Testing Audio -DK Principessa

by kibass91

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27. A Rocky, Winding Path

Summary:

Colin sleeps with Penelope and forgets it the next day. Penelope must deal with the consequences, with the help of the elder Bridgertons.

Chapter One Penelope tells Anthony

Anthony left the boisterous Bridgerton breakfast room, seeking the solace of his office. He was feeling a little tender this morning, having overindulged the night before. Colin's engagement ball had been a grand affair. Anthony was happy his wandering sibling was finally settling down, and his bride to was… perfectly nice. Quiet, genteel, from a good family. Nothing to object to at all. If Anthony found her a little dull, well, he wasn't marrying her. Everyone loved a wedding, the family were in high spirits. Anthony was retreating to his office to 'go over the estate books'; family code for 'nurse his hangover.'

He was shocked to find his office already occupied by Penelope Featherington. She looked up as he entered and said in a soft voice, "Lord Bridgerton, may I have a quiet word with you?" She nodded to the door, "Discreetly?"

Anthony closed the door and sat behind the desk. "How did you get into my office? The footman didn't say you were here."

Penelope gave him a wry smile. "Eloise and I spent a decade sneaking in and out of each other's houses. I know my way around. I also know, as it's Monday, your family will be going to the park, so we should be undisturbed." She paused and closed her eyes, taking a moment to harden her resolve. "I have a rather large favour to ask of you."

Anthony leaned forward, looking intently at Penelope. He was trying to reconcile the girl he knew as his sister's close companion with the serious woman seated in front of him. She had grown up without him noticing. She was Eloise's age, but conveyed far greater maturity, as if she carried burdens beyond her years.

"If you wish me to help you reconcile with Eloise, I am at your disposal. She's been a thundercloud since your falling out," Anthony offered, although honesty made him add, "You might be better getting Benedict to help you. Eloise delights in not listening to me."

Penelope shook her head. "No, this has nothing to do with Eloise. In fact, I would prefer none of your family learn about this."

Anthony leaned back in his chair, intrigued. "Before I can promise that, I will need to know what 'this' is." Penelope glanced down, hesitating. Anthony tried to reassure her. "I will do what I can to help you, but not to the detriment of my family. Please, tell me what you need from me."

Penelope sat silent a moment before speaking. "It's strange. I've gone over this in my head so many times, and now I'm uncertain where to start." She paused again. Anthony waited, trying not to rush or intimidate her as she gathered her thoughts.

"Do you remember my sister Prudence's wedding ball, three months ago. You and your wife attended, as did your mother, Benedict, and … Colin."

Anthony nodded, noting how she hesitated over Colin's name.

"I retired early," she continued. "I felt unwell, and went to lie down. I awoke to someone entering my room." She looked directly at Anthony. "It was Colin."

Anthony went still, not liking where the story was going. Penelope continued.

"He seemed a bit lightheaded. Not drunk, but somewhat, dreamy. Unfocused. He sat down next to me and took my hand. He told me…" she hesitated again, "He told me wonderful things, things I'd longed to hear from him. Then he kissed me."

Anthony went rigid and growled, "He forced himself on you?"

Penelope shook her head. "No. What happened that night, he did not force me. I… I thought all my dreams were coming true at once. I was willing, eager even, although I didn't really know what was happening. He did not force me. When I awoke the next morning, Colin was gone." Penelope stopped for a moment, collecting her emotions.

Anthony was silent, trying to process his disgust at his brother's behaviour, a feeling that only grew as the significance of the dates filtered through.

"That was the week Colin…" He trailed off.

"That was the week Colin started courting Miss Foster. Diamond of the Season." Penelope finished his sentence, a slight bitterness creeping into her tone. Well, he could hardly blame her for that.

"No one knew about our," she searched for the right word, "our tryst. He behaved as if it never happened; at the next ball he treated me as he always did. So I tried to pretend it hadn't happened. Almost convinced myself it was a dream." She sat up straight and looked Anthony in the eye. "I can no longer maintain that pretense."

Anthony went cold, now understanding the burdens Penelope carried. "You're.."

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton. I am carrying Colin's child."

The silence stretched, ten seconds or ten years. Penelope felt a certain relief, having said it our loud for the first time. Anthony glanced at his watch before deciding 11am was not too early for a whiskey. He poured it into a glass, knocked it back and filled the glass again before sitting down. He stared at the girl; no, the woman sitting opposite him. Despite the dire nature of her situation, she sat calmly, no tears or hysterics, both of which would be warranted in the circumstance; Anthony could feel the panic bubbling in his own bowels. Clearly, Penelope had already dealt with her emotions. She was now ready to deal with the practicalities, and was waiting patiently for Anthony to catch up. He remembered that he was a Viscount and head of the family, and really should take charge of the situation.

He began writing a note. "I'll send a footman to retrieve Colin and we can discuss how to proceed."

Penelope leaned across the desk and snatched the note, tearing it to pieces. "No, Colin will not be involved in this."

"Colin is already involved." Anthony retorted. "He will take responsibility for his actions."

"He is already publicly engaged to someone else. Breaking it now would be humiliating for all parties. Besides, whatever I once felt for your brother is long since dissolved. I have no wish to associate with him further. I will not be trapped in a marriage with a man who has no regard for me. Whatever sins I've committed, I don't deserve that punishment."

The steel in Penelope's voice matched the steel in her spine, and gave Anthony pause.

"Very well, Miss Featherington, how would you wish to proceed? You spoke of a favour earlier. I imagine you have a plan."

Penelope took a deep breath. "I wish to leave London. Retire to a cottage in the countryside and raise my child. I have sufficient funds to live on indefinitely, or to purchase a cottage, but not both. The favour I seek from you is the purchase of the property. After that, you need not worry. I will disappear. Neither I nor the child will bother you again."

Anthony considered her words for a moment. "I think there are aspects you have not considered. I will need more details before I agree to anything."

"Of course, Lord Bridgerton," Penelope replied, "I would expect no less."

"First, how do you expect to leave London without scandal? Your sudden absence would be noted, by Lady Whistledown at the very least. Second, and at the risk of being indelicate, how do you have sufficient funds for a decent living? I know your late father left your family's finances in a dire state, your cousin's schemes only worsened things."

A small smile played on Penelope's lips, which Anthony found quite unsettling. He'd seen a similar expression on his wife's face…often. It said "I know so many things you do not know."

"I can settle both of your concerns with one answer, Lord Bridgerton." Penelope looked him squarely in the eye. "I am Lady Whistledown."

Anthony sat, mouth agape, too dumbfounded to move. He tried and failed to reconcile the young woman in front of him, who he had known for a decade to be kind, quiet, and soft spoken with the sarcastic harridan who had plagued the Ton in general, and his family in particular for the last three years. He couldn't. The two images could not fit in his head at the same time. He raised his glass to his lips, dismayed to find it empty but decided against a refill. He needed to keep his wits, given who he was dealing with.

"Well, that explains the money." He thought for a moment. "Your fight with Eloise?"

Penelope nodded. "I didn't want to write about her at all, but I couldn't see any other way. The Queen was convinced Eloise was Whistledown and threatened to expose her and ruin your family."

"And you thought it better to ruin Eloise than expose yourself," Anthony felt his anger rising.

"The Queen would have dismissed me as Eloise's friend trying to cover for her. No one would have believed the insipid wallflower was actually Lady Whistledown." Penelope sat back, somewhat deflated. "And, in honesty, I could not afford to give up the column. You are correct about my family's finances. I have been funnelling money to support my family disguised as a Great Aunt's bequest."

Anthony felt his anger subside as he saw the tired expression on her face. She was clearly shouldering too many responsibilities on her own. He understood that pressure; he'd felt it since he was 18 and his Father's death put him in charge of the title, the estates and the futures of his seven siblings. The difference was, Anthony had been raised to shoulder these responsibilities, even if they came to him before he was ready.

Penelope was the youngest daughter of a minor Baron. This was far more than her education would have prepared her for. And now his brother had added to her woes. His anger remained, but it was balanced with sympathy.

"And how will Lady Whistledown help you leave London?" He asked, softening his voice, trying to appear less overbearing.

"It's simple. I will unmask myself. Chide the ton for being so blind and arrogant, and declare myself done with them. Thank them for their generosity and support. They'll be glad to be rid of me."

"Why do I think you've already written this scathing review?"

Penelope smiled sadly. "So many times over the last few years. You have no idea how much I held back in those columns."

Anthony considered his own family's escapades, things that Penelope had known that had never appeared in Whistledown. Perhaps he owed her for more than just Colin's ill treatment. And her long friendship with Eloise. And for her many kindnesses to his younger siblings.

"All right, Miss Featherington. Let us discuss logistics. Tell me about the property you wish to purchase."

Penelope produced an envelope from under her cloak. Anthony withdrew a sheaf of papers. He was, by now, unsurprised by the meticulous organisation of the information. Descriptions of the property, lands attached, outbuildings, as well as a history of ownership and value of the property; it was all in order. Penelope had planned it all out thoroughly before approaching him, and he could find no fault with it.

"Have you seen the property personally?" He asked as he read through the paperwork.

"I have not, but my late Father's solicitor has and he says the descriptions are accurate."

"And you trust him?"

"He has handled my finances since Whistledown began. He is the one who first encouraged me to publish. He set up the 'Great Aunt's bequest'. I trust him completely."

Anthony sighed and looked at Penelope. "Are you certain you want to do this? To go so far from friends and family?"

Penelope gave him a rueful smile. "If my family knew, they would be the first to cast me out. My only friends were Colin and Eloise. Eloise will never speak to me again and I cannot blame her. I wish never to see Colin again, and you cannot blame me." She looked sad for a moment, then brightened. "I won't be entirely alone. My ladies maid has become a dear friend in all of this, and she will accompany me. I am looking forward to the prospect of a fresh start. Leaving behind all who know me is," she tilted her head, searching for the right word. "Liberating."

"Well, you won't be leaving all behind. We will keep in contact." Anthony stated it as a matter of fact, not a suggestion.

Penelope tried to argue. "It would probably be better if we didn't. Less chance of discovery. And I have already placed too much of a burden on your goodwill."

"Nonsense. The child you carry is part of the family of which I am the head, making you a part of the family too. Even if the child doesn't carry the Bridgerton name, they will have the Bridgerton blood. Heaven knows what mischief they will get up to."

Penelope still looked hesitant. "But can you keep this secret from your family? Any discussion can be overheard. Secrets told once will be told again. It is safer if I disappear completely."

Anthony stood, rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to Penelope's. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Miss Featherington, I have devoted my entire adult life to my family; I would never abandon any of them, including the one you carry. I understand your need for discretion, and I agree with it. That said, I will need to tell Kate. I cannot have such a secret from her."

Penelope nodded. "Of course. I do not know her well, but from what I have seen, I would trust her discretion."

Anthony squeezed her hand again. "Thank you. I will also need to tell Benedict."

Penelope pulled her hand back and went rigid in almost a panic. "Benedict? Why? He has no part in this."

"Benedict is not only my brother, he is my closest friend. He was my right hand in the wake of my Father's death. As the Viscount, I am too visible to visit you; people will note my absence. Benedict has more freedom to come and go, and is subjected to far less scrutiny. He can help you settle into your new home." He tried to appeal to Penelope's very practical side. "You have made very thorough plans for your exit and your new life. Every circumstance you can foresee is covered. But life will throw up a multitude of unforeseen circumstances and you may yet need help."

He could see Penelope wavering. "Just Kate and Benedict?"

Anthony smiled and placed his hand on his heart. "On my honour as a gentleman."

Penelope looked into his eyes for a moment, then extended her hand for him to shake. "We have an accord, Lord Bridgerton."

Anthony smiled. "I think, in the circumstances, we can use our Christian names. Please call me Anthony."

Penelope smiled, the first fully relaxed, open smile he had seen on her. "Thank you Anthony. For everything."

Chapter Two. Anthony tells Kate

Anthony remained in the office for the rest of the day. The kitchens sent a tray for lunch and dinner. Anthony picked at the food, but his conversation with Penelope had left him with little appetite. He distracted himself studying the papers Penelope had left and checking the accounts to find the funds to buy the property. The cottage was reasonably priced. Penelope had chosen well. She may have been guided by her solicitor, but Anthony had no doubt Penelope was making her own decisions.

Thinking about her grace and maturity in the face of adversity inevitably led his thoughts in the direction he was avoiding: Colin. He had no idea how to deal with his brother. Everything in him demanded Colin take responsibility for his actions, but He knew Penelope was right. A forced marriage would leave them both miserable. Penelope, at least, did not deserve that.

Anthony had always felt, still felt responsible for for all his younger siblings, although he repeatedly made a mess of things. His Donation to the Royal academy had left Benedict questioning his worth and talent. Anthony had intended it as a thank you to his Brother for all the support he had given Anthony; all he had sacrificed for the family. In Daphne's first season, he had been certain no one was good enough for his sister (a stance he still maintained, although Simon was… passable.) When she forcefully informed him she needed to marry, he had saddled her with that loathsome toad, Nigel Berbrooke. Clearly, he had made some mistake with Colin, even if he wasn't sure what it was yet.

Day turned to evening. Anthony sat in the dim light, lost in his thoughts until Kate arrived, the only one to ignore his Lordship's request for solitude. As his wife, such requests did not apply to her. She entered the office, lighting a few candles. Anthony gazed at his wife, wondering if the warm glow of her skin came from the candles, or her own internal light. She came round to his side of the desk and sat in his lap, resting her arms on his shoulders.

"What troubles you, my husband?"

Anthony closed his eyes and leaned his head on Kate's shoulder. He thanked god daily for the gift of his wife. His burden's already seemed lighter, knowing he could share them with her.

"Did you lock the door? No one can know what I must tell you."

Kate rose and locked the door, then joined Anthony on the settee in from of the fire. She allowed him a few minutes silence to gather his thoughts.

"Penelope Featherington came to see me today."

"I didn't realise she was expected today. Your mother did not mention it."

"She was not expected, and she was not here for tea. She is with child." He paused, realising the enormity of what he was about to say, for the first time, out loud. "Colin is the father."

Kate's only reaction was to tighten her grip on Anthony's hand. "Apparently, he went to her after her sister's wedding. The next morning he started courting Miss Foster."

"That poor girl. I knew the moment I met her she was besotted with your brother."

"Everyone knew, except Colin, or so I thought. We were all waiting for Colin to open his eyes and start courting her. When she fell out with Eloise she seemed to give up on Colin too."

Kate's heart ached for the girl, even though she did not know her well. Kate knew the pain of watching the one you love court someone else. "Did she ask you to break Colin's engagement?"

"The opposite, actually. She has no desire to be 'trapped in a marriage with a man who has no regard for her.' That is a direct quote."

Kate nodded approvingly. "Good. That would be the worst of fates. What does she need from you?"

"She asked that I buy her a cottage, after which she planned to disappear from our lives."

"Just a cottage?" Kate was aghast. "I thought her smarter than that. What good is a place to live if you have nothing to live on?"

Anthony shook his head. "Oh, she is smarter than that. Smarter than any of us. Penelope is Lady Whistledown."

Anthony took a moment to revel in Kate's stunned expression. It wasn't often he knew something his wife did not. But Kate got over her surprise quickly, faster than Anthony had, and started grinning.

"But that's amazing! She's so young, and she's been doing it for years!"

"She has written some fairly scandalous things about out our family, our Courtship. Didn't she once compare you to a singed daffodil?"

Kate's grin only widened. "Please, a mention in Whistledown meant I was someone in London Society. And our courtship was scandalous enough without Whistledown. She said some very positive things about Edwina that her kept reputation intact. Her comments may have been hurtful, but they were always true." Kate paused, lost in thought. "It makes so much sense. Penelope was at all the balls and teas and promenades, always on the side, always observing. And in all these years, she never gave herself away."

"That's where the living will come from. Apparently she has saved enough to give her mother an annual sum, disguised as a Great Aunts bequest, and enough for herself and the child, but needs help to by the property. Otherwise, I'm sure she would have disappeared with none of us knowing about the child."

"How can she disappear? She is Lady Whistledown! Her absence won't just be noted, people will talk of nothing else!" Kate exclaimed.

"She plans to unmask herself. Tell the Ton exactly what she thinks of them, then disappear."

"It's ironic. Penelope Featherington could quietly disappear, but the alter-ego she created will require fanfare." Kate's smile faltered. "She must have been quite lonely. I wish I'd befriended her more."

"I'm glad you said that. You will get that chance. I've agreed to purchase the property, but not to let her disappear completely. I plan to keep an eye on her, and her child."

Kate, smiled at her husband, happy that she had married such a good man. "I do enjoy frequent trips to the countryside."

Anthony nodded. "I will accompany you when I can, but our frequent absence from London might be noted, at least among the family. Penelope asked that no one know about the baby. She is adamant it not get back to Colin."

"That is certainly understandable, given the circumstances." Her eyes grew serious. "A woman has so few options in this world. Rarely respected, always judged. I will keep her secrets."

Anthony wrapped his arms around her shoulder and pulled his wife close. "I assured her she could trust your discretion. I knew you would understand." He lovingly kissed her temple. "Let us to bed, Wife. I am exhausted from today, and I have to have this conversation one more time tomorrow."

"Who is to join our cabal of conspirators?" Kate asked. "Eloise?"

"No, Penelope feels their friendship is over and doesn't want to drag Eloise into another scandal. Besides, Eloise has a tendency to forget herself and blurt things out in mixed company."

Anthony rose and took Kate's hand, leading her to their chambers.

"Then who?"

"The one person I can rely on as much as I do you. Benedict."

Notes:

Thank You for the positive response to Chapter One. I have 9 chapters complete with no end in sight. I aim to post at least twice a week. Stick with me! I am all about happy endings.

Chapter Three. Anthony tells Benedict

Benedict awoke late morning in his bachelors lodgings to a tray by his bedside containing a pot of strong tea, a plate of dry toast and a note from his brother. The tea and toast were courtesy of his valet, who knew what he needed after a party at the Granville's. He ignored the note until he'd had sufficient breakfast to face the day. Early morning notes from his elder brother never boded well for the day.

Benedict

Come to Bridgerton house today. I need to speak to you. It is a matter of utmost importance and discretion. Please don't mention this note to ANYONE in the family.

Please, Brother, I need your help. There is no one I trust more.

Anthony

Benedict read the note twice and tossed it in the fire. Anthony's need for secrecy was clear, so he wasn't taking any chances for gossip and speculation. Anything he wanted kept secret from the family had to be dire. Benedict and Anthony had established a strong bond after their father's death. It had been tested, but never broken, and it seemed Anthony was calling on it now.

Benedict arrived at the end of the breakfast hour. Only Eloise remained in the breakfast room, staring at an open book that she clearly wasn't reading, still radiating an aura of 'leave me alone.' Eloise had long been prone to black moods, especially after their father's death. This improved dramatically when she became friends with Penelope Featherington, which made Penelope an instant favourite of the entire family. Benedict would give the Bridgerton fortune to know what had caused the rift between them, or better yet, to heal it, whatever the cause. But Eloise was behind stone walls right now, and it's not like he could storm across the square to demand answers of Penelope.

Benedict greeted his sister with a kiss on the top of her head, then mussed her hair. Eloise gave him an annoyed glare, mitigated by a too brief smile, and Benedict left her in peace. She talk when she was ready, not before. Pushing her to open up would only push her away.

Benedict entered Anthony's office without knocking (he had been summoned after all) and was greeted with the sight of his brother in a passionate embrace with his wife. It was far too early in the day to see THAT. Benedict covered his eyes and cleared his throat. He heard some shuffling.

"Is everyone decent?" He asked.

"You can look, you insufferable git," Anthony grumped. "You can also knock before entering."

"Noted," Benedict replied drily, and gave Kate a kiss on the cheek. "Good Morning, Sister. You're looking radiant."

Kate smiled at his cheekiness. "Thank you, Brother. You look like you've risen from the grave."

"A bit of a late night last night."

"Dedicated to your studies, no doubt," Kate's face was all innocence, while her voice dripped with sarcasm. She was a perfect fit for Anthony, and for the Bridgerton Family.

"No doubt."

Anthony glared at the pair of them. "Benedict, if you're done flirting with my wife, we have serious matters to discuss." He nodded to Kate, who closed and locked the door. Benedict sat down opposite Anthony, Kate taking the chair beside him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Anthony looking stern. Benedict wracked his brain to think of any scandal he might have caused, but there was nothing recent, or more scandalous then usual.

"Penelope Featherington came to see me yesterday." Anthony began.

Benedict had a surge of hope. "She wants to reconcile with Eloise?"

Anthony shook his head. "I wish. No, the matter was far more serious, and nothing to do with Eloise." Anthony fell silent again, as the words were lodged in his throat. "Penelope is with child," he eventually choked out. "Colin is the father."

Benedict sat stunned for a full minute. Each time he drew breath to express a denial, he stopped. Deny the pregnancy? Penelope wouldn't make that up. Deny the father? Sadly, he had more faith in Penelope's honesty than in his flighty brother's honour. So he sat silent, as he tried to make the next logical step.

"When is the wedding?" He asked, quietly. He, like all his family, had expected Colin and Penelope to wed eventually, but never under such poor circumstances.

"There won't be one," Anthony replied. "Or rather, Colin will continue with his engagement to Miss Foster and marry in a month's time." Benedict opened his mouth to object, but Anthony cut him off. "Penelope has no wish to be trapped in a marriage to one with so little regard or respect for her. Those are her words and I cannot help but agree. A loveless marriage would only punish her further."

"I cannot believe Colin would do this. Dishonour one lady while courting another."

"Apparently, it was only one night, just before Colin began his courtship. Not that that makes it any better." Anthony shook his head. "Penelope described him as being dreamy, unfocused, not quite in his right senses. But he said all the things she'd waited years to hear and … things happened."

Benedict's gaze sharpened at the mention of Colin seeming unfocused. "I think I know where Colin's senses were. When he returned from his travels last year, he shared with me a powder he had discovered. He said it helped the mind access 'higher thoughts and inspiration'. I took some, more than he recommended and was high as a kite for the rest of the day, much of which I don't recall. I wonder if perhaps he overindulged as well."

"It was the night of her sister's wedding. Colin was certainly indulging in the champagne, if you recall," Anthony supplied.

Benedict nodded. "Probably a combination of the two, although he never could hold his drink particularly well." He slumped back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. A drink would go down well right now, not just to ease his hangover. He felt a nudge against his hand and looked up. Anthony was handing him a generous glass of whiskey. Benedict took a generous sip.

"So, I assume you will hold Colin down while I beat him senseless?" Benedict said, his smouldering anger at his younger brother starting to burn brighter. Colin's actions were beyond the pale. He needed to pay for his selfishness.

"If a beating is dispensed, it will be by my hands. You may deal with what is left of him." Anthony replied, mirroring his brother's anger. Benedict opened his mouth to argue when Kate stood, silencing them both.

"Please cease your male posturing this instant," She scolded them. "Colin is irrelevant. It is Penelope's welfare we need to address." She returned to her seat. "I understand, I share your desire that he take responsibility for his actions, but not if it harms Penelope."

Benedict felt chastened and swallowed his anger. He would have to address it at some point, preferably before he saw his brother again.

"You are right, of course, Kate. I assume you have a plan, Brother. What do you need me to do?"

