Testing Audio -DK Principessa

by kibass91

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31. Healer’s Apprentice

Eloise had no idea what she was going to do with her journal when she first bought it. When they visited the journal shop that Penelope bought hers from, Eloise had no desire to hold a journal. She was vocal with her thoughts and opinions, so why would a journal ever appeal to her?

However, nearly a week after leaving Silver Birch and still encountering the perplexing dreams that seemed to make a home within her subconscious state, she felt the desire to write. At first, it was over the details she saw in her perplexing dream, to figure out what her mind was trying to tell her. As she wrote though, she could not stop. It then went into rants over her views of society, of a woman's place in the world, and to everything she could remember about the Crokebane's fascinating histories.

She wrote not in an effort to feel comforted or to document it. She wrote plainly because she was amused by it and enjoyed it. Writing certain lines over and over again, figuring out what read well and what did not.

It made her feel in control.

And that was how her mother found her one evening, knocking on the door as she entered her daughter's study. Eloise's head firmly tucked down towards her writing.

"I shall be down for dinner in a moment," Eloise mumbled without much of a greeting. "I just want to finish this paragraph."

"I believe this is the first time I found you writing without it being a letter to Penelope." Violet mused, a small smile lifting her lips.

Eloise just shrugged. "It can be quite freeing… Writing one's thoughts and opinions without much push back." Violet hummed, fingers tapping over her crossed hands as waited until Eloise was done. Sensing this, Eloise stopped writing and glanced up at her mother. "I am to assume, since you are hovering, that you have not come here to call me for dinner?"

"We need to talk," Violet paused, hiking up her shoulders. "About Colin."

Eloise raised an eyebrow. "About Colin."

"I am going to write to him, to encourage him to continue his travels until the next social season," Violet explained, her voice steady as she met Eloise's hard gaze. "And I will be informing him on Penelope's wellbeing."

Eloise's eyes, if possible, turned harder. "Mother–"

"I will not give him details, nor will I disclose where she is." Violet's voice deepened in a way that Eloise rarely heard, stressing how serious her mother's words were. "I will only inform him that we have heard from Penelope and that all is well, and he needn't worry no longer. I understand the need to keep him in the dark as you got into regular communication with Penelope, but I will not take sides, nor pretend there are no sides to this. I love you all and I never want to see any of you suffer, nor will I hold things back to appease one of you."

Pushing her lips together, Eloise looked back down to her journal and continued writing.

"Eloise?" Violet narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What are your thoughts?"

"Oh, so my thoughts matter on this?"

"Of course they do, Eloise."

"Clearly they do not as you are going against what I believe should be done."

"And what about Penelope?" Violet pressed, "What are her thoughts on the matter? As this is to do with her as well."

Eloise scowled. "We both know she does not have a bad bone within her to hold a grudge."

"Then why must you have to?"

"Because someone must!" Eloise exclaimed, her eyes now lit with fire. "I love and adore Penelope as a sister with my very being, but I have seen enough times how the world has treated her. And yet she is still kind-hearted to show forgiveness to even those who do not deserve it. So while she holds that forgiveness, I will hold the justice."

"Yet you are exacting justice onto the wrong person."

"Because you are not letting me exact it onto the right people!"

Violet stilled at that, her mind darting towards the almost confrontation Eloise had with Lady Featherington outside the church service. "Eloise, you cannot go after Lady Featherington."

"Whyever not?" Eloise growled, "Since you are so insistent I cannot do justice to Colin, why not her? Since all scandals lead to Portia Featherington?"

"If word were to get out of Marina's condition before her marriage to Sir Crane, it would cause rumours and questions within the Ton." Eloise groaned at that, pushing up from her desk and stalking towards the windows. "It will lead people to suspect that Colin is indeed the father to those children, ran off and left Lady Crane to fend for herself. Those questions and rumours will then possibly taint the Bridgerton name."

Eloise laughed bitterly at that, slowly shifting her body back to where her mother stood. "Is that what you believe? Because I can tell you the opposite is true." At that, Violet's face turned to that of confusion. "Mother, I assure you that everything that went down between the Duke and Duchess is somewhat known to the Ton. Even if most of it is speculation, they understand that the rushed ceremony between the two was not entirely based on a love match."

Violet frowned at that. "You cannot know that Eloise. You have not yet debuted."

"No, but Penelope had. While she was firmly in the camp of true love, she expressed to me the rumours of the Ton. Both of our families and outside of our families." Eloise informed her mother, posture straight with both courage and defiance. "Can you honestly say to me that the Bridgerton name will be more harmed than the Featherington name if the news of Marina's condition before her marriage comes out? Because I assure you that if similar rumours of the Duke and Duchess surrounded that of Philippa and Mr Flinch, they would be more ruined than the Duke and Duchess and you want to understand why that is? Because the Ton has favourites, and the Bridgertons are one of them. Whereas the Ton and society as a whole only humours and mocks the Featheringtons. This is something that Lady Featherington is starkly aware of, and is a reason why she banished Penelope–for risking their little standing that they hold."

Violet had to give it to her daughter, her understanding of society and its rules was very clear and coherent. "Then all the more reason why it should not be made public. It would affect Penelope."

"She's in the north, and with the Crokebanes. It cannot affect her."

"Within the north maybe, but you had told me she expressed interest in returning to Mayfair for a social season. Expressed that she may want marriage and children when the time is right." Eloise ducked her head down, not liking the good points that Violet was displaying. "And she still holds the Featherington name. So any scandal that comes to Lady Featherington and her household, will still ring to Penelope."

Clenching her fists for a few minutes, Eloise kept her eyes outside. "Tell Colin whatever you want, but I only want one assurance." Slowly, Eloise returned to Violet's curious gaze. "He is not to join us on our trip to Silver Birch. He is not allowed to join us."

"Eloise–"

"I am not saying that for justice, or punishment, or even cruelty." Violet tilted her head as she witnessed a slight nervousness flash across Eloise's expression. "I am merely asking for Penelope's well-being. She… She does not know of the fact that Colin was still willing to marry Marina after he learned of her condition or even the fact he doubted Penelope's claims."

Violet took in the new information. "You… You did not tell her?"

Eloise shook her head. "No. It… I discussed it with Thom and we decided that Penelope needed to focus on her grieving and healing from that first. It would not be fair for me to dump everything that had occurred once she was banished." Eloise's eyes softened slightly, pleading for her mother to understand. "We promised to each other that we would inform her on my next visit. When she's had enough time to mend from what her family has put her through. And I know she will not be able to digest the additional pieces of information with Colin sulking within the corridors of her new home."

Letting out a few breaths, Violet nodded. "Very well. Upon his return and his discovery of us going to Silver Birch, I will let him know of the situation and that it is best that he does not attend."

Eloise too let out a breath. "Thank you."

Eloise would find the humour in her dreams if they weren't so taxing to her mind. Of repeating the same actions over and over again with the same results. It was not like she could do any different either way. She was stuck in a loop.

However, just as she whipped around to see the bucket knocked down to the ground, a painfully familiar voice rang out.

"Save them." It said, causing Eloise to spin around, trying to locate where the voice was coming from. "Save them."

Notes:

Preview of "Northern Snow":

"This is a small church, you know!"

Chapter 34: Chapter XXXII: Northern Snow

Summary:

Penelope gets to know the residents of Wooler.

Notes:

Hello! Happy Thursday to all! IT'S FINALLY NEW CHAPTER DAY! ARE YOU EXCITED? And, if it helps, this is mostly a lighthearted chapter. It may not be totally historically accurate but it's a fun chapter. Mostly. I would recommend though that you pay close attention to the next seven chapters, as they are sort of the building works for the rest of the trilogy . I cannot wait to read all the theories :P

ANNOUNCEMENT:

So, to separate the notes section a bit more, there will be now an ANNOUNCEMENT and UPDATES. This is just so I can be more organised with my thoughts.

UPDATES:

Updates will now follow a two-week roster. In Week 1 there will be only one update, which will be Thursday (so we are currently on Week 1), and Week 2 will follow two updates, Tuesday and Thursday. I will let you know if anything changes, but that is the current plan and may help me to get more ahead with the chapters. As in the last 5 to 7 chapters, I will want to do the same thing I did for my birthday week and post each day (apart from the Epilogue, which will be posted the week after).

Fun Fact #27:

Horses symbolise freedom, independence, nobleness, endurance, confidence, triumph, heroism and competition.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Lady Crokebane was none too sure about Penelope's request. No, actually that would be an incorrect statement. She was very much against Penelope's request. She was always against this type of request from Penelope. The Lady of Silver Birch may be laxed on some societal rules, but she was not unaware of the dangers of the world. The dangers were always specific to women. And while she may have tolerated Penelope going off with Matilda or Eloise, it was another situation entirely for a gentlebred woman to be riding off on her own.

Yes, she allowed it a few times, mainly on Sundays when Penelope attended church. It was an entirely different scenario for her granddaughter to wander around nearby lands she did not know by herself.

"I will not be alone," Penelope assured her grandmother the previous evening, her voice filled with confidence. "I'll be with Blackburn."

Lady Crokebane let out a scoff. "While I understand that I cannot understand the bonds between a Crokebane and their horse, I very much doubt that a horse can fully protect you from a stranger's evil intentions."

"Please say that to Blackburn, it may make him appreciate Thomas more."

"Penelope, it's one thing for you to travel to St. Mary's or even Little Eden by yourself, but to go riding in the surrounding fields and woods of Wooler is another issue entirely." Lady Crokebane stressed, hands flat on her desk as she stared at her granddaughter.

"I have to do something Grandmama!" Penelope found herself whining. "The lord has taken me off medical training this week because of my hand." She waved her bandage hand, her grandmother giving a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Which is the week leading up to when we go to Nettles Cottage, and is the only month that he allows you to force him to take time off."

"Allows?" Lady Crokebane puffed. "I'll keep note of that."

"Thomas is currently busy attending to the horses and making sure the stables staff have everything they need to manage it while he's away. Aside from visiting the Woods at Hinderside with me, Matilda is aiding Ms Jameson in stocking all the necessities for Silver Birch and that it too runs smoothly while we are away. So neither of them can join me on out." Exhaling briefly, Penelope approached her grandmother's desk. "While I enjoy reading immensely, there are only so many medical journals I can take, and my eyes burn when I try to read anything else."

"I could ask Max to let you attend seeing patients with him tomorrow." Lady Crokebane suggested.

"Do you really believe he'll change his mind on that?"

It was Lady Crokebane's turn to let out an exhale as she slumped down onto her chair. "No. The Crokebane stubbornness shines strongly in him." Glancing at Penelope, she placed a hand on her chin. "And you should be following your grandfather's instructions on resting that hand."

"It's not a deep burn," Penelope assured gently. "You do not need to be medically trained to understand that grandfather was being a little dramatic when it came to giving me a week off."

A bemused smile flashed across Lady Crokebane's lips. "Still, you should probably not be directing Blackburn at the reigns with such an injury."

"Blackburn won't do anything that will cause me to have to rely on the reigns too much," Penelope reassured. "I just… I've been here for several months now and the only places I have seen in the north are Silver Birch, sections of Wooler, St. Mary's Church and Hinderside."

"There's also Newcastle-upon-Tyne."

Penelope gave a small smile to her grandmother. "I… I would love to see more of where I am living. Even if it is just fields and woods. And Matilda told me that the north is covered in snow by the end of December, so this will be my only chance before the spring hits."

Lady Crokebane stared and stared at her youngest grandchild, deeply considering. Her shoulders slumped as she came to her ruling. "Very well. However, just like before I want you to take the knife with you and we shall have a time limit."

Leaving an hour or so after waking and having a light breakfast, Penelope charged through the fields of the northern lands with Blackburn. They headed in the general direction of Wooler, but just to the outskirts. Penelope was not lying when she said she wanted to explore the lands a bit more, though there was more to it than that.

Ever since she woke up to that burn, Penelope felt suffocated. Not just by the hovering ways of her family and friend, but by Silver Birch herself. She had no idea how that burn came to be, or how a dream could even make it be, but it was constantly nagging in her mind and it did not help that there was no escape from it. Even outside of her unconscious state, she was reminded of her dream by walking through corridors and, occasionally, she found herself peering into random rooms of Silver Birch, to see if any of them matched the fiery room.

None of them ever did, not that Penelope ever really thought it was at Silver Birch. Wherever it was, she held a feeling it was not even in England.

Part of her wanted to laugh it off. Pretend it was a strange occurrence and believe the story that she somehow burned her hand when blowing out the candles the night previously. But a dream should not be recurring every night. A dream should be that–a fantastical story that does not affect the ordinary task of living.

So, after nearly a week, Penelope needed a break from… Everything and everyone. Even if it was on a time limit, she needed a dose of freedom to loosen her mind.

Blackburn must have sensed this from his redheaded rider as his speed was unlike anything Penelope had ever experienced with him yet, and within thirty minutes she found herself out of breath.

"Blackburn," Penelope called out, eyeing the beginning of another woods area just outside Wooler. "Slow!" Obeying the command, Blackburn slowed his speed and went into a sturdy trot. "Stop." Once Blackburn did so, Penelope swung herself off the horse, steadying herself on the ground for a few seconds before giving a small smirk to Blackburn. "What Grandmama does not know will not hurt her."

Blackburn gruffed as he allowed Penelope to lead him through the woods.

As they walked, surrounded by leaf-less trees, Penelope breathed in and out slowly. Taking in the nature that the world had to offer, she felt the weight that had been digging hooks into her shoulders lift. A balance within her returned and her eyes cleared from soreness that ached within the past few days.

Suddenly feeling fatigued, Penelope let go of Blackburn's reigns leaned her body against one of the trees and softly closed her eyes. Embracing the chilly woods, the tension she held left her soul.

Losing track of time a little, Penelope was pulled away from her moment by Blackburn's wet nose nudging her cheek. Blinking, she frowned at Blackburn who stared straight ahead, and swiftly followed his gaze. She could not see anything at first, just a clearing of a field that held a singular tree at the centre. Was it an oak tree? Penelope shook her head at that, thinking back to one of the nature and plant books that her grandfather had given her to study recently. I think… I think it's a beech tree?

Keeping her eyes out, she distantly felt Blackburn step closer to her, and soon she saw what caught her horse's attention.

She saw a figure leaning against the beech tree, a male from what she could decipher from the distance, hands in pockets and whipping his head side to side. As if looking for someone.

Anxiety built in her for a moment before another figure appeared from the other side of the tree. This time a woman, her dress flowing in the wind as her voice called out. The man on the other side quickly straightened up and made his way around the tree to meet the woman.

Without much hesitation, the two fell into a loving embrace, followed by a passionate kiss.

Despite the strike through her heart, Penelope smiled at the romantic scene. She watched for a few more minutes as the two spoke to one another, arms still firmly wrapped around one another before she glanced up towards Blackburn.

"Come along, we should start heading back."

A low-winded gruff from Blackburn, Penelope took one last look at the couple, and they made their way through the woods they came through.

"It was not all bad, you know." Penelope found herself saying, Blackburn giving her a curious look. "London society. The Ton. Being a wallflower meant I was not noticed as much as other women, and I guess it was not all bad. I was the first to get a glass of lemonade… And I knew who all the best dancers were just from watching. But I think my favourite element of it all was being the spectator among all the courting. Seeing the first interactions, the continued interactions… And you could see how serious a suitor was about courtship when a lady dances with another." Penelope shook her head but could not stop her wide smile. "In those moments, I truly felt like I was witnessing all that I had read about in books. The romance, the thrill, the… Admiration. I guess the one ingredient that it was missing was a forbidden nature which," Penelope briefly looked over her shoulder to where the beech tree was. "Going by the way they were meeting, our brief friends have that forbidden love down to the written word."

Blackburn snorted at that, and Penelope laughed, twirling around and walking backwards as she spoke to her companion.

"Do you not think it adds to the romance?" Penelope inquired with a light tone. "The secret meetings, the secret looks… The never-dying declarations of love? I feel… I feel it is a love that knows no bounds. If treated correctly."

With a rogued shake of his head, Blackburn gruffed.

"I lived through it so much, through the books I read and witnessed at mere balls, it is hard not to see it as appealing. I so desperately…" Shoulder slumping down, Penelope turned around and slowed her pace to return by Blackburn's side. "I so desperately wanted a fraction of the same. For a man to glance my way, to be momentarily interested…" With a tiny nudge from Blackburn, Penelope let out a low scoff. "Fine! I wanted one particular man to take a momentary interest."

If he were that type of horse, Penelope would bet that Blackburn would do a victory dance at her admission.

"Right, before we delve too deep into my lack of romantic prospects, we should probably get back to Silver Birch before Grandmama shreds the entire northern lands looking for me." Blackburn mockingly scoffed at that, and Penelope knew it was due to the fact he knew she was wiggling her way out of an uncomfortable topic. Nonetheless, Blackburn allowed his rider to perch herself on his back and soon he kicked into his highest speed towards Silver Birch.

"Blackburn listen to this!" Penelope examined, her voice heightened with excitement and wonder. "Lawrence Crokebane investigated the strange witchcraft case and concluded that, while he did not believe actual witchcraft had taken place–he was not a believer of such things–the family were guilty of the multiple poisonings that had taken place within the Welsh village, as well as a few unexplained deaths that occurred a few years prior. Taking the Crokebane at his word, the crown ordered the executions of the accused family. Unfortunately, a few of its members fled and it is believed they were behind the murder of Lawrence, who days after the family's executions were done, was found dead, with a multitude of blood seeping from him as though he was Jesus Christ himself."

Blackburn, who had been drinking away, raised his head at that last part, and Penelope could imagine him saying: "Really?"

"That is what it says!" Penelope examined once more from her usual spot on the ground of Blackburn's holdings.

"What does what say?" Both Penelope and Blackburn were startled at Thomas's sudden voice, who appeared on the other side of the gate to the holdings. "Good to know I can still sneak up on you Blackburn."

Blackburn just gave a disgruntled gruff before returning to drinking his water.

"Do you think he'll ever grow to appreciate me?" Thomas wondered with a light smirk.

Penelope pondered this for a moment. "Possibly… When a true Jesus is reborn once more."

Thomas frowned before his eyes caught the book laid out on Penelope's lap. "Ah. I see you've now indulged yourself in the second volume of our family's tales?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Penelope turned her attention back to the book. "I really wish you warned me what I was walking into. The moment I opened this it's been one horror after another."

Thomas gave a light chuckle as he leaned against the pillar of Blackburn's holdings. "If it's any consolidation, it calms down a little towards the end of the sixteen hundreds."

"A little?" Thomas just smirked. "You're not going to give me any warnings, are you?"

"Now where would the excitement be in that?" Penelope rolled her eyes with a fond laugh. "As fun as it is to discuss the tragedies that follow our bloodline, I came here for a specific purpose."

"Which is?"

"Christmas."

"Christmas."

Thomas hummed. "I've arranged for the presents I have selected for our grandparents, and I've even got the Woods a little something." Penelope gave a soft smile at that. "However, the one Christmas gift I am truly stumped on is for you, dear cousin. So…"

"So…?" Penelope repressed the urge to laugh outright at her cousin's following frustration.

"Come out with it Pen! What would you like from your favourite cousin?"

"Whoever told you that you were my favourite?"

"I very much doubt it's that Thompson girl."

"It's Lady Crane now," Thomas quirked up his eyebrows at that. "Long story. However, I think you forget that I have more cousins from my father's side in Ireland. One of them could hold the title of favourite."

"And I think you are now using this as a way to detract from the actual question at hand." Thomas pointed out without missing a beat. "What would you like for Christmas?"

Penelope breathed out heavily. "Y-you do not need to get me anything."

"I know I do not need to, but I very much want to."

"Isn't the purpose of a Christmas gift being that it's supposed to be of a meaningful surprise." Penelope sent a wicked smirk to her now disgruntled cousin. "If I told you what I wanted it would take away any meaning."

Thomas let out a loud groan and tipped his head back. "I hoped you would be more like our grandfather and just tell me what you desire."

"Now where would the excitement be in that?" Penelope repeated Thomas' phrase, to which Blackburn–now finished with his hydration–gave a loud snort of amusement.

Thomas shot a glare at that dark horse. "You know, men are supposed to stick together." And with that, Thomas marched off leaving a giggling Penelope and a proud-appearing Blackburn behind.

Laughter encompassed Penelope and Matilda as their horses slowed upon reaching the roads leading into the town of Wooler. It was morning when they set off from Silver Birch and into the neighbouring town, layering up into thick clothes as the northern winter would not be kind to them. Though, due to their spontaneous race that was initiated by Matilda, they naturally became overheated in their thick winter clothes and looked forward to taking a break from riding.

Nudging their horses to the familiar gate of St. Mary's Church, they gradually halted and swung themselves off the horse's back.

A hiss came from Penelope's lips in the process, causing Matilda to whip her head to where Penelope landed. "Your hand?"

Penelope gave a brief nod as she checked her bandaged hand. "It is fine. No blood. Just an ache from how I came down."

"I did suggest to get a carriage here," Matilda said as she tied Lux's reigns to the gate of the church's lands. "I still find it curious how you did not realise you burned it before you went to bed."

Penelope busied herself by releasing a bag from Blackburn's saddle. "I felt something. I did not realise it was a burn."

Matilda let out a chuckle. "As the days go on, I see more of your grandfather in you." Now securing her bag's release, Penelope turned back to Matilda with a questioning gaze. "He is not one for caring for his own wellbeing either."

"Speaking of whom," Penelope linked arms with Matilda once she felt assured she could leave Blackburn and Lux where they stood. "He, along with Mae and Peter, are the only ones I have not managed to acquire Christmas gifts for."

Matilda nodded with sympathy. "I also have not managed to find a gift for Aunt Em. The older that woman gets, the harder it is to figure out what she wants that she won't, later down the line, complain about."

Penelope let out a laugh at that. "I cannot imagine Ms Jameson complaining about anything you would gift her. Thomas yes, but not you."

Matilda snorted. "She would do so subtly. Like boiling a fog in a pot–starting off slow, but the ending is just the same."

"Tad dramatic there, do you not believe?"

"For anyone who is not my aunt, absolutely. But you know there is a ring of truth there."

Rolling her eyes, Penelope briefly looked over her shoulder to where they left the horses. Sure enough, while he was staying in place, Blackburn did not look best pleased at being left behind. "Should we have not parked them a little closer to the town centre?"

Matilda gave a gentle smirk. "Do you really trust Blackburn to be in the centre with a bunch of random people who are also doing some last-minute Christmas gift shopping?"

"Fair point."

As they got into the depths of the town centre, Wooler was buzzing with activity despite its chilly weather. There were a few firepits in several locations too for people to keep warm, which further proved Matilda's opinion of keeping Blackburn at a distance. Children ran down the streets, and as they got closer to the shops, several residents stood out on the streets speaking excitedly to one another. A few that Penelope knew, due to working with her grandfather, shot her a smile and a respectful nod, to which she returned.

"I have an idea of what to get Mae," Penelope murmured, her eyes settling on an art shop briefly before turning to Matilda beside her. "But I have no clue what to gift Peter, nor do my grandfather, who I still barely know outside the medical realm."

Matilda pursed her lips. "How about Greenway Bookshop?" Penelope blinked, pushing her lady's maid to continue. "I know your grandfather often goes there to see the latest medical books and journals that Mr Greenway holds. Sometimes he purchases one or two on occasion that he deems worthy."

Penelope hummed lightly. "And where is this bookshop?"

Five minutes later, they stood outside a green-painted building that appeared to only have a few customers, despite the crowds on the outside. "You go on," Matilda unlinked her arm from Penelope and gestured to a fabrics shop nearby. "I might have an idea for my aunt's gift but I need to see if they have the fabric for it."

Giving her lady's maid an encouraging grin, "Meet back out here in ten minutes?" With that plan settled, the girls went their separate ways.

As Penelope entered, the bell above rang out, drawing the momentary attention of the few customers searching through the shelves. Penelope quickly came to understand why there were so few people inside–the building was awfully cramped, with many bookshelves in disarray and books piled on top of one another. However, instead of it being a disadvantage, Penelope could not help but smile at it all, feeling comfortable within this quirky chaos.

Suddenly, an elderly man appeared behind the desk and till of the shop, who appeared to be in as much disarray as the shop itself. "'Ello there miss!" The man's voice boomed through the shop, to which the current customers smiled briefly. "How can I help you today?"

Penelope shifted anxiously on her feet. "Ug… I–I am not quite sure. I was suggested to come here as my grandfather often buys books from here."

The man sent Penelope a wide and friendly smile. "I see. May I ask who your grandfather is? I know every customer that comes through those doors, so I can better aid you in whatever you are looking for."

"The Lord of Silver Birch."

If possible, the man's smile further widened. "Ah! You must be his youngest grandchild, Miss Penelope Featherington! The Girl of Crokebane! I should've guessed by the fiery hair." He gestured to Penelope's hair which was currently braided and hung loosely over Penelope's shoulder. "Max had the same shade before the greys took over."

An easy smile welcomed itself upon Penelope's lips. "Y-yes, I've been told that on a few occasions."

"I'm guessing with the occasion that is upon us, you are searching for a gift for the old lord?" Penelope nodded at this, grateful that the man–whom she assumed was Mr Greenway–cut right to the chase. "I'm afraid I will not have anything for you, medical book or journal-wise. The recent books I have acquired in the medical field I understand will not meet your grandfather's standards."

Penelope's shoulders slumped down. "Damn… Oh! Apologies–"

"Do not worry my dear girl," Penelope jumped slightly at the new voice and turned to one of the customers who was currently debating between two books in his hands. The man raised his eyes briefly in a teasing glance between Penelope and Mr Greenway. "That old man has heard far worse. Especially from his wife."

Mr Greenway chuckled wildly at that. "You would be right about that Johnny!" Penelope joined in with the laughter, and when it died down, Mr Greenway turned his attention back to Penelope. "Though, Miss Featherington, your grandfather is not just interested in the medical books."

"Penelope, please." Penelope corrected, "What else is he interested in?"

Mr Greenway nodded. "History. Though, he is just as fussy with those books as he is with the medical. And, sadly, the factual history books I hold currently would not interest him."

"Factual?"

With a bright grin, Mr Greenway made his way out from behind the desk and in the direction of the bookshelf corridors. "Give me a moment, I think I might have something that may interest your grandfather." Penelope did as he requested, waiting at the front and, at one point, aiding Johnny in deciding what book he should purchase. Upon Mr Greenway's return, Penelope was laughing with Johnny and the other customer, Suzanne. "Here we are!" All three of the customers looked at the book that banged down on the till desk with interest.

