and then a second as he massaged her inner walls, infinitesimally stretching her opening to prepare her for the marriage act. Finally with a combination of his fingers and mouth he brought her over the edge and she shuddered and cried out his name as she reached her release.
He watched her with such fond tenderness as she came down, her breathing returning to normal and he could not help but grin when she was finally able to open her eyes and look at him. She kissed him hard and insistent. "Make me your wife, Anthony. Make me truly your wife."
He slid back between her legs. He placed a kiss upon her brow as he aligned his cock with her entrance and sank slowly into her. While there was some pain, more than anything Penelope noticed the burn of fullness she felt. After a moment, he began to move his hips and set a gentle rhythm. She suddenly understood what he meant about fierceness. She could not help but to meet his hips with her own, and with each passing moment, the caresses on his back turned into long scratches of her nails and finally small bite marks along his neck and his shoulders.
"You feel amazing," he breathed into her ear. His hips snapped harder and harder against her as each of them wound up to their climax. "My Penelope, my love," he chanted as he snaked his arm between him so he could rub small circles around her clit. She gasped at the contact.
"Anthony, Anthony, I think I am going to peak again," she cried.
"Come for me, my love, come for me, just me," he said. A few thrusts later, stars burst behind her eyes and her legs began to shake where she had them clamped behind his back. With her orgasm, he could not help but to spill deep inside of her. His own pleasure quickly followed hers.
They lay in the bed sleepy and sated. In the aftermath of their love making, Penelope's body began to cool and she shivered slightly.
"Come my love," said Anthony, as he pulled her close and draped the coverlet on top of them.
Suddenly, Pen felt the overwhelming urge to cry. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and sniffed pathetically.
"What's wrong, Pen? Was it . . . did I hurt you?" he asked in a panic rubbing the back of his hand along her delicate cheek.
"No, no," she said quickly, "you didn't hurt me. I just didn't know it would feel like this. That I would feel so open to you. Feel so connected."
He smiled as he brushed the hair back from her forehead. "And does that frighten you?"
"Not frighten. I liked it," she said with a blush. "It's just been so forbidden to me until tonight. It felt like . . . like a wonder."
"You are a wonder, my wife."
"And you are quite nice, my husband" she smiled cheekily at him. She could feel more than hear the laugh that rumbled through him.
"We will see how nice you feel I am when we do that again, but for now, my little temptress, you have worn me out, and I think we should sleep." He blew out the beside candle and snuggled down into the covers with her.
"Anthony?" said Penelope.
"Yes, my little slipper?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too, wife," and he kissed her gently on the forehead before succumbing to sleep.
In the depth of the night, as her husband slept soundly in their bed. Penelope sat at the little table, fresh quill, and the beautifully gifted journal in hand. She dipped the nib once, then twice, took a deep breath and began to write.
She had no notion of how one began in love with one brother and in the end married to another. It was all quite a surprising journey. But somehow, in the tiny alcove of a crowded soirée, our two lovers found a way to begin again . . .