"It's not my plan, but Penelope's." Anthony handed the folder to Benedict before continuing. "She has asked my to purchase this property; a home for her and the child."

Benedict studied the papers. He knew the area; it was near Southampton. Not fashionable with the Ton, so little chance of running into familiar faces. A port city, so the locals would be used to people coming and going. A good choice for someone looking to start over.

"It looks like she's planned well, although a cottage is the least she should be asking for. O assume you'll be providing a living as well?"

Anthony and Kate exchanged glances. "Before I tell you anything more, I must have your promise. Everything we discuss here stays between the three of us, and Penelope, of course. Not a word said to anyone, even, or especially, the family."

"I got that much from the note you sent. Please, Brother, you know you can trust me." Anthony continued to stare at him, waiting. Benedict rolled his eyes, then returned his brother gaze. "I promise, I will speak of this to no one."

Anthony gave a small smile of thanks. "Penelope has her own funds to live on, and if those deplete, I have no doubt she could make more. Penelope is Lady Whistledown." Anthony delivered the news and waited, bracing himself for Benedict's reaction.

Benedict sat back, his shock dissipating quickly as he thought about it. Penelope was quiet, unassuming, shy, the epitome of a wallflower, but she was also clever, insightful and witty, although she only showed that side to a select few. He'd seen it a few times, and now recognised what a privilege that was. She was from a high enough family to be invited to all the events, but not prestigious enough to be considered a prize on the marriage mart. Thinking about it, she was obviously Lady Whistledown. Her genius was never letting anyone else see her genius.

"Of course she is. How Marvellous." Benedict grinned at his brother. "I assume we will be following a plan of Penelope's devising then? It will certainly be better than anything you or I could come up with."

Anthony looked a bit offended at that, but Kate merely smiled in smug agreement. "Yes, she has it all planned out and I have agreed to most of it. I have already made arrangements to purchase the cottage, in Penelope's name. Kate will befriend her in the meantime, so we an make plans without arousing suspicion. Once everything is in place, she will write a final Whistledown column, scorching the Ton and unmasking herself. No one will wonder at her disappearance after that."

"It sounds like a flawless plan. I have to ask, what to you need me for?"

"Penelope's plan was to sever all contact with her former life, to disappear completely. I could not allow that." Anthony's expression softened, looking more melancholy than Benedict had seen in a while. Since he married Kate, come to think of it. Anthony continued, "That child is a Bridgerton, a part of our family. I cannot allow him to be cast the to winds."

Benedict smiled, thinking of his youngest siblings. "An untethered Bridgerton. Think of the chaos they might cause."

Anthony also smiled, no doubt thinking the same. "As Viscount, and head of the family, I cannot simply disappear to the countryside on the regular basis without causing some comment. Neither can Kate. You, however…"

"…have no real responsibilities and am often absent from society events, eager to dodge the marriage mart." He could see the logic, and in honesty, had no objection to the task. If anything, he was happy he'd have a role in the child's life. Anything for his family.

"I always knew my flighty reputation would come in handy one day"

The next morning, Kate crossed the square to the Featherington residence, opposite Bridgerton house. Advantage of being a Viscountess; She could call on people lower in the social ranking without an invitation. She was escorted to the drawing room immediately, and the housekeeper, Mrs Varley, regretfully informed her that Lady Featherington visiting Miss Prudence and was not at home, but assured her Miss Penelope would be down momentarily.

"Excellent," Kate replied. "It is Miss Penelope I wish to speak with."

Varley gave a surprised expression and scurried out of the room. Kate took a seat and waited. Penelope entered a few minutes later. She looked wary but unsurprised at Kate's visit.

"Lady Bridgerton," Penelope dropped a small curtsy. "How lovely to see you." She turned to Varley. "Would you be so good as to bring some tea, Mrs Varley?" Varley nodded and rushed to the kitchen, leaving the drawing room door open. Penelope closed it softly. She joined Kate on the settee.

"That should buy us a few moments of privacy. She will need to prepare the tray. Our staff is …. Much reduced these days. On her return she will be listening at the door." Penelope leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I assume you have spoken with your husband?"

Kate nodded. "He is taking matters in hand and arranging the purchase" Kate replied, matching her tone. "I thought it better to call on you than ask you to Bridgerton House. Too many people dropping in."

Penelope leaned back, looking relieved. "Not a problem we will encounter here."

Varley entered with the tea. "Shall I serve, Miss?"

"No , thank you, Varley. You may return to your duties." Varley bobbed a curtsy and left the room, leaving the door open the barest crack. Penelope looked at the door and then at Kate. Kate rolled her eyes and nodded.

"How are you enjoying this season?" Penelope asked.

"Much more than last year," Kate replied. "Married women are not subject to the scrutiny the debutantes are."

"I saw you at Lady Danbury's ball. One gentleman's eyes never left you. Your husband looked completely besotted. When you danced together it was," Penelope paused, a wistful look on her face, "quite romantic."

Penelope glanced at the door and frowned to see the crack had widened. Kate followed her gaze.

"Miss Featherington, it is such a lovely day. I seems a shame to linger inside. Perhaps we could go for a walk around the square?"

Penelope smiled. "Why yes, Lady Bridgerton, that sounds Ideal. I shall fetch my shawl." Penelope tiptoed to the door and abruptly pulled it wide open. Varley stumbled into the room. Penelope was impressed she kept her feet.

"Ah, there you are Mrs Varley. I am going for a walk with the Viscountess. Please inform my mother if she returns before me." With that, Penelope and Kate swept out of the house, leaving Varley with no gossip to pass on to her mistress.

Kate and Penelope walked the perimeter of the square, knowing the noise of the passing carriages would cover their conversation. Still, they were both silent, neither sure how to begin a conversation.

"Seeing how you must guard yourself in your own home," Kate began, "I can see how you learned to conceal your other persona."

"Ah," Penelope replied. "Anthony told you." She began twisting her shawl around her fingers, trying to remember what she had written about the Sharma's last season. "I'm so sorry…"

Kate reached out and grasped Penelope's hands in hers. "Stop. You have nothing to apologise for. You never wrote anything that wasn't true, and your respectful words did much to bolster my sisters reputation after… Well, after."

"Didn't I compare you to a singed daffodil at one point?" Penelope asked, surprised at Kate's reaction. "And I definitely said some unkind things about your husband."

"First, you were correct, that dress didn't suit me at all, and second, that mention in Lady Whistledown made me feel like I was an important member of society." Kate asserted. "And Anthony deserved your censure. Men generally do. Their reputations are less fragile than ours."

Penelope smiled, marveling at the difference between Kate's reaction and Eloise's. She quickly quashed the thought. The pain of losing Eloise's friendship was still sharp, worse than Colins's multiple betrayals, and she couldn't focus on that now.

Kate took her arm and they continued walking. "I have so many questions," Kate said.

"Ask away," Penelope replied. "I owe you answers, at the very least, and it won't matter soon anyway."

"How did it start? Have you always been a writer?" Kate was bubbling over with questions, and Penelope was amused by her enthusiasm.

"Reading has always been my refuge. I've always preferred quiet pastimes and my family are," she paused. "Well, you've met them. Writing was mostly contained to correspondence. Then my Mother insisted on presenting me with my older sisters."

"How old were you?"

"I was seventeen, youngest girl presented that year. I begged her to wait a year. I realise now it was a practical decision. My family could not afford three consecutive years of presentations."

"It must have been overwhelming for someone more interested in books than balls." Kate surmised.

"Actually, I loved the balls. The opulence, the decorations. I love to dance. But I didn't get much opportunity. Lady Bridgerton would always coerce one of her sons to dance with me, but otherwise, I was overlooked." Penelope felt the old hurt creep over her. "The one's who didn't ignore were… not kind."

"Some people can only feel better by making others feel worse, I know," Kate offered.

Penelope nodded. "I was young. I had such romantic hopes for my first season. That the Bon Ton would see my worth in a way my family never did. After my first few disappointments, I came home and wrote out all my feelings and observations. The ridiculous posturing, the social climbing, the hypocrisy. I felt much better afterwards."

"And you decided to publish?" Kate prompted.

"Oh heavens no," Penelope laughed. "I put it in a drawer and forgot about it. However, my father's solicitor found it and read it. When I saw him reading it I was ready to die of mortification, but then I realised he was laughing, not at me, but at what I wrote. He thought it was witty, and insightful. He suggested I publish, and made all the arrangements with the publisher. I think he knew, he must have known, about my family's financial prospects, or lack thereof, and saw a way for me to accrue a nest egg."

"The same solicitor still manages your affairs?" Kate asked.

Penelope nodded. "More than that, he has taught me to manage my own affairs. While I, a mere woman," She rolled her eyes at Kate, who responded in kind, "cannot make investments or purchase property directly, I have been directing my financial affairs for nearly a year now."

"I saw the portfolio you left with Anthony. You've done well for yourself." Kate said. "At first, I was worried you were only asking for the cottage, and not a living. Clearly, you have everything in hand."

Penelope smiled shyly. "I've made a few mis-steps, but recovered quickly. I've known for a while I would need to look after my own future. Granted, I did not foresee this… circumstance." Her voice trailed off.

Kate clasped her arm tighter and kept them moving forward. "That is always the lot of women. Men make plans; Women deal with circumstances."

The two women had walked the whole of the square and returned to the Featherington house. Kate turned to Penelope. "I have very much enjoyed our talk, Miss Featherington."

"As have I, Lady Bridgerton." Penelope smiled.

"I walk Newton in the park on fine mornings. I would be pleased if you could join me."

"I would be delighted, Lady Bridgerton. Around 10am?"

"Yes, I like to be out before the high and mighty are awake. And yes, I am referring to my husband." The women shared a laugh." And please, I can tell we are going to be friends. Call me Kate. When people say Lady Bridgerton I assume they are speaking to my Mother-in-law."

Penelope smiled, feeling a connection she had lost with Eloise. "Kate, call me Penelope. I will see you in the morning."

Kate returned her smile. They each dipped a small curtsy. Penelope watched Kate cross to Bridgerton house, then climbed the steps to her home.

Penelope rose early the next morning, had a light breakfast of bread and butter, (all her stomach could tolerate lately), and left for the park before the rest of the household began to stir. The streets were crowded with tradespeople going to work. Penelope, dressed in a plain cloak and without a chaperone, blended into the crowd. She arrived at the park well before 10, found a bench and simply watched the world go by. London could be a beautiful place, once you got away from all the people.

Sharp barking lifted Penelope from her contemplation. Newton the dog was trotting towards her, followed by Kate. Penelope rose to greet her.

"Penelope, you look lovely this morning," Kate said, linking her arm with Penelope's. "I hope you have not been waiting too long."

Penelope fell in step with Kate. "Not at all. It's rare to see Hyde Park so quiet. I quite enjoyed it. London is always so busy."

"Will you miss it, do you think?" Kate asked.

"The park or the city?"

"Both. You've lived here all your life, haven't you?"

"Yes. The Featherington Country House is rather run down. Mama only goes there when it's too unfashionable to be in London. I will miss some things about London. The Bookstores, the libraries, the museums and galleries. All the ideas and discussions. But Southampton has much to recommend it. Port cities are always full of new things, new ideas."

"New people?" Kate asked.

Penelope shook her head ruefully. "I think I need a break from people. I'll miss some people," Penelope added hurriedly, not wanting to ruin another promising friendship. "It will just be a rather short list."

Kate gave her an understanding smile. "A select few. Quality is more important than quantity." The two women shared a smile. Kate asked, in a cautious tone,"Will you miss Lady Whistledown?"

Penelope was silent for a few steps, considering her answer. "Yes and no. I think I will miss the activity; the purpose it gave me. It was something entirely mine. No one else could have done it. It was an achievement beyond embroidery and pianoforte." Her hand drifted to her stomach. "I suppose I'll have a new project to fill my time soon enough."

Kate sensed her friends thoughts taking a sad turn and sought to correct it. "What about the things you won't miss?"

"About the column? I won't miss the deadline pressure. Having to seek out fresh gossip every week. Eavesdropping on every conversation but never joining in. Observing all the deceit and hypocrisy. Then there all the secrets I didn't write about. People whose lives were privately crumbling through no fault of their own, didn't need to be publicly destroyed. It hurt to know, but not be able to help." Penelope looked at Kate. "I'll miss the writing, but not the things I was writing about."

"Well," Kate ventured, "Perhaps you can write about other things."

"Perhaps," Penelope replied. "I'm certainly about to embark on a new adventure."

The two women continued their promenade, talking of inconsequential things. As they parted ways, they made arrangements to meet again the next day. Even if there was no information to share, even if they didn't discuss the situation at all, Penelope felt easier in the company of someone who Knew.

They continued meeting for a week, when Kate could finally tell Penelope that the cottage purchase was complete, and presented Penelope with the deed. Penelope read the document, her fingers tracing the lines of her own name, next to the words 'Owner of the property'. She folded it carefully and pressed the paper to her heart. Kate could see the tears shining in her eyes and guided her to a secluded bench.

Penelope took a few moments to regain her composure, joy and fear warring on her countenance. She eventually settled on cautious optimism and looked at Kate.

"Well, it looks like time to enact stage two," Penelope said, forcing some resolve into her voice.

"Anthony and I will accompany you to your new home," Kate raised her hand to forestall Penelope's protest. "My Husband is quite resolved in this, and I agree with him. You cannot out-stubborn both of us. We will take trip to the countryside a few days before your departure. An unmarked coach will collect you and we will meet you at an inn. There is a note attached to the deed."

Penelope nodded. "I want to leave the day before the Macclesfield ball. My solicitor will deliver my final column to the printers and arrange for it's distribution at the Ball. I will be well away by then."

"That will cause a stir. Finally, something interesting happens at a ball and I will miss it," Kate joked. "Oh well, I expect I will hear about it at length at every ball for the rest of the season."

Penelope took on an earnest look. "I want to thank you, Kate. Your friendship has become a lifeline for me. I shall miss our daily walks."

Kate took her hand. "I shall visit as often as I can. And I expect regular letters."

"I will send them via my solicitor," Penelope promised. "Eloise might… would recognise my handwriting, and ask questions."

"And of course, you can send them with Benedict. He will be visiting more frequently than we can."

"That's really unnecessary. I will be fine."

"Hush," Kate admonished. "Your child and by extension, you are a part of our family now. You might as well get used to us popping in and out. Besides, it will give Benedict something to do aside from needling my husband. After all, that's really a wife's privilege." She smirked at Penelope, who giggled in return. Kate's expression grew serious. "It will also limit any contact he might have with Colin. Benedict is quite angry, more than I have ever seen him. Not that he would ever betray your confidence," Kate reassured, "But I doubt he could conceal his disdain. Best they only meet at large, busy gatherings. It will be easier to distract them."

"Colin is generally easily distracted," Penelope said coolly.

"I'm sorry. I know speaking of him must be painful," Kate said.

Penelope tilted her head, as if examining her feelings from another angle. "Not painful, no. My feelings for him are quite detached. As if we were acquaintances only. Like he was someone I knew of, but didn't actually Know." She shook her head ruefully. "Which I suppose is true. I never really knew him."

Kate grasped her arm and propelled her along the path. "No time for sad thoughts," Kate said, her enthusiasm only slightly forced. "You are on the brink of whole new life."

"A grand adventure," Penelope concurred, matching Kate's tenor. "If I keep framing it that way, perhaps I can even believe it."

Notes:

As promised, new chapter on Wednesday. I hope to post the next one on Sunday, but I may be out of WiFi range. If I miss Sunday, I will definitely post Monday.

Thank you all SOOOO much for the comments and Kudos. This is my first time posting a Fanfic and the support is spurring me on!

Chapter 5. Lady Whistledown Tells The Ton

Dearest Gentle Reader,

I have watched you all for many a season now, shared your trials and tribulations, learned all your secrets. And be assured, I knew all the things you tried to hide, even if I chose not to share them all. Perhaps I saw no advantage to the revelation, perhaps your darkest secret was simply not that interesting. Never the less, I knew.

For years now, I have been derided, celebrated, cursed and praised as I reported on all your trysts, tiffs and tête-à-têtes, and I have come to wonder, why? Everything I wrote was already known, to some if not all. I realise now that publishing the misdeeds, the hypocrisy, the lies of the Ton, I have lent them an importance they frankly do to deserve.

I have always addressed you as my GENTLE readers, but you are not gentle. As a group, Readers, you are cruel, vicious, taking pleasure in the humiliation of others, all the while keeping your own skeletons firmly in a locked closet, lest the same humiliation be meted out to you. Some will heap scorn upon the less advantaged in order to deflect attention from the own failings. Other cast judgment in the guise of brutal honesty. In truth, they enjoy the brutality more than the honesty.

No, you are not gentle, my readers, you are not good. If my barbs have pricked you on occasion, they are nothing to the lances you have hurled in my direction. It is true, readers, I have been amongst you all the while. I have had to endure your pity, your scorn, your indifference and your mockery, but I have endured.

Furthermore, I have profited. It has been a very beneficial relationship. You overlooked me even as you filled my coffers with money. And so I can forgive your scorn. Your ignorance and arrogance have served me well.

In the beginning, I delighted in the responses to my words. As time passed, I was gratified in the fortune I accrued. Now, I have enough money and I know my own worth, so the spiteful gossip and pompous pedantry of the Ton has become rather tedious. The names change, but the stories do not. This season has been very dull indeed, which is anathema to a gossip monger, so I have decided to leave.

As a parting gift, I give you something more interesting to talk about than Cressida Cowper's ridiculous hair adornments.

Sincerely,

Penelope Featherington

Wallflower of the Ton

Lady Whistledown

Notes:

Thank you all for the warm responses. It keeps me going.

This Chapter is short, but vital.

Next chapter will (finally) see interaction between Pen and Ben. You know, the couple this fic is meant to be about. See you Wednesday!

Chapter 6 Benedict tells Penelope

Benedict approached the cottage on the hill, slowing his horse to a walk as he took in the scene. The cottage was well situated a sheltering copse of trees behind it and a stunning view of the sea in front of it. Benedict paused in his ascent, mentally framing the seascape he would paint. He slid off his horse, grabbed the reins and continued up the path.

A woman emerged from the cottage and began working in the garden. Benedict assumed it was Penelope's maid until he caught a glimpse of the red curls escaping from her bonnet. Only Penelope Featherington had hair that colour; one he had tried and failed to replicate in paint. As she stood and stretched, he could see the change in her physique. She had always been curvaceous, delightfully so to his mind, but the next Bridgerton was making their presence known. They had acted just in time.

"Should you be doing that in your condition?" Benedict called as he neared the cottage.

Penelope straightened and turned. "That's a rather unusual greeting," She replied tartly, removing her garden gloves and picking up her basket of vegetables. "Most people start with Hello."

Benedict grinned, tying his horse to the hitching post. "Polite greetings are for acquaintances. Family can be more direct." He clasped Penelope's hands warmly and placed a kiss on each one. "And my question stands. Should you not be resting?"

"I am not one of your sisters, Mr Bridgerton," Penelope retorted sternly. "Nor am I an invalid. I am quite capable of a little light gardening."

Benedict was momentarily worried that he had offended Penelope, until her stern expression melted into a grin. She gave his hands a warm squeeze, then gathered her basket and gestured to the cottage. "Come inside, I'll put on some tea."

Benedict followed her into the cottage and was instantly warmed by the homey atmosphere. The main floor was one large room, kitchen to the right, dining table at the back, sitting room to the left with a large hearth. There was a large set of shelves full of books and a writing desk, armchair and settee. The furniture looked good quality, worn but comfortable. Benedict took a seat and watched Penelope bustle around the kitchen. She looked…. happy. She wore a simple green day dress he recognised as Genevieve Delacroix's work. The colour suited her far more than the citrus monstrosities her mother forced her into.

He stood as Penelope approached, balancing a tea tray and a plate of biscuits. Benedict took the heavy tray and placed it on the table, then took his seat again. Penelope poured the tea and passed him a cup, already fixed to his liking, then sat opposite him with her own tea.

They sat in somewhat awkward silence for a moment, then spoke at the same time.

"How are you settling in?"

"Did you have a pleasant journey?"

They paused again, then laughed, the awkwardness broken. Benedict gestured for Penelope to go first.

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" She asked. "I hope you had no trouble finding us."

Benedict waved away her concern. "You are somewhat off the beaten track, but still in sight of it. The journey was pleasant."

"I'm sorry you were obliged to come out here." She smirked into her teacup. "I know you are quite popular with a few different social circles in London."

Benedict blushed, suddenly remembering he was talking to Lady Whistledown. "Yes, well, I can manage a certain amount of sociability. I need regular breaks from the Bon Ton. I was, however, quite happy to be in London the last few weeks. Your departure caused quite a stir."

"I assume you mean Lady Whistledown's last laugh. I doubt my own disappearance would have merited even a flutter of gossip."

Benedict noted the self-disparagement, so often a feature of the column, and chose to ignore it for the moment. "There are still debates raging over whether you were indeed Lady Whistledown."

"The deliberate ignorance of the ton is a thing I shall not miss." Penelope chuckled. "Heaven forfend they might have misjudged someone. That they might have been wrong."

Benedict detected the pain in her voice and opted to change the subject. "How are you settling in?" He looked around. "I was given to understand you had a ladies maid with you."

"She has family in town, so she stays there most nights. She is off today." Penelope rolled her eyes at Benedict's scandalised expression. "She will live here when my time is close, and after the child arrives. At the moment, I don't need much attending to, so you needn't worry."

Benedict shrugged and took another biscuit. "The worry comes with being an Uncle. You might as well get used to it. And I will worry about you living on your own. You can't stop me."

Penelope rolled her eyes again and huffed. Benedict heard the word 'men' under her breath.

"Will you stay here awhile? I have a spare bedroom prepared." A cheeky grin spread across her face. "I wonder what pricks your conscience more: Staying in the house with me unchaperoned, against all propriety, or leaving me here alone."

Benedict gave it some thought and Penelope laughed. "Oh Benedict, I can see the war going on in your head, it all plays out on your face."

Benedict glared for a moment, but couldn't keep it up. "I'll stay here, if you're comfortable with that."

"I am. Family, after all. Besides, I have no reputation left to ruin. Would you like some more biscuits?"

Benedict pushed the plate away. Thank you, no. I can leave a biscuit on the plate; I'm not Colin, after all." Benedict's brain suddenly caught up with his mouth and he slapped his hand to his face. "I'm sorry…"

Penelope waved away his apology. "It's fine. Someone had to mention him eventually. I know he still exists." She leaned back and sighed. "I'm actually surprised it took this long."

"Do you want to talk about him?" Benedict asked, hesitantly.

Penelope was silent for a minute. "Someday. Perhaps. Not right now." She took a deep breath and shook off her thoughts. "Right now, I would like to know how my last column was received."

"In general? Or specific reactions?" Benedict asked, matching Penelope's eagerness. He was prepared for this. He attended balls purely for the research purposes.

"Fun first. What did the Bon Ton have to say?"

"Well, there were a few who said they knew it all along. These people were largely ignored. Then there were those who refused to believe it was true."

Penelope interrupted. "You mean, refused to believe it was me."

Benedict tilted his head, considering. "Some. Cressida Cowper and her ilk, certainly. They had some… rather unkind things to say about you, which only served to illustrate that yes, it was probably you and that yes, you had some justification." He grinned at her. "People have been a lot more courteous lately. If you thought conversation at balls was dull before."