"Old Scandinavian Legends?" Johnny read out and gave a bewildered look to Mr Greenway. "You believe the lord would be interested in that?"

Penelope was also doubtful. Despite the myths and legends that surrounded the Crokebanes origins, and the talent that she and her grandfather hold, Lord Crokebane was not the type of man to believe in magic or anything mythical. While he leaned into his gift, he also was the type to lean on facts and what he could see, instead of believing in what he could not.

For Penelope? She loved reading about fictional stories and myths, but before she came to Silver Birch was not the type to believe in such things. However, after learning about The Crokebane Instinct and burning her hand in a dream, Penelope did not know what to believe anymore.

Mr Greenway gave a simple shrug with his friendly smile. "He may be interested in it since the Crokebanes do have origins in Scandinavia."

"Possibly," Penelope muttered, "There are so many myths tied with the origins of us Crokebanes, it's hard to decipher which reigns in truth."

"But Norway is the most common place of origin, is it not?" Mr Greenway coaxed, clearly already knowing the answer.

"Yes, it is." Picking up the large and thick book, Penelope's lips tilted down in a thoughtful manner. "Do you truly think Lord Crokebane would be interested in this?"

Mr Greenway nodded. "While it does go into the myths and legends that surround those times, it also describes the history of how those myths and legends came to be. And, knowing it could be his family's place of origin, Lord Crokebane could be intrigued by it."

Taking a few minutes of internal debate, Penelope nodded. "I'll take it, as well as the second book the Johnny is also desiring." Johnny's eyebrows rose at that. "I know you want it as much as the chosen book."

Suzanne smiled joyfully towards her now embarrassed and blushing neighbour. "Oh, you do not have to do that miss–"

"Oi! Do not decline free shit!" Suzanne harshly elbowed the man. "Take it and run!"

The four of them laughed as Penelope went on to buy the books.

Upon leaving the bookshop and reuniting with Matilda outside, Johnny and Suzanne invited the two girls to join them at the tavern where her grandfather took Penelope many times. Feeling the effects of winter and a long ride to Wooler, the two girls did not hesitate to accept the invite. Soon, they were in a very crowded tavern (the most busy Penelope had ever seen), eating lunch with Johnny, Suzanne and a few other lonely residents of Wooler, who were wanting to welcome and get to know The Girl of Crokebane.

An hour or so later, Penelope and Matilda stumbled out of the tavern, giggling as the northern winter air hit them.

"For all the times I have been here with my grandfather, I had never had such an entertaining time." Penelope breathed out, tucking herself further into her cloak once more as the chill.

Matilda hummed with contentment. "Possibly because your grandfather is a withering grumpy sod."

"Matilda!"

"You cannot deny the truth, miss!" The two laughed further, which ended with apologies as it caused them to bump into a couple. "Can you honestly imagine your grandfather interacting and conversing with the locals of Wooler as we had for the past hour?"

"In all honesty, I would not have imagined myself doing so," Penelope confessed, "But everyone just seems so… Welcoming."

Matilda nodded, "Even with your grandfather being… The way he is, they are just as welcoming to him too, though respect the fact he is not a social being. It's probably a Crokebane thing–especially since the Crokebanes have always been well-known to take good care of those who reside within Wooler." Side-glancing at Penelope and her very filled bag, Matilda stepped closer to her lady. "Have you got all the gifts you needed to purchase?"

Penelope let out a long breath that became a fog in the air. "No… I've got gifts for Grandfather and Mae, but I still need something for Peter."

"Do you have an idea of what you would like to get him?"

"No… I do not think it helps that he does not have many interests outside of looking after his sister. Which is a good interest to have, but with the way his life has been he has not had many explorations of interests. I know he likes the songs I sing and is good with–" Penelope halted, which Matilda quickly followed with a questioning look. "Is there an antiques shop here?"

Matilda tilted her head as she remembered all the shops within the town. "A few streets ahead, just at the other end. Come along!" Clasping Penelope's hand, the two lightly jogged down the streets, exclaiming apologies to which the locals gave chuckles too.

Once their shopping was done, Matilda decided it was best to celebrate their accomplishments before returning to their faithful home. Waiting in a queue for several minutes, the two girls entered Wooler's Whole Bakery, both sighing at the lovely smells that exploded through their nostrils.

"Their sugar cookies are to die for!" Matilda whispered over to Penelope as they waited behind a family who was currently being served.

Soon, the family said their gratitude's and made their way out of the bakery, the male server, appearing in his fifties, presented a joyous smile as he spotted Matilda. "Ah, The Hopper is among us." Leaning backwards, the man then called out to the kitchen. "Maria! Get another batch of cookies prepared!"

"Oi!" Matilda shouted with mild offence, causing Penelope to giggle beside her. "I do not devour them all!"

"You come pretty close to it." A female voice stated, a woman looking around the same age as the man, walked out from the kitchen. Apron covered in flour and many other baking ingredients, she gave a gentle smile to Matilda. "Good to see you, Hopper. How is your aunt fairing?"

"She's Aunt Em, it's hard to make her never fairing well," Matilda smirked widely.

Maria fondly shook her head before her eyes landed on Penelope beside her. Curiosity dominated her expression momentarily before recognition cleared it. "You must be The Girl of Crokebane I've heard so much about."

Penelope felt her face heat up. "U-ugh… I-it's Featherington, but yes, the Lord and Lady Crokebane are my grandparents. I-I'm Penelope. Featherington."

Maria, along with the male beside her, gave Penelope a welcoming smile. "I know it's a bit late but welcome to the north." The four shared a laugh at that before Maria went on to introduce themselves. "I'm Maria Zener, the baker of this establishment and this is my husband, Adam Zener."

Feeling more comfortable, Penelope shot them both a genuine smile. "It is very nice to meet you both."

"Now that formalities are out of the way!" Adam rubbed his hands together with anticipation. "What can we get you girls today?"

"Isn't this a pleasant surprise." Father Samarin breathed out along with a smile as he watched Penelope and Matilda enter St. Mary's Church, quickly closing the door behind them as they did.

"I'll say, don't you guys have a fireplace here?" Matilda grumbled, trying to shift more of her cloak closer to her body as the temperature inside the church was no better than outside.

In the midst of reorganising the bibles within the rows of benches upon their entering, Father Samarin chuckled as he squeezed his way out of the rows. "In our rooms, yes. We have fire bowls for days it will be busy, which on a Wednesday, it usually isn't."

"How can it when it feels like we're at the North Pole rather than northern England?"

"I would have to agree with Miss Hopper there, father." Sister Stella suddenly emerged from the back area of the chancel, wiping her hands against her black gown as she slowly approached them. "I have a feeling that snow will soon be upon us and there will no longer be a choice."

Father Samarin hummed with consideration before a frown enveloped his expression. "Whatever are you doing out here? I thought you designated yourself to the job of organising the books?"

"No, I designated myself to the chore of organising the books that you so seem intent on disorganising." Father Samarin rolled his eyes at Sister Stella's scolding, Penelope and Matilda exchanging smirks. "But I move when I smell cake."

Father Samarin frowned, though this time with confusion, and Penelope felt this would be the best place to jump in. "I-I wanted to thank you, thank you both, for all your kindness for the past few months since being here and I got you some cakes and biscuits from Wooler's Whole Bakery." Penelope then gestured to the box in her hands.

"Oh, Penelope, you did not–"

Sister Stella cut in quickly as she marched over to where Penelope stood and bopped her nose. "I knew you were a good egg." Retrieving the box from Penelope's hands, she shrugged her shoulder towards the alter. "Come along, we can all snack on these treats together."

Matilda grinned and followed after Sister Stella. "Should we not get the spare table from the back?" Father Samarin wondered, though his flat tone indicated that he knew it was a loss cause.

"Oh, we're not in service!" Matilda laughed, which seemed louder as it bounced off the walls of the church, and assisted Sister Stella in clearing some space on the altar table.

Father Samarin exhaled a long breath. "This is going to be a long Christmas." Penelope pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter, and Father Samarin narrowed his eyes at the action. Reaching over, he gently clasped her hand that was the one covered in a bandage. "What happened?"

"Oh…" Penelope bit her lip, straightening her back as she followed her script. "I was blowing out the candles in my room and I believe some of the wax got on my hand."

This time Father Samarin's hum was of deep disbelief, his face almost an exact match to that of Lord Crokebane, and even Thomas, when they first heard the lie.

"It's not even that deep, the bandage is just a precaution," Penelope assured as she retracted her hand. "I'm fine."

After another hum, Father Samarin gave his natural smile. "I suppose this Sunday will be your last service with us for a good month?"

A sad smile lifted Penelope's face, and she nodded. "Unfortunately so, which is probably the singular downside of our escape to Nettles Cottage."

"Do not fret, the Christmas service is much like any other service. Only with more people."

"Speaking of which," Penelope turned her full attention to the priest. "I've been called The Girl of Crokebane several times today. Care to explain how your title got around?"

Father Samarin suddenly had an interest in the recent Christmas decorations that hung at several points in the church. "I do not know what you mean there, Miss Featherington."

Penelope snorted. "I'm starting to believe you may be a bigger gossiper than Sister Stella."

"No one is as big of a gossiper as Sister Stella."

"Hey!" They whipped their heads to where Sister Stella and Matilda stood at the altar table. "This is a small church, you know!"

Father Samarin and Penelope shared a laugh. "How are you doing? Since the Bridgertons have returned to their home?"

Sighing heavily, Penelope sat on top of the benches near her. "Adapting, I suppose. I miss Eloise dearly, but I am satisfied with the fact it shan't be too long when we see one another again."

"And your constant correspondence will help ease that ache." Father Samarin reassured with his kind smile.

Before either of them could say anything else, Matilda called out to them. "You two better get over here, or there will be none left for ya!"

When the sun began to settle more in the distance, Father Samarin commanded the two girls to head back to Silver Birch. He did not like the thought of them being on their own let alone at dark. So with last parting words and goodwill for Christmas, Lux and Blackburn had their riders saddled and made their way down the familiar route to Silver Birch.

Feeling warm and content with the day's events, Penelope and Matilda did not hurry their horses back. It was a causal trot through the fields as the two girls chatted and laughed with one another. However, feeling something cold run down her cheek suddenly, Penelope halted Blackburn.

Matilda followed suit with a focused look on her lady. "What is it?"

Gazing above, Penelope held out a flat hand and a soft laugh winded out of her. "It's snowing."

Joining in with the laughter, Matilda followed Penelope's action. "Well, definitely a fine way to end our Christmas shopping day. Your first northern snowflake."

Penelope grinned, continuing to let the northern snow fill her with joy.

The next evening, with all the gifts wrapped, Penelope and Matilda began packing her belongings for the stay at Nettles Cottage. Matilda was exceptionally helpful with this, as she had been to Nettles Cottage many times before and knew of the activities that the Crokebanes got up to during the month away.

Along with two valets under the service of Lord Crokebane and Thomas, Matilda and Ms Jameson were part of the limited staff that the Crokebanes brought with them to Nettles Cottage from Silver Birch. From what Matilda briefly explained as well, Ms Jameson would often leave strict instructions to the maids and servants still working at Silver Birch to make sure it was still running smoothing on their leave, and luckily for them, they worked hard and did everything that Ms Jameson directed.

There were staff at Nettles Cottage also, which was why the staff they were bringing was limited. And from what Matilda had described, while the Crokebanes held their own intimate gathering, the staff had a Christmas party in their quarters that was mostly forgotten the next day due to the liquor.

The two girls were giggling over one Christmas staff party in particular when a knock sounded on the open door to Penelope's room.

Upon seeing who it was, Penelope gave a wide smile. "Grandmama."

Lady Crokebane returned the sentiment as she wandered into the brightly lit room. "All packed?"

"Almost," Penelope replied as she stared down the trunk that she was kneeling in front. "Mostly books I would like to read, which I am still deciding."

"One would think you've read everything that we hold in our library."

"Almost." Matilda now said with a wide smirk. "She probably only has a shelf… Maybe even half of that." Penelope then proceeded to throw a pillow at Matilda, who only roared with laughter in response.

"Would you mind giving us a moment, Matilda?" Lady Crokebane kept her warm smile as she made her request, hands clasped together at her front.

"Of course, I could do with a break anyway." As Matilda made her way out, she slipped her hand towards Penelope's desk where a plate of sugar cookies lay and took one, to which her lady rolled her eyes fondly at the action.

Once the door was closed behind Matilda, Lady Crokebane sat at the edge of Penelope's bed. "I've spoken to the governess at Hinderside," leaning away from the trunk, Penelope shifted in her position on the floor. "And after much discussion and debate, she has agreed to the idea of the Woods joining us for a few days over for Christmas."

An impossibly bright smile took over Penelope. "Oh that's–"

"Penelope." Lady Crokebane lightly interrupted, her smile fading a little as she grew serious. "However, the governess expressed her concerns."

"What concerns?"

"Concerns about you." Lady Crokebane hesitated briefly. "She's growing concerned about the level of attachment that you have for the Woods, and they for you. She's concerned it might not aid them in adapting to life at Hinderside, and may give them unrealistic expectations."

Penelope felt a deep frown caress her face. "What unrealistic expectations?"

"That you will someday take them in."

Her whole body still, Penelope just stared at Lady Crokebane.

"Do not worry about it too much for now," Lady Crokebane reassured her stunned granddaughter. "It is something we can assess in the future, but I just wanted to let you know that it is something that the governess is concerned about." Penelope just gave a short nod. "I shall leave you to the rest of your packing. I'll send Matilda back to you."

With one last parting smile, Lady Crokebane left the room and Penelope with a heavyweight.

After a long day within the stables, ensuring there was enough stock of food and other necessities for the stable men at Silver Birch, Thomas had collapsed on his bed. He did not recall undressing for sleep, he did not even think he managed to take off his boots. All he remembered before his subconscious took over was his head gleefully hitting the pillow.

So, it was no surprise that his mind was less guarded, and the lifelong dream occurred once more.

It went as it had many times before. A battlefield. Men, many men, rushed passed, causing him to be knocked down. It then followed with the latest additions of that worn-out wooden house, with Penelope banging on the window from the inside.

"Thomas!" She would scream out several times, and then Thomas would wake up.

However, he was taken aback that he managed to start to move, his body keen to reach his cousin.

It was brief though, as something about the ground below caused him to halt any movements.

Glancing down, he no longer saw the faint grass, masses of dirt and splashes of blood. It was water–a lot of it. As if he was standing in the middle of a lake. Frowning, Thomas whipped his head back up to see Penelope, the house and the battleground completely gone. It was just him, standing in masses of water that almost reached the height of his knees.

"Hello?" Thomas's voice echoed out. "Is–"

He went to move again, but this time his legs did not shift. They could not. As if they were stuck, and quickly eying below, he soon found the reason as to why. The water was now ice, freezing legs into one place. Using all of his strength, Thomas tried to pull his legs out, and in doing so, lost his balance, his body hurling towards–

Springing up in his bed, Thomas gasped, eyes wide in his dark room. Taking a sharp look towards his window, curtains not yet closed, he saw it was still very much nighttime.

With a soft groan, Thomas flopped backwards on the bed, his mind swirling with confusion over his dream's latest developments.

Notes:

Preview of the next chapter:

"Do you truly believe that is how society sees you?"

I have decided against releasing the next chapter name as it is a spoiler

Chapter 35: Chapter XXXIII: A Letter To A Featherington Girl

Summary:

Colin is relieved by recent updates.

Notes:

Hello lovelies! Welcome to Week 2 and HAPPIEST TUESDAY! How are you all doing btw? I feel like I rant so much about how shit life gets, I forget to ask you how you all are doing? Hope your week so far has been going well.

Right, not many people are going to be pleased with me over this chapter as there is some miscommunication happening. All I can say is that Colin does not get his writing abilities from his mother :P Either that, or naive Colin wants to hope for the best outcome...

But I do love this chapter as we get a hint of what is to come with Colin and his development. So I hope you don't stay mad at me forever 3

ANNOUNCEMENT:

There will be additional notes now with TRIGGER WARNING, especially with the next upcoming chapter.

Fun Fact #28:

I am currently working on a new Polin/Peneloise/Featherington Family story that I am aiming to publish between the ending of P and the start of C (so I can allow some breathing room between the first and second instalments of the trilogy). The one aspect I will reveal is that it is going to be set within modern era (well, I think it will be set in 2013 but that's just a rough idea).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Colin arrived in Greece, he admittedly did not remember the first few weeks. Bonding with a few other gentlemen on the ship to his destination, he spent the majority of September to October drinking and partying with his new friends. He did not go into details of what transpired, Victor, Henry and Killian knew his sorrows were down to heartbreak. Colin was grateful that they did not press for more information, as his heartbreak was more complicated than anyone could understand.

The situation with Miss Thompson–now Lady Crane, as he keeps trying to remind himself–should have been the first answer. The deception and scheming that initially went unnoticed still truly troubled Colin and opened his eyes to the fact of how right Anthony was about him. He was incredibly green with absolutely no experience with women or the ways of courting. For all the seasons he had been out in society, he thought he understood it. The dances, the talking, the interest. He thought he understood what was genuine interest and what was littered with false pleasantries.

So, when he first locked eyes with Marina, Colin felt his whole body heat up and his heart race. As they spoke, and she said all the right things and responded in a way that appeared to be genuinely interested in what he had to say, he felt settled for the first time in his life. That he understood what his father felt all those years with his mother.

But then the news of her deception–her pregnancy–was unveiled and when he last saw her, he realised instantly whatever he felt for Marina, whether it was lust, adoration, or possibly love, was a fictionalised tale played by puppeteer and he was foolish enough to be her puppet.

As he came to that conclusion, other reasons for his heartbreak flooded in.

He remembered, as if it were yesterday when he met Penelope. Her bright yellow bonnet threw him off his horse, and the playful teasing between them once it was firmly established he was okay. How he was delighted to learn that the shy but bright little girl had already met his mother and younger sister, Eloise, and was fast friends with the latter. He did not fully understand what it was about Penelope Featherington, but no matter who you were, she always made you feel seen.

There was one particular memory of Penelope that stayed with him. It was sometime before he went on his travels to Ireland, and Penelope's mother had given her permission for Penelope to stay for a few days at Aubrey Hall. It was rare for that to happen, as it was well known that Portia Featherington had a certain… Distaste for her youngest daughter, something that Colin could never understand. But Eloise, instead of requesting her best friend to ask her mother, this time round went straight to Violet Bridgerton. She hoped if the request came from another adult, a Bridgerton adult, that Lady Featherington would be more inclined to accept it.

While she was the most annoying sister, Colin would never insult Eloise's intelligence, especially when she turned out to be correct in her assessment.

So, on her first night at Aubrey Hall, Colin was surprised to find her in the library.

Well, maybe it should not be too surprising, as Penelope reads just as much as his second sister. But it was well past midnight, and after the long travel it took to get to Aubrey Hall, Colin imagined she would be resting.

But as he tiptoed into the library, he jumped at the surprised gasp upon his entrance.

"Colin!" Penelope gasped out, dropping a book that she held onto the ground, creating a soft thump.

Placing a hand over his chest, Colin took a deep breath. "Pen… Whatever are you doing down here at this time?"

"I-I-I-I'm so-sorry!" Penelope rushed to collect the book from the ground, returning it home onto one of the shelves in the library. "I-I did n-not me-mean to–"

Quickly but calmly, Colin approached Penelope and stopped her ramblings with a gentle grasp of her shoulder. "Pen, I apologise. I did not mean to come across as scolding you. I was just surprised to see you down here so late."

Penelope let out a shaky exhale. "O-okay. I–"

"If you say you're sorry one more time, I shall be forced to inform Eloise you are searching the library without her."

A bright red blush, from what he could see in their held candles, covered Penelope's cheeks. "Of course. S–" She swiftly closed her lips, biting the bottom, and emerald eyes clashed with sky-blue eyes. Before long, soft laughter echoed through the library. "S-sleep could not fi-find me, or I c-could not find it," Penelope confessed as their laughter died down. "I c-could not find comfort in this new environment." Her eyes then widened, "N-n-not that this is a st-strange place! J-just that–"

Colin, who had just realised his hand was still perched on Penelope's shoulder, gave it a soft squeeze before releasing it. "I understand Pen. I often have the same difficulty on my travels."

Blush was still intact, Penelope relaxed a little. "I-I was hoping to find something to re-read to help ease the comforts of sleep." She then nervously glanced up at Colin. "W-what of you?"

Colin sighed, tiredly. "Restlessness. My travels to Ireland begin next week, and I find myself anxious as the time looms closer."

"Excited an-anxiety?"

Tension rose in Colin's shoulders and a frown dug deep into his features. "Not exactly. I do look forward to it, as I do with any of my travels, but Anthony… He has pressed me, as he always does, to look towards the future. To excel in something. To do something with more importance, as I am neither the heir nor the spare. Just a useless extra limb."

"H-he said that?" Penelope's voice was laced with sadness.

"He inquired about my future and what I wanted to do after I pursued my boyish travels and when I ran out of money. The rest of what I said was… Implied and based on how society sees me."

"Do you truly believe that is how society sees you?" Colin met Penelope's gaze, whose eyes were lit with confidence and a certain stubbornness that he had not seen before. "Because I can assure you Colin that the exact opposite is true. Society sees you as another charming Bridgerton, just waiting for you to take the country by storm."

A twinge of a smile crossed Colin's face and a disbelieving hum came from him. "Even so, Anthony is right to question me. Besides travelling, exploring the world, I… I do not have any ideas of how to support myself in the future."

Biting her bottom lip once more, Penelope considered her next words carefully. "We-well maybe… M-maybe something on your travels will give you an idea of what you can do. Alongside that… You are doing something that not many people have the ability to do. Whether due to duty or finance… Yo-you are experiencing life in a different format that some people only dream of. A-and maybe that is what you need to do before you settle into a future purpose. S… So you can look b-back on no regrets."

As her speech went on, a gentle but bright smile embraced Colin's features. "That is a very wise way to see that." Then his eyebrows narrowed slightly as he considered one part of Penelope's speech. "Would you like to? Travel?"

A thoughtful expression grew on Penelope's face. "I–I… If given the opportunity, I-I would love to see more of the world. More of England. Some of the folklores that I read with Eloise largely originate from the north, and I would love to see it. B-But I do not be-believe it will happen." She then gave Colin a bright but nervous smile. "Wh-which is why I loved hearing so much of your travels up there l-last year. Es-especially in York, where there is a whole lot of history there."

"Truly?" Colin found himself surprised. "I did not believe anyone was really listening when I spoke of my travels."

"Then they are missing out."

Colin blinked with surprise before a grin widened his mouth. "In that case, I do have some more northern tales for you if you are interested. Maybe they might inspire sleep to find you sooner."

"I hi-highly doubt that," Penelope stated.

Soon, the two were sat by the window as Colin regaled all his travels in northern England to Penelope. And true to Penelope's word, she did not get tired and grew more fascinated with each story Colin told. The only reason they had to stop was because the sun had started to rise outside, and Colin was concerned with servants finding them unchaperoned. He did not want to risk Penelope's reputation, so advised her it was best for her to return to her room before they were spotted. Penelope looked disappointed by this, a sentiment that Colin shared, but understood.

However, just as Penelope was about to sneak away, Colin called out to her. "Thank you. For listening. For being… Pen."

Penelope gave a soft smile. "I-I… I-I l-look forward to h-hearing your Ireland travels."

Fortunately for both Colin and Penelope, she did not have to wait long. During his travels, it became apparent that his travel letters were met with less enthusiastic responses from his family, Colin found himself writing to Penelope. He knew it was improper, and was half-expecting a scolding letter from Lady Featherington, but he could not help it. He had first done it under the disguise of wanting recommendations since her family was from Ireland and she had visited them a few times, but really… Ever since that midnight chat, he felt a bond with the youngest Featherington girl in a way that he could not fully understand nor fathom. Maybe it was completely selfish of him, but when he was writing to Penelope, he felt he truly could be honest with his thoughts, opinions and stories and not be shamed in any way.

And when he locked eyes with Miss Thompson, he thought it was destiny in a sense. That he and Penelope would now be family, and he could continue their unconventional friendship without any negative implications.

Now, he realised how that added to his foolishness with the situation that developed. His green, immature perspective on love and courting alongside his selfish desires to continue his friendship with Penelope ultimately led to her banishment. A banishment that could have been avoided if he had just simply shut his mouth and listened to his friend's concerns that evening within the Featherington home.

Heartbreak over his betrayal of a true friend had hindered him more than the betrayal of Miss Thompson's deceit.

And the self-pitying party that he had developed in his first few months of being in Greece was truly pathetic.

It was November when he first started to pull himself away from his wallowing and try to enjoy where he was. Initially, it was difficult, as he felt a hollow ache within him no matter what he did. When it came on so suddenly at the end of October, in the midst of drinking with his friends, he couldn't understand where it came from. It was as though Zeus had struck him with a thunderbolt that he could not shake off.

He first thought that maybe it was the universe's way of waking Colin up. Pushing away from his dark cloud and start exploring where he was blessed to be instead of his numerous heartbreaks. But as he went from village to village, seeing beautiful scenery after beautiful scenery, the hollow ache was still there. It had lessened as November was slowly going into December, but it was like something within his soul was trying to tell him of great importance.

So, by the time he returned to Athens, reuniting with his friends, the discussions of Christmas came up.

"I, unfortunately, have been commanded to return at once for Christmas," Killian told the men at the table as they drank their evening liquor. "My rat-ass father holds a Christmas party and has stressed that me not being there will darken our family's image. As if his constant sleeping with associates wives does not do that."

"Could you not tell him to sod off?" Victor questioned, feeling the most sympathy for their travelling companion as they had similar backgrounds.

"If I want him to cut me off, sure." Killian let out a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately, I need the rat-ass's money."

"Luckily, my father does not care much of what I do." Victor leaned back into his seat. "I could go pissing in the Thames and he would not blink an eye. The privileges of not being the heir, as well as not being high in the wealth and station."

Henry, who was the most quiet out of the four of them, tilted his head at Victor. "I gather you are staying for the holidays."

Victor nodded. "While I came here for business, I will like to stay longer for pleasure."

"What about you two?" Killian glanced between Henry and Colin. "What are your plans?"

Henry was the first to answer. "I shall be heading back to England also, if you want to return together. I miss my family and… As well as Miss Alice."

All three men smirked at the blushing man. "Ah, it's always a girl that always drags a man back to his homeland." Killian raised his glass to Henry. "I would be delighted to return back with you my friend."