"The weather and the quality of refreshments?" Penelope smirked.

"And whether they will play the latest dance. All very polite."

"To be fair, conversation at balls was always dull," Penelope offered. "I got my best gossip listening to the servants. They always knew the secrets."

"There are many who are delighted. They think you're a bit of a hero. Some refuse to believe Lady Whistledown has stopped publishing. They still await your triumphant return."

Penelope smiled briefly. "Now for the not-so-fun. How did the Queen react?"

Benedict thought for a moment. "Enigmatically. She would have seen the news privately, so no one knows her initial reaction."

Penelope interrupted again. "At least, no one who is willing to gossip. Her servants are very loyal and very discreet. I could never get anything from her inner circle. Believe me, I tried."

"I'm sure you did," he replied. "Publicly, she didn't say much, but gave the overall impression that she knew it all along. When asked, her only reply was 'There was a time when people underestimated me. It seems each generation must learn the lesson anew.'" Benedict's voice was a credible impersonation of Queen Charlotte. Penelope giggled.

Benedict continued. "Lady Danbury was very complimentary. She was impressed you never gave yourself away. She was delighted at how you fooled everyone, including her, and regrets not taking the time to know you better."

"I always liked Lady Danbury. I tried to mimic her tone in the column." She took a deep breath. "Now for the difficult one's."

"Your family." Benedict affirmed.

"No," Penelope scoffed, "your family. I can already imagine my family's reaction. Mother will be publicly scandalised and disown me to all who will listen. I left her a letter, telling her how her income has been supplemented by my work. I think she'd privately be a bit proud of how I fooled them all. Philippa will be sure there's some mistake. Prudence will be unsure what's going on."

Benedict was impressed. "That's frighteningly accurate. You really do have a knack for reading people." He paused, thinking about his own family. "Obviously, Anthony and Kate already knew, they were vocal defenders. Hyacinth and Gregory think you're the greatest person who ever lived. I think Hyacinth may be plotting to carry on in your footsteps. Anthony is watching her carefully. Francesca's reaction was much like my own; she hadn't considered it, but it made perfect sense once she heard. Mother was quietly proud of you. She always said you reminded her of herself, more than any of her own children. Whenever your name is mentioned, she worries about you being alone."

"And Eloise?" Penelope prompted.

Benedict looked at her. "Did Eloise already know? Was that the reason for your falling out?"

"Yes," Penelope replied sadly. "She found me out after I wrote about her. We argued. She could not accept my explanation or listen to my reasons and things escalated. We both said terrible things. I said things I regret, even if they were true. I know she can never forgive me." She dabbed her eyes with the hem of her apron. "Losing her friendship is my only regret in all this. But, given the circumstances," she paused, placing her hand on her belly, "It was probably for the best."

Benedict took her hand in comforting hold. "When she read your farewell column, she locked herself in her room for a week. When she emerged she was no longer angry, just sad. I think she would have forgiven you. Eventually. She was just taking her own stubborn time about it." Benedict gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "For what it's worth, I think you were right not to tell Eloise about Lady Whistledown. She cannot keep a secret when gets upset."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before noticing the growing darkness. She did not ask for Colin's reaction and he did not offer it.

Penelope stood and gathered the empty cups and plates. "You should stable your horse, then I'll show you to the guest room."

"Can I help with the dishes?" Benedict hesitated to leave her alone.

Penelope gave him another mocking glare. "I can handle the washing up. I cannot handle your horse."

Benedict bowed in acquiescence and went to see to his horse, a wide smile on his face. He realised he'd been smiling for most of the afternoon. He found it easy to smile around Penelope.

Chapter Seven: Anthony, Kate and Benedict confer.

Benedict stayed with Penelope for several days, only leaving, very reluctantly, after a week, and only because of commitments at home. He arrived the day before Colin's wedding. Not attending would raise too many comments from the Ton, and worse, from his Mother.

So he went. He smiled and danced and skilfully avoided being alone with Colin. He was the picture of Brotherly Devotion. Anything less would raise questions that he could not honestly answer, and he knew he was a lousy liar. He spent time with his younger siblings, as their questions could be easily diverted; as soon as he started talking about art, they lost interest.

Eloise presented more of a problem. He knew the loss of Penelope was still hurting her, especially as Penelope's disappearance made any reconciliation impossible. Luckily, Eloise did not want to talk about it, so he could offer her silent comfort.

Benedict was extremely social with the other guests, causing his Mother to thank him for his help, and wonder if he was considering finding his own bride. This, at least, he could answer honestly.

No.

After the wedding, Kate and Anthony decided to 'tour the countryside' and show Kate a bit more of her new home. They talked about the seaside, which for the nobility meant Brighton. Anthony made no effort to correct the assumption. Benedict was left to manage the estates, but sent letters to Penelope, with his brother and by post almost daily.

As soon as Anthony and Kate returned, Benedict was off again. No one was surprised by this; his dislike of estate responsibilities was well known. When he returned a few weeks later, Kate was off to 'visit friends recently arrived from India.'

So it continued for several weeks, with the three rarely in town at the same time. Eventually, another family occasion came round. It was Violet's birthday, and the whole family was gathering. Even Colin was due to return from his Honeymoon trip just in time for the party. Benedict was grateful it was not sooner.

However, this did give Benedict, Anthony and Kate a chance to talk. Benedict had just returned from visiting Penelope and was summoned to Anthony's study before he had a chance to unpack.

"Are you sure you want to do this now, Brother? I've been on a horse for two days. I'm not exactly fresh."

"Mother is out with Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth; calls and then the modiste. Gregory is out with friends. It's as much privacy as we're every likely to get." Anthony took a seat next to Kate and waved Benedict to the opposite settee. "Just keep to your side of the room."

Benedict settled sat down, then sprawled out, relishing the soft comfort.

"Kindly keep your muddy boots off the furniture," Kate scolded.

"Yes,Viscountess," Benedict teased, shifting to a slightly more upright position.

"Shall we get on?" Anthony prompted. "How did you find Penelope?"

"She was fine, absolutely blooming as her condition advances. She complained of some backaches." Benedict shook his head. "I got her to rest as much as I could while I was there. And I made sure her maid would be staying with her from now on. I don't like how much she is on her own."

"Kate and I have been worried about that as well. I'm glad you were able to convince her."

"It's more than that, though," Kate interjected, worry plain on her face. "Penelope's maid is a lovely girl, but at a time like this, a woman needs…" Kate paused, searching for the right words. "Support from someone more experienced."

Benedict nodded. "She's met several times with a local midwife. She seemed very capable."

Anthony agreed. "I thought so too."

Kate looked at them with withering scorn. "In your vast experience of childbirth?"

"We do have six younger siblings," Anthony tried to mollify her.

"And how many of them did you deliver?" She pressed. "Were either of you even in the room? In the house?" She shook her head. "Even with the support of a loving husband, which Penelope does not have, Childbirth is a frightening time for a woman."

"We can make arrangements for you to be there. We'll just take another trip." Anthony reached for his diary.

Benedict shifted upright. "Actually, I was hoping to be there.."

"We can't all be there. Penelope's cottage isn't big enough. Besides, all of us being absent might raise questions. Amongst the family, at least." Anthony frowned at Benedict. "I don't see you being any help in the time of crisis. Kate is clearly best suited to be there."

Kate rolled her eyes. "I also lack the necessary experience. Penelope is a about to become a mother. That is the support she needs."

Anthony and Benedict looked alarmed. "You're not suggesting …" Anthony began and trailed off. Benedict continued with equal disbelief. "That we tell Portia Featherington?"

"Of course not," Kate dismissed the idea. "I would not allow that woman near a pregnant cat, let alone a pregnant woman."

Kate looked between the brothers, knowing her next suggestion would elicit an explosion from one or, more likely, both of them. She spoke as matter of factly as possible.

"The time has come to expand our little circle. It is time to tell Violet she has another grandchild on the way."

"No."

"Absolutely Not."

"We promised Penelope."

"Penelope would never allow it."

"She was very specific about secrecy."

Kate raised her hands to silence them. "When it comes to her family, there is no one whose discretion I would trust more than your mother. She already cares deeply about Penelope."

Anthony and Benedict continued to hesitate. Kate had to resort to her most devastating argument.

"How do you think your mother will react when she learns she has another grandchild?"

The two men went still as statues, their expressions frozen. Kate delivered the killing blow.

"And that the two of you knew, and didn't tell her."

The brother's had never looked so similar, their faces reflection identical horror.

They looked at each other and said, as one, "You can tell her."

Chapter 8: Violet comforts Penelope

In the end, it fell to Kate to break the news to Violet, although she insisted Anthony and Benedict be present for the conversation. Violet took the news with stoic practicality. The anger and shame she felt at Colin's behaviour was quickly suppressed and filed away to be dealt with later. She sat silent for a few minutes, then rose and left the room, calling for her Ladies's Maid to pack a bag for her. She would be taking a trip with her daughter-in-law. Kate followed and started to make her own preparations. At no point did Violet address Anthony or Benedict. They did not feel as though they had been let off the hook.

Violet remained silent though all the preparations, and offered only one word responses during the carriage journey. Kate respected her need for silence and did not try to press a conversation, for which Violet was grateful.

Violet's mind had been a violent whirl since Kate broke the news. Her first thought was for Penelope's welfare. She had worried when Penelope disappeared from society. While everyone was either damning or praising her for being Lady Whistledown, Violet's heart ached for the girl; her isolation while in society, and now her exile from it, self-imposed though it was. Finding out the much darker reason behind her leaving was almost too much for Violet to bear. She couldn't think about let alone face her third son. She would eventually be having some very severe conversations with her first and second sons on the subject of keeping secrets, although she would allow they were in a difficult position. But that was all for later. Right now, her only concern was for her coming grandchild and the women she had long considered a daughter.

The first day of the journey passed in silence, both women lost in their own thoughts. On the second day, Violet started asking questions.

"How long have you been aware of this situation?" Violet asked, seemingly out of the blue. Kate, however, had been watching her stew for a day and a half and was not surprised when the dam finally broke.

"It's been about five months. Anthony told me the day he found out. We told Benedict the day after." Kate decided to make her answers as complete as possible. Violet was now a part of this, there was no point in secrets now.

"Five months." Violet paused, searching her memory. "Colin's engagement ball…"

"Anthony found out the day after the ball. Penelope surprised him in his office when she knew the family would be out."

"Was no consideration given to informing Colin? His behaviour… He should have been made aware of his responsibilities."

"That was Anthony's initial reaction as well," Kate said, "But Penelope was adamantly against. I think she deliberately waited until the engagement was announced to approach Anthony. She didn't want to be forced into marriage."

"But she loved Colin for years. Why would she want to avoid this marriage?" Violet was distraught. "We would have welcomed her into the family, regardless of the circumstance."

Kate shook her head sadly. "Colin professed his care for her, then laughed with his friends at the suggestion of courting her. He seduced her one night, then began publicly courting someone else the next day. Penelope told Anthony she had no desire to be bound to one who had so little regard for her. I could not disagree with her."

Violet looked sad, but Kate could see the understanding on her face. "And you've been supporting her?"

Kate smiled. "Emotionally, yes. Penelope has the funds and intelligence to support herself. Anthony purchased the cottage, but Penelope is entirely independent."

"I suppose Lady Whistledown was quite a lucrative enterprise," Violet said, a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice.

"It was lucrative, just not for Penelope," Kate replied, her anger rising as she thought of all her friend had endured. "She used her earnings to help pay off her family's debts, the dowries her father gambled away, the money her cousin swindled. Her earnings support her family, not that they know. Not that they would be grateful if they did know." Kate took a deep breath and counted to ten, forcing herself to calm down.

"Forgive me. Penelope has become very dear to me. She does not speak of her family, or of the life she left behind." Kate chuckled ruefully. "I have only had Anthony to vent to. He is beginning to find it tiresome, even as he agrees with me."

"And what part does Benedict play in all this?"

"Penelope's plan was to disappear entirely, to cut all ties. She told Anthony that beyond the purchase of the cottage, she would ask nothing more of the family. Anthony disagreed."

"I should think so!" Violent was aghast. "The thought of letting that dear girl to bear a child alone! Even if the baby wasn't my Grandchild."

"Benedict said an untethered Bridgerton could only cause chaos." Kate chuckled. "Anthony wanted to keep watch over Penelope, he knew I would help with that. It was easy enough for me to befriend her while she was still in London. After she left, we continued to visit her, but we feared if we were absent too often, people would ask questions."

"By people, you mean the family," Violet surmised.

Kate gave a small smile. "Benedict has a good deal more freedom. People… family would think nothing of him disappearing for a few days or weeks, as long as he came back with a full sketchbook. And Anthony knew he could trust Benedict's discretion."

"Eloise doesn't know?"

"No. Penelope forbade it, even as much as she misses her friend." Kate hesitated, not wanting to offend her mother-in-law by insulting her daughter, but also wanting to be fully honest. "We also feared she would not be able to keep the secret. Not that she would spread gossip," she added hurriedly. "But she might have said something out of turn in a fraught moment or…"

"Or beaten Colin with a Pall Mall mallet at the first opportunity," Violet finished. "I know my children well. Eloise is the most passionate in her emotions, and most likely to speak or act without thought. You were right to hide this from her."

Violet was silent for a few minutes, although Kate could see she had more questions. Finally, "And why did you not tell me?" She asked quietly, pain in her voice.

Kate sighed. She knew this question was coming, had rehearsed several answers and knew none of them would ease Violet's pain. She couldn't provide comfort. Honesty would have to suffice.

"At the time, our primary concern was Penelope's welfare, and she was adamant on keeping the secret to as few people as possible. For our part, we worried that knowing would change how you saw your son, how you behaved around him, which might lead to him finding out. We could not break Penelope's trust. As for Penelope…" Kate reached out and took Violet's hand. "We haven't discussed it, but it's clear Penelope has a deep affection for you. She sees you as the ideal of a loving mother, her role model, in fact. She cherishes your good opinion. I think she fears losing that."

"What changed her mind? I'm grateful she'd allowing me in, but is she well?" Violet asked.

Kate fidgeted uncomfortably. "I haven't told her you're coming. I've been visiting her for months, comforting and supporting her as much as I can, but as her time gets closer… My advice sounds very weak indeed."

Violet nodded, understanding. "It's a time when a girl needs her mother."

"Even under the best of circumstances, I do not think Portia Featherington would provide much comfort," Kate said. "What she needs now is…"

"Love," Violet completed the thought. "She needs love. And she shall certainly have it." She looked at Kate, her expression kinder than it had been for most of the trip. "Thank you for telling me. For trusting me."

The two women sat in amicable silence for a while. Kate watched the scenery, noting that they would soon be at the cottage. She realised there was one more thing to tell Violet.

"There is one thing you must know before we arrive. There is one topic we never broach with Penelope. We do not discuss Colin. She has never asked about him. If she has any feelings left for him, she keeps them tightly locked away." Kate looked out the window as the carriage turned up a familiar track. "We're here." She looked at Violet. "I hope this goes well."

"It will," Violet reassured her. "Penelope needs me, even if she doesn't now it yet. She will understand."

The carriage stopped, and Kate stepped out. Penelope emerged from the cottage, smiling when she saw Kate. Kate rushed forward to embrace her friend. Penelope returned the hug warmly. Over Kate's shoulder, she saw Violet emerge from the carriage. She froze, dropping her arms as Kate stepped away.

Violet and Penelope stared at each other, both uncertain. Violet took a tentative step forward and opened her arms. Kate watched as Penelope, who had been so strong and controlled, started to cry and fell into Violet's arms. Violet held her, smoothing her hair, whispering comfort in low tones.

Kate wiped tears away from her own cheeks and went inside to put the kettle on, leaving the two women a moment of privacy. Bringing Violet had been the right thing to do, she was certain of that now. Seeing Penelope in such grief, she wished she had done it sooner.

Chapter 9: Women Talk

As Kate prepared the tea, Violet and Penelope entered the cottage, both with tears on their cheeks, but both smiling. Kate brought the tray over and the women sat down.

"Now," Violet began, motherly concern exuding from every pore, "You must tell me everything. How are you feeling?" She kept one arm around Penelope's shoulder, the other resting on her baby belly. Penelope placed her hand atop Violet's and guided it to her side. Violet lit up with joy.

Penelope smiled. "She doesn't kick for everyone. She must like you."

"Well of course she does. I'm her Nana." She spoke to the belly with love in her voice, then tuned to Penelope. "You think it's a girl?"

Penelope nodded shyly. "I used to go back and forth, but when I dream, I see a little girl." She ducked her head. "It's probably foolish."

Violet placed a hand under chin and raised it gently. "Not foolish at all my dear. I always knew with certainty. I was only wrong once."

"Eloise?" Kate guessed.

"Just so," Violet confirmed. "She was a contrary child from the very start." She turned to Penelope again. "Here is my first and most important piece of advice. Trust your instincts, my dear. They are founded in love, and they will not lead you wrong."

Penelope smiled, even as her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away, frustrated. "I'm sorry, I cry at the least thing these days."

"That's perfectly normal. When I carried Anthony, I cried when Edmund brought me flowers that were 'too blue.' The next week, I cried because the same flowers were 'not blue enough. And that was nothing compared to my temper." Violet started pouring tea and arranging the biscuits, all the while distracting Penelope (and entertaining Kate) with stories of her various pregnancies.

"By the time I was carrying Daphne, Edmund kept clean shoes inside every door, as he feared my wrath if he tracked mud into the house."

"Not a fear he passed to his son," Kate added. "Anthony will track half the stables into our bedroom without the slightest thought."

"Ah, but when you are with child, it's an entirely different matter," She gave Kate a sly look and turned back to Penelope. "So you see, my dear, you need not apologise for anything, right now, whether tears or temper."

Penelope giggled, thoroughly cheered by Violet's stories. "I think Benedict was quite frightened of me on his last visit. I shouted at him when he left his charcoal on the table."

Violet paused in drinking her tea, noting the mention of Benedict, but not commenting. She put the cup down and stood, taking Penelope's hand. "Now, my dear, show me the rest of your lovely home. I want to see all the preparations for my Grandchild." She tightened her hand around Penelope's, while Kate stepped up to take her other hand, helping the heavily pregnant woman off the settee.

"Thank you," Penelope said, straightening her skirts. "I never thought I'd miss the simple acts of sitting and standing."

"When a lady is this close to her time, she must be pampered and catered to. I understood you had a maid with you?" Violet asked, looking around.

"She's gone into town for supplies. She should be back soon." Penelope led them to the stairs. "Kate knows the guest room well. Let me show you the arrangements I've made for the Baby."

Violet and Kate followed Penelope in the nursery. There was a crib, plain but well made. A rocking chair, a bureau. There seemed to be ample bedding, blankets and baby clothes. Violet's gaze was drawn to the pictures on the walls; Brightly coloured scenes of a country house, a garden, children, their faces obscured, playing pall mall. She recognised the scenery as Aubrey Hall. The subjects and the style made the artist obvious.

"These are Benedict's work," Violet asked, examining the details.

Penelope nodded. "He has been a tremendous help. With every visit, he brings another gift for the nursery, and he painted those pictures while he was here. Anthony and Kate have been very generous as well," she added hurriedly, not wanting to slight her friend.

Violet smiled. "I wondered where Benedict kept disappearing to over the last few months. I'm happy he has been putting his time to such good use."

"It's strange. When I first decided to leave London, I planned to cut all ties. Now I could not be more grateful my child will have such doting Uncles and Aunt." Penelope looked at Kate. "Anthony was right to insist on continued contact."

Kate's expression was one of exaggerated horror. "Promise me, you will never tell him that. Even if I agree, he can never be allowed to know."

"Quite right," Violet agreed. "Give a man a title and he quite forgets his place."

The three women laughed, and Penelope felt a bond with them. It was a camaraderie she had never experienced with her own mother or sisters. She felt a moments melancholy, thinking about what might have been had circumstances been different.

Violet noticed Penelope's sadness and swiftly took her arm. "Come, I think I hear your maid returning. We shall have a good meal and talk." Violet put her arm around Penelope's shoulder and clasped her close. "I'm sure you have many questions about what's to come. I am here for whatever you need."

Penelope smiled, even as tears filled her eyes. Violet pulled her into a tight embrace and Kate hugged them both as well. Penelope gave a teary laugh. "It's fine, I'm fine. Happy tears," she said, stepping back. "I warned you I cry at the slightest thing."

"And I told you not to worry about it," Violet said. "Your tears are safe with us."

Penelope saw the love and acceptance in her eyes, and in Kate's, and burst into tears again.

Chapter 10: Expected and unexpected arrivals.

Violet and Kate had been there two days. Penelope spent the first day apologising for inconveniencing Violet. Eventually, Violet firmly convinced her that there was nowhere Violet would rather be, that she cherished this grandchild and Penelope just as much as the rest of her children, and that Penelope would have to get used to it. That prompted another bout of Happy tears from Penelope.

On the second morning, Penelope complained about a recurring pain in her back. Violet took note, and suggested taking a walk. By the time they returned, Penelope was definitely in the early stages of labour. Sara, the maid, was dispatched to town to summon the midwife. Kate put the kettle on and prepared fresh linens for Penelope's bed. Violet stayed by Penelope's side, telling her stories and distracting her from her fears.

The distraction worked until Penelope's water broke, and the contractions accelerated. Violet and the midwife helped Penelope to her bed. Kate and Sara hovered at the doorway, ready to fetch anything that might be needed.

As the sun was setting, Kate went downstairs to light the lamps, and was surprised to hear hoof beats approaching, even more surprised when Benedict burst through the door.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Kate scolded. "We agreed your presence was not required."

Benedict scowled. "You and Anthony agreed, I did not." He looked around the cottage. "Is Mother upstairs? Where's Penelope?"

A scream from above ripped through the cottage. Benedict paled and dropped his bag. He was nearly to the stairs when Kate blocked his way.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Is that Pen? Is it time?" Benedict's face was full of panic and anticipation, and he tried to edge around Kate to the stairs. Kate moved to the the bottom step, a human barricade.

"Penelope is fine. Yes, the baby is coming. Your Mother and the midwife are with her." There was another scream. Benedict's panic increased. Kate placed a hand on his shoulder. "Everything is proceeding as it should. Childbirth is a painful trial, but Penelope is young, strong and healthy and she is in good hands."

Benedict looked bereft. "Can I see her? Perhaps friendly face will cheer her?"

"Benedict Bridgerton! Penelope is giving birth! She does not need cheering up, she does not need to be disturbed at all. Are you implying your mother and I are not sufficiently kind to her?" Kate pushed him back from the stairs towards the settee and sat next to him. "It is laudable you wish to comfort Penelope; I'm sure she will be happy to introduce you to the baby when it arrives, but right now, you have no place in that room. You are not her husband."

Kate noted how Benedict grimaced at that last statement, but he finally settled back, arms folded, the picture of a petulant schoolboy. Kate stood. "I am going back upstairs, you can wait down here. I will call you if you are needed."

Benedict rose as well and Kate glared at him. "You can wait in here or outside. Do not test me, Benedict."