"And what of you Bridgerton?" Victor turned his head to Colin. "Are you returning to the depths of winter in England, or are you going to stay with me, enjoying the pleasures of a foreign land?"

Colin hesitated, his fingers trailing up and down his glass. "I suspect strongly my mother will demand I return for Christmas. As she has done on each of my travels, and I've never been very good at denying her requests."

Victor grunted with slight displeasure as Killian grinned. "I guess it will be the three of us returning to the glum lands."

It was a few days later, as plans were settled for next week to return to England when Colin received a letter from his mother.

Letters from home had been… Complicated. He first wrote letters to everyone, telling them of his travels and how much he missed them. However, as always the responses were not enthusiastic, even less than before with everything that happened in the social season. What made it even worse was one of Anthony's letters, advising him not to write to either Eloise or Francesca. He briefly explained Francesca needed a bit of time to process everything that had happened, and that she would reach out when she was ready. Eloise though…

Anthony did not have to explain why he should not write to Eloise. Colin knew it was foolish to write to her, especially with all the uncertainty of Penelope's whereabouts.

Despite Colin's questions, Anthony had given no updates about Penelope, leading to further heartbreak and despair on Colin's end. Understanding that the less they knew of Penelope's condition, the less they will know in the future.

And with that worry, came anger towards Lady Featherington. While he knew, a little, that Penelope suffered from mistreatment, he foolishly did not realise to the extent until her banishment.

It made him realise that while she was a true friend to him, Colin was never a true friend to Penelope. As he was blind and oblivious to so many things. In turn, though, he was grateful for Eloise.

The whole situation shined a light on how much Eloise was a true friend to Penelope.

Over the weeks of November, he noticed there was a lack of letters from Violet Bridgerton. Normally she writes to him once a week, checking on him and his wellbeing. As any mother would when their child is an ocean away. However, there was an absence of letters for the majority of November, and it seemed that Anthony took over in that regard, stating that their mother was assisting Daphne with something.

While Colin was confused as to why this would stop letters from their mother, he accepted it. Understanding that Daphne also had a dramatic social season and was probably still dealing with some of the issues from that.

Now it was December and a letter from his mother warmed his heart.

Returning to his rented room, he carefully opened the letter and read its contents.

'My Dear Colin,

I am terribly sorry for my lack of contact in the last few weeks. Something came up that needed my immediate attention. Anthony has assured me that you are doing well and are safe.

He has also told me of some of the places you have been to, telling me your stories and your fellow travel companions and I am delighted that you have found some goodness after all the sadness. And, while it saddens me to encourage this, I want you to continue your travels.'

Colin re-read that last line, his heart stopping for a long moment, unable to fully understand until he moved onto the next paragraph.

'So much of the last season I believe you were pushed into certain actions because you wanted to prove to everyone you held a place in this world. I believe you believed certain emotions that stirred within you because that is what is expected of you. And in turn, that may have made you unaware of your own wants and desires. So, as much as I would love for you to be home for Christmas, I also want to encourage you on your travels. As I truly believe that they make you the most happy and that is what I desire for you all. Happiness.

If you feel you had your fill of Greece and want to come for Christmas, please do. If not… I will not hold it against you for missing out on one Christmas.'

Slumping down on the bed, Colin was lost for words. He knew how much his mother delighted in being surrounded by her children for Christmas, so for her to encourage him to stay if that is what he wanted… It made him love his mother further.

'And, if you need further encouragement as well as emotional assurances, I have an update on Penelope.'

At that paragraph, Colin sat straighter, both hands gripping the edges of the letter.

'Penelope is well. While I believe I shouldn't disclose all the details of what has transpired within a letter, she is safe and is currently in the mourning period along with the rest of the Featherington family.'

A breath, a long and deep breath that he did not know he was holding in, released itself. His eyes watering with relief.

She is safe.

Unfortunately, Colin took that short paragraph in a different context.

He understood it to mean that the anger that Lady Featherington held over the potential scandal of Penelope's decision to reveal Miss Thompson's deception to them was shimmered and had returned Penelope to her care. Maybe this happened as a response to Lord Featherington's untimely death. Maybe Lady Featherington did have some humanity in her and wanted her children close as they went through their mourning period. Or, the more likely, Lady Featherington had Penelope returned for appearance's sake.

Whatever the reason, Colin took in the relief knowing she was well and safe.

An internal debate warred within Colin afterwards. Part of him wanted to follow through with his plans, to return to England with Killian and Henry and be with his family for Christmas. To find some way of supporting Penelope through her mourning period. To try and mend his foolish actions of the previous season and have his sister look at him with no more distaste.

However, as he thought more and more about this, one question popped through: What good am I?

What did his first weeks in Greece consist of? Alcohol, gambling and loud, unhinged music. Yes, he had begun to see a bit more of Greece recently, but that was a quarter of what he originally planned. And what had he truly learned from last season? In what ways has he grown from the harsh lessons that life duelled out for him?

That key memory with Penelope, sitting at the window, telling her the stories of his adventures in the north of England, sparked in Colin's soul and he knew he was not ready to return. Not until he took her advice and saw what was out there in the world. To live without regrets. To not let the heartbreak of Lady Crane's trickery cloud his privilege of being where he was presently.

In doing so, maybe his growth can finally shine through.

Maybe then, in his return for the next social season, he can finally step up and be the true friend that Penelope rightfully deserves.

"You're staying?" Victor grinned happily that evening as the four of them had dinner with one another.

Colin nodded, equally happy. "My mother has encouraged me to stay travelling. She knows how much I enjoy it, and, after the happenings of the last social season, she wants me to enjoy some space from everything."

"Damn," Killian muttered mournfully. "I wish my parents were that encouraging."

"Either way, I am glad to still have a companion over the festive season!" Victor raised his glass and everyone proceeded to tap their glasses with one another in celebration.

Days later, after saying his goodbyes to Killian and Henry, Colin found himself restless. While he knew Penelope was now safe and was most likely back with her mother, he found himself wanting more assurances. He understood why his mother did not want to detail everything that had happened, as grief and mourning possibly brought up horrible memories for her and wanted to respect Penelope's and her family's process of doing as such. Especially in the manner of death.

That did not stop him in his response letter, as well as telling her he was taking on her advice to stay put and enjoy his time in Greece, he inquired further into details.

After that, he briefly drafted a letter to Eloise, before quickly throwing it away. As one of her siblings, he knew better than anyone it was best not to provoke Eloise further in regards to Penelope. He had a lot to make up for in the next social season to both his truest friend and sister.

Upon returning from exploring the ancient buildings, he felt that hollow ache within him mount and sitting at his desk, he found himself writing a letter.

'Dear Penelope,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I understand you and your family are still in the midst of your mourning period. While I know it does not mean much, I am terribly sorry for your loss and I hope you now can feel some resemblance of comfort being back at home.'

Reading over that paragraph, Colin shook his head and threw the paper away, starting anew.

'Dear Penelope,

While I would like to say I hope you are well, I understand you are still within your mourning period. I know that nothing is well for you now, and will not be for some time. Just know you have my unwavering support and understanding.

I will understand though if my letter and condolences are of little pleasure to you as they have been in the past. I am sure Eloise has told you all that happened after your mother sent you away for a time, and I understand this is the furthest from your priorities, please know how terribly sorry for how I acted. For not listening to you. For not believing your claims about Lady Crane initially. I cannot explain my reasons other than I was a fool, and then a fool who only wanted to do the right and honourable action.

I would like to write, as well, that I was a fool in love, but as the distance has been made from England, I do not know if that is true.

Whatever reasoning, it does not excuse how I threw away your loyalty and bravery and I cannot thank you enough for your actions, and give you my sincerest apologies for how I behaved.'

Colin then found himself hesitating, knowing it would be ideal to leave the letter there and hope that Penelope would be merciful and respond, even if it was a brief "go away" letter.

However, as he slowly realised over the last few months in regards to his friendship with the Featherington girl, he was extremely selfish.

So he wrote about his day seeing the ancient buildings of Greece and the history, excited at the prospect of sharing it with someone who enjoyed his travels instead of saying "that's pleasant" that his family had said to him in a few letters.

After writing a few more pages, Colin sealed the letter and the next morning had it sent to the Featherington house.

He did not expect to write to her again a few days later. And a few days later after that.

Even when he got no response.

Notes:

Preview of "From The Streets To The Bucket":

"You cannot be serious."

Chapter 36: Chapter XXXIV: From The Streets To The Bucket

Summary:

Eloise goes Christmas present shopping.

Notes:

Hello all! Happy Thursday! It's update day! I'm sorry if this chapter seems rushed or short. I did struggle to get into the chapter at the beginning part, and when I went to edit it, I was unsure of how to fix the opening. I fell in love with everything else in this chapter, and I do feel it was an uplifting chapter, but the start of it does not match it. So, sorry if it does not flow great at the start, and that it is short. I do promise though the next Eloise chapter will be longer.

On that note, also, what does everyone think of Beatrice? I'm thinking of having her as Eloise's permanent lady's maid. She's older, but she can handle Eloise's strong personality :P

TRIGGER WARNING:

Violence towards animals, attempted killing of animals, attempted drowning.

Fun Fuct #29:

Cats symbolise mystery, independence, intuition, curiosity and grace.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Violet Bridgerton was displeased to learn that Eloise had not yet got presents for her siblings. Well, not all of her siblings. While out in the north and they had their shopping day at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Eloise did consider Christmas presents. Along with getting a new quill for herself, she managed to get a few new ones for Anthony, knowing he went through the things more than she did. And with Benedict, she got him some new paintbrushes. She even got something for Daphne, begrudgingly. Penelope spotted a scarf that she believed Daphne would like and encouraged Eloise to get it for her, as a way to mend their bond.

The only presents she was stumped on were for her younger siblings and mother.

So when Eloise asked for permission to do some very last-minute Christmas shopping, Violet shook her head in disbelief at her daughter's lack of preparation but granted Eloise to go to London for the day with Beatrice and a footman so she could get what she needed.

Arising early for the day, Eloise made the trek with the maid and footman, John, to London for a horrible day of shopping.

A few hours in, Eloise only had one success.

"Your lady mother will be the most happy with her newest perfume," Beatrice assured as they exited the perfume shop, seeing Eloise's uncertainty as she glanced down at the perfume bag.

"Perhaps." Eloise breathed out, "I've never been the best in gift giving though."

"Gift giving is never meant to be easy, Miss Eloise." Beatrice replied, her voice soothed with an older woman's authority. "It's a way to express thoughtfulness as well as love and admiration. And that takes consideration."

"I do not think getting perfume is a way to express those things."

"Maybe to you, no. But the perfume is of your mother's favourite flower," Beatrice pointed out with utter patience. "And you know how much your mother enjoys gardening."

Eloise nodded. "Before I explore any more thoughtful gifts, I think I need a long walk of fresh air. The smells of all the perfumes are creating an ache in my head." Beatrice laughed softly and agreed with the Bridgerton girl's assessment.

Walking deeper into the city, Beatrice and John were inquiring over some materials at one of the Christmas markets, with Beatrice encouraging John to get the item for "his girl". Despite being stood off to the side, Eloise kept being stumbled into by the masses of other late Christmas shoppers. With a roll of her eyes, she found herself wandering down the street, eyes on the ground and hands tucked behind her back. A few minutes in though, just as she was about to turn back and return to her spot so as not to be lost by Beatrice and John, the brickwork on the ground changed.

A stone pattern that rang a bolt of familiarity within Eloise.

Halting in her steps, she stared down at the bricks below them and was flabbergasted from when she last saw it.

"Miss Eloise?" Beatrice called, rushed footsteps raging towards Eloise. "You must not wander off–Miss Eloise?"

Heart racing, Eloise picked up her pace of walking and went deeper into the neighbourhood where the stonework bricks led into. Staring up at her surroundings and, while it was not the exact images from her perplexing dreams, they did look similar. Especially with the alleyways.

"Miss Eloise!" Beatrice's voice rang out, breathless, as she and John caught up to where Eloise was numbly stood. "Miss Eloise you must not run off like that again. Anything could happen. Most definitely in this neighbourhood."

Eloise snapped her green eyes to Beatrice. "Whatever do you mean?"

John then decided to jump in. "This is not a place for a high-ranking lady such as yourself Miss Eloise. We should return to the safer areas."

Suddenly, before Eloise could question them further, another voice called–no, screamed–out, causing them all to jump in freight.

"HELP!" A voice screamed out, "SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP!"

Without thinking, Eloise pushed against the heels of her feet and ran down one of the alleyways from which she correctly guessed the voice originated. She ignored the pleas of her maid and footman as she sped down the alleyway and to another part of the neighbourhood.

It was then she saw who was calling out for help.

There was a small girl, who could not have been any older than little Mae, frantically banging on the front door of a small attached house. She was crying, shaking with panic, as she continued to shout out for help.

"Hello!" Eloise quickly approached the girl, and the young girl jumped at Eloise's sudden presence. "What's wrong?"

"He's going to kill them!" The girl shouted out, her eyes lit with panic and despair. "Please! You have to stop him! You have to save them!"

Eloise froze for a moment with wide eyes, those last words ringing in her ears.

"Miss Eloise?" John called as both he and Beatrice emerged from the alleyway that Eloise came from. "Everything alright?"

All at once, Eloise felt an energy build up within her and she sternly said to the little girl: "Step back."

Following Eloise's instructions, the little girl nodded and stepped away from the door.

Quickly bracing her hands on the frame of the front door, Eloise wasted no time in kicking the door.

"Miss Eloise!" Beatrice sounded more horrified than the little girl did moments before.

Eloise paid her maid no heed, and continued, with all her strength, to kick down the door. It took a few minutes, minutes that felt like hours as the terror of what the little girl was feeling flowed onto Eloise, but soon the door relented and it whipped open.

Charging into the attached house, Eloise was stunned by what she walked into.

There was a man in the kitchen of the small home, a man who seemed to be in his late sixties, kneeling over a water-filled bucket. What seemed at first to be an innocent scene, Eloise soon realised the man was holding something down in the water.

His head snapped upwards upon Eloise's entry and he glared. "Who the hell are you?"

"Never mind me, sir," Eloise growled as she stormed over to where the man was. "What the hell are–"

That's when Eloise spotted it–them–and clarity washed over Eloise about what was occurring.

Without another thought, Eloise pushed the man away, causing him to stumble to his side and release his hold on the being he was holding down under the water in the bucket. With speed she did not know she had, Eloise reached into the bucket and brought out the small, soaked fur being.

Squealing and hissing, the kitten fought briefly in Eloise's hold, believing she was the man who was trying to kill them. However, with an amount of care that Eloise thought she was only capable towards members of her family and Penelope, she held the wet kitten to her chest and shushed it gently. At this gentle approach, the kitten soon slowed down their protests and calmed.

Only distantly aware of people entering the home behind her, Eloise glared at the elderly man. "How could you be so cruel!"

Groaning from his small fall, the man glared right back at Eloise. "It was a mercy. Without their mother, they will die. I cannot afford to feed four more mouths."

Glancing down briefly at the three remaining kittens in a small box not too far from the bucket, Eloise's heart warmed at their young and light meows in greeting, unaware of the fate the man had planned for them.

"I definitely now cannot afford it after you broke down my door!" The man went on, standing fully as he directed his glare to the little girl. "I told you to keep your mouth shut! That this was for the best!"

"Please, Grandpa!" The little girl cried, shaking just like the kitten that Eloise held in her arms. "Please! I'll do anything!"

Just as the man was about to open his mouth with another angry response, Eloise spoke: "How much?"

Silence followed, all eyes on Eloise as she stared up at the man with steer determination.

"W-what?" The man was stunned, unsure of what Eloise meant.

"How much do you want for them?" Slowly standing herself, Eloise met the older man's eyes. "I will take them all, just name your price."

After a short negotiation, John picked up the box that contained three of the kittens as Eloise handed the money that was agreed upon. The man was still displeased by what went down but needed the financial security more than an argument. The little girl, while saddened by no longer having the kittens, was happy to know that they could now live and be cared for.

Briefly stopping by a shop to purchase some blankets, Eloise, Beatrice and John soon returned to their parked carriage and set off for Aubrey Hall.

Staring at the four kittens, Eloise smiled as she took in their various colours. One was a pure white kitten, that seemed to be the most delicate out of the four as she huddled herself in a corner and lightly purred. Another was pure black, and from what Beatrice had quickly assessed, was the only male out of the four. He seemed to be the bravest (or stupid, depending on the perspective), as he attempted many times to crawl himself out of the box, which was amusing to watch. The third within the box, was a mixture of black, brown and tiny flecks of red and was definitely the restless one, pacing around in circles.

The fourth kitten though was one who intrigued Eloise the most, mainly because she would not allow herself to be parted from Eloise. Once dried, the fourth kitten was a pure grey one with sparkling amber eyes that seemed to obverse her surroundings with intense knowledge. When trying to reunite her with her siblings, the kitten hissed, tiny claws biting into Eloise's skin until she relented and allowed her to stay glued to her chest.

Not that Eloise was disgruntled by this. While she could not say she was much of an animal lover, as she stared into the kitten's eyes, she felt something of a bond tying them together.

"Forgive me, Miss Eloise." Beatrice's voice cut in, and Eloise looked over to where the maid sat. "But I have to say, I do not think either the viscount or dowager viscountess will appreciate four strays entering their home."

Eloise let out a long breath, knowing that the maid was right in her assessment. "What else was I meant to do? Let them be killed?"

Beatrice gave a wistful smile. "You have a big heart, Miss Eloise."

"I have seven siblings who would wholly disagree with that." The two shared a chuckle at that. "Besides, I have a plan, a plan that neither my eldest brother nor mother can disagree with, and will make me the best sibling out of the lot."

Intrigued, Beatrice quirked an eyebrow. "And what is this plan?"

"I needed three more presents," Eloise nodded to the box of kittens. "And I have three kittens."

Whilst she may have been confident enough when revealing her plan to the maid, as they grew closer to Aubrey Hall, the more uncharacteristically nervous Eloise became. Before she knew it, the carriage slowed to a halt outside the entrance of Aubrey Hall and she whipped around to Beatrice in a slight freight.

"Quickly!" A hushed whisper came from Eloise, "Throw a blanket over the box."

Beatrice followed Eloise's command, lightly covering the box and being careful that it did not stop any air from entering. With only one hand to spare, Eloise grabbed another blanket to cover the kitten to her chest, who let out a low groan in protest but thankfully did not fight it.

Soon, John opened the carriage door and gave a confused look at the blankets covering the kittens. "Not a word." Eloise ordered John and he nodded in agreement, aiding the two out of the carriage before he left to park the carriage away with the driver.

Making sure Beatrice was secure in carrying the box, Eloise led the way into Aubrey Hall, and as she wandered through the halls with Beatrice close to her, she ran into her mother's lady's maid.

"Do you know where my mother is?" Eloise asked, the arm that held the grey kitten shifting a little due to ache.

While the lady's maid looked curious at what Eloise and Beatrice were holding, she did not comment on it. "I just left her miss. She is with your older brothers in the viscount's study. I believe they are going over some paperwork that the viscount needs aid in."

Nodding, Eloise thanked her mother's lady's maid and marched in the direction of where the viscount's study was. However, once she was outside the closed door, a new bolt of nerves startled through her. She was even more startled by a hand grasping her shoulder, and she looked over to Beatrice's reassuring gaze.

"Trust in yourself, Miss Eloise." Beatrice advised, "That way, you cannot fail."

With another nod, Eloise knocked firmly on the study door.

"Enter!" Anthony's voice boomed out, and Eloise could detect a hint of frustration in his tone. This was proven upon her entering and seeing her eldest brother sitting at his desk, with their mother and Benedict leaning over near him as they scanned a particular document.

Violet smiled widely upon seeing her second daughter. "Eloise. Productive day I see."

Sparing a glance towards Beatrice, Eloise gave a chuckle. "You could say that."

Anthony let out a frustrated grunt. "I'm sorry sister, but you'll have to excuse yourself. I need to get this sorted before the day's end."

Steeling herself, Eloise pushed back her shoulders. "I'm sorry Anthony, but this cannot wait."

Everyone then looked at Eloise, all holding expressions with varying degrees of concern. "Everything well?" Violet questioned before her eyes caught the box that Beatrice was carrying. "Whatever have you got in there?"

Eloise briefly cringed. "The day has been… Unexpected."

Anthony frowned at the term. "Unexpected?"

"Yes, well…" Eloise trailed off, finding a little comfort as she felt the grey kitten stir against her chest.

"You will be very proud of Miss Eloise, my lord." Beatrice jumped in, everyone moving their gazes to the maid, who did not seem too deterred. "She was very brave. As well as thoughtful and kind."

"Eloise?" Benedict was astonished, and Eloise shot a glare at him.

"What happened?" Violet pressed, straightening up her stance as she looked at the two with far more concern than before.

It is then, with one last encouraging look from Beatrice, that Eloise tells the story of her day. From shopping to entering the unsavoury neighbourhood to hearing the little girl's screams for help to kicking down a door and then saving the kittens.

At that last part, Beatrice placed the box on the ground and proceeded to uncover the blanket from them, and Eloise followed suit, revealing the grey kitten latched to her chest.

"Eloise…" Anthony sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "While I admire your bravery, I cannot condone you bringing them here."

"What else was I supposed to do Anthony?" Eloise pressed, growing in frustration. "They had nowhere else to go and I could not in good conscience allow them to be killed for merely existing."

"And what are we to do with them?"

"Well, take them in and care for them." Anthony let out a groan at that and Eloise welcomed the fire that it brought within her. "I'm sorry, how is this different than the horses we hold in the stables?"

"For one they are held within stables." Anthony pointed out, "And do not have the potential of making the house dirty."

"What do you think they are going to do? Roll around in the dirt and track it inside? They are cats–kittens! They are not dogs that Gregory is so insistent on having!"

"At least a dog can be trained!" Anthony argued back, "And do you really think you can manage the care of four kittens by yourself?"

"How simple do you think I am? Actually, do not answer that!" Eloise almost growled, which caused the kitten to let out a hiss in Anthony's direction. "I had been struggling for gifts for Fran, Cin and Greg and I believe the three kittens will be perfect."

"So you're shouldering the responsibility off to your younger siblings."

"It's better than a dog that will bring dirt into the household."

Before Anthony could continue the argument, Violet quickly stepped in. "Enough you two!" Both brother and sister tensely closed their mouths. Eyes on the kitten attached to Eloise, the mother let a smile loose. "While I would not have agreed to this initially, I do think this shall do us all some good. Bring in more light after everything that has occurred."

Anthony glared towards their mother. "You cannot be serious."

"Come on brother!" Benedict gave a manly slap to the back of Anthony's shoulder. "Mama does have a point, and they're here either way. Might as well embrace them instead of sending them back to where they are not wanted."

"Also," Violet added, rounding the desk and slowly approaching the box of kittens, to which her smile widened. "This could be a good lesson to your younger siblings in responsibility."

Anthony's jaw clenched in deep consideration before another sigh left him. "I'll see if anyone within the household staff is an expert on kittens and cats, to see what we need to feed them correctly."

"Thank you, Anthony!" Eloise exploded then, and a rare eye-blinding grin took over as she whipped around towards her mother. "Is it bad luck to give a Christmas gift early?"

"It can be," Violet returned her daughter's gleeful demeanour. "But I do think we've come across a rare circumstance where that is not the case."

Gasps and squeals of delight sounded throughout the drawing room upon the three kittens being presented to Francesca, Hyacinth and Gregory. While the youngest Bridgerton boy was disappointed that it was not the puppy that he so wanted, he very quickly warmed up to the male pure black kitten who matched his excitable nature and named him Milo (he later confessed he had lined up for a dog).

Francesca, unsurprisingly, was drawn to the delicate pure white kitten, and after much deliberation, decided upon the name of Eirwen, which is a Welsh name meaning snow.

(How Francesca even came across that name was something Eloise needed to learn about).

With all energy locked up inside, Hyacinth bonded rather sharply with the only multicoloured kitten of the litter. Since she was named after a plant, Hyacinth proclaimed it was only right that her kitten would follow suit and crowned the restless being as Acacia.

As the excitement of the evening calmed down, the youngest children keeping attention to their selected kittens, Violet sat beside Eloise on one of the settees, the grey kitten curled neatly on Eloise's lap. "And what of this one, sweetheart? Any names that come to mind?"

Eloise pursed her lips. "While I do not hold much interest in the area, I remember how Pen once convinced me to read some tales of Greek Gods and Goddesses." Violet tilted her head as she watched a soft look grow on her daughter's face–an expression she only ever saw when she was with Penelope. "One of the tales was about Prometheus and his punishment. In it, Zeus sent two deity siblings to dull out the punishment and bind him to a rock within the Caucasus Mountains. Only one of the siblings was strong enough to do it, the sister. Bia, the goddess of personification of force and raw energy."

"It would be a perfect name, as you demonstrated enough force when you kicked down that door."

Eloise snorted. "She too had enough personal force when I first got her out of that bucket."

Violet's smile faltered at that. "That must have been awful to come across."

"It was not pleasant." Eloise breathed out, her hand gently caressing the grey kitten–Bia. "But it worked out, did it not?"

"Yes, it did." Her mother agreed, "And as much as I would want to tell you off for putting yourself in possible danger, I am proud of your bravery. Not a lot of people would have done what you have done today."

With a small shrug, Eloise shot her mother a small smile before returning her attention to Bia nestled on her lap.

In a fit of frustration and exhaustion, Anthony threw the documents off the desk and stood up abruptly from his seat. Benedict, who was just behind him trying to assist him, barely had time to stumble backwards to avoid being a victim to Anthony's trusted chair.

"Brother–" Benedict began but was swiftly cut off.

"I am failing Benedict." Anthony grounded out as he stalked towards the windows, staring out into the darkened evening.

"No, you are not failing Anthony." Benedict tried to reassure with strength in his tone that he did not know he was capable of. "This is a complex issue that cannot be solved in one day."

Anthony whipped around, face red as emotion grew in his dark green eyes. "And I cannot solve it if I do not have all the necessary information. Information that seems to only appear when I am close to solving it. Information that I know that our father would've known right from the get go!"

"You cannot know that." Benedict argued calmly, "While it's understandable to see our father as this great and knowledgeable viscount, it's also very plausible that he probably would've struggled with similar issues."

"None that he ever told us. That he ever told me… Or had the time to." Anthony let out a long breath, his shoulders slacking and he ran a hand down his face.