Benedict picked up his bag. "Just retrieving my sketchbook, sister. I cannot sit here doing nothing or I shall run mad." He pulled out his sketchbook and charcoals. Kate noted he laid down a cloth before putting his charcoals on the table, and she smiled, remembering Penelope's earlier confession. Benedict sat back and leafed through his sketchbook for a blank page. As he turned the pages, Kate was impressed with his skill. Penelope's likeness shone from every page. Benedict had clearly found his muse.

Another scream had Kate running upon the stairs as Benedict clutched a charcoal stick in a clenched fist, staring at a blank page with a grim expression.

Upstairs, the air was thick with tension. 'Kate, there you are!" Violet cried. "Quickly, take Penelope's hand."

Kate raced to Penelope's side and took her hand. Penelope immediately started squeezing. "What took you so long?" she gasped, then screamed as another contraction overwhelmed her.

"You're doing well, Milady. Just a few more times and you'll be holding your baby" the midwife reassured her.

"We have an unexpected guest," Kate said, wiping Penelope's brow with a damp cloth as she leaned back on the pillow. "Benedict is here."

Penelope was instantly alert. "He is? Where is he?" She tried to sit up, but another contraction hit. Violet and Kate held her as she rode out the pain, before Kate answered.

"He is downstairs. I thought I would have to tie him to a chair to prevent him coming up."

Penelope smiled, her first in hours. "He is here," she whispered to herself. "He is here." Another contraction, and soon Penelope's screams were mingled with a baby's cry.

"She is here, Milady," said the midwife, wiping the baby clean and wrapping it in a blanket. "It's a girl."

Penelope laid back on the bed, breathless and smiling. Violet took the baby from the midwife and brought her to Penelope. Kate helped Penelope sit up and as Violet put the baby in her arms.

"Hello, little one,"Penelope whispered. "I've been waiting to meet you my whole life."

"Have you thought of a name?" Violet asked gently, already besotted with her new granddaughter.

Penelope nodded, never looking away from her daughter. "Beatrice," she said, then looked up at Kate. "Beatrice Katherine."

Kate was silent, overcome with emotion. Penelope, worried she had offended her friend, started babbling. "I know your name is Kathani but I worried that might make it too obvious who her family is, and I thought the anglicised version would be easier…"

Kate sat next to her and gently cupped the baby's head. "I think it's a beautiful name." She pressed a gentle kiss to Beatrice's forehead.

"I'm glad you like it," Penelope said. "It's important that her Godmother like her name."

Kate smiled, tear in her eyes. "I would be honoured." She looked across at Violet. "And what do you think, Nana?"

"It's perfect. Just as she is." The three women sat in silent awe of the new arrival, memorising her every feature. There was a noise at the door and the looked up. Benedict stood in the doorframe, sketchbook and charcoal in hand, furiously sketching the scene before him.

"Stay are you are," he said, focussed on his work. "I've almost got enough."

"Benedict, don't you dare," Penelope scolded. "I must look an absolute state."

"Hush," he replied. "You look radiant. No scene has ever been more perfect."

"I thought I told you to wait downstairs," Kate tried to sound stern, but was too happy to pull it off.

"I was summoned by the cries of the newest Bridgerton. May this devoted uncle approach and be introduced?"

Penelope nodded and passed to baby to Violet, who stood, cuddling her granddaughter. She offered the baby to Benedict. "Beatrice Katherine, this is your Uncle Benedict."

Benedict hesitated a moment, then took the baby in his arms. "It's been a while, but I suppose you never forget how to do this," he joked. "Hello, Fair Beatrice. Your name is fitting. You could certainly be Dante's muse."

"Not Dante, Benedict," Penelope interjected. "Shakespeare. My favourite heroine."

"Just so," Benedict said, gently tracing his niece's features with a fingertip, before handing her back to her mother. He kissed Penelope on the temple, whispering, "My favourite heroine is you."

He stepped back as Penelope blushed and focussed on her daughter. Kate started shooing him from the room.

"Come along, Benedict, let them rest," she said, pushing him towards the door. "Help me get some dinner ready. We all need a meal and a good night's sleep."

"With a newborn in the house?" Violet scoffed. "You have much to learn, my dear."

Chapter 11: Discussions on what happens next

Violet and Kate stayed for a week, helping Penelope adjust to motherhood. Benedict had taken lodgings in town and visited the cottage daily. Beatrice had become the bright centre of their universe, all of them fascinated by her every breath. However, the small cottage could not accommodate them all for an extended stay, and Kate and Violet knew they must return to their commitments in London.

"Gregory and Hyacinth will be wondering where I've disappeared to," Violet said, never looking away from the baby in her arms.

"I'm sure Anthony gave them a plausible explanation," Kate said. "He will keep them distracted. If they don't drive him to distraction with their squabbles."

"He'll be fine as long as they're squabbling," Violet informed her. "If they start working together, he may never recover." Her voice changed to a coo as she spoke to Beatrice. "Your aunt and uncle can be quite mischievous when they put their minds to it. Actually, they can be quite mischievous without giving it any thought at all. Promise me, Sweet Beatrice, that you will not give your mother such trouble." Beatrice yawned. Violet nodded. "I will take that as a yes."

Penelope shook her head. "I think she is too young to be held to such a bargain. Luckily, she will not have siblings to conspire with, so at least I will not be outnumbered."

"Unless she recruits her doting Uncle Benedict," Kate warned. "He is entirely wrapped around her little finger."

"Well, he'll only be visiting occasionally, I'm sure," Penelope said, taking the baby as she started to fuss, settling into the rocking chair to feed her.

Kate looked out the window as she heard a horse approaching. "I think it might be a more than 'occasionally'," Kate said. "The Doting Uncle approaches."

Penelope pulled a blanket over her nursing child as Benedict entered and gave him a welcoming smile. Benedict kissed his mother's cheek, then Kate's, and approached Penelope with a bouquet of flowers.

"Oh, Benedict, they're lovely," she said, shifting slightly under the blanket. "I'm afraid my hands are rather full right now."

Benedict retreated awkwardly as he realised what was happening and turned away, handing the flowers to Kate, who smirked at his discomfort and put the flowers in a vase.

"I understood you ladies were leaving today?" Benedict inquired, looking from Kate to Violet.

"We are," said Violet, frustration creeping into her voice. "I just…. Penelope, are you sure would will be alright?"

Penelope passed her now full baby to Kate and covered her self up. "I will be fine," she said, rising to embrace Violet, who returned the hug tightly. "Thank you so much for helping me. I'm so happy Beatrice will know her Nana."

"Nothing could keep me away." Violet stepped back, still holding Penelope's arms. "I will be back in a few weeks. I'm sure Anthony will be down to meet his niece as well. You are not alone in this."

"I know," Penelope replied. "I'll never be alone now. I have Beatrice."

"I'm here as well," Benedict put in. "I'm not entirely useless."

"Of course not dear, I'm sure you'll be very helpful," Violet said, patting his cheek, placating him as she would a small child. "Try not to get in the way."

Benedict rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek, "Yes, Mother," he said affectionately. "Let me take your bags to the carriage."

"Thank you, dear." Violet turned back to Penelope. "Send word if you need anything, anything at all."

"I will."

Kate stepped forward to embrace her friend. "Anthony and I will return soon. I expect he is eager to visit."

Benedict returned to the cottage. "The carriage is ready. Not to rush you out, but if you want to make it to the inn before dark…"

"Yes, you are quite right." Violet climbed into the carriage, and Kate followed. As Benedict closed the door, Violet gave some final instructions. "Babies change almost daily at this age, so I expect to see a full sketchbook when I return."

"Understood."

"Take care of them for us, Benedict."

"I will, Mother. They are safe with me."

Benedict watched the carriage trundle down the track and turn onto the main road. He heard a sniffle and looked down. Penelope stood beside him, tears in her eyes cuddling Beatrice. He put an arm around around her shoulder as they watched the carriage disappear from sight, then pulled her into a hug.

"It's alright, Little Mother. I'm here to take care of you," Benedict whispered.

Penelope let out a chuckle. "That's good, but who will take care of you?"

Benedict laughed and clutched his heart. "You wound me! Such an insult is almost a mortal blow!"

Penelope laughed at his dramatics, and Benedict smiled in return. "And so the sun returns with your smile." He held out his arms. "Pass me my niece. She is clearly pining for her uncle's attention."

Beatrice let out a loud burp. Penelope passed her to Benedict. "My daughter is quite clear in her opinions." Benedict and Penelope returned to the cottage.

In the carriage, Kate and Violet settled in for the journey. As she adjusted the cushions, Violet asked, "How long has Benedict been in love with Penelope?"

"It's difficult to say; this is the first time I've seen them together," Kate replied, unsurprised by the question. "I imagine it's as long as she's been in love with him. The real question is, how long will it take for the two of them to admit it?"

Violet looked pleased for a moment, then worried. "It will be difficult for them. The circumstances are not ideal."

"My husband was within seconds of marrying my sister, and look at us now." Kate said, leaning back and opening her book. "This family will weather any trial in the name of love."

"Yes," said Violet, opening her own book. "Yes, I believe you are right."

Chapter 12; A picture is worth a thousand words

Benedict was in a mood. He was currently in residence at Bridgerton house, running the estates and supervising Gregory and Hyacinth, while Anthony and Kate were enjoying some time at the coast and spoiling Beatrice. Benedict was in a mood because while they were with Penelope, he couldn't be, and spoiling Beatrice was his job, thank you very much. So, after ensuring Gregory and Hyacinth were occupied and unlikely to burn the house down, Benedict retreated to Anthony's office with his sketchbook. There, he could pretend to be working, and lose himself in sketching without being disturbed.

Or so he thought.

Eloise was still in residence and at a loose end. Where Gregory and Hyacinth would avoid the Viscount's office, as they would only be called there for a reprimand, Eloise had no such fear. Benedict's aura of 'leave me alone' was not a warning to her, but a challenge.

As the door opened, Benedict shoved his sketchbook in a drawer and turned his attention to the account books. Eloise entered and collapsed into the chair opposite Benedict, putting her feet up on the other chair.

"Can I help you, Sister?" Benedict asked. "I am rather busy right now."

"Pretending to study the account books is not 'Busy'," She said in a bored tone. "Don't protest. You're holding a charcoal stick instead of a pen. I expect your sketchbook is in the top drawer."

Benedict gave her an annoyed look. "Did you need me? Or did you just want to show off your observational skills."

"I'm bored, Brother."

"And you expect me to drop everything and entertain you?" Benedict asked.

"You would always used to do it." Eloise said with a small smile. "You would do anything to make us happy when we were little. What happened to that Benedict?"

"Go read a book, Eloise."

"Reading is more fun when I have someone to discuss things with." She looked at Benedict hopefully.

"Perhaps Cressida could keep you company," Benedict replied, trying to take an interest in the accounts. Eloise did not reply. Benedict looked up as her silence became oppressive. "You are still friends with Cressida, are you not?"

Eloise's silence grew louder.

"I must admit, I was surprised by your sudden friendship with her." Benedict said.

"I did not think the two of you shared many common interests." Benedict said.

"Mother took it as a sign you were willing to engage in the marriage mart." Benedict said, trying to goad her into a response. And failing.

"For heaven's sake Eloise, will you tell me what you what you want to talk about? Benedict said shortly. "It's tiresome carrying both sides of the conversation."

"Perhaps I simply wanted your company, Brother." Eloise replied, still not looking at him.

"Hogwash." Eloise finally looked up, shocked at the rude term. "If you wanted silence, you would not have sought my company. You obviously want to talk about something, and I haven't the patience to tease it out of you."

Eloise glared at for a full minute before relenting. "I'm lonely," she said in a small voice.

Benedict sighed and moved around the desk, pushing Eloise's feet off the chair so he could sit. "What happened with Cressida?" He asked softly.

"She said some things I did not like," Eloise muttered.

"She's never been particularly pleasant in her conversation." Benedict said. His eyes narrowed. "Did she say something about the family?"

"No, of course not. She's too savvy for that." Eloise paused, gathering her thoughts. "When I started my friendship with Cressida, I actually enjoyed her blunt way of speaking. It was nice conversing with someone I knew wouldn't lie to me." Her voice held more than a trace of bitterness.

Benedict took her hand. "Oh, Eloise," he said, understanding.

"She never hid who she was. She was proud of it. Brutally honest, she called it."

"They say those who favour Brutal Honesty enjoy the brutality more than the honesty," Benedict said.

"So says Lady Whistledown." Eloise said mockingly. "She said some things about Lady Whistledown. Cressida did. About Penelope. The things she had 'always said' about Penelope. Things she had 'always said' to Penelope. How everyone had agreed with her." Eloise hunched her shoulders and hugged herself. "She'd treated Penelope badly for years before Lady Whistledown."

She turned to Benedict. "Do you know how Pen and I met? I was running in the square and slipped in the mud. Some other children laughed at me, how the spoiled princess had soiled her dress. Penelope helped me up and told the other kids to leave me alone. I don't think anyone ever told Cressida to leave Penelope alone." Eloise took a deep breath. "I think I understand.. now… why Penelope became Lady Whistledown. I just don't understand why she didn't tell me."

Benedict leaned back in his chair and regarded his sister. "Have I ever told you how I feel when I'm sketching or painting?"

Eloise shook her head.

"When I start a Sketch, I lose myself in the page, in the details of the image I'm creating. It's creation, something from my mind, my hands to the image on the page. When people can see the picture, they are seeing a piece of me. I imagine that's what it was like for Penelope. It was something that was hers."

"But she saw how hard it was was looking for Lady Whistledown's identity! She could have told me. I could have helped her, even!"

Benedict gave her a look. "Did you miss the part about it being something entirely hers? Added to that, my dear sister, while you have many fine qualities, subtlety and discretion are not among them."

"Perhaps she just didn't want to share the money," Eloise shot back. "She certainly profited off everyone else's misery."

"That comment is beneath you, Eloise," Benedict said. "I understand you're angry that she wrote about you, but you were doing something you absolutely should not have been doing. Did she tell you why she did it?"

Eloise shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "The Queen was convinced that I was Whistledown. She threatened," Eloise hesitated, then murmured, "Consequences for the family."

"So by exposing you, she protected you."

"It's not like it cost her anything!" Eloise exclaimed bitterly. "I'm sure that issue was a bestseller!"

"And what did it cost you?" Benedict asked. "You are still welcome at any ball, in any house. If you have lost anyone's good opinion, they weren't people whose opinion you valued. As for Penelope," Benedict hesitated, weighing how much he could reveal without giving away his connection to Penelope. "Were you aware of her family's circumstances?"

"You mean her cousin's investment scheme? Perhaps deceit runs in the family."

Benedict gritted his teeth and bit back his anger. It was time for Eloise to learn a lesson in compassion. "It's more than that. The Late Baron Featherington gambled away the family fortune, including his daughter's dowries. They were in dire straits before he died. He left his family nothing but debt, and at the mercy of the swindler who inherited the title. I would imagine Penelope was at the very least securing her own future. She was likely also supporting her family."

Eloise features were clouded as she struggled to let go of her anger. "If she was in so much trouble, why did she not confide in me? I would have helped her."

"Eloise, you have been out in society for a while now. How many people have feigned friendship with you, but were just trying to get close to the family? Men seeking a connection to Anthony, or marriage minded women wanting an introduction to myself or Colin?" Eloise was silent, but Benedict could see the understanding on her face. "I would imagine Penelope was unwilling to taint your friendship."

"Once again, she didn't trust me." Eloise was determined to be the wronged party. Benedict was getting annoyed. As he was about to reply, there was a knock at the door. One of the maids entered.

"Your pardon, Master Bridgerton, but you are needed in the drawing room. Master Gregory and Miss Hyacinth are having a," she paused diplomatically, "A difference of opinion."

Benedict knew that was code for 'nothing has been broken YET' and stood. "I will be there in a moment, Sara." She curtsied and left. Benedict turned to his sister. "Eloise, we Bridgerton's are a privileged bunch. We have money and status and the good will of the Ton. More than that, we have each other. We will always love and support each other. As much as Mother may push you onto the Marriage Mart, you would never be forced to marry against your will. I don't think Penelope ever had that security. Perhaps it's time to think on that. And even if you can't see Penelope's side, even if you can't forgive her, you need to let go of your anger. It's hurting you to hold onto it." He bent and kissed the top of her head. "It hurts us all to see you in pain." Benedict left the office, quickening his pace as a crash came from the drawing room.

Eloise sat, lost in thought for a while, considering her brother's words. She stood and went to the window, looking across the square at the Featherington residence. Penelope's window had been dark since she left London. Not that Eloise had been checking. Not at all. The house was just there when she looked out the window. It didn't make her sad at all, to see Penelope's window.

She turned from the window and slumped into Anthony's chair. Feeling nosy, she looked at the account books open on the desk and noted a mistake in adding up one of the columns. There was no quill on the desk, so she opened the drawer, pulling out Benedict's sketchbook (she knew it!) to find the quill and ink pot underneath. After correcting the error, she put the quill away and picked up the sketchbook. It fell open in her hand.

Benedict returned to the office to find Eloise frozen behind the desk, his sketchbook open in her hand.

Eloise looked up at him and, with a calmness she did not feel, said, "Brother, why is your sketchbook full of pictures of Penelope Featherington? And why is she holding a baby?"

Chapter 13: Benedict has to tell Eloise… Something

Benedict stood in the doorway, mouth open, but it was as though every word in the English language had fled his brain. Except for the curses, which were repeating in his head on a loop. He and Eloise stared at each other. Benedict stepped into the room, closed the door and locked it. He knew he could not leave the room without giving Eloise an explanation, and he could not allow her to leave without reaching an understanding.

Still, he needed time to organise his thoughts, so he opened the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large whiskey. He then poured a second glass, added some water and handed it to Eloise. She took it with a shocked but eager expression.

"It's a bit of a story, and I think your going to need it," he said, collapsing on the settee and gesturing for Eloise to join him. She did, bringing the whiskey and the sketchbook with her. They sat in silence as the minutes ticked by, until Eloise finally said, "Well?"

Benedict sighed. "I'm not sure how to tell the story. I've spent months carefully keeping the secret. And it's not really my story to tell." Eloise's eyes narrowed and he could see the fury building. He raised his hand to forestall the explosion. "Ask me questions, and I promise I will answer as best I can. However, I will need your promise, your oath, not to discuss this with anyone, even family, unless I've told you they already know. And even then, only in the most discreet circumstances." He waited until she nodded. "Then ask your questions."

Eloise hesitated, and Benedict was relieved that the onus of the conversation was now on her. That relief only lasted until Eloise spoke.

"Did you defile my best friend, you lecherous rake?" Eloise spat out the question, her hands curling into fists. Benedict jumped back out of range of her attack.

"What? No! Of course not!"

"But you do know where she is," she stated. "You've seen her recently."

"Yes, I know where she is," He said, answering her specific questions. "Yes, I have seen her recently."

"You're going to be an absolute pain about this, aren't you."

"I said I will answer your questions truthfully," Benedict replied. "If you want better answers, ask better questions."

Eloise thought for a few minutes, leafing through the sketchbook. She decided to start with simple ones.

"Where is Penelope?"

"She has a cottage, near Southampton."

"And she has a baby?" Eloise was staring at a sketch of Penelope and and infant.

"Yes," Benedict answered, and decided to give her something extra. "Beatrice Katherine."

Eloise gave a small smile. "Much Ado About Nothing. It was always her favourite." She turned serious again. "Who is the father?"

Benedict braced himself for the explosion. "Colin."

"No."

"It's true."

"No." Eloise was adamant. "It cannot be. Our brother would never. He's never even looked at Penelope that way."

Benedict grimaced. "As far as we can understand, he was… not himself. He had been drinking." Benedict didn't mention the drugs, as it was more than he wanted to explain to his sister right now. "It was the night of Prudence's wedding. He began courting Clara the next day."

"And you're taking Lady Whistledown's word for it? What does Colin say?"

Benedict felt his indignation rising and struggled to tamp it down. "We are taking Penelope's word. You may not like what she wrote as Lady Whistledown, but it was always true. Penelope asked us not to tell Colin, as he was already engaged, and she was content to disappear. And if there was any remaining doubt, one look at Beatrice would dispel it." He turned to one of the later sketches in the book and smiled fondly. "She looks just like Hyacinth as a baby." His expression became stern. "I will remind you of your promise to not discuss this with anyone who doesn't already know. Colin CANNOT know of this, Eloise."

Eloise slouched back and crossed her arms. "Fine. In that case, who does know? Who decided I was not to be trusted?"

Benedict decided to ignore the petulant tone and gave a straight answer. "Aside from myself, there is Anthony, Kate and Mother. Penelope initially approached Anthony. She needed help securing the cottage. She only went to him out of desperation. She had planned to disappear without a word to anyone, but Anthony insisted on keeping contact. With her approval, he confided in Kate and myself. We helped her settle in the cottage, and took turns visiting her. As her time approached, Kate was worried, and insisted we inform Mother."

Benedict took his sister's hand and tried to comfort her. "It wasn't a personal slight that we didn't inform you. We weren't telling anyone."

"I'm not 'anyone'. I'm her best friend." Eloise pulled her hand away and folded her arms. "Once again, she didn't trust me."

"You weren't best friends when all this was unfolding. At that point, you hadn't spoken in months. Penelope had given up on your friendship and felt you were better off without her. At least, that's what she said." Benedict's expression clouded. "I think she was afraid you would reject her again. That would have been too much for her."

Eloise picked up the sketchbook and leafed through it, pausing at the picture of Penelope, Kate and her Mother holding Beatrice. "She looks happy," Eloise said quietly.

"That was the day Beatrice was born."

"You were there?"

Benedict looked a little embarrassed. "I wasn't supposed to be. She was already in labour when I arrived. Kate was furious at me."

"Why?"

"It wasn't my turn," Benedict groused. "At the start, we all agreed we would not visit at the same time. All of us being absent from London would draw too much attention. And besides, Penelope's cottage is not that big."

"So why did you go, if Kate and Mother were there?" Eloise poked her brother. "You took us to the furthest part of the house whenever Mother was delivering. I can't imagine you were much help."

"Penelope and I have become very good friends, I'll have you know," Benedict replied indignantly. "We hadn't told her we were informing Mother, or that Mother was going to visit. I was worried about how their reunion would be."

Eloise looked suspicious. "You were worried that Mother would react poorly to her Grandchild? Or to Penelope, who she's always had a soft spot for?" She scoffed. "Why were you really there, Brother?"

Benedict pulled the sketchbook into his lap, turning to a sketch of Penelope smiling. He sighed. "I suppose, there was no where else I wanted to be."

"And why aren't you there now?" A suspicious thought was forming in Eloise's head. So was a plan.

"Anthony, Kate and Mother are there, and SOMEONE has to manage the estates," Benedict replied, deeply annoyed. "Sweet Bea will be missing me. Penelope says I'm the best at calming her. After Penelope herself, of course," he declared proudly.

"And when they return to London, you will return to Pen." Eloise stated.

"My bag is already packed and waiting." He smiled, pleased that Eloise was taking this all so well.

"Very sensible. I should go pack as well, just to be ready," Eloise stood, downed her whiskey, and moved to the door.

"Wait, what?" Benedict had a sinking feeling. "What are you packing for?"

"When you visit Penelope, I shall come with you." She stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It is highly improper for you to be visiting Penelope unchaperoned."