Slowly approaching Anthony, Benedict clasped his older brother's shoulder. "Call it a night brother. Get some sleep and, hopefully, fresh eyes in the morning will be able to aid."

After giving a reluctant nod, Benedict bid his goodnights and left the viscount's study. When finally alone, Anthony was intent on looking over the documents once more, to see if there was anything else missing. Bending down to the ground where the documents laid, Anthony's gaze narrowed slightly as he realised the documents were not the only things he threw off.

Standing back up, his lips tilted upwards slightly as he re-read the letter he received a week after Eloise and his mother's arrival at Silver Birch.

'Dear Anthony,

While I know you will probably say it is unnecessary, I want to still give my deepest gratitude for permitting Miss Eloise and Dowager Viscountess' trip to Silver Birch. My cousin has already shown signs of improvement.

I am in your debt.

Sincerest regards,

Thomas Crokebane'

A thoughtful frown cast across Anthony's face before his eyes lit up. Taking a few steps back to his desk and sitting back down on his chair, he whipped out a piece of paper and a quill, quickly scribbling down:

'Dear Thomas'

Something was different about her perplexing dream that night. Eloise could not identify it instantly. She just knew it was different. Stumbling down the alleyways, it was when she entered the small open area filled with business establishments that she understood what had changed.

The view of the dream, the picture, the vitality, it had become… Blurred.

It was not all unclear, but the edges of what she could see, and the small details that were so bright before, were all now becoming specks of blurs. Even the whispers that followed her through the alleys to the open area became more difficult to hear than before.

The perplexing dream was slowly fading from her subconscious, and while she knew she should be relieved by this, a mixture of dread and confusion weighed heavily on Eloise's stomach.

However, just as the dream was naturally coming to an end, the hard-to-hear whispers suddenly stopped and were replaced by booming footsteps. Just as she whipped around to the source, she whipped awake in her bed.

Taking in the shapes of furniture within her room, Eloise let out a long breath of relief. Not for the perplexing dream, but that it was not yet time to awake as Beatrice was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly feeling something soft brush against her arm, Eloise yelped and her eyes immediately darted to the source. Another relieved sigh, Eloise petted Bia who had been sleeping beside her for the night and slowly relaxed back down on her bed.

A smile grew as Bia then proceeded to make a home on the top of Eloise's chest, purring with contentment as the two relaxed once more.

Notes:

Preview of "Escape to Nettles Cottage":

"Welcome to the Scottish Borders, Pen."

Chapter 37: Chapter XXXV: Escape to Nettles Cottage

Summary:

The Crokebanes travel to the Scottish Borders

Notes:

Hello all! Happy Thursday! And today is another update! I just want to say, before we get into the chapter, there might be some historical inaccuracies in this chapter. Mainly to do with Hadrian's Wall. If there is, or how it is presented, I apologies. I was going to take it out from the chapter since it is a small scene, but I just loved the moment too much. 3

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Right, so there will be a repeat of Week 1 next week. I do this out of kindness as if we end on the chapter that is meant to be on the Thursday of the planned Week 2 you will be left on a horrible cliffhanger that you'll have to wait for a week to get resolved. While I love my cliffhangers, I'm not that cruel with them ;) So next week will be Week 1 again and then followed by the usual pattern. Hopefully, you will understand why this has been done when the chapter is released :D

Fun Fact #30:

I am currently learning Italian 3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A roar of frustration collapsed from Thomas as rings of laughter and victory came from his cousin, and little from her grumpy dark horse. While they were the losing party, Thomas could feel amused energy flowing from Adaline at his frustration of defeat. Slowing his steed to a steady trot, he watched with annoyance (and mild amusement) as Penelope and Blackburn did a victory lap around the small gathering of trees upon the tiny hill.

The sun had only broken through the misty morning when the Crokebanes and a limited number of staff members (Matilda, Ms Jameson, his and his grandfather's valets, and one footman and carriage driver) started the journey to the Scottish Borders. Luckily, while it had snowed a little over the past few days, it was not heavy enough for it to set so there should be no delays in getting to Nettles Cottage.

However, in preparation for the travel to Nettles Cottage, one predictable problem arose.

Blackburn.

It came as no surprise to either his rider or Thomas that the black horse did not like the idea of being tied to a carriage alongside another horse just as much as he did not like the idea of being separated from Penelope.

While ideas were floated about how to deal with this, there was only one solution. That Penelope would ride Blackburn to Nettles Cottage.

It was not an ideal solution, as while Penelope had become a capable rider, the journey to Nettles Cottage would normally take four to five hours, and that was a lot for one ride. However, it would be quicker if Blackburn was not tied to ride along the carriages taking those who were not riding to their destination.

So, the next solution was that Thomas and Penelope would ride their horses to Nettles Cottage, getting there before the carriages with their grandparents and their limited staff did.

While neither grandparent was thrilled with this plan, they agreed to it, knowing there were staff at Nettles Cottage to greet them upon their early arrival.

So, once the carriages set off, as did Adaline and Blackburn with their riders, who seemed determined to enjoy their freedom within the northern fields and had continuous races, Blackburn quickly became undefeated.

Thomas held up his hands, a defeated chuckle escaping him as Blackburn trotted himself and Penelope closer to where he and Adaline stood. "Right, no more! I do not think my fragile male pride can take anymore!"

Blackburn snorted at that, Adaline a crackle and Penelope another laugh.

"It is good that you are self-aware enough to admit that." Penelope praised, to which Thomas stuck out his tongue. "Maybe I was too soon in speaking that."

With a roll of his eyes, he indicated for Adaline to trot once more, with Blackburn closely (as closely as he could tolerate anyway) beside them. "How is your hand doing?"

"Depends," Thomas saw in the corner of his eye that Penelope flexed the gloved-covered hand in question. "Is this a genuine concern question, or an instruction from our grandfather?"

"You know it pains me for you to think that my concern is merely an instruction by our overprotective grandfather." Penelope shot him a look, to which he bemusedly shook his head. "Fine. He may have requested that I keep an eye on it since the bandage was only removed the night prior."

Penelope scoffed lightly. "He said it himself that it was only a light burn, and that it should be healed over in the next week."

"Yes, that was Doctor Crokebane saying that," Thomas said, shifting his cloak slightly to let some cold air reach his overheated body. "The concern comes from Maximillian Crokebane, the grandfather. Especially since we still do not know how that burn came to be."

Penelope's shoulders shagged down. "As I told you both numerous times, I must have simply–"

"Penelope." Thomas halted Adaline in her steady trot, with Penelope and Blackburn following suit. "While we may have not been in each other's lives for very long, I know when you are lying."

The redhead frowned. "And how do you know that I am lying?"

"Because whenever you tell us how you were burned, you give a guess or a 'must of' explanation, instead of stating it as facts." Thomas gave a tiny smirk just then, "And also, a physical sign is that your bottom lip tenses."

"No it does not!"

"You are just demonstrating my point."

Automatically, Penelope places her hand over her bottom lip. "For the love of God!"

Thomas laughed in response briefly before returning to their serious discussion. "I do not know why you have lied about the burn, but I trust and believe that you will tell me when you are ready to do so. Grandpapa on the other hand…"

"He does not trust me?"

Shaking his head, Thomas once more motioned for Adaline to start trotting once more. He considered his next words carefully as their horses rode in a steady speed. "It is not trust, it is more rooted in fear." At Penelope's growing furrow between her eyebrows, Thomas continued. "With the manner of which of how both our fathers died, as well as his mother, he is concerned that with all the stress you may have…" Thomas trailed off, unsure of how to word the next part of the sentence.

Penelope stared at him for minutes, in total confusion, before realising slowly dawned on her. "Wait. You are not suggesting he believes that I may have burned myself deliberately?"

Thomas' wary silence was the answer.

Face becoming impossibly more paler than her natural milk complexation, Penelope rapidly shook her head. "N-n-no! O-of course n-not! W-why would I-I–"

Thomas raised a hand to stop Penelope's stumbling rambles of protest. "I know that cousin. I know you did not do it to harm yourself, Grandmama knows that too. Grandpapa… He knows rationally, somewhere in his overly wired brain, that you did not intentionally harm yourself. But fear is not always rational, and with the recent track history of us Crokebanes, he is fearing the worst. Especially since you are not a great liar."

Penelope sighed, the weight of the discussion hitting her hard. "I-I…"

"Pen, this is not me trying to force you to tell me what occurred. I would never do that. But… I know you are still getting to know our grandfather, I think you understand he is not the most… Affectionate man to exist." Penelope snorted a chuckle, to which Thomas grinned. "A way he shows his care and love through his grumpy, wired mindset is through worry and fear. I'm not saying it is logical, it just… How he is."

Nodding, Penelope adjusted her hands on Blackburn's reins. "I-it is hard to imagine, sometimes."

"What?"

"Be-being cared for. Being loved."

Thomas' grin now turned into a soft, bittersweet smile as he gazed at his cousin. "Well, you are. Loved. You always have been, even when you have not felt it." The two shared a familial smile with one another before Thomas nodded ahead of their trail. "Come on, we are not too far from The Big Run."

"The Big Run?" Penelope was exasperated, to which Thomas gave his trouble-making smirk and indicated for Adaline to speed up with her pace.

Following her cousin's lead, the two lightly ran through a few more fields, the cold air being a welcome touch, and soon enough Thomas slowed back down to a halt.

Halting also, Penelope narrowed her gaze on Thomas' continued smirk. "What is happening here?" Without giving a verbal answer, Thomas simply nodded to the distance ahead of them. Looking out, Penelope struggled for a few minutes, not seeing whatever her cousin was gesturing to. However, just as she was about to question his sanity, her eyes widened with both wonder and delight. "Is that…"

"Hadrian's Wall." Thomas confirmed, "Once we cross that, we should only be merely an hour away from the borders. Maybe even less, depending on our speed."

"I've heard so many tales about the wall." Penelope breathed out, "And I remember how Eloise became fascinated, for a time, over its history."

Thomas briefly hummed before his troublesome smirk directed itself at Penelope. "How about one last race? The first to jump over that wall wins all races for life?"

Penelope could not resist the challenge, Blackburn letting out a determined gruff as she straightened her position on him. "On the count of three?"

Leaning forward on Adaline, Thomas began the countdown. "One…"

"Two…"

Suddenly, Thomas kicked Adaline into a speedy run. Penelope's mouth opened in shock and Blackburn gruffed with annoyance.

"Very well."

Soon, the world became a blur to Penelope as Blackburn raced to catch up to the cheaters. It did not take long, as despite they're head start, Adaline's speed was at no match for Blackburn's and they soon overtook the two.

It was a race, a challenge between two cousins, but neither Thomas nor Penelope could take the race too much to heart. They enjoyed the competition, but they were never at the level of competitiveness as Penelope had always witnessed among the Bridgerton siblings.

Their joyous laughter and shared smiles were proof of that.

Hadrian's Wall got closer and closer until it was merely inches away. While there was a momentary panic within Penelope about what was to come, as she had never jumped with Blackburn, Blackburn overrode it and proceeded with action.

A squeal that was a mixture of delight and freight left Penelope as Blackburn jumped over the wall, landing on the other side with an effective thud.

Now across the wall, the horses calmed down into rest, with their riders in fits of laughter. Struggling to contain their youthful enthusiasm.

"Welcome to the Scottish Borders, Pen." Thomas had said the moment their horses crossed the rough line between Scotland and England.

Penelope knew it was stupid to believe and think that the atmosphere between the two neighbouring countries immediately changed. It was pure fiction to believe such things. It is what writers wrote to draw the reader into suspense and excitement. It was what myths and legends drew from. It was exactly that though. The atmosphere, the winds, the energy… It changed.

The feel was a stark contrast to that of the South, which was so busy with activity, noise and people that it was difficult to even think. It was not too dissimilar from the north, which thrived on the silence on the yards of empty lands and quiet mysteries buried deep in its grounds. However, the mystery of Scotland's energy was that buzzed light, even with the cloudy weather, and Penelope felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, as if someone–or something–was watching her.

Maybe it is time I stop reading about myths and legends, Penelope thought as she followed her cousin through the borders of Scotland.

"We are close," Thomas assured her after some time of their horses lightly trotting on, "However, if you'd like, there is something I would like to show you before we get to Nettles Cottage."

"What is it?" Penelope questioned and knew quickly, from her cousin's excited grin, that she would receive no verbal answer.

Another half an hour passed and soon they were engrossed within a woods area. It was unlike the woods that she and Blackburn briefly strode through around Wooler. It was more… Closed in. The trees were closely aligned, making it difficult for their horses to navigate through it. And, upon peering up, Penelope could imagine, within the spring and summer times, that the tree leaves would block out any daylight.

If she were on her own, Penelope could easily see herself being scared, even if she were with Blackburn. As the feeling of being watched increased the moment they entered the woods. However, she trusted Thomas with her life and knew he would not be willing to bring her through here if there was even a chance of danger looming.

"I was ten when myself and a few of the maids' children first found it," Penelope looked over to her cousin whose expression held a twinkling smile. "It was in the summer, when the sun truly showed itself, and our grandparents decided to have a fortnight trip to Nettles Cottage. We were exploring the nearby woods and we found it."

Before Penelope could question Thomas on what they found, she was rewarded the answer in the present realm.

A gasp was locked into her throat, sky-blue eyes widening as she took in the scenery.

Surrounded by the natural elements of the woods that they were wandering through, sat a lake. An almost perfectly circular lake, with a few of the edges holding bushes. The trees that were the closest to the lake had their cores and branches leaning over it, as if they were guarding it.

"It's beautiful," Penelope breathed out, her eyes discovering new little details by the second.

"We named it Nettles Lake since it was not too far from the cottage itself," Thomas informed her with pride. "It was perfect for fishing, we soon discovered a few summers later. Though, from the looks of things, that won't be happening on this trip."

Eyes narrowed, Penelope looked to the lake itself and, eyes on where the water met the solid ground, saw what Thomas was referencing. The winter weather was now affecting the lake, and with snow just around the corner, Penelope knew it would not be long until ice would completely form over the lake.

"We better get moving," Thomas patted Adaline's neck before nudging her in the direction. "I can imagine these two needing some rest now."

Penelope nodded with agreement, fully intending to follow after her cousin before a sound stole her sole attention.

It was a snap noise, though it was hard to discern what the snap was in conjunction with. A twig? A bundle of leaves? A branch setting loose from a tree? Whatever it was, the sound seemingly only reached Penelope as she whipped her head over her shoulder towards where it came from. Eyes narrowed, they faintly caught the figure of–

"Pen?" Thomas called out, causing the redhead to whip back to where Thomas was waiting further on. "Everything well?"

Seemingly lost for words, Penelope looked back over her shoulder and to see–

Nothing.

Whatever she just saw was now gone.

"Y–Yes…" Penelope responded after a moment of searching. "Ev-everything is well."

Nettles Cottage was not what Penelope was expecting, though she believed her expectations were biased in some sense. She imagined, since this was a Crokebane home, that it would have the same dark stonework as Silver Birch Manor. Dark but comforting. A hidden warmth. While she was told the cottage itself was bigger than what a usual cottage was, she had not expected the design of it.

Built within a mixture of light grey stones and light yellowish wood, the cottage reminded Penelope of cottages she imagined when reading fairytales, though on a much grander scale. Mouth ajar as they slowly approached Nettles Cottage, she did not notice a man exiting the front of the building, wearing golden brown clothes to represent his loyalty and occupation to the Crokebane family.

"Charles!" Thomas greeted, pulling Penelope away from her gawking to finally see the man, who appeared to be in his early fifties, approaching the two with a friendly smile. "It is good to see you."

"And it is good to see you, my lord," Charles ducked his head briefly in greeting, and soon his dark but warm eyes fell upon Penelope and flashing with something that she could not quite understand. "You must be Miss Penelope Featherington. My Lord and Lady's youngest grandchild."

It took Penelope a few moments to spring away from her awe and actually respond to Charles. "Y-y-yes. Th-that is me, sir."

Charles just chuckled. "Just Charles, Miss Penelope. I am the butler as well as groundskeeper of Nettles Cottage." Penelope simply nodded, eyes trailing back to the cottage itself. "It is truly something, is it not?"

"It's memorising." Penelope exhaled.

"I shall get you some warm drinks and food prepared as you two settle in," Charles informed them both, giving a quick bow before retreating into the cottage.

"Follow me, cousin," Thomas lightly ordered. "Let's get these two into the stables before we collapse with exhaustion.

Once they settled Adaline and Blackburn in the stables, and Penelope fed her dark horse (who was not pleased by the closed-in space that Nettles Cottage had in comparison to Silver Birch), Penelope was given a quick tour of Nettles Cottage by her cousin and the butler/groundskeeper. Despite its massive appearance on the outside, the inside was much smaller but… still massive? It had fewer rooms than Silver Birch Manor, but more than the Featherington House in Mayfair. The rooms were fewer but still large–much larger than in Silver Birch, with high walls, windows and doors. The light seeping in more than even she had witnessed at Aubrey Hall, adding a magical glow to each room she saw.

However, halfway through the tour, both the Crokebane cousins let out loud yawns and Charles promptly then showed Penelope to her room, which was directly across from Thomas'.

Penelope did not spend too much time exploring her new temporary room as she immediately laid out on the bed. While it was uncomfortable napping with a corset, Penelope was too exhausted to care.

An hour or two later, rested and fed, Penelope found herself where she would be in her room at Silver Birch Manor. Sat at the windowsill that looked over the front of Nettles Cottage, knees up as she leaned her dark green leather journal against her thighs. Quill follows the progression of her thoughts.

'Dearest Colin,

I remember your first letter to me about your travels to Ireland. I know you only wrote to me for recommendations, but I was so joyous I did not even care for the true purpose of the letter. It may have been improper, but your letters for the rest of your time away are just as precious as the letters from Eloise.

It was just not simply hearing from you, but your stories. While I do enjoy Ireland, I did not come to appreciate it as much as you inspired me to do so. How you described the towns and villages you visited, the scenery of the lands… It was as if you were seeing something that no one's eyes were yet capable of.

Due to the essence of my womanhood, I never thought that I would ever see as far as Mayfair, or Ireland. Though, as I write this, I will confess that I did not even see much of Ireland–which was why my recommendations were probably so lacking. However, life has rewritten my story and not only have I seen the north but now I am residing at the Scottish Borders, at Nettles Cottage.

Overwhelmed is what I feel, as well as intense feelings of awe. Nettles Cottage is a true beauty… Which makes it hard to believe that it holds its own section of darkness in its history.

In'

There was a knock on Penelope's room door and, swiftly closing her journal, she straightened up in her seat before she called out. "Come In!"

The door opened, and Thomas let out a loud and long yawn. "All rested?"

"Well, I am." Penelope giggled at the state of her cousin.

Thomas rolled his eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. "I did not want to over nap. Grandmama would never let me hear the end of it if I was not conscious for their arrival."

"I will admit, I was sorely tempted to over-nap myself. While I much love Silver Birch, Nettles Cottage…"

"Silver Birch is a comfortable home that you always find yourself drawn back to, whereas Nettles Cottage is a comfortable paradise, perfect for when you truly want to shut yourself off from the world." Thomas theorised simply, to which Penelope nodded with agreement. "Silver Birch is my home, but I will admit I do have far more comfortable sleeps here."

A light frown crossed Penelope's lips, but before she could question her cousin on his statement, a noise sounded from outside. Thomas fully entered her room as she peered out the window to see what was happening.

"Ah, the old people have finally arrived."

"And Matilda," Penelope added, to which Thomas smirked and nodded in a way to gesture to her to follow. "Give me a minute, I won't be far behind."

Thomas gave a final nod before leaving the room. Removing the quill from her journal, Penelope closed it up properly and placed it under a pillow on the windowsill. Smiling as she saw her grandfather grumpily exit the carriage, she quickly followed after Thomas.

Due to the long length of travel that day, once the Crokebanes had fully settled into Nettles Cottage, an early dinner was ordered so bedtime could come much faster. However, as Lord Crokebane was preparing to join his wife in their bed, he found himself restless.

It was not out of the ordinary to feel so out of shape in the first few days of his month off. On the contrary, his wife dubbed the first week the "Grumpiest and Restless Doctor In Existence" week. Thomas simply just said it as "his Grandpapa being an irritable arse". It was not natural for him to have days off. He would have Sundays off, as forced by Cecilia, and then days off for certain social events that they–meaning his wife–would agree to attend. But most of his calendar year was spent responding to calls for medical assistance or emergencies. His blood ran hot with healer urges and it wasn't something he could blow out as easy as someone would a candle.

Much to his amusement (and possibly karma) was that he saw the same instance growing in his youngest grandchild, Penelope. While he knew there was no medical need for Penelope to have a week off for her burn, the grandfather's instincts won out and wanted to play the situation safe. He saw how the week went on how restless Penelope became, just as restless as he is now. He only hopes that she does not follow his path and overwork as much as he does.

Cecilia is probably correct in the statement that being a doctor will kill him one day.

Wandering down the corridors with a lit candle in his hand, he hoped that a few rounds around the cottage could release some of the energy built up inside.

On his fourth round around Nettles Cottage, he saw a small light flickering within the library. The room was not as big or packed as the library in Silver Birch Manor, only had four bookshelves with a seat cramped against the window. It was a gentle, kind room though, and the best time to be hiding in there–according to his memory of his aunt's explanation–was the early morning, as the sunrise hit perfectly into the small library.

Narrowing his gaze, his light pace picks up with purpose and soon he is standing in front of the ajar door to the library, his sky-blue eyes lighting up as he spots who is inside.

"It's good to know I am not the only restless being tonight." Lord Crokebane pushed the door open more as he spoke.

Penelope jumped slightly at the suddenness of her grandfather's arrival and twirled to meet his grumpy but warm expression. "Grandfather. What are you doing up so late?"

"Funny, I just had the same line of inquiry about you."

Giving a light smile, Penelope adjusted her fingers around the candle she held. "I could not sleep. First night in a new place. And none of the books felt like they would send me to sleep, so I thought I might find something in here."

Leaning against the doorframe, in a pose that was achingly similar to his grandson, Lord Crokebane's lips tilted into a smirk. "And how is that going for you?"

"About as well as you can do amid darkness, using only a candle that you have to be careful does not catch fire to anything."

"So not very well?"

"Not in the slightest." The two shared a light chuckle before a yawn took over Penelope. "But it seems the idea was in vain. Exhaustion is seemingly finding me."

Lord Crokebane gestures his head out into the corridor. "Come on. I'll walk you to your room."

Approaching him, Penelope sends him a grin. "Is there something I should worry about that requires assistance to my room? Is there a shadowy man waiting to jump out and strike–" Now fully out in the corridor alongside Lord Crokebane, Penelope cut herself off with wide eyes as she remembered where she was. "Oh, sorry. Terrible and classless joke there."

Letting out an amused snort, gently closed the library door before giving a flick of his hand. "Do not fret too much. I've heard worse within these walls, as I assume you know a man that goes by the name Thomas Crokebane."

Penelope giggled at that, falling into step with her grandfather and they slowly made the journey to the staircase that was located near her room. "Is it not difficult for you? To be in a place where…"

"If I were to avoid every place where a loved one had tragically died, I would not be able to reside at Silver Birch." While the statement was direct, Lord Crokebane's tone was gentle. "Admittedly, when I first came here when Aunt Irene was… Taken from us, it was strange. Aunt Irene truly made this place her own when it was gifted to her and it was heartbreaking to not have her dancing through the halls anymore."

"Dancing through the halls?" Penelope glanced up at her grandfather and was stunned momentarily to see, even through the tiny lighting of their candles, the most softest expression coating his face.

"She often did it when she was stuck over a treatment for a patient or a new medicine or remedy idea. She liked to believe that childlike moments such as randomly dancing were the true sparks of getting the mind to work."

"Sounds freeing," Penelope commented as they approached the staircase and Lord Crokebane waited to one side for her to go up first. "I started reading about her in volume two of our family's history. Her story sounds just as unbelievable as Darelene's, Lawrence's and Zachary's. Mainly to do with her being involved with the Jacobite Rising. You do not often hear of a woman going to war. Even if it was just on a medical basis."

Lord Crokebane grunted as he followed Penelope up the stairs. "While we Crokebanes are often exceptions to rules, that was a first for us. I do believe, though, that if it had been a war with a foreign country, it would not have been allowed."

"I wish I would've known her. I would've loved to hear what it was like for her."

Lord Crokebane did not reply until they both reached the next floor. "She did not tell me a lot, unfortunately, but I do know it was not easy for her. Not just because of The Crokebane Instinct… The male troops did not believe in her nor liked her much." Penelope frowned at Lord Crokebane who just gave a shrug. "Men, especially soldiers, do not believe women have the stamina or mental strength to handle such jobs."

"Did they know that one of the first Crokebanes was a female warrior who fought for William the Conqueror?"

A burst of loud laughter erupted from Lord Crokebane then, an eagerness shone in his eyes. "Aunt Irene did inform them of this just after she threw a knife at one of the soldier's heads." His laughter continued as he watched the look of astonishment grow on Penelope's face. "My father told me that sometime after her death, and she tried to say it was by accident, my father guessed it was intentional. Either way though, she earned the respect from the soldiers that point onwards."

Penelope shook her head. "Eloise would've loved to have met her also."

Soon, the two were standing outside Penelope's room, and a surprised yawn then came from Lord Crokebane. "Well done granddaughter, you somehow managed to transfer your exhaustion onto me. Your grandmother will be proud."

With a fond roll of her eyes, Penelope opened her room door and stepped inside. "Goodnight grandfather."

"Sweet dreams Penelope."

Whatever Penelope was expecting on her first official day at Nettles Cottage, it was certainly not the buzzing activity she entered into upon awakening and going down for breakfast. Maids of Nettles Cottage were flying up and down the corridors, cleaning different rooms and sections to the point where Penelope felt she needed to step in and help. However, when she reached the dining room, with Matilda giving a short wave before joining in with the frantic maids of the estate, she found only Thomas in it.

Hunched over the dining table, the morning sun hitting directly over his back giving him a light glow, Thomas was between eating his breakfast and reading the newspaper. A fond smile drifted over Penelope's lips at this common sight. Thomas had never struck her as a reading-the-newspaper-man, but he did so every morning for breakfast. She had asked him once why he liked reading it, to which he shrugged.

"Just become a habit," Thomas had stated, "though I do it more now than before. With everything that has been going on in France."

Clarity overcame her at that. While everything with Naploan was very much outside of England, it was slowly drumming up concern. The conversation reminded Penelope of when she asked him about combat and sword training he does.