"I think we are beyond the bounds of propriety," Benedict said in a deadpan tone.

"According to all my governesses, Mother, Anthony and you, a woman is never beyond the bounds of propriety. Besides, Penelope and I have much to discuss. A letter will not do."

Benedict stood. "Eloise, I will not allow you to upset her."

Eloise gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "I wish to mend our friendship. I won't upset her." She gave him a rueful look. "At least, not intentionally."

As she left the room, she muttered under her breath, "Colin is another matter entirely."

Benedict sprinted after her.

Chapter 14: Benedict Calms Eloise, Bribes Hyacinth and Placates Anthony (with Kate's help)

Benedict spent the next few days impressing upon Eloise the importance of secrecy, and the various forms it can take. The best way to protect Penelope and Beatrice was to simply not speak of them, as words spoken even in confidence can be overheard. Eloise agreed to this without issue, conducting her thorough interrogation of Benedict only in locked rooms away from any servants.

In regards to Colin, things were both easier and more difficult. He was not in residence or even in London, having taken his bride off on an extended tour of the Mediterranean, so there was no chance of a direct confrontation. However, Eloise was seething, bristling at even the mention of his name, which was starting to raise some questions from Gregory and Hyacinth.

"She's just jealous of Colin traveling again," he explained as Eloise stalked from the room.

"She wasn't like this last time he went," Gregory observed.

"Yes, but now he's seeing places twice that she hasn't even seen once," he said, rising to follow her. "Try not to destroy the house in the next half hour, and I'll take you out to a sweet shop."

Hyacinth eyed the clock on the mantle. "It is exactly 1:15," She said. "We get an extra sweet for every extra minute. Each."

"Fine," Benedict agreed, and hastened to follow Eloise. Hyacinth was a stickler for bargains.

He found Eloise in the garden by the swings, holding a broken branch and furiously whipping a tree. Benedict sat on a swing and waited for Eloise to tire.

"Feel better?" He asked.

"Not really," She said, collapsing in the swing beside him. "I'm just so Angry." She rested her head on her clenched fists, a ball of simmering fury. "How could Colin do this? Pen was his friend, too. How could he use her like this? My second favourite brother and my very best friend and through it all NO ONE TOLD ME ANYTHING."

"For Heaven's Sake, Eloise, will you lower your voice!" He hissed at her. "This is exactly why we didn't tell you. You cannot contain your emotions."

She gave Benedict a stricken look, unused to his anger. She took a few calming breaths and spoke in a lower tone. "Do you know who I'm angriest at? Myself."

Benedict gave her a quizzical look, waiting for her to continue. "Penelope was Lady Whistledown for years. She was in love with Colin for years. She was my Best Friend but I somehow missed everything about her. She didn't tell me, but she shouldn't have had to. I should have known. I didn't even know about her family's finances and apparently that was general knowledge." She looked at her brother. " She always paid attention to me, listened to me, was there for me, but I wasn't there for her. I loved her dearly, but I wasn't a good friend."

Benedict swung over and put his arm around her shoulder, both of them wobbling a bit. "Well, the good thing is, you can fix that now. Penelope needs all the friends she can get, whatever she might say to the contrary." Benedict stood, pulling Eloise to her feet as well. "Come on, I promised Greg and Hy a trip to the sweet shop; you can help me supervise. If you're good, I'll buy you a bag of humbugs." He glanced at his pocket watch. "Blast it, I told Hyacinth a half hour, I've been 35 minutes."

"You made a deal with Hyacinth?" Eloise smirked, following back into the house. "God help you."

The four Bridgertons returned from the sweet shop to find the family carriage out front, and Anthony and Kate in the foyer.

"It was so quiet, I thought we had the wrong house! Where have you all been?" Anthony asked, hugging Hyacinth and Gregory in turn. As they energetically embraced Kate, he spotted the bulging sweet bags. He gave Benedict a disappointed look. "You bought them sweets? Have you learned nothing?"

"It seemed the lesser evil," He said with a dismissive shrug. "The house is still standing, that's the important part." He turned to his youngest siblings. "All right, go change for dinner, and do not eat all the sweets!" The last words were shouted as they ran up the stairs.

"Do you think they heard you?" Kate asked.

"Who knows? Even if they did they will deny it later." He turned to his brother. "Where's Mother?"

Anthony glanced briefly at Eloise and gave Benedict a warning look. "She ran into some friends in … Brighton." He stumbled over remembering their cover story. "She decided to stay an extra week."

Benedict scowled, knowing this would delay his own departure. He gave Anthony and Kate a serious look. "We need to discuss something. Privately."

Anthony nodded, and he and Kate led the way to his office. He was surprised when Benedict ushered Eloise in before him, then locked the door. He waited until everyone was seated, then said, "Eloise knows."

Anthony looked ready to explode, but was stayed by Kate's hand on his arm. "We agreed to discuss before we told anyone else," he said, his voice tightly controlled. "What prompted this sudden revelation?"

"I found his sketchbook," Eloise piped up. "It was full of sketches of Penelope."

Anthony put his head in his hands. "And you just left it lying around?" He glared accusingly at his brother. "How could you be so careless?"

"I did not leave it 'lying around'," Benedict defended. "It was in your desk drawer. I only left it unattended to deal with the Littles. I was only gone a few minutes."

"So you were snooping," Anthony turned his ire on Eloise.

"I was looking for a quill and ink to correct a mistake HE made in the ledgers," Eloise stated, pointing at Benedict. "The book fell open when I was replacing it in the desk."

"I think we can put aside the childish finger pointing," Kate calmed, ever the voice of reason. "Eloise knows, we must proceed from there."

"I assume Benedict has already impressed on you the importance of discretion in this matter," Anthony said, calling on every ounce of authority he could, both as Viscount and Eldest Brother.

"Of course. Anyway, you won't have to worry about me saying anything as I will be visiting Penelope with Benedict."

Anthony gave Benedict a disappointed look. "You told her she could go with you?"

"Actually, she invited herself," Benedict replied. "But it might be for the best. For both Eloise and Penelope."

Anthony sat back, his whole posture looking defeated. "I promised Penelope absolute discretion. Then we told Mother. Now Eloise knows. I seem to keep breaking my promise over and over. How many times will this family betray her?"

Kate gave his hand a comforting squeeze. Eloise spoke up. "I was the first of us to hurt her. I said we would be friends forever, and then cast her aside because of my own wounded pride. If I can mend our friendship…" She trailed off, feeling the void the loss of Penelope had left in her more keenly, knowing there was now a chance to restore it. "I need to mend our friendship."

Benedict shared a look with Anthony and Kate. "Perhaps this could be for the best. I know Pen misses Eloise, even if she doesn't talk about it much. Because she doesn't talk about. And perhaps Beatrice will need her Auntie Eloise." He gave Eloise a playful poke in the arm. "I'm not sure what for, but circumstances may arise." Eloise stuck out her tongue in response. "Maybe etiquette lessons?"

They all sat silently, watching as Anthony struggled with the dilemma. While he was comfortable making decisions for his siblings, he had promised to respect Penelope's independence. He felt like he was failing her at every turn. First, in his failure to raise Colin to be a gentleman in more than name; now, in his inability to keep her secret contained.

Kate reached out to caress her husband's cheek. He looked up at her. She nodded and smiled. Anthony nodded in return. He couldn't trust himself right now, but he could always trust Kate.

"Very well, you may go. It seems pointless to try and restrain you." He turned to his brother. "Benedict, do try and keep an eye on her. Go, the pair of you. Pack your bags."

Benedict and Eloise grinned at each other, then at Anthony. "Already done," they said in unison. Eloise surged forward to kiss Anthony's cheek and fled the room as he recovered from the shock. Benedict gave his brother's shoulder a supportive squeeze, kissed Kate's cheek, and followed Eloise, calling out, "Don't even try leaving without me, Sister. You'll only get lost!"

Anthony gave Kate a pleading look. "Reassure me, Wife. Have we done the right thing?"

Kate smiled at her husband and patted his cheek. "Untethered Bridgertons are always a risk. Those two love Penelope too much to put her at risk."

Anthony gave her a bewildered look. "Those 'TWO'?"

Chapter 15: Reunions

The trip to Penelope's cottage took two full days with the family carriage, which Benedict slightly resented. When he travelled on horseback alone, it was barely a day and a half. The carriage would be necessary to take his Mother and Eloise back to London; Benedict kept his horse in Penelope's stables, so he could return at his leisure. He was anxious to get to the cottage, and not only to see Penelope and Bea. Eloise was his favourite sister, he loved her dearly, but two days in a carriage with her was… a lot.

Eloise abandoned even trying to read early on the first day. She alternated between peppering Benedict with questions, and long introspective or sullen silences, depending on Benedict's responses.

"Has she told you anything about her and Colin?" (No)

"Has she asked anything about Colin?" (No)

"Has she been in contact with anyone in London?" (Aside from Ant, Kate and mother? Not to my knowledge)

"What is Beatrice like?" (Perfection)

"In Pen a good mother?" (Of course)

"Does she ask about me?"

Benedict was silent for a long moment, considering his answer. He had promised her honesty, but honesty could be a blade or a blanket, depending on the delivery. He wanted to lessen his sister's pain, not poke at it.

"Penelope doesn't talk much about her life in London. She has a lot of painful memories, and very few happy ones. I think remembering the happy times hurts her more." He took Eloise's hand in a comforting grasp. "Almost all her happy times involve you in one way or another. So, no, she doesn't speak about you." He leaned forward and whispered, "That doesn't mean she doesn't think about you."

Benedict leaned back and picked up his sketchbook. Glancing at Eloise, he saw her brushing tears off her cheeks. "Dust," she said. "From the road."

As they approached their destination, Benedict's own emotions started to fluctuate. The cottage had become a second home to him; know he would soon see Penelope and Beatrice gave him a sense of peace he didn't often feel. He hadn't analysed the emotion, choosing to simply enjoy it. However, that sense of peace was tainted this time. They had promised Penelope that no one would find out. Revealing the secret to Violet had worked out; Penelope had only fond memories of his mother; Penelope needed a mother's love and care more than she realised; Violet could provide an endless well of advice and instruction to a new mother.

Springing Eloise on an unsuspecting Penelope was an entirely different matter. Their friendship had been broken for months before Penelope's departure, and while Benedict knew the reasons for their rift, he did not know the details. However, knowing his sister's anger, and having become acquainted with Pen's temper during her pregnancy, he couldn't imagine the break had been gentle.

For the first time, Benedict was approaching the cottage with apprehension, each milestone increasing his agitation.

As they pulled off the main road, up the track to Penelope's home, Benedict tried to give Eloise a stern warning. "I want you to stay in the carriage while I greet Penelope and make some explanations. I want this to go well," he reassured her, even as she opened her mouth to protest. He stepped out of the carriage, whispering, "Please let this go well."

Penelope emerged from the cottage smiling. "Benedict," she said softly, "it's so good to see you."

"It's good to be back," he said matching her tone. "Why are we whispering?"

"Beatrice is asleep in the main room. Your mother is napping upstairs."

Benedict brightened up slightly. "So we have to be very quiet? No shouting or carrying on?"

Penelope gave him an exaggeratedly stern look. "If you wake my sleeping daughter, you will never know rest again."

Benedict took her hands in his and said in a low voice, "You know I would never do anything to harm you or Beatrice."

Penelope chuckled. "It wasn't a serious threat, Ben. Come inside, I'll make you some lunch." She turned towards the cottage but Benedict held her in place.

"Pen, something happened while I was in London. I need you to know I would never deliberately hurt or betray you but…" He took a deep breath and said in a rush, "Eloise knows."

Penelope inhaled sharply, then glanced towards the cottage and swallowed her shout. "How does she know?" Penelope asked, her whisper harsher than anything Benedict had ever heard from her. "How could you tell her? I trusted you, Benedict. More than anyone."

"I didn't tell her!" He hissed. His voice dropped even lower. "She found my sketchbook."

Penelope looked perplexed. "Your sketchbook is inside, you always leave it here."

Benedict looked sheepish. "I started another one in London. I was drawing you and Bea from memory."

"And this is the exact circumstance why you leave your sketchbook here." She put her hand to her forehead, getting increasingly stressed. "What are we going to do, Ben? What is She going to do?"

"Perhaps she would like a chance to talk?" Eloise emerged from the carriage, standing uncertainly, holding the carriage door as if ready to bolt back inside at a moments notice. At the other side of the garden, Penelope adopted a similar stance, ready to dart back into the cottage and lock the door. Benedict stood between, just as tense, like a deer the hunter hasn't spotted…yet. One wrong move would make him a target.

A soft gurgle from inside the cottage broke the tension. Not a cry, but with the potential to become one. Penelope looked towards the cottage, then at Benedict, then Eloise. Her expression hardened. She looked back at Benedict.

"Go see to Beatrice. I will be in shortly to feed her." Benedict dashed into the cottage. Penelope smiled slightly to hear him greeting the baby, then turned back to Eloise. "Get back in the carriage." Eloise looked crestfallen, then slightly frightened as she saw Penelope advancing. She scrambled into the carriage. Penelope followed.

"Right," said Penelope, settling in opposite Eloise. " You want to talk? I'm listening. And then I will have my say."

Inside the cottage, Benedict heard the carriage door shut and peaked out the window. He looked down at the baby in his arms as her little hands reached up to pat his chin. "I hope this goes well, Sweet Beatrice. If it does, you will soon have another amazing Auntie to get into trouble with. If it doesn't," he paused, looking out the window, "this may be a very short visit."

Notes:

On holiday next week, so my publication schedule may slow down a little. However, the story is coming together, and I have the shape of it in my head.

Chapter 16: Confrontations

A tense silence reigned in the carriage. Eloise, ever-confident and self assured, was at a loss for words, for perhaps the first time in her life. She knew she had to apologise and admit some fault. Also for the first time in her life, she actually meant it. Now she just had to figure out how to say it. She was also thrown off by the woman sitting opposite her. The Penelope she knew was always kind, usually smiling, ready to support whatever crusade Eloise was on, or offer comfort for whatever defeat she was suffering. The Penelope she knew was soft and warm and forgiving.

The Penelope in front of her was not that girl. Penelope was now a woman, with priorities that did not include Eloise. A woman who had experienced pain, betrayal and hardship, but it had not broken her. She had taken the adversity and forged it into armour. Penelope sat waiting for Eloise to speak. She was not going to make this easy for Eloise.

"You have a Baby!" Eloise finally blurted out, to break the silence more than anything.

"I do," Penelope replied, unable to suppress a small smile at the thought of Beatrice.

"I didn't know you wanted children," Eloise said softly. "I realise now there's a lot of things I didn't know about you. Things I should have known, but I was too busy talking about myself."

Penelope looked surprised at Eloise's admission, but remained silent. While she could see Eloise was struggling, she was not inclined to let her off the hook.

"I wish I'd done a lot of things differently. I wish I'd been as good a friend to you as you were to me. I was so angry about all the things you didn't tell me and I never stopped to think about why you didn't."

Eloise took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, for everything I said to you at your Mother's ball last year. I was angry about Theo, about the season, and Mother's disappointment and a bunch of other things and I took it out on you."

Penelope and Eloise stared at each other for a few minutes. Eventually, Penelope broke the silence.

"Thank you for the apology. I know," she said with emphasis, "how difficult it is for you to apologise."

"So difficult," Eloise exhaled in relief. "But not as difficult as losing my best friend."

Penelope felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She swallowed them down. She couldn't let her emotions get the best of her, at least not until she said her own piece to Eloise.

"You hurt me," Penelope said, her voice calm and controlled. "You used Cressida Cowper's words. They didn't hurt coming from her, because her opinion didn't matter to me. I didn't respect her. I didn't…" her voice wavered, "I didn't love her. I loved you." She continued. "I'd have done anything to regain your friendship, but you took up with Cressida. Then, things happened."

"My priorities are quite different from what they were when we were friends." Eloise winced at Penelope's use of the past tense, but she remained silent. "When Colin …dishonoured me, I suppose is the best word, I needed a friend. When I realised I was with child, I needed a friend. When I was making plans to leave my home, leave my family, I needed a friend. You weren't there. Your wounded pride was more important to you than our decade of friendship. But I got through it. I made new friends. I realised I didn't need you. I don't need you."

Eloise's head was bowed, her shoulders shaking as she silently sobbed. She didn't see the tears also running down Penelope's cheeks until Penelope reached for her hand.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want you."

Eloise looked up, saw the small, shy smile on Penelope's face, and launched herself into her friend's embrace. Penelope slowly enfolded her childhood friend in a hug, letting the familiar comfort soften her. After a moment, she pushed Eloise back and looked her in the eye.

"This doesn't fix everything. It will take time for us to be friends again," she said, "But I'm willing to try."

Eloise nodded. "I will try to be a better friend this time."

Penelope reached out to hug her again. "I think we can both do better this time."

Eloise leaned back and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Can I meet my niece?"

Penelope nodded, smiling widely as she wiped her own cheeks.

Benedict stood at the cottage window, watching the carriage apprehensively. He jumped when Violet placed a hand on his shoulder, jostling the baby. Beatrice opened her eyes, gave Benedict a disgruntled look, then returned to her nap.

"Are you worried someone will steal the carriage?" Violet smiled at her son, then gently kissed her granddaughter's head. "Where is Penelope?"

"She is in the carriage," Benedict said. Violet looked perplexed. He continued, "With Eloise."

"Eloise is here?" Violet gasped. "Benedict we promised Penelope secrecy. After what your brother did to her, it's the absolute least that we owe her. I'm grateful she accepted me into her home, but even my presence was a betrayal. How could you tell Eloise?"

"I didn't tell her," he whispered vehemently. He was getting tired of having to defend this point. "She found my sketchbook. I didn't leave it out, it was in a drawer."

"You started another sketchbook?" Violet asked.

Benedict nodded.

"You couldn't, perhaps, sketch something else?" She asked kindly.

Benedict sighed. "Whenever I looked at the page, Pen and Bea were all I could see," he replied softly, gently tracing the curve of Beatrice's cheek.

Violet gave his jaw a comforting caress and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Oh, my dear boy. I think you and Penelope need to have a very long discussion." She watched as Penelope and Eloise emerged from the carriage, relieved to see smiles as Eloise took Penelope's arm. She reached to take Beatrice, but Benedict backed away.

"Benedict, give me my Granddaughter."

"I can't. She may be my only defence."

Violet took hold of Beatrice anyway. "Perhaps it's time you and Penelope both let down your defences," She whispered as Penelope led Eloise into the cottage.

Penelope went straight to Violet and gathered Beatrice in her arms. The baby woke at her mother's touch and started babbling, hands reaching up to pat her face. Penelope kissed her daughters palm and turned to Eloise.

Eloise lingered just inside the door, still uncertain of her welcome. Penelope motioned her forward, turning Beatrice to face her Aunt.

"Beatrice, this is your Aunty Eloise. Be careful listening to her, she will likely get you into trouble," she said, then looked at Eloise. "But it will be the best kind of trouble." Penelope shifted her the baby, holding her out for Eloise to take. Eloise hesitated, then took the baby and cradled her close.

"Hello Little One. I'm your Aunty. You and I are going to be best friends, trust me." Beatrice looked at Eloise with half-lidded eyes, then screwed up her face and grunted. Eloise screwed up her face as the odour reached her nose. Violet turned to hide her smile, Penelope giggled, Benedict laughed aloud.

"Beatrice is clearly as forthright in her opinions as you are, Sister," Benedict chuckled. Penelope turned to look at him and the mirth left her face. Violet saw the looks pass between her son and her almost-daughter.

"Eloise, come with me. We'll see how much you remember from looking after Gregory and Hyacinth."

Eloise blanched. "I believe I have purged that part of my memory, Mama. I never expected to need the information."

"Then you shall have to learn again from scratch," Violet replied, ushering her daughter towards the stairs. "You two should go and get some fresh air. I'm sure you have much to talk about," She said, shooing Benedict and Penelope out the door.

Benedict and Penelope looked at each other. "I suppose she's right," Penelope said in a sad whisper, turning to the door.

Benedict followed slowly, feeling like a man on the way to the gallows.

Notes:

Thank you for all the support! Things will be happening at a faster pace now, as long as my writing can keep up with my ideas.

Chapter 17: Defence, Declarations and Decisions.

Benedict and Penelope walked up the hillside in silence. They'd often taken walks like this on his previous visits, but then, she had taken his arm. They had talked about anything and everything and if they hadn't been talking, it was the comfortable silence of people who didn't need to speak.

This silence was different. It was a silence filled with things they were afraid to say. Their path led the to the top of the hill where they often went; Benedict to paint the seascapes, while Penelope wrote stories. This time there were no distractions.

After a few minutes of silence, Benedict said, "So you and Eloise made up?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. Not completely," She flustered. "There's still a lot of hurt to work through. For both of us." She turned a blistering glare on Benedict. "That doesn't excuse you bringing her here without talking to me first! Bringing Violet was one thing. Kate was right, I needed her. While I regretted losing Eloise, I did not need her. How many times will you Bridgertons trample all over my boundaries?"

"I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I had to tell her. Once she saw my sketchbook, there was no way to avoid it."

"And how did she see your sketches in the first place? You knew those drawings weren't safe at Bridgerton House. That's why we agreed you would leave the sketchbook here."

Penelope started pacing furiously. "Why would you draw us when we're nowhere around? You have siblings, gardens, all of London to draw; could you not find other inspiration?" She stopped pacing and faced him. "Honestly, Benedict, what possessed you?"

"YOU! You possessed me!" He clasped her hands in his and drew them to his chest. "I drew you from memory because when I close my eyes you are all I see. I dream of you at night. Waking, I think of you all day, imagine your response to every interaction, every observation. I drew you because I could not be with you and I wanted…No, needed to have you with me in some way." He stepped even closer to her, until he was only a breath away. "I love you, Penelope. With you, I feel such peace, such contentment. You quiet the whirlwind of my mind. At the same time, you enflame my passions. I love you, and want only to be near you, always."

Penelope stood, stunned by his passionate confession. She couldn't believe the words she was hearing, words she'd hoped to hear for so long. Self-preservation made her lock those hopes away, burying them so deep she could deny she'd ever hoped at all. All language left her, her brain could not formulate words to respond. So she abandoned words and let her actions speak. Standing on her toes, she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his.

Benedict didn't waste a second being surprised by the kiss. He let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer while deepening the kiss. They stood atop the hill, lost in each other. When the kiss ended, Benedict rested his forehead against Penelope's, unwilling to break the intimacy of their embrace.

"I love you," Penelope whispered. "But this is going to be complicated."

"I love you, and Beatrice, with my whole heart." Benedict replied. "It's the basic truth of my life now. There's nothing simpler that that."

Penelope remained silent, unwilling to break the perfection of the moment by bringing up inconvenient realities. She melted into his embrace, feeling safe, wanted and loved for the first time in her life.

In the cottage, Violet stood at the nursery window, watching the two figures on the hilltop. A small smile graced her lips as the two silhouettes merged into one. Behind her, Eloise crowed in triumph, having finally secured a clean, dry nappy onto her niece. She lifted the baby and cuddled it close.

"You see Beatrice, you can test me however you like, we will still be the best of friends." She kissed the baby's forehead. "With your first words you can tell Benedict that I am now your favourite." She glanced over at her Mother. "What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," she said, the small smile still playing on her lips. She kissed Beatrice and patted her newly diapered bottom. "Well done, Eloise, an excellent job. I told you you had not forgotten. Now, let's go downstairs and help Sarah with dinner."

It was near dark when Penelope and Benedict came back to the cottage, walking slowly, holding hands. Dinner conversation was dominated by Eloise's questions and observations about Beatrice. When she grew fussy, Benedict leapt from the table to soothe her. Penelope watched them, oblivious to everyone else.

"PENELOPE!"

Penelope turned to Eloise, startled. "I've been calling your name," Eloise huffed, then smiled. "I suppose it's hard not to stare at such a perfect creature." Penelope began to blush as Eloise continued. "I am already completely in love with my niece and I've only known her an afternoon."

"Yes," Violet said with a knowing smile, catching Penelope's eye. "It is impossible not to stare at someone you love so much."

Penelope returned her look as her blush deepened. Eloise rose to take hold of Beatrice. "Perhaps you should be going, Brother. Mama says you usually take lodgings in town."

Benedict frowned as he surrendered the baby. His shoulders slumped a little. Eloise was right, the cottage was over full. "Yes, I suppose I should." He looked directly at Penelope. "I'll just go ready my horse," he said.

Penelope almost leapt from her chair. "I'll help you!" And the pair practically ran to the stables.

Eloise turned to her mother. "Mama, I think perhaps you should have a word Benedict about how much time he spends here pestering Penelope. Look how anxious she is to get rid of him. Even helping him with his horse." She turned her attention to the baby. "Don't worry Beatrice. You have far more interesting Bridgertons to keep you company now."

Violet looked at her in bewilderment and shook her head. "Just so, Eloise. As you say."

It took a long time to ready Benedict's horse. When he finally left for town, Penelope watched until she could no longer even pretend to still see him.

At first light, he was back at the cottage.

Chapter 18: Now that the world has shifted on it's axis…

For the next few days, the cottage was filled with laughter as Penelope and Eloise renewed their friendship, and Penelope and Benedict basked in their new understanding. The two subtly battled for Penelope's attention, to the point she scarcely had a moment's peace. On the third day, Violet put her foot down and sent Benedict and Eloise into town on an errand, and to give Penelope some peace. When they were finally alone, Violet made tea, and she and Penelope relaxed in the sitting room, Violet embroidering a dress for Beatrice while Penelope mended one of Benedict's shirt.

"It is nice, to finally have a bit of quiet," Violet said without looking up from her work. "It's been a whirlwind the last few days."

"It's never calm around Eloise," Penelope said with a smile. "I admit I have missed the chaos."

"It's good to see you two friends again. You have such a calming effect on my wild girl." Violet scrutinised her work carefully as she continued. "You've had a similar effect on Benedict."

Penelope coughed as her tea went down the wrong way. "Benedict?"

Violet continued her stitching. "He's been… adrift, I suppose. When his father died, he was there for everyone. Helping Anthony with his responsibilities, helping his siblings deal with their loss, caring for Gregory and Hyacinth when they were babies. Because he was there, his brothers and sisters found their own strength. But that left him without a purpose of his own. Being here, he seems more centred. More purposeful." She looked up and met Penelope's eyes. "I suppose that's what love does for you."

Penelope's eye went wide with alarm. Violet reached out and took her hand. "I have never seen my son so happy. That's all a mother wants for her children."

Penelope placed her hand on Violet's. "I never sought or expected this." She gave a wry chuckle. "I never expected any of this. If I had known this would be my fate when I entered society, I would have hidden in my room and refused all visitors. Now," she looked at Beatrice, asleep in her cot, then at Benedict's paintings adorning the walls. "Now, I would not change a single detail."

Violet smiled, sharing Penelope's happiness, but then her face grew serious. "It will not be easy, my dear. I am so happy you and Benedict have found each other, do not doubt that," she reassured the younger woman, "but the circumstances are less than ideal. You will have some hard decisions to make."

Penelope nodded. "I know. Ever since I realised I was in love with Benedict, I have kept all the obstacles in the front of my mind. I tried to prevent myself from hoping, dreaming of something that could never be. I made that mistake with Colin. I didn't want to make it again."

"That's the first time I've heard you say his name," Violet observed. "I assumed it was too painful for you to talk about."

"It was, at first. Watching him court someone else, the way he looked at me like I was just another debutante. That was painful." She took a deep breath. "But it was a good pain. I gave me clarity. I loved Colin because he was kind to me when very few were. But he was kind and charming to everyone. I wasn't at all special to him. It was like a bucket of cold water, but it woke me up. By the time I realised I was with child, I was quite over him."

"And then you had more important things to worry about," Violet offered.

"Precisely. I never imagined I would find love. A fallen woman with a child out of wedlock. But then, Benedict…"

Violet smiled. "Love will always find a way." Faint sounds of a heated conversation drifted through the window. Violet looked out. "As ever, I can hear my children before I see them." She returned to sit next to Penelope. "Eloise and I will return to London tomorrow. I don't think a cannonball could move Benedict from your side. I have two pieces of advice for you. First, enjoy this time. New love is wonderful. The only thing better is love that has deepened over time. Second, take this time talk to Benedict about your situation and how you plan to navigate the future. Make your plan before Anthony's next visit." She shook her head ruefully. "He is a good son, caring brother and dutiful head of the family, but he does tend to imagine his way is right in face of all evidence to the contrary."

The voices from outside grew clearly as Eloise and Benedict approached. Eloise was threatening Benedict should he hurt Penelope, and Benedict was asserting he would never. "Anthony is not the only forceful personality in the family." Violet stood in the doorway and hissed at her children. "Beatrice is sleeping." The two fell instantly silent.

The next morning, after waving goodbye to Violet and Eloise, Penelope and Benedict pottered around the cottage in awkward silence, shyly glancing at each other, looking away when their eyes met. As the bumped into each other for the third time, Penelope finally broke. "What is wrong with us?" She took his hand and led him to the settee.

"We have spent weeks together, just the two of us, and it never felt this strange." She looked him in the eye. "Your mother suggested we have a long talk. Figure out how we are going to proceed. We may as well start now." She and Benedict continued to stare at each other.

Penelope leaned towards Benedict and whispered, "It's your turn to talk now."

Benedict gave a startled laugh and slouched back on the settee, the tension leaving his posture. "I love you."

Penelope smiled. "I love you, too, but that does not really advance our discussion. We love each other; what do we do with that?"

Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not really sure. I've never truly been in love before."

"Never?"

"Well, when I was fourteen I was desperately enamoured of Lady Danbury, but sadly, she rejected my suit." Penelope giggled at that. Benedict took her hand. "I've had various paramours over the years since, but it was always casual, on both sides. I generally avoided the marriage mart."

"You were lucky you had the choice."

"An accident of birth, being second son." He frowned slightly. "We may be getting off topic. I feel I've had this conversation with Eloise many times."

Penelope nodded. "Perhaps that can provide a starting point. If we were… as we were before, how would we proceed?"

"I suppose I would court you. Ply you with gifts. Propose, and marry in the due course of time." He sighed. "We seem to have skipped some steps."

"On the bright side, you don't have to ask my mother for permission to court me." She gave him a cheeky grin. He chuckled.

"I've been spared the expense of buying gifts," he said, then added, "Well, Anthony has been spared the expense; I would have used his accounts."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "You and/or Anthony have spent a fortune in gifts for Beatrice. I imagine the coffers are emptier than they would have been with a simple courtship." She sighed. "Given the purpose of courtship is to foster acquaintance and we are already in love, I suppose we can dispense with that."

"Which leads us to Engagement." Benedict sat up, suddenly serious. "I would marry you tomorrow, tonight, right now. You've been through so much, I won't rush you. But know this: I am not going anywhere. A sure as the sun will rise, I will be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next month, the next year." He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. "Of course, if you do want to marry tomorrow…."

Penelope grinned and gave him a kiss. "Not tomorrow, but I won't make you wait a year either." She grew serious. "And Beatrice?"

"Is already my daughter in my heart. Has been since the first time I held her." He kissed Penelope again. "Her first word will be Papa."

Penelope gave him a playful shove. "We'll see about that. What will we tell your family?"

Benedict shrugged. "Mother already knows and approves. Eloise also approves, albeit grudgingly. I'm sure Kate has figured it out. And Anthony… well I'm sure Kate will tell him."

"And the rest of the family? I will not be the cause of your distance from them. Will I remain a secret?" She tried to keep her tone neutral, but Benedict could hear the insecurity creeping in. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Penelope melted into the security of his embrace.

"You will not be a secret. How could you be? I am happier than I ever imagined being, I wouldn't be able to hide it and they would wonder why. We just need to figure out how to tell them." He paused, thinking. He jostled Penelope in his arms. "You're the writer. What story should we tell?"

"We need to stay as close to the truth as possible," she replied. "The reason Lady Whistledown was successful is that it was all true."

"Truth wrapped in sharp, witty, insightful prose. Don't dismiss your own contribution." Benedict admonished her.

Penelope smiled and continued, her confidence growing as she spoke. "Alright. You and I formed a friendship after Eloise and I fell out. Perhaps you were trying to mend the rift. Our feelings grew and," she paused and looked up at Benedict, "I'm sorry, Darling, but you compromised me."

"I rather think we both got swept up in the moment, but I concede, yes, I compromised you."

"The rest is actually very close to the truth. Discovering I was with child, I left London rather than entrap you. Unmasked myself and disappeared. Your absences from London can be explained as you searching for me."

Benedict smiled. "I was searching for you. I just happened to know exactly where to look."

Penelope bit her lip nervously. "Do you think your family will believe it?"

"I think they will. Daphne and Francesca will take it at face value, as long as we are happy. Hyacinth will adore the forbidden romance of it all. Gregory may be put out I've snapped you up before he could."

They were silent for a moment, both thinking of the one remaining Bridgerton. Penelope finally said it.

"What about Colin?"

Benedict sighed. He'd avoided thinking about his brother for ages. He couldn't reconcile the little brother he loved with the selfish cad who'd dishonoured and abandoned Penelope.

"If Colin remembers what he did, I shall deal with him, privately. He's married. He has no claim on you. I will not allow him to hurt you or tarnish our happiness." He hesitated. He didn't want to ask this question, but he needed to know the answer.

"Your feelings for Colin…" Benedict started.

"Are gone." Penelope finished. "I'm not sure I ever really loved him. I loved the charming facade, not the man. When I finally saw the real him, those feelings just dissolved." She placed her hand on Benedict's cheeks, looking him in the eyes. "And they never compared to what I feel for you. I know what it is to love, now. Being here with you and Beatrice, I know what it means to be a family."

Benedict kissed her, softly at first, then with hunger. He pulled her close, into his lap, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing him even closer, until the need to breathe halted the kiss. He kept her close, breathing her breath, unwilling to move even an inch away.

"When can we marry?" He whispered, nuzzling her cheek, dropping small kisses on her jaw.

"Soon? I would like to honour one tradition, and get the approval of your family." She leaned back to look at him clearly. "Anthony, Kate, Violet. Eloise now as well. They have all become so dear to me. I would like them at my wedding."

Benedict sighed and leaned back on the settee, Penelope laying her head on his chest. "I suppose I can wait for that. You will miss out on so many things a young bride should have, but what I can give you, I will."

"I won't miss most of it, and I cannot regret any part of my past if it led me to this moment, here with you and Beatrice," she reassured him. She sighed and laid her head back down, listening to his heartbeat. "Well, there is one thing. I wish we'd danced together more."

Benedict straightened and stood up. "Well, that's one thing we can do." He pushed the table and chairs to the side, clearing the space. He offered his hand to Penelope. "Miss Featherington, may I have the honour of a waltz?"

Penelope laughed. "You madman. There is no music."

Benedict grabbed her hand and pulled her up. "We both know all the steps. It will be easy." Penelope looked sceptical. "If it will make it easier, I can hum." He gave her a cheeky grin.

Penelope laughed again and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I would be honoured sir."

And so they danced the evening away, their hearts setting the beat.

Chapter 19: On the way to the wedding

The next day, Benedict and Penelope met with the Vicar of the local church and arranged for the Banns to be read. They would marry in a month. They then posted letters to Violet, Eloise, Kate and Anthony, inviting them to the wedding. Despite Penelope's protests, Benedict also renewed his lodgings in town for the coming month.

"Darling, we are going to do this wedding right; follow at least some of the traditions. I cannot live with you until we are married." He explained as they returned to the cottage to collect his bags.

"You're being a bit ridiculous," Penelope huffed in frustration. "We have shared the cottage for weeks at a time, nothing untoward happened. Besides, it's not as though I have a reputation to compromise."

Benedict turned to her, cradled her face in his hands, and looked at her with such love that Penelope forgot to breath. "You are the finest woman of my acquaintance. In four weeks I will make vows before god to honour and respect you for the rest of my life, so I might as well start now. Besides," he said, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a whisper, "knowing that you love me as I love you, there is no way I could sleep with only a wall separating us." He dropped a small kiss on her lips as Penelope tried to stop herself from swooning.

A week before the wedding, Anthony and Kate arrived with a surprise.

"Genevieve!" Penelope exclaimed happily as the modiste emerged from the carriage.

"Ma Cher, do you think I would allow anyone else to make your wedding dress?" She replied, embracing her friend. "I could tell from your letters that love had found you. I've been working on it for months."

Tears gathered in Penelope's eyes as she hugged Genevieve tighter. "Thank you," she whispered. She moved to Kate.

"I've been waiting for this day since Beatrice was born. We are so happy for you both." Kate said, kissing her cheeks. Penelope turned to Anthony. He stepped towards her, his expression stern. Penelope started to wilt under his glare, then stiffened her spine and stood tall. She would not allow anyone to dull her happiness.

"Brother, stop trying to intimidate my Bride," Benedict called from the doorway. "It doesn't work on your siblings, it won't work on her." He stepped out, Beatrice in his arms. Kate and Genevieve rushed to coo over the baby.

Anthony's stern visage suddenly broke into a smile, and he grasped Penelope's hands and kissed them. "I am eternally grateful to Benedict for bringing you and Beatrice in to the family, and I'm even more grateful to you for bringing my brother such happiness."

Penelope rose to her tiptoes and impulsively kissed his cheek. "Thank you for not letting me disappear from your lives. All my happiness starts with you being stubborn."

Anthony's smile widened. "I knew it would come in handy someday. Now, let me see my niece. She is clearly missing me."

Penelope chuckled, Benedict and Kate openly scoffed, but Beatrice gave a happy cry as soon as she saw her uncle, and started wriggling in Benedict's arms, her little arms reaching for Anthony. He reached out and cuddled her close, looking completely at home as he replied to Beatrice's baby babble. He led the stunned group into the cottage, Kate watching him with an adoring expression. Benedict hung back looking slightly put out.

"What's wrong, Darling," Penelope asked, taking his arm. "I thought you'd be happy to have Anthony's approval."

"I am," he said. "I just… I thought I was Beatrice's favourite."

"I'm afraid Anthony is her favourite Uncle," Penelope consoled him, his sad expression deepening. "You will just have to settle for being her Papa."

Benedict brightened. "Papa. You're right, that's much better." He kissed Penelope's forehead, then her lips. Genevieve poked her head out the window.

"Oi, lovebirds! There will be time for that after the wedding," she said, dropping the french accent entirely. "You won't be the perfect bride if your dress doesn't fit. We have work to do."

Penelope laughed and stepped towards the cottage, but Benedict held her back. "She's wrong, you know. You would be MY perfect bride dressed in a burlap sack."

Penelope laughed and kissed him again. "You're very sweet, but I still want the pretty dress." She said, hastening into the cottage.

Penelope, Kate and Genevieve went upstairs, their chatter and laughter a filling the cottage with a pleasant hum. Anthony was on the settee, Beatrice on his lap playing with his pocket watch and chain. Benedict smiled.

"I haven't seen this side of you since Hyacinth was a baby."

Anthony smiled, not taking his eyes off Beatrice. "It's good to know I haven't lost the knack of it."

Benedict made tea and brought it to the table with a plate of scones. Anthony raised an eyebrow at him. "Heavens, you have become quite domestic, Brother."

"Don't knock it til you try it. There's a great freedom to this life." Benedict broke off a piece of scone and offered it to Beatrice. She tore it into smaller pieces and rubbed the crumbs into Anthony's waistcoat. "Sorry about that. She hasn't quite got the idea that its food." He took a bite and chewed it with exaggerated glee, then offered another small piece to Beatrice. She put this piece in her mouth. "That's my smart girl." he said proudly.

Anthony observed their interaction thoughtfully. "You know, I was going to ask if you were truly ready to accept the responsibilities of fatherhood, but it seems you already have."

Benedict nodded, taking Beatrice from Anthony's lap and settling her in his own. "Not just the responsibilities, but the joys as well. I have never been happier."

Genevieve stayed only long enough to finish the wedding dress before returning to London, despite Penelope's pleas for her to stay.

"I have a business to run, Luv, and you have more guests arriving. However, I do have one more gift for you." She handed Penelope a cloth bag. Penelope opened it and felt tears gathering again. It was a tiny version of her wedding dress, this one in Bridgerton blue. "For the little cherub to wear at the wedding."

The carriage that carried Genevieve away returned later with Violet and Eloise. Anthony joined Benedict at his lodgings, leaving the now crowded cottage to the ladies. When the men returned in the morning, Beatrice once again laughed and wriggled and reached for Anthony, much to Eloise's chagrin. Later, when the baby grew cranky, it was only Benedict who could settle her.

As the family gathered for dinner the night before the wedding, the table was lively with laughter. Anthony tapped his glass to make a toast, but no one took notice. Eventually he said loudly "I have some announcements to make!" And the table went quiet.

"Thank you. First, I would like to congratulate Benedict and Penelope, and welcome my new sister to the family. It was a little over a year ago that you suddenly appeared in my office. That was the day I truly met you, and our family is better for your presence in it. You have also given us Beatrice, and the world is better for it. There is only one thing that could improve the situation: if you didn't live so far away. There is a property about two hours ride from Aubrey hall, called My Cottage, although it's really a large house. It is my wedding gift to the two of you."

Benedict smiled. "I've always loved that place."

"I have an ulterior motive for wanting you all close by." He took Kate's hand. She smiled and nodded. "I want our child's favourite Uncle and Aunt to be near, and their cousin to be their first friend."

The table exploded with joy as the women raced to embrace Kate. Benedict swatted Anthony's handshake aside and pulled his brother into fierce hug.

Penelope returned to Benedict's side and hugged him. "I can't imagine a happier night than this," she whispered. Benedict kissed her and softly replied, "Just wait until tomorrow night. I'll show you what happiness is."

Penelope shivered in anticipation.

Chapter 20: Never felt like this before.

"Happy is the Bride the sun shines on!" Kate opened the curtains in Penelope's bedroom, filling the room with sunlight. When Penelope didn't rouse quickly enough Eloise jumped on the bed, shaking her all the way awake.

"Alright, alright, I'm awake." Penelope sat up and pushed Eloise off of her. Eloise rebounded and tackled Penelope in a hug. Penelope laughed and hugged her back.

"It's finally happening," Eloise whispered. "We're going to be sisters." She sat back. "If we can't be spinsters together, at least you're marrying my favourite brother, so I won't lose you to some stranger. And I know My Cottage is large enough for me to have my own room."

"Eloise!" Violet scolded, as she entered the room carrying Beatrice. "You have a perfectly good room at Aubrey Hall, only a morning's ride away. You will not intrude on the Newlyweds privacy." She handed Beatrice to Penelope. The baby latched onto her breast. The other ladies began getting dressed for the wedding. When Beatrice was fed, Eloise and Violet helped Penelope prepare while Kate dressed the Baby.

Penelope stood in her gown, both afraid to move lest she wrinkle the dress and ready to sprint to the chapel so Benedict could see her in it. She barely recognised the woman in the mirror. Kate hugged her from behind and smiled at their reflection. "Come, the others are in the carriage,"she said. "Your groom awaits."

"I take thee Penelope to be my wife. To love, honour, and cherish, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health, to have and to hold instil we are parted by death."

"I take thee Benedict to be my husband. To love, honour, and cherish, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health, to have and to hold instil we are parted by death."

The wedding was small and simple; an exchange of vows and a blessing and it was done. The new Mr and Mrs Bridgerton stayed glued to each other's side through all the hugs and congratulations. Benedict only let go of Penelope's hand to take Beatrice from Violet, and still the new little family stayed huddled together.

"It's official Little Bea, I'm your Papa now." Beatrice yawned and rested her head on Benedict's shoulder. Penelope leaned on his other arm, treasuring every detail of this perfect moment.

The wedding party went for lunch, but the festivities had to be cut short. Violet and Eloise needed to return to London.

"I left Gregory and Hyacinth in Daphne's charge," she said. "I fear if I leave them too long it will put her off having more children."

Anthony and Kate would return to the cottage with Bea. They had booked a room in a grand hotel for the newlyweds to enjoy their wedding night. Benedict was reluctant to surrender Beatrice to her Uncle (although Beatrice was more than eager) but eventually kissed her head and whispered "Papa loves you so much." He then gave Anthony a long list of instructions for Beatrice's care, using the phrase 'My Daughter' at least five times. Kate and Penelope looked on with amused expressions: Penelope at Benedict's sudden parental authority, Kate at Anthony's rising apprehension.

Kate handed Penelope a small travel bag. "A change of clothes for tomorrow, and Genevieve left you a special garment for tonight." Penelope blushed and thanked her. She then took her husband's hand.

"Come along, Husband. Anthony will be fine, Kate will be there as well." Benedict turned to her, a wide smile on his face.

"Husband. I like that." He kissed the back of her hand. "You're right. Our wedding night awaits us…. Wife."

They piled into the hack, which dropped the newlyweds at the hotel. They were escorted to an elegant suite. Benedict tipped the concierge and closed the door behind him, then regarded his with with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Alone at last, wife," he purred, moving to stand on front of her with out actually touching. She could feel the heat of him, the desire in his eyes pouring over her, every nerve in her body alive with want. She put her hand on his face, tracing the planes of his cheekbone, his jawline. As her fingers touched his lips he gently bit them. Startled, she drew her hand back but he caught hold of it, kissing her palm, his tongue tracing the lines as he tasted her. He kissed his way along her arm as he pulled her close.

Penelope closed her eyes and allowed herself to simply feel. Her body was on fire, even her bones were melting. Her dress, so comfortable only a minute ago, was now unbearably constricting. She stepped back from Benedict and turned around.

"Can you unlace me?" She said, looking at him over her shoulder. He stepped forward and with slow, deliberate care brushed her hair over her shoulder and then moved to the laces of her dress, hit fingertips never leaving her skin. Penelope shivered and grew tense at his touch. As the laces loosened, she picked up the travel bag and went to the dressing room.

"I'll be out in a moment," she whispered. "Perhaps you could get ready, too."

Benedict practically tore the coat from his torso, his eyes never leaving the dressing room door. He removed his shirt, shoes and stockings, leaving his breeches on. He wanted to be sure Penelope was ready. Penelope emerged from the dressing room clad only in a sheer, sage green nightrail embroidered with vines that both concealed and highlighted the wonders beneath. As he reminded himself to breath, one thought filtered through his brain:

Penelope was ready.