"War surrounds us always cousin. There is even a war happening right now. So we never know when duty will call upon us."

Anxiety loomed over Penelope as she realised that Thomas was preparing for the possibility of going to war, like so many Crokebanes had before him. And, because of that, she often found herself staying longer at St. Mary's Church, praying for any war to subside so the possibility of losing her dear cousin would not come.

So lost in her thoughts, Penelope did not realise she was still standing in the doorway until Thomas glanced up and smiled at her. "Cousin. Good morrow! Sleep well?"

Pushing her concerns to one side, Penelope walked over to the dining table and took a seat opposite Thomas. The table was much smaller than the one at Silver Birch and briefly reminded her of the Bridgerton's home–the small table that welcomed the intimacy of family. "As well as can be expected within a new location." Thomas, who had taken a large bite of his eggs, hummed in response. "What is with all the activity this morning?" Suddenly, a maid appeared with Penelope's breakfast and tea before quickly disappearing.

Thomas takes a respectful amount of time to fully eat his eggs before answering. "The Lennox's are coming for dinner tonight."

"That's tonight?" Penelope nearly shrieked.

"It's very last minute, Grandmama did not know until this morning." Closing his newspaper, seemingly finished reading it, Thomas leaned back in his seat. "Apparently, Mr Lennox and their eldest son, Bryce, have important business in the run-up to Christmas and tonight was the only day they could spare before seeing them at the New Year's ball."

Penelope nodded, understanding the heightened business around the Christmas period. While she did not know much of what the Lennox family's business was, from the rough tellings from Lady Crokebane, they were in the business of trade outside of the whole of Europe. Matters have been somewhat complicated as of late due to the happenings in France, which was the reason why Penelope knew of what the Lennox family's business operated in as she discussed her childhood friend's, Beverly, frustration over her husband and son's distress.

"Well then," Penelope started as she swirled her tea with sugar. "Best make this an enjoyable night for them."

Thomas always had to hold back his amusement or laughter whenever social gatherings or events they attended happened. This is because of his grandfather, the Lord of Silver Birch and the great doctor of the north. He was at his absolute grumpiest when being social was a requirement–especially if forced to do so by his stern wife.

No matter how much he tried as well, and Thomas believed his lord grandfather had given up trying decades ago, he could never hide how much he wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

Thomas would even take a bet that he would much rather be back on the battlefield.

Standing shoulder to shoulder between his grandfather and cousin, Thomas snuck another glance towards his disgruntled grandfather and was forced to cough as a way to cover up his laughter as a carriage rolled to a stop outside Nettles Cottage.

From the corner of his eye, he saw that Penelope was barely containing a bemused grin.

Just before the footman went to go and open the carriage door, Lady Crokebane whipped her stern gaze to her husband and grandchildren. "Behave. All of you."

Thomas did not try to disguise his short laugh this time. "It's like you have no faith in us."

A grin flashed across Lord Crokebane's disgruntled face as Lady Crokebane gave a snort and roll of her eyes. "I have faith. I also know you all too well."

Lord Crokebane then narrowed his eyes. "Why did you look at me when you said that?"

The carriage door then was opened, and soon a family of seven stumbled out. The first two were the elders, Mrs and Mr Lennox, with Mrs Lennox quickly striding towards Lady Crokebane and the two women fell into a warm embrace.

"Oh Cece, how I have missed you so!" Mrs Lennox exclaimed as the two women stood in a strong grip. "Please promise me now that you will visit more in the New Year?"

"I shall make it my New Year's promise." Lady Crokebane replied, her voice full of emotion before she pulled back. The two women had a few tears of joy roll down their cheeks before Lady Crokebane smiled towards Mr Lennox. "Allister, it is good to see you again."

Mr Lennox gave a friendly smile and nod to Lady Crokebane. "As you Cecilia. Apologies for the short notice."

"Do not fret, we understand what business can be like this time of year." Lady Crokebane's eyes then drifted to the rest of the family hundled behind where Mr and Mrs Lennox stood with her. "I know not many introductions are needed but, as you might see, we have one new addition to our line." Lady Crokebane then gestured towards where Penelope stood, and Thomas had to suppress more of his laughter at how red her face became with the attention. "I would like to introduce you to my youngest granddaughter, Miss Penelope Featherington. Penelope, I would like you to meet my dearest and oldest friend Mrs Beverly Lennox, her husband Allister Lennox, their eldest son Bryce Lennox and his wife Eara Lennox, and their three children, the baby boy Eoin Lennox, the daughter being Grear Lennox and their eldest son, Fraser Lennox."

Thomas noticed how the two eldest ladies shared a look and the tiniest of grins when introducing Mrs Lennox's eldest grandson.

However, before Thomas could think more about it, Mrs Lennox approached Penelope and grasped his cousin's hands. "It's so good to meet you, Miss Penelope. Your grandmother has already told me so much about you and I look forward to getting to know you more."

Penelope gave a friendly, though nervous, smile to Mrs Lennox. "I-I-It's a pl-pleasure to meet you a-also."

Well, Thomas thought warily. This is going to be an interesting night.

It was very late into the night when the social gathering calmed down and everyone retreated to their respective rooms. The Lennox's were staying for the night, due to the lateness of their travel and length to which to return to their home estate.

Penelope was exhausted not physically, as she never felt more awake, but mentally and emotionally. She had hoped to remain in the background of the social gathering, much like Lord Crokebane had with only the occasional conversation out of sheer politeness. However, Lady Crokebane and Mrs Lennox were two determined women and included Penelope in many conversations. It was hard to keep up first, as the Lennox's had varying degrees of Scottish accents, with Eara's being the most pronounced. But Penelope adapted, and eventually, this led to conversations with Thomas, Fraser and Grear, which at some point Lady Crokebane had dragged Thomas away into a conversation between Mr Lennox and his son Bryce, and Mrs Lennox took Grear away as her mother needed her assistance with her youngest brother.

That left Penelope to converse with Fraser on her own, and while she had fumbling beginnings, as the conversation went on Penelope could admit that she quite enjoyed it. Being nine and ten and in line to inherit the family business after his father passes away, Fraser was an intelligent man who cared deeply for the family business and its workers. Alongside that, Penelope found him to be quite funny, regaling jokes he had heard through the shipping lanes or recounting stories from his youth. He even told Penelope a few stories from when he and Thomas were young.

Penelope conversed with every Lennox family member, though she always somehow ended any group conversation with Fraser. Not that she minded, but the amount of conversations for a described wallflower was very draining.

So, when everyone retreated to their rooms, with her physical body very awake, Penelope decided to read to unwind for a restful sleep.

Or as restful as it could be, as her strange dreams were still plaguing her subconscious.

Luckily for Penelope as well, she managed to have a good look around the small library of Nettles Cottage and settled on a book she had not read for some time.

Odyssey.

While her love for Greek tales had died slightly in the last few months, this story had always captured Penelope the most. Possibly highlighting her only small dose of her mother's vanity.

Tucked away on her bed, close to her lit candle, Penelope opened the book with the full intention to read it.

She was however quickly stopped when her eyes set upon the first page of the book.

Outside of the printed title of the book, there was a written note inside. A note that when Penelope read it, it caused her heart to stop.

'To my dearest sister,

You have always read me this story when I was just as short as Mr Kasher is after I tell him a joke. Now it is my turn to gift and read the story to you.

Happy birthday!

Love and loyal as always,

Adaline'

It was safe to say that Penelope did not get a wink of sleep.

Notes:

Preview of "A Talent For Ink":

"Why was I not informed of this?"

Chapter 38: Chapter XXXVI: A Talent For Ink

Summary:

The Bassets arrive at Aubrey Hall for Christmas.

Notes:

Hello all! Happiest Thursday! Just this morning I had no chapter prepared, but seven hours in the library and BAM! Chapter ready to go! :D Whoop whoop! This chapter though is going to cause a lot of conflicting emotions with Eloise's character, but for me, it's understandable why she holds these beliefs. I would also like to state--I think motherhood and marriage are considered an accomplishment. As someone who is still considering whether I want children or not, I applaud the hard work of motherhood. I just wanna make that clear :P

The conflict between Eloise/Daphne will be side-plot within the second instalment as well, and it is to mirror a little of the conflict of the Crokebane sisters, Portia/Adaline. It won't be an exact image as both pairs of sisters have different variations of their conflicts.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Next week, as promised, will be Week 2 with a chapter on Tuesday and another on Thursday. These will be the BIG chapters, so strap in!

Fun Fact #31:

I have recently joined a Novel Writing Group to keep me on track in writing my own novel :D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Please!"

"How many times do I need to say no?" Eloise almost growled out, eyes staying determined on the page that she was attempting to read from. "Or would you prefer for me to say it in French, Spanish or maybe Latin? Or maybe we should go truly old school with the languages and I'll try to say a simple no in Old Norwegian?"

"Please Eloise!" Hyacinth pleaded once more, hands clasped together tightly in a praying manner. "Greg is too busy with his lessons with those ghastly numbers! Fran is trying to perfect her new piano melody! And Ben is fussing over his paints!"

Exhaling a loud groan, Eloise slammed her book shut and gestured to the window she sat next. "What do you see?"

"El–"

"Answer the question."

Hyacinth too let out a groan. "It's our lands, covered in snow."

"And do you really believe we can go out and play in this weather?"

"Greg and I can!"

"Good for you two! But, as you can see, I am currently busy!"

"Girls!" Both of the Bridgerton sisters jumped up at the sudden voice and whipped their gazes to see their mother standing in the doorway of the Aubrey Hall library. "Good grief, I am surprised that the Queen hasn't sent her men to investigate whatever is happening here."

Eloise simply rolled her eyes and flipped her book back open. "Cin was just trying to annoy me enough so I would agree to go out into the freezing cold and play."

"But she's being boring and refuses to!" Hyacinth then adds, believing that their mother would be on her side.

"Hyacinth…" Violet breathes out, closing her eyes momentarily as if asking God's direction and strength. "It is far too cold for you to be adventuring outside. You could possibly get sick or hurt yourself by slipping on the ice and snow."

"But Mama!"

Violet furiously shakes her head, approaching where the youngest Bridgerton stands. "I understand you are restless, but in these conditions, we must take care. If you are truly looking for something to do, I believe Acacia is causing a ruckus in the kitchen."

A tiny smirk lifted Hyacinth's lips. "She likes chasing the mice that are hidden in there."

"An advantage that your eldest brother did not consider when they first arrived." She nodded towards the doorway. "Go on, before Acacia drives the kitchen staff mad."

"It would be true what they say then," Eloise mutters, turning over a page. "Animals do take after their owners."

Eloise did not need to look up to know that her youngest sister was full-on glaring at her.

"Make haste." Violet tapped the back of Hyacinth's shoulder, to which the youngest responded with a huff before exiting the library. "Must you aggravate her so?"

It was Eloise's turn to huff. "I believe that is a question you should be directing to her. I was minding my own business until Cin decided to disturb the peace."

Violet let out a deep sigh but did not disagree with Eloise. Instead, she reached for a chair and pulled it close to where Eloise was perched on the windowsill seat. Blue eyes wandering, they landed on the curled-up figure that was nested near Eloise's feet. "Out of all the kittens, I cannot help but notice that Bia is the most attached to her owner."

It was true. While all the kittens were adored by their owners, and they too returned that affection, over the last week, since the kittens became a part of the Bridgerton family, it was clear that the strongest bond was between Eloise and Bia.

Just like her owner, Acacia was a restless kitten and often wandered off on her own around Aubrey Hall. She would even seek out her siblings, mainly Milo, to play with until Hyacinth found her and went on to play with her owner.

Milo, while he appeared to be as restless as his kitten sister, was the more… Adventurous kitten. A few times, to which Violet called for Gregory, she caught the pure black kitten climbing on various objects and furniture, determined to get to the top of whatever he was on. In a few instances, he was successful, but due to his young age and experience, often struggled to return to the ground. Gregory would be a helping hand there, laughing at his kitten's antics.

Francecsa's kitten was the quietest and most delicate of the four, and Eirwen often accompanied Francesca wherever she went, she also preferred to stay within Francesca's room, or join Acacia in exploring Aubrey Hall.

Bia however was pretty much tied to Eloise's shadow. Wherever Eloise was, day or night, you can be sure Bia was not too far. Violet found herself smiling when she briefly saw Eloise walking the corridors of Aubrey Hall, Bia trailing right beside her. And while she rivalled Eirwen when it came to quietness, Bia could also be a fairly loud kitten. Just the other day, Gregory had accidentally knocked into Eloise, causing the books she was carrying to fall to the ground. Eloise immediately tipped into anger, and in the midst of her yelling at her youngest brother, Bia was hissing and growling in a way that Violet was surprised to hear coming from a kitten as it sounded like something a full-grown cat would produce.

Yes, while all four of the youngest Bridgertons had fairly strong bonds forming with their kittens, Violet could see Eloise and Bia growing in strength each day, and may possibly cause problems in the future.

The tiniest smile lifted Eloise's lips, her eyes unmoving from the page she was reading. "She has a good judge of character."

Violet chuckled lightly. "I believe all the kittens do."

Eloise hummed. "Mama, while I do love the small talk we are engaging in, I do believe it would be best for both parties if we skipped to the point."

With a blink of surprise, Violet straightened in her position on the chair. "Points, actually, my dear." Breathing out evenly, Eloise finished reading the line she was on before closing the book and turning her attention to her mother. "Firstly, I received a letter from Colin, in response to my previous letter." Eloise just stares at her mother and Violet is encouraged to continue. "He has asked for more details about what occurred after he left and about Penelope's wellbeing. I believe it might be best–"

"No."

"Eloise you must let me finish."

"Does that finish include informing him of how we went to Silver Birch to aid in Penelope's mourning for her father and the going-ons in her life?" Violet did not answer, which was an answer in and of itself. "No. While I understood and respected the fact you needed to tell him something, I do not want him to know what is going on with Penelope. After everything that has occurred, he does not get that privilege."

"Eloise," Violet began softly, knowing raised voices would do nothing to solve the problem at hand. "He will find out upon his return for the next social season. Is it truly horrible for him to learn of it now rather than later?"

Dark emerald eyes narrowed, Eloise considered her mother carefully to which Violet found herself shifting uncomfortably. "Remind me, Mama, what occurred after Lady Crane's deception was revealed?"

Violet blinked once again in surprise. "Oh, well, myself and Anthony went to inform the Featherington's that–"

"Apologises, Mama, that is not what I meant." Eloise removed her legs and feet from the windowsill seat, careful not to disturb her sleeping kitten. "I meant what did Colin do after Lady Crane's deception was revealed? Besides him disbelieving Pen and declaring he would still marry her."

Violet hesitated, mildly understanding the trail that Eloise was heading towards. "He asked Daphne to arrange a meeting between him and Lady Crane."

Eloise nodded. "If he were to learn everything that has occurred since he sailed off to Greece, from where Penelope has been banished too and how Lady Featherington did not inform her of Lord Featherington's death, where do you think his first stop will be when he eventually returns to English soil?" Again, Violet's silence was an answer. "Silver Birch. And in the masses of him checking up on Penelope and apologising to her, he will evidently reveal the two details that both I and Thomas had decided to wait to tell her when she was ready. As much as I agree that Colin would, in his own idiotic and simple way, do so with the most honourable intentions, it will also come from a place of selfish desires of somehow trying to make amends.

"And, after everything she has been through, Penelope deserves better than that. She deserves to know everything in conditions that will not hold present pressures to immediately understand and forgive. If Colin is there and is the one to inform her of those two details, I can easily see my best friend and sister fold in any of her anger and sadness in order to accommodate the boy she has loved all these years."

Silence followed between the two, and Violet found herself unable to argue against the points that Eloise had presented. Alongside that, Violet was seeing something remarkably different within her daughter. It was a shame to her own intelligence that she was only now just recognising it, as Eloise had already demonstrated her wit and quick analysing skills. However, it was now Violet saw the depths of Eloise's own understanding of people, at least of their mindset and the actions that would proceed with that mindset.

Violet had always believed the childhood friends of Eloise and Penelope fundamentally worked because they were complete opposites. While Penelope was an empathetic and kind-hearted girl, Eloise was a sharp and headstrong girl. During their time at Silver Birch, however, Violet got to see a side of Penelope that she did not know was there but it was a side unsurprising to her daughter. She was just as sharp and headstrong as Eloise, which she could see working in her favour when in the medical field of work.

However, where Eloise's sharpness and headstrong nature were fired up by her perspective of the world and internal rage, Penelope's was softened by her deep understanding of people and their circumstances.

It was now, though, that Violet saw that deep understanding rang true within Eloise also. Though her understanding was more practical and calculating.

Maybe Anthony should have her in the corner of his business meetings, Violet bemused.

"Very well." Violet found herself saying after a few minutes. "I will encourage his travels and assert that all is well."

Satisfied and relieved, Eloise sat back, leaning against the window as she eyed her mother. "You said there were points for you coming to me. What more is there to go through?"

Violet nodded. "Daphne, along with the Duke, have decided to come to Aubrey Hall for Christmas. I wanted to know how you feel about that?"

"You mean you want to discern if I am going to hit the Duchess upon her arrival?"

Silence was the answer.

"Much to your relief Mama, violence will not be my first tool upon seeing the Duchess. You can thank Penelope for that."

While she should be relieved, Violet narrowed her eyes at Eloise's relaxed demeanour. "And what will be your first tool?"

A cunning smirk flashed across Eloise's lips before her expression turned neutral and her shoulders lifted into a careless shrug. "Avoidance."

"And if that does not work, what will be the second tool?" Violet pressed and could feel frustration build up in her when she was met with silence. "Whatever it is, please make it your last. Do nothing to distress your sister, as that is the last thing she needs right now."

"And why is that?"

Violet gave a gentle smile as she stood. "You'll understand upon their arrival."

A few days later, as Aubrey Hall was alive with activity for the Hastings' arrival, Francesca found herself conflicted. Overall, Francesca was excited to see her newly wedded sister after months of only letter correspondence. There were difficulties in Daphne's recent marriage that the sixth Bridgerton never learned the reasons as to why, but from the happy-filled letters that Daphne had sent her sister's way, Francesca assumed those difficulties had been resolved. She was the most pleased and was excited to hear in person of all the Duchess' responsibilities that Daphne has undergone in the past few months.

However, the conflict came from her sister Eloise. She had calmed down from her rage since returning from the north and seeing Penelope. She knew most of her ire was due to the fact that she had no solid proof that her best friend was well. While the situation with Penelope was not fully well, as she was still going through the grieving process as well as the complex emotions of being banished and forgotten by her mother, Francesca understood that Penelope was in a much better place than before.

Eloise's rage though was still tingling under the surface. Most of it was reserved for the societal rules that they currently lived in, especially towards women. And Francesca could understand that rage. Any woman, if you got them comfortable enough to be honest, could understand that rage. So Francesca never held any judgment to Eloise for that–in fact, she found Eloise quite bold and brave to actually verbalise her displeasure with the current world they lived in.

What complicated matters though was Eloise's rage towards Colin and Daphne. While, on the surface, to many, it would seem Eloise was holding Colin and Daphne accountable for their actions after Penelope's banishment, and they would be right to a degree, Francesca knew her sister nearly as well as Penelope and understood there was more to it.

Colin represented everything that Eloise had grown to despise in the current world. Firstly, he was a man and had many privileges in life that women, even within the high station, could not have. Francesca would even guess that there was an inkling of jealousy of Eloise's continued rage towards Colin, especially now that he was away travelling around Greece and could travel anywhere else upon a whim. Whereas if Eloise wanted to visit Penelope at Silver Birch, it would have to be planned and she would need to be chaperoned, as well as the permission of the head male of her family.

That, along with Colin's misguided honourable actions in the face of Lady Crane's deception, was enough to keep Eloise's rage intact.

Daphne on the other hand represented what Eloise wanted starkly to avoid. She was now married–did not matter if it was happily or contented–with all the wifely responsibilities she always dreamed of having upon marrying a man of the title. Daphne believed wholeheartedly in the abundance of marriage and motherhood, believing it was the holy ground of womanhood. And to Francesca, it is not a horrible perspective to have. While the choices of life were limited for women, at least Daphne is finding happiness with her choice. Not all women could say that.

And for Eloise, this fate is worse than death itself. Eloise strives to be a spinster, wanting to grapple with the controls of her life and destiny instead of it being dictated by the men within or outside the family structure.

To Francesca, she feels Eloise's rage towards Daphne is being further heightened by the fact that Eloise herself is debuting next social season–without Penelope by her side.

So, Francesca is conflicted upon the Hastings' arrival to Aubrey Hall. She is happy to see her eldest sister, but concerned for the rage that Eloise still holds within her heart.

Upon the announcement of the Hastings' carriage arriving, the Bridgertons hurried out front to greet the impending arrivals. However, Francesca hung back a little, waiting for Eloise and she did not have to wait long, as Eloise calmly made her way to the manor's entrance, Bia hot at her heels.

"Are you alright?" Francesca whispered as they followed their family outside. She noted with mild amusement that the grey kitten was still continuing to be Eloise's shadow even outside.

"I am fine." Eloise stiffly stated and soon they joined their family's line and the Hastings' carriage drew up in front of them.

Soon, when the carriage stopped, the carriage door opened and the Duke was the first to step out. He smiled in greeting to all the Bridgerton's, more widely than Francesca had ever seen, before turning back to the carriage and holding out his hand.

Clasping her husband's hand, Daphne stepped out of the carriage and to the solid ground and everyone gasped upon seeing the new Duchess' appearance.

"Well isn't this a joyous surprise!" Benedict examined, his arms spread out with excitement. "I guess congratulations are in order! Again!"

Francesca shared most of her family's happiness as they took in Daphne's visible bump that was currently growing a child inside. They all approached the Hastings couple, offering up their own congratulations, aside from Violet, who seemingly was not surprised, and Francesca quickly guessed that Daphne already told her mother of her pregnancy.

"I'm finally going to be an aunt!" Hyacinth excitedly declared, buzzing with the happy news.

It was then Francesca realised that Eloise was no longer next to her. Understandable since Francesca moved with everyone else to the married couple, but upon looking over her shoulder, Francesca quickly understood the reason as to why.

Eloise was rooted in her spot near the entrance, staring down at Daphne's bump with a dark look.

She knew if anyone else saw this, they would think Eloise was now rageful that their sister was now pregnant. It was an understandable assumption, though Francesca knew better.

She had seen that dark look before, and it was not rooted by rage, but unadulterated fear and impending doom.

She had seen it on that fateful night after their father's death, their mother going into labour and Eloise returning to Francesca's room after an hour of a disappearance, looking shaken to the core by whatever she witnessed.

Before Francesca could gather herself and approach her sister to comfort her, Eloise abruptly turned on her heel and re-entered Aubrey Hall, Bia closely behind her.

Unsure of what to do, Francesca glanced over and met Benedict's eyes. At present, he was the only other person who knew what kind of dark look Eloise held on her face meant, and his expression matched the pit of worry growing within Francesca.

"Why was I not informed of this?" Daphne questioned, her voice heightened with emotion.

It had been some hours since the arrival of the Duke and Duchess, and they were gathered in the Viscount's study along with the Viscount himself, the Dowager Viscountess and the second Bridgerton son. They had simply been catching up with one another, with the Duke and Viscount slowly rebuilding their friendship after their disputes during the last social season. However, when it got to the topic of the youngest Featherington and any updates on her location, the room became unnervingly quiet. It took a few moments, but it was Anthony who disclosed everything that had happened in the last few months.

"We felt it was best my dear," Violet had gently said, "With everything that had happened, I did also not want to stress you."

"How could knowing that Miss Featherington is well distress Daphne?" Simon questioned, one eyebrow quirked.

"It would distress her because she would have been advised not to tell her favourite brother." Anthony stated confidently, showing that he had no remorse for keeping this information away from Daphne's knowledge.

Daphne's jaw almost dropped to the ground. "You mean to tell me our brother does not know about Penelope's well-being?"

This was when Violet quickly stepped in. "He does now, but at the time, since the times were delicate, we felt it was best until matters had settled before Colin knew. Though, he does not know the full details of what has happened."

"Whyever not?" Daphne furiously questioned, and at her family's hesitant silence, she scoffed with discontent. "Eloise."

Benedict let out a sigh, "She did make a good argument as to why not. Plus, she knows Penelope better than anyone in this world, so when dealing with this matter, her opinion is important."

"Her opinion is based on misguided anger towards our brother." Daphne stated with absolute sternness that poked an annoyance towards Benedict. "Surely you all can see that? And yet, you decide to indulge her and continue to punish Colin for something that was never his guilt to carry."

"It's far more complex than that sister," Anthony then looked at their mother, who gave a small nod. "Upon their visit to Penelope's new home, Eloise felt it was best to keep details of Colin's reaction away from Penelope for the time being, so she can properly focus on her grief. She plans to tell all to Penelope upon her next visit alongside Penelope's newfound cousin, Thomas. She does not want to run the risk of Colin disturbing that plan and making matters worse."

"And where is Penelope's new home?" Simon then inquired, "As, I do not know about you Anthony, I would like to improve my connections to the north and I feel that wherever Penelope is could be the key to such improvements."

The Duke and Duchess were then surprised to be met with more hesitant silence, and the latter quickly understood why.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Frustration grew on Daphne's beautiful face. "You are not informing us of Penelope's location due to the fact you wish to keep Colin in the dark? So I will not tell him? How are we any better than Lady Crane and Lady Featherington at this point?"

Violet straightened her back and met Daphne's fierce blue gaze. "The situations are quite different, Daphne. Penelope has done this family a great service with personal sacrifice. As Benedict has stated, Eloise knows Penelope better than anyone and knows it is best to keep Colin away from Penelope for the time being. While I do have my misgivings about this situation, I also know Colin and how sensitive he is. If he were to visit Penelope before she has all the facts and has processed them in a way fitting to her, it could complicate things emotionally for her and I do feel we owe a lot of consideration to her after what she has sacrificed."

Daphne shook her head in disbelief. "Si, please tell them how ridiculous this all is!"

Simon was silent for a long moment, considering his words deeply. "While I do agree all of this withholding information is unnecessary to some degree. However, Daff" reached over to grasp his wife's hand. "The last social season was a lot for everyone, and I think it might be best for everyone to have a breather before everyone can come together and deal with the fallout. I may not know him well, but from what you have told me and what the Dowager Viscountess has also stated, Colin acts on emotion. If he learns now of the full extent of the consequences of the last social season, he will be driven by guilt and want to repair the damage. While that is noble, it can also lead to other consequences that I do not even think Eloise has theorised. So maybe it is best that he continues on his travels with as little knowledge as possible, so when he returns his impulsivity with his emotions will be less rash."

Daphne takes in her husband's wise words and lets out a disgruntled sigh. "I do not like the idea of lying to him when writing to him next."

"It's not lying," Benedict offered, "We have not told you anything so you won't be put in an uncomfortable position. So, you only know as much as Colin does–with a few extra details."

Understanding she was outnumbered, Daphne nodded. "I guess that means Eloise would be more welcoming to me this time round."

None of the three Bridgerton's had a solid answer to that.

It had been two days since the Hastings' arrival at Aubrey Hall, and Daphne had yet to have a conversation with her younger sister, Eloise. On the few occasions she actually saw Eloise, which were all at breakfasts' and dinners, Daphne attempted to make conversation between them or at least rope Eloise in the current conversation. However, the fifth Bridgerton often ignored Daphne or someone intervened, either Francesca or Benedict.

That, coupled with the fact that Eloise would not even glance Daphne's way, told the fourth Bridgerton that Eloise was still bathing in the pits of her rage.

Daphne found herself frustrated by this, which was amplified by her pregnancy. However, as a Bridgerton, she found herself determined to fix it. While it was true that the two sisters never held such a close bond, especially with their differing views on marriage, Daphne felt that in the last social season, before everything with Lady Crane occurred, they were finding some common ground.

And she was determined to find that common ground once more.

After leaving her husband to the bonding time with her eldest brothers, Daphne went on to find a maid who may know her younger sister's location.

"Excuse me," Daphne stopped a maid who was carrying a few folded sheets with her down a corridor. "Beatrice? Isn't it?"

The older woman gave a firm smile and nod. "Yes, your grace, how can I assist?"

Daphne smiled in return. "I hoped you would know where I could find my sister? Eloise?"

A flash of hesitation crossed the older woman's face, but she quickly understood she was in no position to hold back any information. "I believe she's in her rooms, your grace."

"Thank you." Daphne gave one last smile before marching down the corridors towards her sister's rooms.

Once there, she felt disappointment wave through her at seeing an empty room through the doorway, but she was not deterred. She entered Eloise's room and decided to await her sister's return. Not knowing how long that would be, Daphne walked over to Eloise's desk and took a seat on the accompanying chair. In her moments of waiting, eyes wandering over her surroundings, her eyes soon went to the contents upon Eloise's desk.

There were a few papers, letters, to one side, which quickly summarised were letters from Penelope Featherington. But at the centre of the desk, spread out, was a journal of sorts, littered with Eloise's handwriting. Before Daphne could absorb two words from it, however, a voice rang out.

"What are you doing?"

Daphne sprung up, pushing down the groan of pain from her aching back from such quick action, and twirled to meet the hot emerald gaze of Eloise Bridgerton. Before Daphne could even muster a reply, a loud hissing noise was made and her eyes glanced down at the grey kitten that was never far from Eloise's side, who looked just as ready for a fight as her owner.

Eloise narrowed her gaze towards her desk. "Were you reading my private writings?"

Daphne's blue eyes widened as Eloise stormed over to where she was. "What? No! I barely got two words in–"

"So you were intending to read it?" Another hiss from Bia quickly followed after that.

Daphne took in a deep breath. "I apologise sister. I should not have. I was just waiting to speak with you, and my eyes just randomly wandered around."

Eloise did not look convinced. "Speak with me about what?"

Daphne's shoulders sagged slightly. "I've missed you… Last we spoke, we did not end it on good terms and I wish to remedy that. Especially with your upcoming debut next year."

If the older Bridgerton girl thought that would be enough to soften her sister, she was swiftly disproven. If anything, the fifth Bridgerton became more annoyed at the mention of her future debut. "If that is all, then you can leave." Eloise reached over for her journal and tied it shut, away from prying eyes.

"Eloise please," Daphne begged, "These last few months have been so joyous and I so wish to share that with you." She then rubbed her growing stomach. "And I would so love for you to be present when your niece or nephew is born."

Freezing upon that last sentence, Eloise gulped harshly staring away from Daphne before uttering out: "No." She then walked over to where her windowsill seat was, throwing her journal on top of it.

"No?" Daphne repeated, shocked.

Squaring up her shoulders, Eloise whipped towards where Daphne still stood near her desk. "Would you like the same treatment that I gave to Hyacinth in regards to the word no? In French, Spanish, or Latin do?"

Daphne's expression clouded with despair. "Do you truly hate me that much to not want to celebrate my accomplishments?"

"Accomplishments?" Eloise spat out. "You see marriage and motherhood as accomplishments? Please do not make me laugh Duchess! Lady Crokebane, Penelope's grandmother, pretty much rules the lands that are under her husband's name and does so quite finely. That is an accomplishment! Penelope's great aunt, Irene Crokebane, becoming a doctor and being a doctor at war, that is an accomplishment! A woman," Eloise storms over to her small bookcase, grabbing the first titled book with a female writer's name on it. "Managing to get her work published in a world that does not take women's writings seriously–that is an accomplishment! What you have done and are currently doing is something that nearly every woman in this lifetime has done. That is not an accomplishment. That is following the status quo."

Tears filled Daphne's eyes as she tried to regain her composure. "Right. Well. I'll just leave then."

And with that, Daphne hastily made her way out of her sister's room.

That night, unable to find sleep, Eloise finds herself sitting outside, away from sight. Bia is nested on her lap as she lights up a puff and tries to relax her mind. However, her peace is soon disturbed by a snap of a twig. Glancing over her shoulder, Eloise let out a long sigh at seeing who found her.

"Well, we both know you're not going to chastise me," Eloise stated, handing up her puff towards her favourite older brother. "Which means you'll probably join me."

Benedict rolled his eyes, holding a fond smile to his lips as he took Eloise's puff and took a whiff of it. "I've never been one for following the rules, as you well know." He then handed the puff before taking a seat beside her.

"Neither have I, though I have followed Mama's rule tonight." Eloise mumbled, her free hand absently stroking Bia, who purred in response.

"That is a temporary rule to make sure you and Daphne do not attempt to kill each other over the dinner. So it was a good decision to follow that rule as I rather not get blood all over my chicken." Benedict then stared up at the starry sky, taking in the midnight peace.

"Now it feels like you are here to chastise me."

"Could you really blame me, El?" Benedict questioned lightly.

"No. But it's best to remind you that Mother has already properly scolded me for the argument with the Duchess."

"Argument?" Benedict dragged his gaze to Eloise, who was avoiding looking at him. "From what I heard El it was not an argument. It was a destruction. You firmly ripped into Daphne in a way that was not called for."

Eloise took a long whiff of her puff. "I am aware. And I will apologise."

Benedict stared fully at his sister, hearing the truth of her words but was not completely satisfied. "But will you explain?"

"Explain what?"

"Why you had such a reaction?"

Eloise snorted. "I'm the anger-filled Bridgerton, do I need a reason to react as I did?"

"To many people who do not know you, it may seem that way. But I know you, and I understand, after hearing the brief points of what led up to your destruction of Daphne, what triggered it." At Eloise's silence, Benedict softened more and leaned towards his sister a little more, in a way to show comfort. "We never discussed it. Whatever you saw that night Hyacinth was born."

"And do you think that is going to change now?"

Benedict repressed the urge to sigh at his sister's fierce stubbornness. "You cannot keep it locked in El. You need to speak about it."

"I have spoken about it," Eloise murmured.

He was about to open his mouth to inquire who she had spoken this with, but he stopped himself. Penelope, Benedict concluded, I have never hated Lady Featherington more as I do now.

"You can speak about it again if you'd like," Benedict suggested then.

"And if I do not want to?" Eloise asked, her voice now filled with such exhaustion he knew he could not push her.

"Then I shall not push you." Benedict answered, "But know if you ever want to discuss it, my door is always open."

Eloise had no response, only handing back over the puff towards Benedict, who took a long whiff.

The perplexing dream was more blurred than ever. The alleyways she stumbled, and sometimes fell, through were not clear. The area of business stations hurt to look at. And the bucket that often fell to the side was hard to locate.

However, the ending to tonight's perplexing dream's dance was different.

Having fallen through one of the alleyways with unclear sight, Eloise knelt on the stone ground, her body feeling weakened. Footsteps, that often ended the perplexing dream recently, grew closer and louder, so loud that it pained Eloise's ears.

The blurred figure suddenly stood over her, and Eloise squinted as much as she could, but she could not make out the figure's face. Soon the figure's voice–a man's voice–started boomingly speaking.

Speaking in language Eloise could not understand.

Suddenly, there was a loud splash and Eloise ripped her gaze from the blurred figure above her and to the bucket behind her. Unlike many perplexing dreams before, the bucket had not tipped over, and fear rumbled through Eloise.

"Bia!" She weakly yelled out and crawled towards the bucket, reaching in and–

Eloise gasped wildly as she sprung up on her bed. She had no time to adjust to the waking world as sunlight swiftly hit her eyes, and she groaned out in reaction, hands covering her face in protection.

"Oh, sorry, Miss Eloise!" Beatrice called out, closing back the curtains a little to take away some of the sudden light. "I did not mean to startle you."

Shaking her head, Eloise lowered her hands but kept her eyes shut. "No, it's fine. It is not you."

Beatrice let out a low hum, and after a few quiet moments of her opening the curtains fully once more, Beatrice spoke again. "Did you get lost in your writings again?"

Deep frown growing, Eloise blinked her eyes open. "Whatever do you mean?"

With a teasing grin, Beatrice nodded towards Eloise's hands upon her lap. "You have a certain talent for ink on your hands."

Confused, Eloise followed Beatrice's gaze and her eyes widened when she saw ink smudges all over her hands and fingers.

But I did not… Eloise thought, her memory of her night clear. She spent an hour outside, whiffing her puff with her older brother, before returning to her room. At no point did she return to her journal writing, opting for sleep.

"Is everything well, Miss Eloise?" Beatrice asked gently, her concern over Eloise's frazzled state growing. "Another perplexing dream?"

Eloise hesitated in her response, feeling Bia climb onto her lap. "Yes but… I do believe it will be the last."

Beatrice now appeared just as confused as Eloise but found it wise not to question her lady further.

Notes:

Preview of next chapter:

"Miss Penelope's horse, my lord. Blackburn."

NEXT CHAPTER WARNING!

Once again, I have not said the next chapter title for fear it may give away what the chapter contains. However, I will stress that you may want to have some popcorn on you and a pillow. The pillow is there to block out any screams you have at the end (I am currently screaming and I'm only half-way through the chapter). The next two chapters will also be LONG and will provide hints as to where the story is going.

Chapter 39: Chapter XXXVII: Hide & Ice

Summary:

The Woods arrive at Nettles Cottage.

Notes:

Happiest Tuesday everyone! We are back! And with a big chapter today! I believe this chapter is 10k words, so please do enjoy it.

I'd like to say as well though, when I first started writing this story I did not expect it to have so many supernatural/fantasy elements. I knew there would be a little, and playing with the idea of destiny and symbolism. However, as this story world has gone on and I've developed the Crokebanes further, the supernatural/fantasy elements expanded with it. I have truly fallen in love with this tale I am creating with characters I have grown to love, both those within the Bridgerton universe and some of my own creations for this story. It's been a crazy ride so far and, after these two chapters, it's going to get crazier.

I am a writer who likes to have fantasy strongly linked with reality as well, so we won't go full-on magic and witchcraft. As Lady Crokebane stated, I see magic is not just in magical tools or spells, but elements within our souls that grow in various ways. The best magic in the world is that built from kindness, and courage, and other good things within ourselves. And sometimes the worst as well.

So, with that, please do enjoy the magical delights towards the end of this chapter, and prepare yourselves for Thursday. Boy that is a chapter also.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

There will be a gap between the end of this instalment and the next to give myself time to relax and breathe. In the meantime, there will be another Penelope/Polin story released. This won't be a long wait for Polin... At least at first. As I am building the story I am seeing it as a trilogy or saga as well. This one will be based in the modern day and will not be fantasy.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Generational trauma, past family secrets, past traumas, harsh falls, medical drama

Fun Fact #32:

Stags, also known as a hart, simply symbolise stamina, virility, grace, instincts, maturity, regeneration, and spiritual enlightenment. They are also known in many other cultures and legends.

In Norse mythology, they are meant to represent the four elements, the four seasons and/or the phases of the moon. Some have even said they represent the winds.

In Celtic folklore, stags/deers have several stories of them being spiritual figures. They also are a symbol for the god Cernunnos, "The Horned One".

There can even be different meanings depending on the colour of the stag.

A white stag can be seen as messengers from the spirit realm, as well as a moral reminder if the person is veering off the path of righteousness. alongside that, some legends have even had the white stag represent the pursuit of a spiritual quest. A black stag symbolizes mystery, formality, elegance, and rebellion, and a red stag can be seen as signs of good luck and prosperity coming your way.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

'Dearest Colin,

It's been quiet since the Lennox's left. I do not believe I have seen Grandmama so teary-eyed. It goes to show how deep her bond with Mrs Lennox is, who was also teary-eyed upon their departure. Reminded me so much of when I had to say farewell to Eloise and I think the reason why grandfather was successfully able to part his wife from her long-time friend was the fact that they would see each other for the New Year's celebrations.

Thomas has gone into deep slumbers over the last two days, I've only been able to see him when he finally emerges in the afternoon. I do not begrudge him for that. With the care of the horses at Silver Birch and his ongoing training as future lord, I can understand his need for rest.

The lord himself is a restless being–he could give Blackburn a run for his money. The past two days, outside of his nightly wanders of the cottage, he goes out to the nearby towns and villages. Searching the bookstores for… Well, anything and nothing. He is desperate for something to do.

Grandmama… On the few occasions I have seen her, to my utter surprise, I found her sewing. I am so used to her being behind a desk, sorting through documents and writing up papers, I never… It was so strange to see her practising an art that is normally reserved for women.

Though, Ms Jameson was poking fun at how awful my grandmother was at it.

Admittedly, I have been avoiding my Grandmama and, when he is around, my grandfather. Ever since I read that note in The Odyssey… Questions have burned within me. Questions I fear I cannot get answers to. My grandparents rarely speak of their youngest daughter, and Thomas knows little as a consequence. So I can only imagine how they would react to my questioning, especially when it involves my mother also.

Maybe it is a good thing that Peter and Mae will be arriving tomorrow. Maybe they can pull me away from all the confusion.

Love and loyal as always,

Penelope'

Penelope had not moved from her windowsill seat since she watched the carriage transporting Ms Jameson and Matilda just as the sun rose in the distance. She did not need to be up so early, but sleep had truly left her body in the last two days. She had expressed her concerns last night over the transport plan of Peter and Mae, as it had been snowing more frequently. Lady Crokebane had assured her granddaughter, though, that while they would need to be more careful and the carriage journey to and from Hinderside may be longer than regular, the snow was not yet thick enough to stop any type of transport.

But still, with an anxious heart, Penelope watched her beloved friend climb inside the carriage with her aunt and slowly leave the comforts of Nettles Cottage and into the surrounding woods.

She knew that she no longer had to sit here, as the hours that had gone past since their departure meant they were met with no troubles so far. But Penelope found no energy to do anything else, nor did she have anything else to do. Nettles Cottage was clearly a resting spot for the Crokebanes–whether willing or not. So there was nothing much to do other than read.

And that, something she always fondly managed to accomplish with little effort, was now a challenge.

No matter what she read, whether it was the fiction books she brought or found within the Nettles Cottage library, her mind could not focus on the typed word in front but on the memory of a handwritten one. Her eyes occasionally flickered to where The Odyssey was located in her room.

So, after a good hour of trying to grasp a hold of the current chapter she was reading, she was relieved upon hearing a knock sounding on her open bedroom door.

The relief was short-lived.

"Grandmama," Penelope greeted as her sky-blue eyes took in her grandmother's appearance in the doorway. Gently shutting her book, she sat up and plastered on a polite smile. "Whatever brings you to my corner of the cottage?"

Lady Crokebane chuckled, "Well, there is only so much sewing one woman can do. Especially without Emily's assistance. I felt the need to stretch my legs and check up on my favourite granddaughter."

A blush coloured Penelope's cheeks at that. "In all fairness, you have not yet met Prudence and Philippa."

"True, but they have made no attempts to remedy that."

"Again, in fairness, I did not before either. Mama had–" Penelope then cut herself off, her eyes flickered towards her bedside table.

"Penelope?" Lady Crokebane tilted her head and slowly entered Penelope's room, stopping near where the young girl sat. "Everything well?"

Hesitating, Penelope looked up at her grandmother for a long moment. "I… I want t-to speak to you a-about something but… I-I am unsure how you will react."

Slightly narrowed eyes, Lady Crokebane shifted on her feet and intrigue grew on her expression. "Depends on the subject."

Pushing her lips together, Penelope's sky-blue eyes stared and stared at Lady Crokebane, options posing battlegrounds in her mind. However, upon seeing the older woman shoot her an encouraging smile, she let out a large breath. "Very well." Retreating from her position on the windowsill seat, Penelope walked over to her bedside table and opened the drawer, gradually bringing out the book hiding inside. She took one last deep breath before turning and approached where Lady Crokebane patiently stood. "I found this within the library. I… I thought it would be a good read, due to the wife's name…" Penelope then handed over the book.

Penelope felt her heart shatter as her grandmother did not take the book from her, too busy with all the emotions that were storming through her hazel eyes. Grief, sadness, hopelessness… Her grandmother, whom had always seemed so in control and buzzing with leftover young energy, turned dishevelled and aged within a blink.

"I-I'm sorry. I guess from your reaction you know w-who this belonged to, and… Wh-who it was gifted by." Seeing that her grandmother was not going to retrieve the book from her hands, Penelope brought it back forward to her chest. "I'm sorry, Grandmama, you do not–"

Lady Crokebane cut Penelope off by marching over to the doorway and, for a moment, it appeared she was about to leave. Instead, she simply shut the door. With high shoulders that held the whole weight of the world on them, Lady Crokebane avoided Penelope's gaze and sat down on the edge of the bed. Unsure of how to proceed, Penelope wandered back over to the windowsill seat, The Odyssey set upon her lap.

A few minutes of silence followed, and most of that was spent with Lady Crokebane burning holes into the floor with her eyes and Penelope fiddling with her fingers. In what seemed to be a century later, Lady Crokebane forced herself to meet Penelope's eyes. "What is it you would like to know?"

Straightening up her back further than ever before, Penelope's fingers gripped The Odyssey. "I… What was she like? My Mama? What were they like? As… I do not know, I just assumed they did not have a close bond, due to how things ended. But this…" Penelope then tapped on the book. "It's led me to be confused."

Silence overtook them again, but it was weighed more by consideration on Lady Crokebane's part than heightened emotions, her eyes gazing off to the side. "My only sister, Cordelia, had died a few months before Portia was born, and in memory of her, I named my daughter Portia Cordelia Crokebane."

Penelope blinked at that. "I did not even know she had a middle name."

Lady Crokebane breathed out a tiny chuckle. "It's not a tradition that the Crokebanes follow. My lord husband said that they never saw the point of it. It's why you do not see Adaline's middle name on her gravestone or section within the Crokebane history." At Penelope's slow nod, she went on. "It was only a few months after Portia's birth that my whole family was wiped out. So, I guess you could say that Portia was born at a time of grief and tragedy. That continued as well, as her father went to war sometime after, and then… Well, you know all the deaths that followed the family soon after."

Penelope glanced down at that, feeling grief hit her for family members she did not have the privilege of knowing.

"Portia was the brightest spot for a time, and, admittedly, I looked to her for comfort more than she did me. I believe that was one of the reasons why she became such a caregiver to her younger sister, Adaline. She knew nothing else." Lady Crokebane slumped down more in sitting position, her eyes lost to the past. "There may have been only a five-year difference between them, but Portia was there for every new development. Adaline's first steps were even to her older sister. I… I was there for them both, as much as I could and more than the current social norm, but duty often made that difficult, especially when your grandfather would sometimes be out for weeks or months on end for a particular patient. But I was rest assured by the fact that Portia and Adaline had one another, though looking back, I do think that put too much pressure on Portia.

"Portia, whilst she was vastly different from her younger sister in interests, she… She did not have much of a life outside of being the older sister, best friend and caregiver to Adaline. She had a few friends, but they mainly traded gossip and were not very… pleasant." Lady Crokebane let out a long breath, "I do believe, as she got older, Portia began to resent her upbringing. Not towards Adaline, but towards me and her father, and the Crokebane family as a whole. She saw the family legacy much different from her father and sister, and she ached for life outside of that."

Penelope was quiet, taking all of the information in. While Lady Crokebane still did not go into specifics about the relationship between the sisters, Penelope now understood it to be a deep and close one, possibly much closer than she had ever witnessed between the Bridgertons. Learning this though, sparked a realisation within Penelope and she narrowed her eyes that were distant away in that. "Matilda… She said that Mama did not support the future marriage between Thomas' parents and that was why she cut contact after her own marriage." Eyes shifting over to where her grandmother sat, Penelope leaned forward. "But there was more to it, wasn't there?"

Lady Crokebane sucked in a deep breath. "Yes, but what that more was I could not tell you." At Penelope's confused frown, she explained. "Portia's displeasure over Adaline's life decisions had been growing for some time. She did not approve of Adaline's… adventurous interests. It had grown more when Adaline decided to be trained in the medical field by their father, despite not having the Crokebane talent. However, Portia kept her displeasure to sisterly advice, which Adaline often ignored. So when Adaline announced her love and eventual marriage to a stable boy, when she came of age, it exploded into a heated argument between the two that went on for hours.

"However, much to mine and your grandfather's regret, we decided it was best they handled it themselves and kept the staff away along with ourselves. We do not know what was said in that argument, as neither of the girls discussed it, but we realised that whatever was said truly broke their bond." Lady Crokebane pauses momentarily, her fingers gripping the bed below and rapidly blinking. "After that, your mother requested to join London's social season, and I asked a favour from a friend to sponsor her and well…"

Penelope's shoulder sagged down. "She met my father and cut off all contact with her family."

Lady Crokebane nodded grimly. "We tried to regain contact several times, as well as get the full story from Adaline, but we gained no success." Meeting Penelope's eyes, her smile was more of a grimance. "I'm sorry that I do not have all the answers you want."

"I-it's fine. I just was expecting… To be honest, I do not know what was expecting." Penelope confessed with a bitter chuckle. "I just… The Odyssey… My mother read it to Adaline?"

An emotional smile broke across Lady Crokebane's face. "She did. Adaline loved the Greek tales, as you might recall she named her horse Aphrodite. But The Odyssey… That held a special place in Adaline's heart. She often spoke about dreams of being Penelope and, instead of waiting faithfully for Odysseus' return, she would go out on adventures as her Odysseus would wait for her return. She even forced Portia to play out those ideas of adventures as the new Penelope."

A sound that was cross between a snort and a laugh left Penelope. "Sounds much like my writings to stories whose endings I did not particularly like." Lady Crokebane joined Penelope with light chuckles of her own. "Do…" Fingers trailing over the title of the book, she gathered the courage to ask the next question. "D-do you think she, my Mama, named me after…"

Lady Crokebane's sad smile showed that Penelope did not need to finish her question. "Yes. I do believe she named you after Adaline's memory. This belief was furthered when I learned of your middle name."

"My middle name? Anne?"

"My mother, God bless her soul, was birthed with the name Anne Ryton, and when I had Adaline I gave her the full name of Adaline Anne Crokebane." Penelope's eyes watered along with Lady Crokebane's. "Once that knowledge was given to me, it made me come to a realisation that I often speculated but never had confirmed."

"Wh-what?"

Lady Crokebane hesitated. "As much as my girls were different in their interests and perspectives, they were very much alike in everything else. Headstrong, wilful… And hot-tempered. While I cannot know for certainty what was said in their last conversation, in their argument, I do now believe that whatever was said, the harshest and cruellest came from Adaline, not Portia."

Penelope reared back at that, a shiver running down her spine. "Y… You cannot know that for sure. I-I… I know my mother, her words are cutting and biting as well as cruel and harsh. There is nothing that comes from her mouth that is kind."

"As I said though, she and Adaline were a lot alike in traits. Whilst Adaline was more approachable and warmer than her older sister, her words, when crossed, could be just as cutting and biting as Portia's daily dialogue. Maybe even more at times, especially against her older sister."

Gulping against the hardness in her throat, Penelope's fingers now gripped the book. "Did you ever witness that?"

"A few times," her grandmother admitted. "Though, it was rare for Adaline to get to that stage as quickly as Portia did. Normally, if anyone was attempting to upset her or expressed their displeasure with her, Adaline would either ignore it or make a joke of it. So, something in that argument, beyond Portia's upset over Adaline's choices, pushed Adaline over the edge. That is my belief anyway."

Penelope let out a long breath, her mind and body exhausted from this discussion that only possibly lasted ten minutes or so. But still, she sent her grandmother a warm smile. "Thank you, Grandmama." Glancing over her shoulder, she gave herself a nod. "I think... I think I'll spend some time with Blackburn now. Before he causes chaos in the stables for the delay in his breakfast."

Understanding her granddaughter's intentions, Lady Crokebane gave a tiny smile. "Of course. I... I going to have a lie down for an hour or so."

After a few seconds of awkward air, the two went their separate ways for the day. The emotional and revealing conversation burdened them both into a heavy silence.

Just as the sun was about to settle down in the distance, the echoes of horses shrieks and carriages' wheels hit Nettles Cottage. Thomas had been in the drawing room with his cousin, sitting on the ground and embracing the heat of the fireplace, trying to make conversation. Trying is the keyword there. While Penelope was polite and spoke when necessary, for the most part, she had been relatively silent. Staring blankly into the fireplace, her mind lost in thought and Thomas had no idea how to crack through it. He did not understand what triggered this, but he was unsure if he wanted the answer.

So, when the sounds of the carriage rolling towards Nettles Cottage were first heard, Thomas let out a low breath of relief at how it brightened up Penelope. Which was then followed by a light chuckle as Penelope hurriedly sprung up and raced out of the drawing room.

As he went to follow her, he realised he was not the only one amused by his cousin's excitement.

"You would think that she was all alone here," his grandfather mildly joked as the two walked side by side through the corridor to the front entrance of the cottage.

"She loves the Woods," Thomas shrugged, "And plus, after being so used to the busy life at Silver Birch, she probably is not used to the welcomed quiet of Nettles Cottage." Lord Crokebane shot Thomas a look, "Fine. Welcomed for me and Grandmama, and maybe Penelope in the future. Not so much for you."