She approached slowly, gaining confidence with each step. She reached up placed a finger under his chin, closing his mouth. She grinned at him as he grabbed her elbows and kissed her. Then he stooped and swept her off her feet, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down and stepped back.

"Someday soon you must pose for me, Wife," he said, his eyes devouring every detail. "We shall create a masterpiece to rival the masters of the renaissance. The problem will be," he continued, dropping his breeches and joining her on the bed, "How will i get any painting done when all I want to do is ravish you?"

"I suppose we will have to take our time," Penelope replied, her breath hitching as he Benedict ran her fingers up her leg, his touch feather light.

"Are you alright, love?" He gave a wicked grin. "Are you ticklish?"

"No, it's just… my family aren't as tactile as yours. We didn't do physical affection, like hugs or hand holding." She drew a deep breath. "Except for hugs from Eloise, and that one night, I've never really been touched. When you touch me, it feels quite…"

"Stimulating?" Benedict supplied. She nodded.

"Arousing?" He continued to drag his fingers along her thigh. She nodded again.

"Pleasurable?" He whispered, his breath ghosting her shoulder as hand caressed her hip.

"Oh yes," she breathed.

"Oh my sweet Penelope, this is a dangerous knowledge you have gifted me," he said, his fingertips exploring the curve of her waist, the roundness of her buttocks. "To know my mere touch can arouse you so. I can promise you a lifetime of such pleasure." He drew his hand up her body, dragging the nightgown higher. Penelope raised her arms, allowing him to remove the garment.

Penelope lowered her hands to his shoulders and began some exploration of her own. His firmly muscled arms, the hard planes of his chest. As her hands rested on his hips, she looked at him, a question in her eyes. Benedict nodded. Penelope gently took his rigid cock in hand, her fingers mapping the veins. Benedict whimpered.

"It seems my touch has and effect as well," Penelope murmured seductively. "Our pleasure will not be one-sided."

Benedict reached down and took hold of her hand. "Our pleasure will be short-lived if you continue like that, my love, and I have waited too long to allow that." He captured her mouth in a passionate kiss that she met with equal fervour. He trailed kisses down her neck as her hands threaded through his hair. His hands rose as his mouth descended, meeting at her lush breasts. He laved one rosy nipple, then the other. His hand slid back down her body, gently teasing her curls, reaching the heat between her thighs. She moaned as he stroked her dripping sex.

"Please Benedict," she pleaded. "I need you." Her breath was coming in short gasps and she was writhing beneath him, trying to bring as much of her skin as possible into contact with his. Benedict reluctantly ceased his worship of her perfect breasts and kissed her again, covering her body with his.

"Whatever you wish, my goddess." He guided his cock to her warm passage, sliding home with ease. They both moaned in gratification. Her legs circled his waist and they began to move together, their bodies moving in perfect unison. Their passion intensified, both approaching their climax quickly. Penelope grasped Benedict's shoulders for dear life, her nails digging into his skin. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, shouting as he came harder than he had in years, his climax triggering hers.

Benedict rolled to his side, pulling Penelope with him, neither of them willing to break their connection. They cuddled for a few minutes, regaining their breath. Penelope placed a kiss on Benedict's chest and said, "So that's what it's supposed to be like. Now I understand why the poets go on about it." She looked up at her husband, giving him a cheeky grin. "Can we do it again?"

"Again and again and again, My Love." He glanced down his body. "In a few minutes, anyway."

Notes:

Very nervous about this chapter, as sex scenes are not my usual thing.

Thank you all for the kudos and comments. Special thank you to those who ansked who was minding Gregory and Hyacinth, I had forgotten about them.

Only a few chapters left to go!

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Home is where the heart is

Summary:

The Newlyweds make plans for the future.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: Home is where the heart is.

The newlyweds stayed late in bed and got very little sleep. Between bouts of lovemaking, they talked about the future. Penelope would write, Benedict would paint, they would have more children and follow neither family's naming traditions. They also discussed where they would live.

"Tell me about My Cottage," Penelope murmured, snuggling in under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I've only seen it from the outside. I discovered it when I was a boy and old enough to go exploring on my own. It's set back from the main road, mostly hidden from view buy a row of trees. Behind the house is a large meadow, then a small woods surrounding a lake. It's very secluded; I used to swim there." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "I often forgot my swimming costume. I look forward to doing the same with you." Penelope blushed and giggled as he continued. "I thought about buying it when I received my trust funds, but it always seemed like a place to raise a family. Back then, that notion seemed absurd."

He slid down the bed and turned on his side to he and his wife were face to face. "I can't wait to teach Beatrice to swim in that lake, teach her to ride in the meadow. I want us to fill that house with children, I want a whole life with you."

"I for one am glad you've been a confirmed bachelor for so long. I think we didn't see each other until we were ready to. I want a whole life with you, too." She gave him a slow and passionate kiss, the broke it off suddenly. "I should warn you, Eloise plans to claim a room as her own."

Benedict chuckled. "That could be an advantage. She can watch the children while we make more children."

Eventually, hunger drove them to get dressed and visit the hotel restaurant. They took their time over the meal, then wandered around the town, simply enjoying being together, knowing they need never be parted again. It was near sunset when they returned to the cottage.

Benedict made a beeline to Beatrice, taking her from Anthony's lap and lifting her above his head. "Hello, Sweet Bea! Papa's home!" Penelope cleared her throat. Benedict continued, "And Mama's here, too." He handed the baby to her mother. Beatrice smiled, laughed and immediately began rooting at her mother's chest.

"I'm going to feed her upstairs and put her down for a nap."

"I'll come with you," Kate said, "I'm sure we have much to talk about." She put the teapot on the table and followed Penelope upstairs. Benedict watched them go, a part of him itching to follow. Instead, he joined Anthony at the table as his brother poured the tea. Anthony then pulled a flask from his pocket and topped up the teacups. They sat in comfortable silence, Benedict feeling more content then he ever imagined.

After a while, Penelope and Kate returned, both grinning, and with a rosy blush lingering on Penelope's face. Kate had a curry simmering in the pot, and the four sat down to dinner.

"So, when will you be moving to Kent?" Anthony asked, with all the subtlety of a boulder. "Will you need help with the sale of this place?"

"Husband, don't assume!" Kate admonished him. "They will tell us their plans in their own time." Anthony looked perplexed, unsure what he had said wrong.

"Don't worry, Kate." Benedict chuckled. "We are used to Anthony's…. Direct approach." He looked at his wife and she placed her hand in his. "We're not selling this cottage. We want to keep it, and live here part of the year, or maybe rent it out. It's Penelope's property, so it's for her to decide."

"Me joining the family is going to cause some uproar, I know." Penelope said, addressing Anthony directly. "My Whistledown past they might overlook, but when they see Beatrice, they will ask questions. While we don't plan to return to London or re-enter society, there will still be gossip. It may cause a scandal."

"Daphne, Colin and Francesca are all married, Eloise unlikely to ever marry, by her own choice. By the time Gregory and Hyacinth are out in society, the Ton will have forgotten any scandal. Besides," he said, taking Kate's hand, then Penelope's. "I care only what is best for my family, and it is best that you and my brother and your children are part of it. The Bon Ton can go hang." He paused, turning serious. "Have you considered what you are going to tell Colin?"

Benedict and Penelope shared a look. "Beatrice is my daughter. There's no hiding she's a Bridgerton. I will take any rebukes for ruining Penelope."

"And what if Colin disputes her parentage?" Anthony asked.

"In the three months after Colin and I.." Penelope broke off. "In that time Colin never gave any indication that anything happened between us. If he doesn't remember, we will have no issue. If he does remember, any attempt to claim my…" She took Benedict's hand, "our daughter will only reveal him to be the vilest cad." She looked at Anthony. "Sorry, No disrespect intended. To you, anyway."

Anthony waved away her concern. "Vile cad is the mildest description, I've called him far worse in my head."

"And out loud, to me." Kate murmured, her expression sly.

"Whatever the reaction, our family will weather it." With that, Anthony dismissed the topic and moved on. "So you'll be coming with us when we return to Aubrey Hall?"

Benedict and Kate groaned at Anthony's presumption, while Penelope smiled at his eagerness to have his family together.

"We'll be staying here a while, Brother. We cannot simply pack everything overnight."

Anthony brightened. "Of course, it will take a few days. Kate and I can help."

Benedict put his face in his hands. Kate grasped her husband's arm. "I think the newlyweds would like some time alone." Benedict nodded vigorously.

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose." Anthony looked downcast. Penelope reached out to him.

"Perhaps you could make sure My Cottage is ready for us. That would be a tremendous help."

Anthony brightened. "Yes, of course. And when you are ready to move, I can make those arrangements."

There was a small cry from the nursery. Penelope stood before it could become a big cry and went upstairs. Benedict stood as well and began collecting the dishes.

"It's getting late. Once Bea is settled, I think Pen and I will retire for the night."

Kate took the dishes from his hands. "Go be with your family, Anthony and I will take care of this."

Benedict smiled his thanks and bolted up the stairs to his wife and daughter. In the nursery, Penelope was feeding Beatrice. Benedict watched the for a minute, fixing the image in his mind, then realising he could be a part of the picture. He knelt next to the rocking chair, kissing his wife on the temple.

"Thank you for being so nice to Anthony. He can be a presumptuous ass at times."

Penelope smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's fine. It's actually a nice feeling, to have him so eager for me to be part of his family. I've never had that before."

"You're a Bridgerton now, Darling." Benedict said, cuddling her close. "God help you."

Eyes meeting, they chuckled. Penelope rose and put the now sleeping baby back in her crib. She turned to her husband and raised her face to him. He obliged her with a kiss, then took her hand and pulled her towards their bedroom. She followed, then beat him to the bed.

The next morning, both couples would have been content to linger in their beds, but Beatrice was a very effective alarm clock. As they prepared breakfast, Penelope revelled in how well the four of them worked together. As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, with lots of laughter. Beatrice babbled happily, contributing to the discourse as the men listened seriously to whatever she said. They were both coaching her to speak.

"I think Benedict has an advantage," Kate quietly commented to Penelope. "Papa is easier to say than Anthony."

"If Anthony switches to Uncle, he might have more success," she replied, then in a louder voice, "It is far too early for her first words, gentlemen, but please continue trying. Kate and I find it very entertaining."

"But our Beatrice is clearly an advanced, intelligent child," Benedict said, continuing to focus on the baby and enunciate each syllable.

Anthony nodded. "Besides, it's never too early to develop the skills."

"Not what you said when Eloise learned to speak," Benedict chuckled.

"There's a point. You might want to limit Eloise's influence," Anthony said seriously.

"I think not," Penelope cut in. "Eloise will be an excellent influence. Eloise will teach her that, when she does learn to speak, that her words should not be ignored. It's a trait I always admired in her."

"Besides, if she doesn't learn it from Eloise, she will from Hyacinth," Kate stated. She have her husband a stern look. "And failing that, she will learn it from me." Anthony looked suitably chastised and a little frightened. He sought to change the subject.

"Have you given thought to when you might move to My Cottage?" He asked, hastening to add, "Not that there's any rush."

Benedict and Penelope shared a look. "We want to stay here another month. A sort of honeymoon." Benedict answered.

"If we move at the beginning of September, we can be well settled before winter." Penelope continued.

"Excellent," Anthony said. "That gives us time to tell the family about its newest members, and then have a joyous Christmas."

"Here, Here," Kate agreed and raised her teacup in a toast, and the others followed suit. "We will also tell Violet and Eloise that you are not to be disturbed until the end of summer."

"Here, Here," Benedict raised his cup again, giving Penelope a look that set her stomach fluttering.

Chapter 22: Welcome to the Family

August flew by too quickly for the new family. They spent their days in domestic bliss, as Benedict grew more confident in his role as Husband and Father. They picnicked on the hilltop, took trips to the beach and dipped Beatrice's feet in the ocean. She loved the water but hated the sand.

"She will love the lake behind My Cottage," Benedict asserted.

Penelope agreed, but, "I'm worried how we will keep her out of it."

Their nights were spent in carnal bliss, as Penelope grew more confident in her own body, in asking for the things that gave her pleasure, and in learning how to bring Benedict to helpless ecstasy.

One night, Benedict apologised that their honeymoon was not more adventurous. "You deserve to see Paris, or Rome, all the wonders of the world," he lamented one night in a post coital haze.

"What would be the point of travelling to these amazing places?" She replied, nestling into the crook of his arm. "We would never leave the hotel room."

On the morning of September 1st, a cart trundled up to the door, laden with empty boxes and chests, and two footmen from Aubrey Hall, ready to assist with the packing.

Benedict shook his head. "My Brother doesn't like when his plans are delayed."

"I think he's just anxious to have his brother back," Penelope surmised. "Or perhaps he wants to practice with Beatrice before his own child arrives."

Anthony and Eloise arrived the next day to help with the packing. Or rather, Eloise helped and Anthony 'supervised.' As soon as he started giving orders, Penelope placed Beatrice in his arms.

"At least now Beatrice is distracted, so we can get to work," Penelope whispered to Eloise.

"And Anthony is distracted, so he can't cause chaos with his orders. It's a win-win," Eloise replied. "I'll start packing the books."

"PACK them, Eloise" Penelope called after her. "You can borrow them when we get to My Cottage." Eloise nodded guiltily, closing the book in her hand and placing it in a box.

The packing was relatively simple. It was only their personal items: clothes, books, paintings and such. They were leaving the furniture, as the new house was furnished. The next morning, the footmen left in the cart now laden with heavy boxes. They were ordered to take the journey slowly, so as not to kill the horses. The family would follow later, also at a leisurely pace. Kate and Violet would meet them at Aubrey hall.

"Kate wanted to come with me," Anthony said, "But prolonged travel makes her queasy."

"I remember the feeling," Penelope sympathised. "Even going up and down stairs made me queasy."

"And you wonder that I wish to avoid that condition at all costs," Eloise pronounced, tickling Beatrice.

"You say that while holding the most perfect result of 'that condition.'" Benedict pointed out.

"Yes, because I am an Aunty. I get all the joys of her presence, without the inconvenience." Eloise said smugly.

Even though the journey was blessed with smooth roads and fair weather, four adults in a carriage with a baby eventually became a bit tense. On the third day, they decided to break their journey at Aubrey hall, rather than continuing on to the Cottage.

"I should warn you, Gregory and Hyacinth are there." Anthony said.

"Why the warning?" Penelope asked. "We all assumed they would be happy with the situation."

"They will, but you are unlikely to get any peace for the rest of the day," He smirked. "Possibly the rest of the week."

As they alighted the carriage, Violet and Kate came out the meet them.

"Where are the Littles?" Benedict asked.

"In the garden," Violet replied. "Practising their Pall Mall game."

"Eloise, would you please fetch them to the Drawing room?" Anthony asked. "Disarm them first."

Eloise sprinted into the house at an unladylike pace, happy to be released from the confines of the carriage. Violet led them into the house, advising Benedict and Penelope to refresh themselves and Beatrice, while they told Gregory and Hyacinth the news.

"Just tell them I'm married," Benedict said. "The happy shock may limit the number of questions they ask."

"Has anything ever limited the number of questions those two can ask?" Anthony enquired, escorting his wife into the drawing room as Benedict and Penelope went upstairs.

Anthony entered the drawing room and was immediately accosted by hurricane Hyacinth.

"Brother, you won't believe how far I hit the ball! Gregory only hit it half as far!"

"It's not about distance, Hyacinth!" Gregory grumbled. "It's about precision."

"It's about precision when you are advancing your own game," Anthony declared. Gregory grinned. Anthony continued, "Distance is for hindering your opponents game. So you are both right. Now sit down, we have important news."

"Has Mama decided on a new house?" Gregory asked. "Do was have to leave Bridgerton House?"

"No," Anthony started, but Hyacinth cut in. "Don't be stupid, Gregory, If there was a new house, we would have seen it before they bought it. Is it about the new baby?"

"Mama, she called me stupid!"

"SILENCE!" Anthony shouted. The squabbling stopped, more from surprise than fear. Anthony spoke into the quiet, knowing it would be short lived. "No, Gregory, Mother has not chosen a new house. Yes, Hyacinth, you will both be consulted before a decision is made. Also Hyacinth, don't call your brother stupid. You know better than that. And who said anything about a Baby?"

Hyacinth shrugged. "No one told me. Kate has been ill each morning, she doesn't like the food she used to love, and she takes a nap each afternoon. Daphne was the same before she had Augie."

Anthony sighed. "You are far too observant for one so young."

"I will need to be if I am to revive the Whistledown Papers. But am I right?"

"Yes, you are right." He braced himself for Hyacinth's hug, but was bypassed as his siblings ran to Kate. He waited for their excitement to settle before saying, "That wasn't the news I was going to tell you."

Hyacinth and Gregory turned to him expectantly. He decided to take his time and sat next to Kate, relaxing on the settee. He waited, enjoying the moment, until he saw Benedict peeping in through the open door. He waved Gregory and Hyacinth to the other settee.

"The big news is… Benedict has gotten married."

The children exploded.

"What? When?"

"Who did he marry?"

"Was there a wedding?"

"Why weren't we invited?"

"Are they coming to live here with us?"

"Where is Benedict now?"

Benedict crept up behind them and put a hand on their shoulders. "He's right behind you!" Benedict roared. They turned around, startled and shrieking. They threw themselves at him and he gave them a fierce hug before they pushed him away and started their questions again. Benedict stopped them by placing his hands on their mouths.

"Would you like to meet my wife?" He asked. They nodded, vigorously. Benedict took his hands away and turned to the door. "Darling, you can come in now."

In the corridor, Penelope handed Beatrice to Eloise. They had decided to do this one surprise at a time. She took a deep breath and entered the room.

"PENELOPE!" Hyacinth exclaimed and launched herself across the room, hugging Penelope for dear life. "This is wonderful. I'm so happy you're back and now you're my sister!" She turned to Benedict. "You are a beast for keeping this a secret, but I will forgive you because it's Penelope." She hugged Penelope again.

Gregory cleared his throat. "I'm glad you're part of our family now," he said, with all the dignity the young man could muster. He extended his hand to Benedict. "Congratulations, Brother."

Benedict shook his hand with a serious expression, then grinned and yanked Gregory into a hug. He shared a look with Penelope and said, "Do you think you can cope with one more surprise?"

"Did you bring us presents?" Hyacinth asked brightly.

"No," Benedict replied. "Well, yes, sort of. A present, anyway. Eloise!" He called out.

Eloise opened the door fully and walked in, Beatrice perched on her hip. Penelope took the baby and went to stand with Benedict. Hyacinth and Gregory stood in stunned silence. Eventually, Hyacinth spoke up.

"How long have you two been married?" Hyacinth crossed her harms and glared, ready to begin the interrogation.

"Hyacinth, don't be nosy." Eloise admonished, drawing sardonic looks from everyone else.

"Pots and Kettles, Eloise," Penelope murmured, then said to Hyacinth and Gregory, "perhaps we should sit down for this tale."

"I'll ring for some tea,"Violet said.

Penelope and Benedict shared a look. Benedict nodded, and Penelope began the story they had devised.

"At the end of my second season, Eloise and I had a falling out," she began. "Benedict wrote to me, asking if anything could be done to mend the friendship. He was worried for Eloise."

"Eloise wouldn't tell me anything," Benedict added. "And I was worried for you, too."

"Anyway, the letters led to meetings and our affections grew." She hesitated. This was the tricky part. "One night, our feelings… overwhelmed us."

Gregory was shocked. "You compromised her! After everything you taught me about being a Gentleman." He gave his older brother a hard stare.

Benedict held up his hands. "I admit, I should have controlled myself, but I would have been married to her already, we just wanted to heal the rift with Eloise."

"Benedict was not at fault," Penelope said. "At least, not entirely. I hadn't told him I was Lady Whistledown, and then I discovered I was with child. I was afraid he would hate for what I wrote, or hate me for entrapping him. I couldn't bear either, so I decided to disappear."

"I couldn't stand to lose her, so I started searching." Benedict took Penelope's hand and entwined their fingers. "Finding her has made me happier than I ever dreamed possible."

"So that's why you've been away so much," Gregory stated. Benedict nodded.

"That's so romantic," Hyacinth sighed. "I want to hold the baby." She held out her hands to take the baby, whatever the answer.

Penelope shifted Beatrice on her lap so she was facing the family. Benedict leaned in and said, "Beatrice, this is your Uncle Gregory and your Aunt Hyacinth. Don't listen to anything they say. It will only lead to mischief."

They both looked mildly offended at Benedict's warning, but also slightly guilty. Hyacinth sat next to Penelope and took the baby. Gregory sat beside Benedict and said "Now there's Augie and Beatrice And Kate's new baby," He said. "So you can stop referring to me and Hyacinth as 'The Littles,' right?"

Benedict wrapped his arm around Gregory's neck and mussed his hair as he struggled. "I'll stop calling you little when I can't do this anymore."

Family dinner was a raucous affair. Penelope caught up with Kate and Violet, as they gave her details of what they'd done to prepare My Cottage. Hyacinth and Gregory continued to pepper the adults with questions, Anthony and Benedict argued with Eloise regarding her demand for a permanent room with the newlyweds. The various discussions bounced around the table, everyone voicing opinions.

Penelope simply basked in the joy of her new family. It was a stark contrast to the Featherington table. She dismissed the dour memories. She would never sit at that table again. She was a Bridgerton now.

After settling Beatrice into the nursery, Benedict and Penelope retired early, eager for a comfortable bed after 3 nights in cramped inns. They were eager for bed, but not for sleep. After several satisfying hours, they snuggled together in blissful contentment.

"All in all, I think that went rather well," Penelope murmured sleepily, kissing her husband's chest as she nestled in.

"Rather well?" Benedict repeated. "That's faint praise. Give me a few minutes and I'll do better."

"What? No, not what I meant. That was rather wonderful." She kissed him again and ran her hand down his chest and stomach. "I meant telling Gregory and Hyacinth. They took the news well."

"They did, although Gregory did pull me aside to threaten my life if I dishonored you again." He hugged his wife a little tighter. "I told you he had a crush on you."

"Do you think the others will take it as well?"

"Daphne will be the next challenge," he said after a moment. "She won't ask as many questions, but they may be a little more probing."

"When should we tell her?"

"We'll ask the family to keep quiet for a week, which is probably the longest they've kept quiet about anything. Once we're settled into our new home, we can ask her to visit." He tipped Penelope's chin up and kissed her. "Whatever happens, I love you Mrs Bridgerton."

"I love you, too."

Notes:

I've realised that what I most enjoy is writing Bridgerton Family Dynamic. They are a fun group to play with.

Chapter 23: Welcome Home

My Cottage was just as Idyllic as Benedict had described and Penelope instantly fell in love with it. The house was a warren of rooms, making it spacious but cozy. A large room at the back of the house had a stunning view of the countryside and excellent light. Benedict immediately declared it the perfect studio/writing room for himself and Penelope to 'create their masterpieces.'

"Do you not want the room to yourself?" Penelope asked. "I can write anywhere."

"You need good light and beautiful vistas for inspiration," he replied. "And I cannot paint without my muse."

The house was sparsely furnished, and Violet lamented she hadn't done more. Penelope didn't mind. "It's enough for the three of us," she reassured her. "We have a lifetime to fill the house with furniture. And Memories."