Lord Crokebane grunted. "I will admit though, I have enjoyed catching up on my readings."

Thomas smiled briefly before he glanced around the entrance area. "Where's Grandmama? I'm sure she would want to welcome the little elves of Little Eden."

Letting out a weary sigh, Lord Crokebane ran a hand through his hair as they stepped outside of Nettles Cottage. "She has a migraine, and feels it would be best to rest."

Frowning, Thomas was about to say something but was stopped by the long-awaited carriage slowing to a halt. Penelope stood not too far from the carriage, and her lady-like manners were the only thing stopping her from swinging back and forth on her heels with childlike enthusiasm. As Thomas and Lord Crokebane were beginning to approach Penelope to welcome the Woods together, the carriage door whipped open and a pale-blonde blur rushed out to the redhead.

Penelope let out a loud laugh as she caught Mae Woods and the two went into a long hug.

"Penny!" Mae squealed out, the two swaying from side to side in their hug. "I've missed you!"

"It's been five days," Penelope reminded, her tone light and free. "But I too have missed you. I have missed you both." She raised her voice at the last part as Peter swiftly jumped out of the carriage then and eagerly joined Mae in hugging the air out of Penelope.

"It's good to see you, Penny." Peter had said with a polite but warm tone.

"And it's a delight seeing you." Penelope soothed the back of Peter's head momentarily before her eyes went up to the two women being assisted out of the carriage by the footmen. "Thank you so much for bringing them here. I know it must not have been great to travel such a distance again a few days later."

Ms Jameson waved it off. "The only downside of it all was the bloody northern snow, though I do think we managed it at the right time as it is still quite light snow. That will change over the next few days."

Thomas, now standing near Penelope and giving a clap to the back of Peter's shoulder as a form of greeting, narrowed his gaze teasingly at Ms Jameson. "And how in the world do you know that?"

With an eyebrow raised, Ms Jameson raised up her chin. "I am old Mister Thomas. I have much knowledge under this worn-out skin."

Matilda snorted, "Or you just received a message from a particular family member who specialises in weather patterns."

Ms Jameson's glare towards her niece was answer enough to that and caused Thomas to let out a winded laugh. "Where is my lady anyhow? I thought she would be out here."

It was Lord Crokebane who responded. "Migraine. She has taken rest for the day."

This was followed by confused frowns from Matilda and Ms Jameson. However, while this was the first time Penelope had heard of it, Thomas saw in the corner of his eye that his cousin ducked her head down, focusing her attention on the two children before her.

"Come along," Penelope said, her voice more higher than necessary, directing the two children inside. "Let's get you settled into your rooms."

Thomas exchanged a quick look with Matilda, and both understood that Penelope was involved with Lady Crokebane's sudden absence for the day.

Later that evening, once the Woods had been shown around the cottage, to their rooms and fed, Penelope spent time with them in one of the guest rooms–which was Peter's room for the next week. Matilda had joined them to begin with but then left as Ms Jameson requested she helps aid in some Christmas preparations. She promised she would return to assist Penelope with her nightclothes, but her lady quickly excused her for the whole night. Over the last few months, Matilda had taught her ways to get out of her gowns and dresses by herself. It was not as easy as when she had assistance from Matilda, but it was doable. And while this may be a place for the Crokebanes to relax, Penelope also wanted her lady's maid and friend to relax too.

After many assurances she would be fine, Matilda went off for the night, and Penelope soon started getting the children ready for bed.

"Penny," Mae hesitated in her speech as she gathered up her colours and papers, while Peter was putting away some of his reading books.

Penelope shot Mae a comforting and encouraging smile. "What is it?"

Mae shot a look at Peter, who looked as hesitant as her but strengthened his confidence and gave her a nod to continue. "W-we were wondering… Could we sleep together? Just for the night! We would really like the sleep."

Penelope frowned, "You two haven't been sleeping?"

It was Peter who spoke this time, placing his books down on one of the small tables and approaching where the two girls sat on the floor. "We have but… It's been difficult getting to sleep. I'm not sure how long it takes Mae, but it takes me sometimes two hours to fall asleep. One if the night is kind."

Sitting up more firmly, Penelope took this information in. "I am guessing you two know why."

"Back at the… horrible place." Mae whispered the last part, to which both Penelope and Peter gave a tiny grin. "We often slept in the same bed. We could sleep without knowing each other was there and…"

"When we fled, it was the same issue for a good few months." Peter finished. "Even if the bed was high up in the trees."

"And you had that suddenly taken away upon your arrival at Silver Birch," Penelope finished off then, understanding waving through her. She considered for a long moment before giving a soft nod. "I do not see the problem with one night. But one night only, are we clear!" The two nodded eagerly, and Penelope gave them a wide smile. "Gather your things, we'll get you into your night clothes and then afterwards, if you both would like, I can read you a story."

With further eager nods, the next thirty minutes consisted of Mae returning her colours and papers to her room, searching through her single trunk for her night clothes and dressing her. Just before they left to return to Peter's room, however, Mae spoke up another request.

"Could you braid my hair? Like you used to?" Mae asked, "I've missed it so."

"Do the carers not braid your hair?" Penelope asked back, fully now realising she did not know the routine either of the Woods had at Hinderside.

"They do but…" Mae shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "I do not know; it feels special when you do it."

A gentle smile awoke on Penelope's face, and she gestured to the bed in Mae's guest room. "Sit on the floor to the bed, and I shall grab the comb."

Quickly, Mae sat below Penelope and just as her pale hair was being combed, Mae went onto ask. "Could you sing? Like you did before? The song about the woods?"

The gentle smile turned wider and instead of confirming, she followed through with the request.

'Shall I go walk the wood so wild,

Wandering, wandering here and there

As I was once full sore beguild,

Alas!

For love!

I die with woe.'

Setting the comb down, she parted Mae's pale blonde hair and began to braid it.

'Wearilky blows the winter wind,

Wandering, wandering here and there

My heart is like a striken hind,

Alas!

For love I die with woe.'

Once fully braided, Mae leapt up and sprung on Penelope for a tight hug, to which she returned.

"Come on, we better not keep your brother waiting. And I still need to get the book that I have in mind to read to you two." Penelope patted the little girl on her back lightly before the two exited her room.

Fifteen minutes later, with the two Woods snuggled in the double bed, Penelope sat on top of the covers beside Mae. With a few candles lit, the room held a warm glow as Penelope readied the book in her hands.

"What are we reading?" Peter asked, his voice tinged with the tiredness of the day.

"It's a Greek tale," Penelope responded, "It's called The Odyssey."

An hour later, with both the Woods settled into a deep sleep beside each other, Penelope blew out all the candles except the one, using the last to creep out of the room and shut the door softly behind her.

"I think that is the sweetest thing I've ever witnessed."

Penelope let out a light squeal, mindful of the two children in the next room, and spun around to see Thomas leaning against the wall opposite Peter's guest room.

"Jesus Christ Thomas!" Penelope breathed out, hand going to her racing heart.

"Careful, we do not want to inform Father Samarin of your foul mouth." Thomas teased with a smirk, and in response, Penelope leaned over to smack his chest with the book in her hand. With a quiet chuckle, Thomas pushed himself off from the wall. "It's good to see you in better spirits than before cousin."

Penelope's natural smile wavered slightly. "I was in good spirits before." At Thomas' narrowed gaze, Penelope let out a long breath. "It has been quiet here, and I think it's good for us to have the Woods' here with their light."

Thomas nodded. "Agreed. However, I think Grandmama will not be too pleased about the sleeping arrangements."

"It's just for tonight." Penelope started walking down the corridor towards the family wing, with Thomas quick at her side. "They expressed to me that they've been finding it difficult to sleep deeply ever since we discovered them at Little Eden. They are used to the safety of sleeping beside each other."

"Understandable. Do not worry about Grandmama. So long as you reach them first in the morrow and make it seem like they slept in their own beds, she won't know." Thomas shared a smile with Penelope. "The advantage can still be greatly on your side as well, as Grandmama could still be suffering from her supposed migraine."

"Supposed?"

As they turned the corner into the family wing of the cottage, Thomas' free hand clasped Penelope's forearm. "Pen, while you have not been with us for that long, I think you know well enough that our lady grandmother rarely gets sick. Despite her oldling age, she is as fit as Blackburn. And even if she were unwell, she would normally grind her teeth and bare through it. Especially when it comes to greeting people into her home. So, for me, you and anyone else, they would understand that her absence is more emotional than a physical ailment. Something I have a feeling you have knowledge of."

Penelope puffed out a breath and shook her head. "Not here." She mumbled and led the way to her room. The two spent a few minutes with their individual lit candles lighting up all the candles within the room. "It is my fault why Grandmama has taken to rest," Penelope confessed as she placed her candle on the dressing table before approaching where Thomas stood. "And it is because of this." Penelope handed over the book to her cousin.

"The Odyssey?" Thomas read with a confused frown.

"Have you read it?" Penelope asked.

Thomas shook his head. "I know of it, as I do with a few Greek tales, but never actually read it. Unlike you, I'm more of a practical, action man. I've never been a bookworm." He then shot Penelope a grimaced smile. "No offence. But whyever would this cause our grandmother to hide for the rest of the day?"

"Because of what I found inside, and the conversation that it led to." Penelope nodded to the book. "It's on the first page."

Frown still in place, Thomas opened the book and his sky-blue eyes quickly found the note. Many things flickered across his expression then–sadness, grief, disbelief. Penelope felt terrible for showing this to her cousin but ultimately understood he had the right to know.

After a few minutes of reading, re-reading and re-reading the note inside the book, Thomas' fierce eyes looked back up to Penelope's. "Tell me everything."

The next morning, after quickly arising and awakening the children so they could keep up appearances of being in separate rooms, Matilda assisted Penelope in readying herself and the Woods for the day. Upon entering the dining area, Penelope was surprised to see both her grandmother down for breakfast, with Thomas nowhere in sight.

"Lady Crokebane!" Mae examined with delight, quickly running over to where the Lady of Silver Birch sat.

As if the previous day never happened, Lady Crokebane smiled widely as she accepted a hug from the little girl. "Oh my dearest Mae. I am so sorry for not welcoming you here properly, but I heard you both had a smooth journey here and have settled in well."

"We have Lady Crokebane!" Mae eagerly replied with so much joy. "It's such a lovely and big cottage! I cannot wait to try to draw it!"

"Ah yes, the governess of Hinderside told me you have a talent for the arts." Lady Crokebane's eyes drifted over to Peter. "Peter, I hope you had a good sleep?"

Peter, still standing next to Penelope, gave a polite smile and nod. "Yes, I did, milady. Thank you again for having us."

"It is of no issue." Lady Crokebane gestured to the breakfast feast littered across the table. "Now, eat up, I can already tell you are going to have a long day." Mae and Peter needed no more invitation as they sat up at the table and started picking apart the food along the dining table. Lady Crokebane then looked up to Penelope, who still stood in the doorway. "Are you well, granddaughter?"

A small but uncertain smile crossed Penelope's lips. "I am. Are you Grandmama?"

The wide genuine smile stayed intact on Lady Crokebane's face. "I am, my sweet granddaughter."

Relief flooded through Penelope at that and, with no invitation, joined the three at the dining table.

"I do not believe this is the wisest idea," Penelope murmured as she pulled on her riding boots.

The morning was now clawing into the afternoon, and as Penelope and Matilda explored more of the rooms of Nettles Cottage with the Woods, paying a visit to a disgruntled Blackburn for his morning feed, and playing games in between, Mae and Peter had expressed the desire to explore the outside lands. At first, Penelope was against this, as the snow had grown thicker overnight and so was much colder than before. It was because of the constant pleas of Mae and Peter, and a little encouragement from Matilda, that Penelope had agreed.

It was given the okay by her grandmother also, though did warn Penelope to wrap herself and the children up warm and not to wander too far. Hence why she was placing on her riding boots, as they were quite effective against the cold.

"It's just a little of exploration Pen," Matilda reassured Penelope as she got her lady's thick cloak ready. "Besides, it might do the children some good. Tire them out so when they are sent to bed, they can sleep more easier."

"I guess that is true." Once her riding shoe is laced together nicely, Penelope stands up from her bed and moves so Matilda can wrap her thick cloak around her. "I do think though, the moment one of them starts to shiver, we should head back immediately."

"Agreed." Matilda moved to Penelope's front to tie up the cloak. "Is Thomas joining us?"

Now that was a question. Penelope had not seen her cousin after their lengthy discussion over what happened with their grandmother earlier yesterday morning. He was troubled by what Penelope had learned, and she could easily understand why. It was the most of anything about Adaline that either the Lady or Lord had discussed before, especially with the new background information on her mother also. Penelope could imagine it was overwhelming to Thomas and why he skipped breakfast. She still had yet to see him and Matilda gave her the perfect opportunity to do so.

"I'll go and ask." Penelope stated, "I'll meet you and the children down at the front." With a nod of agreement from Matilda, the two exited Penelope's room and went in different directions.

Stood just outside Thomas' door, Penelope raised her hand to knock but gasped out in surprise to see the door suddenly whip open.

Thomas seemed as surprised as Penelope as he took her in with wide eyes. "Pen. You well?"

"Y-yes, cousin, I am well." She then lowered her hand with a nervous cackle. "Me, Matilda and the Woods are going out to explore the lands a bit more. I was wondering if you would like to join us?"

Thomas let out a sigh, "I would, but a friend reached out and asked for assistance with an issue they are having. I have an idea of what they could do but I need to speak to Grandmama about it before I write back."

Penelope wanted to ask further but stopped herself, understanding whatever friend was asking for advice was most probably done in a private manner. "Very well. You're welcome to join us afterwards."

Thomas shot a small smile to Penelope as he stepped out of his room and shut his door. "I'll keep that in mind, cousin."

Smile disappearing slightly, Penelope pushed her lips together. "Are we alright? I mean, I know last night was–"

"Pen." Thomas interrupted softly. "I am not upset with you. If anything, I am ever grateful for you. Our grandparents on the other hand…"

Shoulders slumping downwards slightly, Penelope reached over to grasp Thomas' hand. "I understand your grievances. I only ask that you remember… Grief controls our souls in many different ways, and I believe them not speaking about either of our mothers' is the way their grief controls them."

"But your mother is not the one who is dead." Thomas points out, but not unkindly.

Penelope hesitated. "True but… They still grieve for her, as the absence and the lack are, in a way, a death to them. At least with your mother and father, they know for certainty where they are."

"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder," Thomas mocked with a scoff.

"Or makes the grief grow thicker." Penelope stated and the two shared a sad look. "Whatever happens… Go easy on them."

Thomas gave a short nod. "Have a good day in the snow, cousin."

Penelope did not know what to expect on their wanders around the Nettles Cottage grounds, but maybe she should have expected a snowball fight with children. It was a bit awkward at first, as most of the lands consisted of trees and bushes. There were very few clear areas, and where there were they were relatively small. This was a stark contrast to the yards and yards of open fields of northern England. Within the Scottish Borders, at least where Nettles Cottage resided, the crowded trees dominated the lands.

So, when they discovered one of the small clearings that were covered in snow, it was only natural to the nine and six-year-olds that a snowball would ensue.

Penelope had never experienced a snowball fight. She knew of them happening, as Eloise had told her stories of her winter months in Aubrey Hall, and who would start the first snowball fight. But she never once experienced it herself. Her mother refused her daughters to go playing in the snow, with all the dirt and whatnot.

It embarrassed Penelope at first, to not know what to do, how to roll up the snow into a ball. But the children paid no mind to her lack of knowledge and quickly showed her how to form a ball with the snow.

Jarring as it was to feel sudden coldness hit areas of her body and skin, Penelope quickly found her enjoyment of it and many rounds with the Woods children on one side and the two older girls on the other soon commenced.

"Alright! Alright!" Matilda waved her arms up as the children upped their snowball game against them. "You win! You win! We admit defeat!"

Penelope continued to laugh as the children let out roars of triumph.

"Let's go again!" Mae declared, bending down to prepare another snowball.

While still laughing, Penelope went over to Mae. "Mae, it's probably best if we stop now. We don't want to get our clothes overly wet to the point where we catch a cold."

Mae looked saddened by this but was quickly uplifted by another idea that sparked in her doe-brown eyes. "Hide and seek!"

Matilda, now approaching where Penelope stood with the children, gave a confused smirk. "What?"

"Another game! Hide and seek!" Mae jumped up and down on the snow. "We can play!"

Penelope shot a gaze towards Peter, who looked more amused by his sister than worried. "Mae, we cannot play hide and seek out here. While there are many trees, they do not do much to hide someone. As well as the fact we do not know the areas that well. It'll probably be best that we head back and play hide and seek there."

"Please! Just one game! No! Two games! Please!" Mae gripped her hands together in a praying gesture.

Penelope looked over to Matilda for support, who only just gave a shrug. "Two games can't hurt. If we just keep it near this clearing," she gestured to the small snow-covered clearing, "then we cannot get lost."

Before Penelope could argue against that, Mae jumped in once more. "Yay! I'll be the seeker first! I'll count to twenty! One, two…"

"If you just tell Viscount Bridgerton of your idea, with the few editions from me, he should be able to solve it much better." Lady Crokebane stated to Thomas as she handed over the parchment of paper. She currently sat at the desk of the single study within Nettles Cottage, and while it was rarely used as Lady Crokebane refused to do work while having a break, it was a good space to focus for an hour or so. "And also, tell him from me, not to get too stressed about it. I've seen lords with more decades on him struggle with similar issues."

Thomas let out a grunt that was reminiscent of his grandfather as he scanned his grandmother's writing upon his. "I'll let him know. Thanks." He then marches towards the door, intending on a swift exit.

"Thomas." Lady Crokebane called, causing him to halt as his hand wavered over the doorknob. "Is everything well?"

"Everything is fine." He then opened the door.

"I very much disagree with that." Lady Crokebane's commanding voice broke through, standing up from her seat behind the desk and fingertips digging into the desk itself. "As, for the entirety of this discussion about Viscount Bridgerton's recent land troubles, you have not made one single mark remark or joke. Which, in anything that requires a serious hand towards governing over lands, is rather strange."

Thomas' is frozen for a moment, a war raging inside of his soul until he tips and gives in to his frustration. Taking a step, Thomas slams the study door closed and turns back to his grandmother, who does not flinch an inch. "Very well. I spoke with Penelope yesterday. She enlightened me with the reason for your sudden migraine."

Guilt flashes across Lady Crokebane's face. "Oh."

"Oh? Is that all you have to say?" Thomas scoffed, glancing up at the ceiling for relief. "You know, it's one thing to never discuss my mother. It's another to discuss my mother with my cousin and tell her things before you've even told me. While I am grateful for Penelope's loyalty, I still cannot get over the fact the one person I should've been hearing it from has refused for decades." Lady Crokebane ducks her head down at this, adding Thomas' fury. "I did not even know that my own mother had a middle name, much less that Penelope went on to inherit that middle name as well as the fact she was named after my mother's favourite Greek tale."

"If we're going to be fair here, I also did not know Penelope's name until she arrived."

"Really? That's the defence you are going with?"

Lady Crokebane exhaled a heavy breath. "No. You're right. I'm sorry."

Thomas narrowed his gaze as watched his grandmother warily sit down. "For what part? Your mocking way of a defence? Or not breathing a word about my mother for as long as I have breathed?"

"Everything." Lady Crokebane stated emotionally. "I will be the first to admit that myself and your grandfather have not handled our grief in the best manner. It has always been difficult to talk about a loved one who has been ripped away from me."

At that, Thomas felt his fury temper down slightly. "I understand you have lost more than I can't even fathom to understand. But… But did I need to suffer as a consequence?"

"No." Lady Crokebane said after a moment. "No you did not, and there is no amount of apologies I could give that will make up for that suffering." It was Thomas' turn to duck his head down. "What is it that you would like to know?"

There were many answers to that question. Thomas' mind flared up with all the possible things he wished to know that he had buried deep within him. How did his parents fall in love? Did his mother ever sing to him whilst he was in her womb as Penelope sings to the Woods? What did his mother look like?

However, Thomas felt that this was delicate and understood he needed to take this slow. So, with a light chuckle, he looked back to his grandmother. "Who was the better horse rider? My mother or my father?"

Lady Crokebane let out a low whistle at that. "If I am going to get into the stories about that, then I will surely need some wine."

Somehow, after the second round of hide and seek ended, Penelope was convinced by the other three to have two more rounds. This was based upon the fact that everyone could have a turn at being the seeker, which she could get behind on. However, she was concerned about the cold weather and how comfortable the Woods' were getting with the surrounding area. While she trusted the pair, it only took one of them wandering out too far and getting lost to complicate matters.

On the third round, it was Penelope's turn to count down and once she reached twenty, she looked around the small clear area of the woods. "Ready or not, here I come!"

Darting into the woods, Penelope searched for a few minutes, finding none of the three to begin with. However, just as she was about to make her way back to the clearing to start over, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. The feeling of being watched, the first feeling she held when she first rode through these woods, built up within her and she paused in her steps.

Hesitantly glancing around, Penelope could not see anything, not even the–

There was a low squeak followed by a tug of something. Possibly fabric? Penelope straightened her back as she went in the direction of where the sound echoed from. A frown enlaced her face as the breeze brushed against her cheek and caused the trees above to ruffle–

"Mae!" Penelope exclaimed in horror than in delight. "Whatever do you think you are doing?"

"Hiding!" Mae gleefully replied, not picking up on Penelope's panic.

"That hiding does not include tree climbing!" Penelope rushed over to the tree in question, that sat on the edge of a downward hill going towards… She was not sure, as the lands that they explored were not too far out due to the fear of getting lost.

"You did not say that!" Mae argued back.

Penelope took in a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just don't like you climbing up trees."

Mae frowned. "I've done it many times!"

"I know, but it's just not safe. Not in this weather anyhow." Stepping closer to the tree, Penelope held up her arms. "Now, come on. I've found you now, let's get you down."

Mae's face scrunched up. "I can't…"

"Whyever not?"

"My dress," she gestured to the bright pink gown that Penelope had made for her. "It's caught on the branch and I don't want to rip it."

Penelope sighed, pushing her lips together as she thought. She considered telling Mae to stay put and go on to find Peter to have him assist his sister. But she shook that idea right off as it came. Peter had won the previous two rounds of hide and seek, and he was always the longest to find. She did not like the thought of leaving Mae up there by herself as she attempted to find her brother.

The only solution was the one she dreaded. Penelope was not much of a tree climber. She had seen Eloise do it on several occasions and even tried to encourage Penelope at one point. However, when she did try, Lady Featherington's harsh voice rang out.

"Whatever are you doing Penelope? Get down this instant! Your weight will snap the tree in half!"

Eloise had glared fiercely at her mother for that, but Lady Featherington had won in the end.

Until now that is.

Looking back up to Mae, Penelope squared her shoulders. "Can you direct me on how you got up there?"

Mae turned out to be a very skilled tree climber director. From pointing, instructing and encouraging, Mae was truly patient with Penelope's lack of skill and soon enough, Penelope's shoulders met with the level of the tree branch that Mae sat upon.

"Right, where is your dress caught?" Penelope asked breathlessly, eyes going to the dress in question. Mae pointed to the end of the branch, where the end of the pink dress was caught up in a twig muddle. "Oh dear, right, got any suggestions on what branch to step upon next?"

Considering for a moment, Mae pointed to a branch a little higher than the one Penelope currently stood on. "That. It can help you move towards the end too."

Penelope nodded in agreement and lifted her foot on top of the next branch. Just as she was about to lift herself on top of it though, her foot slipped and with the aid of quick movements from her body to catch herself and Mae reaching over to grip Penelope's arms, she was saved from falling.

"It's the cold." Mae told her, "I had a similar thing happen when I climbed up here."

"And yet, you still continued?" Penelope briefly teased to which Mae shrugged.

With a bit of grip support from Mae, Penelope successfully managed to get on the branch and reached over towards the ends of her dress. It took her a few minutes of shaky hands and heavy breathing, but Penelope managed to free Mae's dress.

"Yay!" Mae cheered. "Thank you Penny!"

"You can thank me properly when we're back on solid ground." Penelope breathed out. "Come on, you can follow me back down and we can find the others. With a firm rule of no tree climbing for the last round."

Mae giggled as Penelope carefully made her way back to the trunk of the tree and started to slowly climb her way down. However, midway, she forgot which branch she stepped on near the bottom, and rather than asking Mae which one to step down on, she made the decision to go for the nearest.

It was her greatest mistake.

"Penny!" Mae screamed out as the next actions were so sudden, so rushed, Penelope could not process fully what was happening.

The cold-icy branch she stepped on ultimately made her slip and her whole body gave in to the misstep. Hands lost the grip of the branch she was clinging onto and made her hurl towards the ground.

She landed on the edge of the hill, hitting her head hard and causing the whole world to plunge into darkness.

"Welcome back my lord!" Charles called out from the front of Nettles Cottage. "Did you enjoy your outing?"

Lord Crokebane let out a low chuckle as he pulled himself down from the horse Lux. "As much as I could without attending to anyone medically. Managed to get a few books from that village bookstore you once recommended me."

"That was a good decade ago my lord." Charles gave a good belly laugh. "But I am glad you managed to find some things within it."

"Only one for myself." Lord Crokebane admitted, removing his bag from Lux's staddle. "I found two books I know that are to my granddaughter's tastes."

"Any finds are well worth any journey," Charles replied and then gestured to Lux. "Would you like me to get the horse back in the stables? I am sure you are eager to bask in some warmth."

Lord Crokebane patted the back of Charles' shoulder. "Thank you Charles. Do you know where I could find my granddaughter?"

Charles thought it over as he took the reins from Lord Crokebane. "I am not quite sure. I have not seen her or the children. But I am sure Lady Crokebane will know. She is with Mister Thomas in the drawing room near the dining area."

While giving a brief frown at that, Lord Crokebane gave a nod. "Thank you Charles."

Lord Crokebane gradually approached the cottage and entered the building, swiftly closing the large door behind him upon entering. The winter was truly growing outside and he would not desire any of it to be brought in. Slipping off his leather gloves, he rubbed them together as he headed in the direction of the drawing room. He smiled as he heard laughter, very loud laughter, echo through the corridors and his smile widened as he took in the scene in the drawing room.

Lady Crokebane and Thomas were leaned back together on one of the settees, both looking very relaxed with glasses of wine in their hands. Their expressions were lightly red from not just the heat coming from the nearby fireplace but through their pure enjoyment.