"And children," Benedict said with a lecherous wink.

The house also came with housekeeper/cook and groundskeeper/groom; a middle aged married couple who lived in the small Croft on the other side of the property. Mr and Mrs Murphy were warm and welcoming, happy to see the big house occupied again. Penelope felt at home with them.

"I can't imagine a more perfect home," she said.

"Only one thing I want to change," Benedict replied. "The name."

"Why? I thought 'My Cottage' suited your sense of whimsy."

"But it's inaccurate. It should be 'Our Cottage,'" he said, pulling some documents from his pocket. "So I had Anthony change the deed."

Penelope took the papers and smiled at the names. Benedict Bridgerton and Penelope Bridgerton. She wrapped her arms around her husbands waist and kissed him. "You know what this means," She said with a cheeky grin, "I own more property than you do."

"That's right, you do," he replied with a smile. "Well, I've always wanted to be a kept man."

The spent the next five days settling into their new home. On the fifth day, they received a summons to Aubrey Hall. Daphne had arrived.

"Not the week I asked for, but honestly longer than I expected them to wait." Benedict mused.

"Are we sticking with the story? Daphne may be more discerning than Gregory and Hyacinth." Penelope worriedly bit her lips.

Benedict pulled her lips from between her teeth and gave her a soft kiss, then a firmer one. Holding her close, he said, "Daphne has always been one of the kindest among us, second only to Francesca. Even if she doubts our story, she will likely leave it alone as long as we're truly happy. Which we definitely are." He kissed her again. "If she picks holes in our story and decides to ask awkward questions, we will answer honestly. She has always been closest to Colin, so the truth may hurt her, but I will not hide our happiness for someone else's comfort." He reluctantly stepped back and picked up her shawl, placing it on her shoulders. "The carriage awaits, Milady."

On arrival at Aubrey hall, Anthony took possession of his niece. Hyacinth tried to drag Penelope away, but Anthony stopped her, telling her the Family would be gathering in the drawing room. He whispered to Benedict, "Don't let those two be alone together. Hyacinth is determined to revive Lady Whistledown and wants detailed instructions from Pen."

"Noted. How much does Daphne know?"

"Everything Hyacinth knows. She writes to Daphne as 'practice.'" Anthony shuddered.

Benedict turned to Penelope and took her hand. "Shall we?" Penelope nodded and they entered the Drawing Room. Anthony followed, talking to Beatrice, Beatrice babbling in return.

Daphne was on the sofa next to Violet, Little Augie on Violet's lap. Seeing another Baby in the room, Augie wiggled down and toddled over to Kate and Anthony. He gently patted Beatrice's head as the two smiled at each other.

"Well, that introduction went well," Daphne smiled at the children. She turned to Benedict and Penelope with a stern expression. "You two have some explaining to do."

Benedict sat down, pulling Penelope down next to him and put his arm around her. "I understand Hyacinth has already given you a full report. If you have any further questions, ask away."

Penelope relaxed as Benedict's confidence seeped into her. Daphne's hard stare made her tense up again.

Daphne went straight to the heart of the matter. "Penelope, you were in love with Colin for years. I can't imagine those feelings disappeared so quickly. Do you truly love Benedict? He deserves better than being a Colin substitute."

Penelope was shocked by the directness of the question, but was also relieved it was one she could answer honestly. She silenced Benedict's protest with a smile and turned to Daphne.

"I cared for Colin for years, worshipped him, really. He was kind to me at a time when very few were. The only gentleman to pay me any attention at all. Looking back, I realise he was kind and charming to everyone. I wasn't special. The first blow to my affections came when I tried to warn him about Marina. He dismissed me as too immature to understand love. I should have taken the hint then. He was willing to give up all plans to travel for Marina, but had never even looked at me."

"In my second season, he helped expose my cousin's scheme before it ruined all of us. He told me I was special, that he would always look after me. Again, I allowed myself to hope. Not an hour later, he was laughing with his friends, saying he would never court me, that the mere idea was madness. It was like being plunged in an icy lake. Painful, but it woke me up."

She looked at her husband and smiled. "Loving Benedict is completely different. He makes me feel beautiful, confident. Happy. I realise I never knew what 'happy' was until Benedict. I love his humor, his whimsy. The intense look he gets when he's sketching or painting. His devotion to our daughter. Benedict is Home to me."

Daphne's expression had softened to a smile. "I suppose that answers that. Welcome to the family, Sister." Daphne rose and reached out for a hug. Penelope stood and the two women embraced. Daphne turned her hard stare on her brother. "We will be having a discussion about you compromising an innocent young woman, but that can wait. For now, I want to hold my niece."

Anthony reluctantly surrendered the baby to his sister. Daphne gazed at Beatrice for a few minutes, gently rocking her. "There's certainly not doubt of her parentage. She's the image of Hyacinth." She turned to Benedict and Penelope. "Congratulations. I wish you every happiness," She said sincerely.

Tea was brought in, as were Gregory, Hyacinth and Eloise, and the family spent a happy afternoon catching up. Benedict sat on the floor Gregory and Augie, rolling a ball back and forth as Augie tried to catch it. Hyacinth sat next to Penelope, questioning her about Whistledown. Penelope tried to keep her answers vague, but Hyacinth was relentless in her pursuit of detail. Eventually, Daphne took pity and invited Penelope for a stroll in the gardens. Penelope couldn't help but wonder if she was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

"It's such a lovely afternoon, it seems a shame to stay indoors," Daphne observed, taking Penelope's arm.

"I must thank you for the rescue, Your Grace," Penelope said. "I know Anthony is worried about Hyacinth reviving Whistledown. I've tried to be circumspect, but she's very astute. I think she may divine more than I mean to say."

"She is very astute and an excellent correspondent. She keeps me up to date on all the family's comings and goings. But she's young, her memory can be short." Her tone was light, but Penelope detected the steel in her tone. "For example, she's completely forgotten that in those months when you and Benedict were… getting to know each other, Benedict was barely in town. He rusticated in Aubrey hall for weeks, only returning to London, at Mother's insistence, for Francesca's wedding, and your sister's, then fled town again."

Daphne had led them to a secluded bench. They sat. Daphne looked Penelope in the eye and asked, "Who is Beatrice's father?"

Penelope sat silent, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. Daphne took her hands, a reassuring gesture. "I do not doubt your love for Benedict, or his for you; you are clearly two halves of a whole, however your love came about. But I also know he would not dishonour you one night and then disappear."

"No," Penelope whispered. "Benedict would never abandon me."

"I think I already know the answer, but I need to hear it from you. Who is Beatrice's father?" Daphne waited.

Penelope closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, then another. She opened her eyes and looked at Daphne. "It was Colin."

Daphne closed her eyes and nodded. "I thought as much. Anyone with eyes can see she is a Bridgerton."

"What I told you earlier is largely true. I had given up on marriage, given up on Colin at the end of my second season. When he came to my room that night, I hoped again, but the next day he started courting Miss Foster. Then I knew my feelings were dead. When I knew Beatrice was on the way, I thought of her as mine alone. That's why I waited for his public engagement before approaching Anthony for help." She smiled, thinking back. "When Benedict held her, the day she was born… He was the only man I could imagine as her father."

Daphne enveloped Penelope in a hug. "They say a woman becomes a Mother when she feels the baby move within her; A man becomes a Father when he first holds the child," she whispered, then sat back. "Benedict is Beatrice's father, unquestionably, and a doting one at that. That is the only fact that matters."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Penelope said, dabbing tears from her eyes.

"We have known each other for years, AND we are now sisters. Please call me Daphne!" Penelope laughed and nodded. "By the way, I am aware of the debt my family owes you, or rather, that we owe Lady Whistledown. Your column saved me from a life as Lady Berbrooke." Her mouth twisted in distaste. "And I know you have saved other members of the family from themselves."

"They may not thank me for it. I'm grateful Anthony was so forgiving."

"And how did Benedict react?" Daphne inquired, a teasing glint in her eye.

Penelope blushed. "He was impressed, both with the work and with how I kept the secret. Kate said the same thing."

"Mother was also impressed. So was I," Daphne said. "Francesca says she knew all along, although I'm not sure I believe her."

"I believe her. Keen observers can spot each other."

"You weren't worried she'd tell?" Daphne asked.

"No. Exposing me would draw more attention to herself, and Francesca always avoided that."

"Another keen observation."

The two women returned to the house slowly, talking about marriage and motherhood, now closer than before, with the secrets out of the way. Benedict was waiting on the balcony, pacing. He ran to meet them as they approached.

"Is everything alright? You were gone so long."

Penelope reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. He readily obliged. Daphne grinned at them and continued to the house.

"Everything is fine," Penelope reassured him with a smile. He smiled back, then went in for another kiss.

Chapter 25: Where did everybody go?

Colin awoke in a sweat. He had the dream again. It had been recurring for over a year now. Initially, he dismissed it as a fantasy that would disappear when he took a wife. Instead, it had become a nightmare, as the images would linger in his memory for days after. In the dream, he was making love to Penelope Featherington.

He couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken to her directly. It must have been at her sister's wedding, although his memories of that night were hazy, at best. He remembered dreading the event: Penelope had been cold to him since her Mother's Ball a few months before. Yes, his words to his friends had been… poorly chosen, but he had apologized in a letter. Besides, he had saved her family from their cousins scheme and surely that should count for more. She was being ungrateful.

So he'd taken a pinch of his 'magic' powder, to soften the harsher edges of the world. He'd also had perhaps a few too many glasses of champagne, and combined with the powder… Anthony had assured him he hadn't embarrassed himself or the family, but perhaps it might be time for a more mature approach to life.

The next night there was another ball, and the Queen finally named her Diamond. Colin danced with Miss Clara Foster twice that night and the next day presented himself to her parents, asking permission to court their daughter.

The next two months were a blur of promenades, balls, outings and parties. He proposed, she accepted, and Colin was well on his way to succeeding where his brother had failed. He would marry the Diamond of the Season.

Then the dreams had started.

The first was the night of his engagement ball. He chalked it up to seeing her that night. He hadn't spoken to her, but she'd been there, at the edge of the dance floor. A few weeks later, he'd had another one. Whistledown's final column had triggered that one, he was sure. Colin was glad she had fled the city, even though she had many wrongs to answer for. He was unsure he could remain a gentleman. In his anger, the dream took on a much darker tone. He was shaken, but tried to put it out of his mind.

The next month was a whirlwind of wedding preparations. His Mother had taken control of his schedule, filling each day with meetings; the tailor, the jeweler, the letting agent to a secure house, then arranging furnishings. It was a whole new mundane world, and he seemed to be navigating it alone. Anthony was busy with the estates, and a newlywed himself. Benedict was off somewhere, living a life of profligacy and self-indulgence. He had no sense of responsibility.

Colin still longed for the freedom of travel and the honeymoon provided that. He took his Bride on an extended tour of Europe. He wrote to his family, as he always did. He received few responses. Even his Mother's letters became few and far between. Still, correspondence was difficult when you were on the move and over such vast distances. He assumed things would go back to normal when he returned to England.

They didn't, though. There still seemed to be a distance between them. He assumed that was just what happened as you matured and got married. Children grew up. Started their own families. Siblings drifted apart, even ones as close as the Bridgertons.

Through all of this 'growing up,' the dreams persisted. They were vivid, intense; he could feel her skin against his, smell the perfume of her hair. The dreams always left him filled with confusion and want. On these mornings, he was glad his wife insisted on keeping her own chambers. It allowed him to find his release privately.

He met up with his wife in the breakfast room. He kissed her cheek as she sorted through her correspondence, then made himself a plate and sat at the opposite end of the table and picked up his own letters. There were only a few. He read Francesca's letter first. She seemed to be truly at home in Scotland. Her descriptions of the people and the landscape were quite enticing.

"Darling," he said, looking down the table to his wife, "Perhaps in the New Year, we could take a trip to Scotland and visit Francesca. It would be good to get out of the city for a while."

Clara's face took on an amused expression. Without looking up from her letters, she replied, "Go North, in January? Don't be silly dear. It's far better to winter in the city." She picked up one the open letters on the table. Colin recognized his mother's handwriting. "It's bad enough your Mother and Brother are insisting on Christmas at Aubrey Hall instead of Bridgerton House."

"Are they?" He asked, putting aside Francesca's letter and picking up the one from his mother. There was no letter from Anthony or Kate, which surprised him.

Clara mistook his disappointed look. "Perhaps in the summer, Dear. When the weather is more pleasant."

"Yes," he said distractedly, reading his mother's letter, "I'm sure you're right." The letter was brief, surprisingly so, containing little news beyond the invitation to Christmas.

"At least we're not expected until the 20th," Clara continued leafing through the pile of invitations. "We can attend most of the important society parties. I feared we'd have to rusticate in the country for the whole of December."

That was another odd thing. A Bridgerton Christmas usually began early in December. Mother would send the boys out to collect pine boughs while the girls made decorations for the trees and garlands. Every room would be festooned with festive ornamentation. Mother insisted the family did the bulk of the work, allowing the servants to continue with their regular tasks.

Perhaps things had changed, with so many of the siblings grown and married. He had missed the previous Christmas, away on his Honeymoon. He was a little sad at the loss of tradition, but only a little. He was a man grown, a married man. It was time to put aside childish things.

"I hope you've started your Christmas shopping, Colin," Clara said, gathering her letters and rising from her chair. "Your family is entirely too large to keep track of, and I've no idea what they would like. And we have the Cowper Ball tonight. Be sure to have the carriage ready at eight." She ordered as she left

"Yes, Dear," Colin said to the empty room.

A month later and Colin and Clara were approaching Aubrey Hall. It was a cold day for travel, and the couple were sitting opposite each other, buried under blankets. As the carriage arrived in front of the house, several footman came out to take their trunks and cases. Maids were there with warmed blankets for Clara, shepherding her into the house. Colin followed, and met the butler, Humboldt, in the foyer.

"Your chambers are ready, Master Colin. Would you care to refresh yourselves before joining the family in the drawing room?"

"Oh yes," Clara answered before he could say anything. "Is a bath prepared?"

"They are heating the water now, Madam. I will direct them to fill the bath."

"Excellent," Clara sighed happily. "You may tell the family we will join them for dinner." She followed a maid to the stairs. Humboldt left for the kitchens.

"I will join you in a bit, darling," Colin called after her. "I want to see my family first." Clara waved her agreement without looking at him or slowing her ascent. Colin was left alone in the foyer.

Not the welcome he was expecting, but it was a very cold day. He could understand his family waiting for him in the warm. He looked around. There was a Christmas tree, heavy with ornaments, next to the staircase. The balustrades were hung with pine garlands and decorated with tartan bows. The corridor was similarly decorated. He could hear laughter as he approached the drawing room and quickened his step.

He stood unnoticed in the doorway and took in the scene. Hyacinth and Gregory were playing a game on the floor by the hearth, although they were mostly flicking the game pieces at each other. Eloise was curled up in a chair next to them, predictably, lost in a book. Daphne and Kate were on the settee, deep in conversation, Kate's hand resting on her growing belly. An heir was well and truly on the way. Anthony, Benedict and Simon were around a table playing cards. And on the far side of the room, his mother was tying bows onto gift wrapped boxes, and helping her was…

"What the hell is she doing here?!" Colin yelled as his gaze fell on Penelope Featherington. The room went silent, except for the crash of a chair as Benedict stood. Penelope looked startled, and immediately crossed the room to stand by Benedict. He was still for a moment, tension radiating from every pore. Penelope put her hand on his cheek, turning his head towards her. He slowly relaxed and put his arm around her, pulling her close. He returned his gaze to his younger brother.

"Penelope is my wife," he said evenly. "She has every right to be here."

Colin stood stunned for a moment, then collected himself. "Your wife? After everything she's done to this family? How could you even look at her, let alone marry her?"

"Colin!" Violet scolded him. "Penelope has always been a dear friend to this family."

"Penelope, perhaps, but what about Lady Whistledown?" He sneered.

"As Lady Whistledown, she saved me from a deeply unhappy life as Lady Berbrooke," Daphne offered. "She also brushed over the rushed nature of my wedding, painting it as a grand romance."

"Well, it was," Penelope said quietly. Simon smiled and winked at her.

"She also saved you, Brother," Anthony cut in. "Without her, you would be married to a woman who only sought to use you, raising children that were not yours."

"She humiliated Miss Thompson, publicly." Colin defended. "She made me look a fool."

"That column brought more harm to her own family's reputation than to yours, Brother." Eloise left her chair by the fire and stood beside Penelope.

"I surprised at you, Eloise, given what she did to you."

"She wrote nothing that was not true, Brother, and she did it to save me from my own headstrong actions, after I refused to listen to her warnings." Eloise cocked her head. "Just as you did, Brother."

Colin realized his family was now arranged around Penelope and Benedict, a wall of support that excluded Colin. "Why did no one tell me of this? I wasn't even invited to the wedding."

Benedict shrugged. "You weren't here, and it was a very small wedding. Practically an elopement. You were travelling, as usual. Perhaps the letters informing you went astray."

"I returned months ago."

"And have been enmeshed in London High Society." Benedict smiled at his wife. "We prefer the quiet life."

"For obvious reasons," Penelope murmured.

"Have I missed anything else? Has Gregory skipped Eton and gone straight to Cambridge? Is Hyacinth standing for parliament?" He asked sarcastically. He ignored his younger siblings muttered "If only."

"There may be one or two things." Benedict nodded to Daphne, and she and Violet left the room, returning a few minutes later. Daphne was leading Augie, who broke into a run on seeing his Father. Simon lifted the boy easily and bade to wave at Colin. "You remember my son?" Daphne asked.

"Of course," Colin smiled. "He's grown so much."

Violet walked past Colin and passed Beatrice to Benedict. He cuddled her close and turned to Colin.

"This is Beatrice. She's our daughter."

Colin felt all the air being sucked from the room and he stumbled back. He stared at Benedict and Beatrice, then started to laugh, a little hysterically.

"Well, then, at least she's made a bigger fool of you than she did of me. That child can't possibly be yours." He turned to Penelope. "It seems deceit is a Featherington family trait."

Anthony stepped forward, but there was furniture in the way; Benedict was holding Beatrice. So Penelope stepped forward and slapped Colin's right cheek. As he looked at her in shock she slapped his left cheek. "My name is Bridgerton now. Benedict is my husband, he is the finest man I know, he has shown me what it means to love and be loved. I am grateful, every day, that he is Beatrice's father." She returned to her husband's side, kissed his cheek and tickled her daughter's foot. Beatrice giggled.

"Look at her, Brother," Daphne said softly, coming to stand beside him. "You cannot deny her heritage. She's…"

"The image of Hyacinth." He sounded defeated. He stood silent, looking around at his family. Once a place he completely belonged, he now felt he was on the outside looking in. Perhaps he had spent too long on his travels. His family had moved on without him. He faced Benedict.

"My apologies, Brother, and my congratulations as well. I wish you every happiness."

Benedict nodded, but did not extend his hand to shake. The tension was broken by Gregory and Hyacinth asking Colin if he had brought presents. Francesca's arrival further diffused the situation. Her reaction to Benedict's marriage was the opposite of Colin.

"I always thought you were perfect for each other," she said, embracing first Penelope, then Benedict. She held Beatrice and in a serious voice said "When this noisy bunch get too much, you can always come to Auntie Fran." Beatrice patted her cheek and lay her head on Francesca's shoulder.

Benedict grinned at Anthony. "I think she may have a new favorite." Anthony responded with an affronted look.

Later that night, Colin lay in bed next to his wife, but sleep eluded him. Dinner was a lively, almost raucous affair. Colin observed the laughter and camaraderie of his family, but felt unable to join in. It was as if he was invisible. Distance had not made the hearts grow fonder. It had made them forgetful. His family had moved on without him.

Chapter 25: God Bless Us, Everyone One.

Penelope and Benedict woke early on Christmas morning out of habit. It was a private time for the two of them before Beatrice woke up. Usually, they would make love or talk or simply cuddle, enjoying each other's presence. This morning, however, Penelope bolted from the bed to the nearest empty chamber pot and vomited. Benedict was at her side immediately, and poured her a glass of water.

"Darling, are you alright?" Concern filled his voice. Penelope splashed some water on her face and nodded, leading him back to the bed. She got back under the blankets and patted the spot next to her. Benedict joined her, still worried for his wife's welfare.

"Perhaps we should skip breakfast. We can join the family for gifts later, if you feel up to it."

Penelope shook her head, snuggling back into her husband's arms. "The illness has passed, for today. I expect there will be another bout tomorrow. Most mornings, really, for another month." She looked Benedict in the eye. "Based on my previous experience with Beatrice.

"Previous…" Benedict's face was a picture of confusion, which was washed away by a tidal wave of joy. He placed his hand on her stomach, and she covered his hand with hers. They grinned at each other. Benedict leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips and started to pull back. Penelope was having none of that. She slid her hand up to his neck and pulled him back down for more. He happily obliged.

They were the last to arrive for Christmas breakfast.

The morning was filled with laughter as breakfast gave way to gifts. Most of the gifts were small but meaningful. There were many baby gifts for Kate and Anthony, and more toys for Augie and Beatrice than they could play with in a lifetime. In the afternoon, the family played games, and old patterns fell into place. Colin was drawn back into the family, although his wife appeared uncomfortable with the revelry, and there was still a distance between him and his older brothers.

Dinner was a formal affair. Everyone was dressed in their finest. When everyone was gathered, Anthony, at the head of the table, stood to make the toast.

"Well, here we are again. It's been a merry Christmas Day, and an even happier year. It always makes me happy to have the whole family gathered, and this year we are blessed with the addition of new members: Clara, John, Penelope and Beatrice. My chief concern as Viscount has always been the welfare of this Family, and it brings me joy to see everyone healthy and happy."

He reached for Kate's hand. "And this time next year our numbers will be increased by one."

"Two," Benedict interrupted, smiling and taking Penelope's hand.

Anthony smiled in return. "Really?"

Penelope nodded. "Really, Uncle Anthony."

Simon cleared his throat and kissed Daphne's hand. "As we seem to be doing a headcount: it's actually three."

The whole table erupted with joyous celebration. Chairs were pushed back and everyone rushed to embrace the expectant mothers and shake the hands of the fathers. As everyone eventually resumed their seats, Gregory remained standing and said, "Alright, this means everyone can stop referring to me and Hyacinth as 'The Littles.'"

That night, Benedict took Beatrice from the nursery and laid her between himself and Penelope in their bed. Beatrice was babbling and her parents were encouraging to say words. Penelope sighed, watching her husband and daughter.

"Did you ever think we would end up like this?" Penelope asked.

"I spent much of the last year imagining you in my bed. My dreams have been coming true for months now." He lifted her hand to kiss. "And this is just the beginning, my love. It will only get better from here."

"I never imagined it was possible to be this happy," She said. "It was a long climb to get here, and the path wasn't smooth or clear, but I'm so glad we walked it together.

"I agree. There is nothing that could make me happier in this moment," Benedict whispered.

Beatrice wriggled on the bed. She looked at each of her Parents.

"Papapapapa," she said.

Benedict chuckled. "You're just like your mother. Another woman who delights in proving me wrong." He grinned smugly. "I can't wait to tell Anthony that I'm her first word."

Penelope shook her head. "Yes dear, you are officially her favourite."