"What is going on here?" Lord Crokebane wondered, his voice hinting to his bemusement over what he was seeing.

However, his lady wife did not share his carefree nature and shot up in her position, eyes wide as she watched her husband walk into the room. "Oh! Max! We, ugh…."

"We were discussing when we came here when I was nine," Thomas said easily, but him not looking directly at Lord Crokebane caused the latter to frown momentarily. "And how I somehow managed to end flat face in Adaline's horseshit."

Despite the fact he felt his stomach tighten slightly at the explanation, Lord Crokebane could not stop the crackle of laughter at the memory that was burned in his mind. "Ah yes! And I remember how your grandmother banned you from returning inside the house until you were washed down."

Thomas now laughed as his grandmother scoffed. "Can you truly blame me? He smelled worst than the shit itself!"

"Oi!" Thomas exclaimed, to which his grandparents erupted into more laughter.

However, the enjoyment shared between the three was broken by Charles sprinting into the drawing room. "My lord!"

"Charles?" The laughter died in Lord Crokebane's throat as he took in the butler's frantic posture. "Whatever is wrong?"

"I am not sure exactly." Charles took a moment to breathe. "I tried calming him down but to no avail."

"Him?" Thomas frowned.

"One of the horses in the stables." Charles clarified, looking back to Lord Crokebane. "When I went to put Lux away, I found one of the horses shrieking and growling in their holdings. He is even trying to break down his gate!"

While Thomas' frown deepened at that, both Lord and Lady Crokebane's eyes widened with freight. "Which horse?" They both commanded, with Lady Crokebane swiftly standing from the settee.

Charles looked bewildered but pushed past it to answer their question. "Miss Penelope's horse, my lord. Blackburn."

Penelope could not say when she started to regain consciousness. She shifted in and out of it. Body aching, she wished to carry on with sleep. She wanted to go against the white light before her eyes and continue with a dreamless slumber. The first dreamless slumber since–

White light? Penelope thought, her confusion worsening the ache trembling through her body. Despite her desires, she mentally fought the grogginess of sleep and forced her eyes open. It wasn't an instant action, there was a lot of blinking and groaning involved as the white light was too white at first. However, the blinking aided her sight slightly and soon she realised what she was seeing was not white light but white snow.

With another painful groan, Penelope lifted her head and winced at the ring of pain that sparked in her forehead at the action. Lowering her head down to collect herself, she slowly repeated the action and squealed lightly at the pain building.

Around her, she saw… Nothing. She could see things, but her eyes were not clear at seeing them. There was a lot of white, which indicated to Penelope she was surrounded by snow. She saw hints of green and brown too, but nothing was clear so she could not be sure.

Understanding her eyesight was of no use to her, Penelope spread her fingers on the ground she was laid on and felt the frostiness of the snow, along with something smooth and cold.

Blinking more rapidly now, her vision was slowly clearing… in a few areas and lights. She quickly assumed that whatever had happened to her forehead was the cause of her blurry sight. Turning her head slightly, groaning more at the wave of pain it subsequently caused, she tried to see something that could indicate where she was and how she got there.

That was when she saw it.

It was hard at first. Her vision was not great but as she blinked more, the more her vision cleared and soon she saw what she believed she imagined to briefly see on her first day at the Scottish Borders.

A great stag.

Penelope had never seen one in person. Only in pictures and a few stuffed displays at high lord's homes. But there it was. Again. Standing tall and proud against her blurry vision. His antlers were nearly as high as the walls of her room in Silver Birch. Rich brown-red furr blowing with the soft breeze.

And just like the other day when she caught the brief sight of him, the stag was staring directly at her.

And this time, Penelope met the stag's gaze with wonderment mixed with exhausted confusion.

As the pain intensified and her sight became unreliable again, the stag unmoving from his spot, was when Penelope heard it.

A voice. A voice shouting. A voice calling out to her.

Taking short but deep breaths, Penelope forced her head in the direction of where she heard the voices were coming from.

"Penelope!" A voice now distantly but clearly called.

Just as figures appeared in the near distance, Penelope looked back to the stag and her head throbbed further as she realised the stag was mysteriously gone once more.

Maybe I am imagining it… With a loud groan, Penelope turned her head back, squeezing her eyes tightly before she set her eyes back on the figures.

Now the sight was useful, as she could see that the figures approaching the clearing were that of Matilda, Peter and Mae. However, horror encompassed her soul as her near-cleared sight led to her realising where she was.

"N-NO!" Penelope managed to gush out. "STOP!"

It was Matilda who heeded her warning as, before Peter and Mae could step into the danger, she harshly grabbed a hold of their arms and pulled them to a stop. Both of the children protested, eager to help a wounded Penelope.

Blinking a few more times, Penelope glanced down at the ground she lay on. She gasped upon seeing drops of blood mingling with the snow beneath her, and her shaky hand reached over to her forehead. She hissed at the light pressure, but quickly assessed that was where the blood was coming from as she managed to glance at her fingertips.

Taking a deep breath, Penelope glanced up to her surroundings. She had only been here briefly once, but a beauty like this area was hard to misremember.

It was Nettles Lake, only the lake was not waving free. Instead, the cold and snowy weather had caused it to be frozen over.

The frozen lake was what Penelope had the misfortune to find herself on top of.

Eyes drifting back to the other three, the children had calmed down but it was now replaced with the similar horror that struck Matilda's expression and Penelope's heart.

"W-wh-wh…" Penelope let out a harsh cough. "W-what happened?"

While Penelope's voice was low and pained, Matilda luckily understood what was asked. "You fell off a tree and down a hill. It steep hill, and you somehow…"

I somehow speed-rolled myself on a frozen lake. Penelope mentally finished, cursing her luck as the memories from probably only ten minutes ago came steaming back to her. Eyes now on the youngest Woods sibling, her voice quaked with her next question. "M-Mae… Ar-are you o-okay?"

Tears ran down her pale cheeks, Mae frantically nodded. "I'm so sorry!"

Penelope went to shake her head but hissed loudly at the pain intensifying further. Pushing against it, she flattened her shaky hands onto the frozen lake and began to slowly push herself upwards. She was quickly stopped by the ice crackling beneath her. Not enough to break outright, but enough to shake her to the core.

"Pen…" Matilda called out, her voice uncharacteristically frightened.

Shaking fully, Penelope returned her gaze to the three. "Get them back to the cottage!"

"What?" Peter shouted in dismay.

"No!" Mae protested.

Penelope, for the first time, ignored their pleas and kept her eyes on Matilda. "Get them back to the cottage and get help!"

Matilda did not move, though, a light shake with her head. "Pen–"

"That is an order Matilda!" Penelope found herself shouting with an unwavering hard voice. She hated doing so, hated using her position as a lady against someone she considered a friend, an equal. But she knew Matilda was hesitant to leave her, and at that moment, body aching and head thumping, she saw no other option.

Matilda hunched up her shoulders and gave a nod. "Come on! Both of you!"

"No!" Mae protested against Matilda's pulls and screamed out in fury when Matilda decided picking her up was her only option.

"Quickly Peter!" Matilda commanded as she carried a thrashing Mae in her arms and went in the direction of where Penelope knew Nettles Cottage was located.

Peter hesitated in his spot, his desire to follow and calm his sister waging against his desire to assist the woman who saved their lives. However, upon Penelope giving him a soft and encouraging smile through her pain, Peter's doe-brown eyes watered and he went to follow after Matilda.

Feeling her body relax slightly, she assesses her body and the icy ground. I survived seventeen years of my mother. This should be nothing.

"Why the hell did you not go with them!" Lord Crokebane practically shouted as the two men, followed loosely by Charles, raced outside and to the stables of Nettles Cottage.

"I needed some advice for a friend from grandmother." Thomas plainly replied, his voice harsh as he felt a dread tingle down his stomach. "We do not know for sure something has happened. It could be Blackburn just acting up. He did so a lot when he first arrived at Silver Birch." The men then rushed into the stables, and Thomas' eyes widened upon seeing the state of the said horse.

"Is that enough proof for you?" Lord Crokebane flappingly asked before turning to one of the few stable men. "Is Lux still ready for a ride?"

The stable man nodded. "Yes sir, I have not managed to get the saddle off yet."

Lord Crokebane turned to the frozen Thomas. "Quickly, Thomas. Saddle up Adaline, we need to search for them now."

Snapping himself out of his shock, Thomas gave no verbal reply as he quickly went to grab his saddle for Adaline and march to her holdings.

Which were right next to Blackburn's.

It was decided between Penelope and Thomas that, to ease Blackburn's discomfort at being held in smaller stables, he would be placed between a wall and the next and only holdings would hold Adaline. While he may not particularly like Adaline, Blackburn was used to her presence more than any other horse.

Racing into Adaline's holdings, his hands automatically worked the saddle onto his faithful horse as he took in Blackburn's state.

Shrieking and low-growling, Blackburn's restless nature was magnified as he zoomed from one end of his holdings to the other. However, every second was spent kicking his hoves against the gate. His growling grew at the gate's steel defiance.

No. This was not like when he first arrived at Silver Birch.

This was worse.

"Blackburn!" Thomas called out with a surprisingly steady voice as he tied the last part of Adaline's saddle. However, the dark horse paid him no mind. "We will find her! I–"

"Lord Crokebane!" Charles' voice shouted into the stables. "They are back!"

Thomas let relief wash over him for a brief second, but when he stared back at the still frantic Blackburn, he knew it would not be so simple.

He was proven correct when he followed after his grandfather out of the stables and saw three figures run towards them.

None of those figures was a redhead.

The crackling continued with each small movement made, and Penelope felt that the frozen lake was somehow mocking her. If Lady Featherington were here, she would most likely be on the lake's side–seeing it as a righteous consequence of her overly curvy disposition.

Focus! Penelope screamed at herself, and she forced her eyes to open as she thought about what limb to move next. Currently, and horribly, she had slowly been able to shift onto her right knee. With all the weight it was now supporting after a hard fall and tumble, the right knee was speedily losing its strength and desperately needed the left to take some of the burden.

However, there was one new development that added to the complicated matters.

When she first tried to slowly move her left leg so the knee could join the progress, Penelope automatically screamed out. The source? Her left ankle.

It shouldn't be surprising, as it was her left foot that slipped and caused the fall from the tree. If Penelope was lucky, her ankle was merely twisted.

Luck did not seem to favour her as of current though. It was as if the term was mocking her as much as the icy lake below.

Leaning forward on the heels of her palms further, ignoring the cracklings of the ice, Penelope viciously bit down on her lip as she pushed her leg forward. It was not easy, but since she knew to expect pain, it was better to deal with.

After what felt like hours, Penelope eventually got her knee where she wanted it to be. However, the exhaustion of such a task caused Penelope to fall forward, with only her hands stopping her from hard-hitting her head for the second time.

The pain was too much. Her vision blurred again, and she could feel the welcome relief of darkness take over. As she was about to accept her fate, too tired to keep trying, she felt eyes on her.

Moving her head, even in the blur of her sight, the stag stood as clear as a clear blue sky. I'm going mad, Penelope mused as she met the eyes of the stag. He did not move, if anything, it appeared that he had been there the entire time, even though Penelope was quite sure that was not the case. He just continued to stare and stare, unrelenting and unmoving.

Breaking away from their intense eye contact, Penelope's heart raced as it tried to stay awake. To keep moving. To keep fighting. But the only way she could do so was to be as calm as the imaginary stag to her side.

'Shall I go walk the wood so wild'

The lyrics breathed out Penelope as softly as the winter breeze.

'Wandering, wandering here and there

As I was once full sore beguild'

The ice crackled as Penelope shifted her weight back onto her knees, renewed strength and will building within her.

'Alas!

For love!

I die with woe.'

A spiked groan left Penelope's lips as she positioned her right knee higher, bringing forth her whole leg and flattening her foot on top of the iced lake.

'Wearilky blows the winter wind'

When she pushed up on her right leg, a screech then cogged out of her throat. The ice crackled some more.

'Wandering, wandering here and there'

A sharp scream commenced as the left foot moved, slowly raising Penelope's body upwards.

'My heart is like a striken hind'

It was hard to find a balance in not leaning too much on her left but not overly depending on her right. She needed steadiness.

'Alas!'

Penelope gripped her right hip, which now decided it needed to alert her that it had also been injured on the journey to the icy lake.

'For love I die with woe.'

Closing her eyes, Penelope breathed. In. Out. In. Out…

Upon opening them, her sight was cleared only a little, unclarity winning at all edges. Nonetheless, as she turned her head, the stag was still there–as clear as the crunching snow beneath her.

Dark eyes clashed once more with sky-blue orbs, and the whole world became silent. She did not expect anything to happen, so when the stag moved, an edged gasp released itself from Penelope's lips.

The stag did not move from its spot at the edge of the lake. No. Instead, his neck moved–lowered. His head lowered towards the ground, his vast horns reaching in the direction towards where Penelope stood, and lightly touching the icy lake.

He was… He was bowing.

The stag was bowing to Penelope.

Heart wanting to collapse out of her body, and breathing becoming a great difficulty, Penelope stared down at the creature with astonishment.

"Penelope!"

Despite the heated protests of her body, Penelope whipped her body around in the direction of where the voice had sounded. Her feet stumbled, and the ice crackled as she rightened herself.

"Thomas…" There was no one appearing yet in the direction Penelope had guessed she heard it from, but she knew the voice of her cousin well and knew he could not be far.

Body shaking, Penelope glanced over her shoulder to the stag–

There was nothing. The stag was no longer there. As if he was never were.

A frown sprinted across her face, but there was no time to question her sanity as Thomas' voice called out, closer than before.

"Penelope!"

Turning her head, a long breath of relief and gratitude winded out of her as Thomas emerged out of the surrounding woods.

"Thomas!" Penelope weakly returned, shifting on her feet more.

Their mutual sky-blue eyes met just as the crackling of the ice beneath her promptly intensified.

And then it gave in.

Penelope had never experienced a scream such as the one that howled out of her. It would probably be the element of this horror that she would remember the most as the fall into the icy lake caused her head to harshly hit part of the ice and she was smothered into a dark abyss.

Notes:

Preview of the next chapter:

"You will be the one to end it."

Chapter 40: Chapter XXXVIII: A Drowning In Nettles Lake

Summary:

After plunging into the icy depths of Nettles Lake, Penelope's soul wanders into the unknown with life-changing consequences.

Notes:

Hello all! Happiest Thursday! Now this chapter has taken a lot out of my mind to write, and I've only just recently edited and finalised it. I wrote parts of it here and there in the past few weeks, but I only just completed it today. So I am very much tired :P Because of that, I haven't been able to reply to the comments in the last chapter and I wanted to assure you that I will reply to them over the next upcoming days 3 I love all the dialogue in the comments section so I hate not replying to anyone.

With that, I want to VERY much encourage you to comment and throw all your thoughts and theories at me over this chapter. This chapter is a LOT. It kinda goes at a fast pace, but everything is relevant. I also hope you've been paying close attention to the history of the Crokebanes ;)

Enjoy the madness! 3

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Next week will be Week 1 with the update being on Thursday.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Drownings, medical drama, blood, dead bodies

Fun Fact #33:

This chapter was originally called "Fevering A Change".

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"I cannot believe you convinced me to come out for this!" Victor exclaimed as he spread out his arms to a very high, very ancient Greek building. The day was hot, and the few other tourists also sightseeing and learning had retreated under the few shades available.

Colin resisted rolling his emerald eyes at his friend's behaviour. "It's the Erechtheion. It's an ancient Greek Temple, so could you please show a little respect."

"If you wanted that, you should not have dragged me along."

This time, Colin did roll his eyes. "I asked if you wanted to come along; you did not have to accept."

"And then I would be drinking all day on my own." Victor swiped away some sweat forming on his forehead before settling his hands on his hips. His eyes take in the ancient beauty. "Well, for a temple, I guess–" A sharp whine and gasp drew Victor to cut himself off, and he looked over his shoulder. "Bridgerton?"

Colin had his hand clenched to his chest and he appeared to be struggling to breathe. As Victor made himself move towards his friend, Colin had dropped his journal he always kept in hand and kneeled down on the ground.

"Colin!" Victor shouted, kneeling next to Colin, who was desperately gasping for air. "What is it? Is it the heat? Yes, probably. Let's get you in some shade. Come on!" Victor tried to assist Colin in standing up but faltered as his friend remained unmoving, and Victor would be the first to admit he wasn't a physically strong man. "Colin, I need your help here."

Too focused on what was happening to him, Colin didn't, and couldn't, move. The pain started within his chest, his heart, before radiating to his whole body. Goosebumps shivered down his spine as his lungs raged for the much needed oxygen.

After what seemed like an age, his breathlessness faded, and the torture from his chest became a dull ache. As his eyes refocused on the world around him, he found he and Victor were no longer alone. A few other tourists hovered nearby, their expressions matching the grave concern on Victor's face.

"You alrite there, mate?" Victor asked, his voice wavering with uncertainty. Upon Colin giving a short nod, the tension lessened on Victor's face. "What happened?"

Swallowing harshly, Colin's hand, which was once clutching painfully at his chest, was now rubbing soothing motions against it. "I… I'm not sure."

While she had waited long enough, Eloise wanted to triple-check that the coast was clear. Slowly turning the doorknob, Eloise bit her tongue as she opened the door only slightly. Feeling as though there was enough room, she poked her head out and glanced down the corridor. Head turning from side to side.

Breathing out a sigh, Eloise fully opened the library door to let herself and Bia out of its confinements. With a quick speed, she marched down in the direction of where her room was in Aubrey Hall. Turning the corner, she yelped in surprise as she bumped into a heap of pure white towels.

"Oh!" Beatrice gasped as some of the towels fell onto the ground. "Miss Eloise! I am terribly–" Beatrice was cut off by Eloise putting her hand over her mouth, and when she nodded after Eloise indicated to whisper, the hand was removed. "Whatever is happening, Miss Eloise?"

"I'm avoiding the Duchess." Eloise whispered back with a grim appearance. "I am aware I need to apologise, but… I am not very good at such speeches."

Beatrice's dark eyes sparked. "And you believe avoiding your sister is the best way to handle it?"

Eloise let out a low groan. "I know, I am a coward. I just… I am no good at expressing my emotions, or taking concern for the feelings of others."

"From what I understand, you did very well with Miss Penelope."

"That was different!" Eloise hissed out dramatically. "Penelope and the Duchess are pretty much two different species of women." Huffing and puffing, Eloise reached down to the towels that gathered on the ground. Some of them remained folded, so she placed them on top of the existing pile that Beatrice carried.

"And what of you and the Duchess? Are you two species of women?" Beatrice lightly teased as she watched the young Bridgerton collect the towels.

"More two different species of living beings." Eloise folded up, rather messily, the last two towels before joining them with the rest. "You cannot communicate with someone who does not understand your way of life or language."

"I would not be so sure, Miss Eloise. I have been employed with your family since your father's demise," Eloise ducked her head down momentarily at that. "I've seen you all grow up in various ways, and while your life perspectives and dreams do differ, the cores of who you are remain somewhat similar."

Opening her mouth to reply, Eloise gasped out suddenly and gripped her chest. Beatrice's eyes widened as she watched the fifth Bridgerton struggle to breathe. "Miss Eloise?" Bia, who stood close to Eloise's side, whined dramatically as her owner dropped to the ground. "Miss Eloise!" Carelessly flinging the stack of towels to the side, Beatrice knelt on the ground with Eloise. "M-Eloise! What is wrong?"

Throat closed up; Eloise's spare hand shifted to her neck as if she could somehow remove whatever was blocking the oxygen.

"Eloise!" Beatrice's head whipped up to see the Duchess race over to them, hand gripping her swollen stomach in the progress and joined the two on the ground. "What's happened?"

Beatrice shook her head. "I-I do not know, your grace. She suddenly was in pain and…" She trailed off as the two women held tight grips on the younger girl, who continued to struggle to find air in her lungs.

"Go and find my mother!" Daphne ordered, "Tell her to–"

Abruptly, Eloise started to cough and breathed in a much needed breath. The tight grip on her chest loosened slightly and, almost falling forward, Beatrice and Daphne caught Eloise and gradually guided her towards the nearby wall of the corridor.

"Eloise?" Daphne coaxed gently, brushing away a few loose strands away from Eloise's stunned face. "What happened?"

Silent for a few moments as she regained her posture and mind, Eloise softly shook her head. "I do not know, but… Something is happening. Something bad."

The area of the Nettles Lake was eerily quiet. Not even the breeze made a sound. Thomas' chest tightened as if it was locked in a cage with the iron bars squeezing the life out of him. Breathing became a necessary sacrifice and shock overwhelmed his veins. His wide eyes on the pool of cracked ice within the lake, he was as still as stone.

"Thomas!" Lord Crokebane's voice reached his ears, alerting him to the fact that his grandfather was not far behind.

And breaking the shock steel within.

No consideration of a plan concluded in Thomas' mind, and he sprung into action. Ice crackled under his heavy feet as he sprinted across the frozen lake and, forcing his breathless lungs to take a deep inhale of air, dived into the gap of the ice.

Freezing water surrounded him instantly, and Thomas forced his eyes to open within the murky lake. It was hard to see at first, as his eyes needed a moment to adjust to the new watery environment. But as soon as they did, it did not take Thomas long to find what he was searching for.

It aided him that the lake was not too deep, and the flash of red not far below where he swam was quickly revealed. Without hesitation, Thomas moved his arms and legs down to the red and soon, found his cousin's body.

Gripping the upper arm closest to him, Thomas pulled at Penelope's body with him and swam rapidly up to the brightest light of the surface above.

His assumption of what area to go to was proven correct, and soon, he gasped for air as he broke through the surface. His arms moved automatically and circled Penelope's body to bring her upper body above the water alongside him. Secured with Penelope's head leaned against his shoulder, Thomas removed his right arm and grasped the top of the icy surface.

What would've been a simple task was made difficult due to the soaked arm and the slippiness of the ice. However, just as he was about to scream out in frustration, two hands grasped a hold of his arm and shoulder. Thomas' head darted to behind him and let out a sigh of deep relief.

"You two are certainly going to be the death of me." Lord Crokebane grunted, kneeling over the cracked ice gap, with one leg spread out to the nearby edge.

More of the ice cracked apart, making the task heighten in difficulty. Nonetheless, with the strength of Thomas' upper body and a lot of tugging and pulling from the elderly lord, the two slowly started to pull the cousins out of Nettles Lake and onto the cold ground.

Rolling away from Penelope, Thomas only managed to take two deep breaths before Lord Crokebane emotionlessly stated: "She's not breathing."

Thomas sprung up and, with wide and sore eyes, watched as his grandfather rolled Penelope fully on her back and started to push into her chest. This went on for a few seconds until Lord Crokebane's hands reached over for Penelope's face and opened her mouth. Bringing his own face down above Penelope's, their lips met and Lord Crokebane breathed completely into her mouth, until returning to push down on her chest. These actions were repeated swiftly.

Thomas could do nothing but watch. Dread filled him, and as his eyes watered, that's when he felt it.

Eyes. Eyes on him.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his sky-blue eyes searched their surroundings. They landed on the area of the woods they were knelt nearby. Narrowing his gaze, Thomas found the figure of–

Loud coughing and choking threw Thomas' attention away from the woods and to his family beside him. Air fully entered his body then as he saw Penelope was the one coughing and, with Lord Crokebane rolling her on her side, choking out water from the lake. In further aiding her, their grandfather patted Penelope's back.

"Penelope!" Thomas leaned over, his eyes searching for hers. "Pen! It's me! You're safe! I promise!"

Penelope did not reply, and when all the water in her collapsed out, her body went limp.

Fear staggering him, Thomas snapped his gaze back to their exhausted grandfather. "What's happened? What's wrong with her?"

Lord Crokebane looked at Thomas as if he asked the most stupid questions imaginable. "She has just drowned Thomas. Her body is exhausted from such an event, along with the fact she is covered head to toe in injuries from her fall. She's obviously not going to be conscious for it." Thomas' expression darkened slightly at the lord's tone but was stopped in any reply as he gently rolled Penelope back onto her back and continued. "We need to get back to the cottage. Immediately."

"I'll do it." Thomas grounded out, not hiding his displeasure with his grandfather but trying to push it aside for Penelope's sake.

As Thomas carefully wound his arms underneath Penelope's body, Lord Crokebane cradled the back of Penelope's neck. "Carefully. We do not want to inflict further damage."

Instead of giving an annoyed reply, Thomas followed his grandfather's instruction and, steadily, lifted Penelope in his arms and stood up. Devoid of any further discussion between the two, Lord Crokebane led the way out of the area of Nettles Lake and to Nettles Cottage.

There was only a small flare of light that shined down on Penelope as she wandered aimlessly through the dark void. Her mind was sluggish and mumbled, unsure of what to make of the endless location she found herself in or how she got there. She had tried calling out a few times, but all that was returned was the echoes of her calls.

She did not know how long she walked, neck turning in any and all directions to see something, anything. But when the noises slowly emerged, Penelope was startled.

It was not quite clear to begin with what the noises were, but as they grew louder, Penelope eventually realised it was a conversation. Well, a conversation was putting it lightly. There were voices, but one voice was cloaked in rage and spitefulness with roaring yells, whereas the two accompanying voices were strong but laced with fear and hurriedness. The words to the conversation, or fight, were at a loss to Penelope, for they were not English words.

Penelope could speak fluently in French and Spanish and, just before her banishment, was beginning to do so in Italian. So she knew instantly that whatever language the voices were conversing in was none of them.

And, while she was not as polished on the language as the previous three, Penelope had a distinct feeling the language was not in Latin either. It sounded old and rich, as Latin was, but… The flow of it was not to the standard of Latin.

Before she could examine the possibilities of what language she was overhearing, the voices abruptly stopped. Penelope frowned, unsure of how to proceed, when echoes of footsteps were marching towards her.

Another flare of light appeared as a sudden figure was making its way towards Penelope.

Not just any figure. A figure of a woman.

As the woman gained proximity, Penelope was astonished by the woman's beauty and terror.

She had light blonde hair, almost golden in the flare of the light, with a curvy but firm physique. As if she had been in the training yard as much as Thomas had been. She appeared slightly taller than her cousin though, with long legs to gain that height. Dressed in war attire, Penelope noted she had less armour than what would be expected to go into battle, but that only added to her fearsome demeanour. She did not look like someone you would want to meet on the battlefield. Her blonde hair was mostly down, with braids tight to the scalp woven from front to back. Her face looked like an exact image of a sculpture of a Greek statue, with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. She painted dark, thick lines from her expressive sky-blue–

The woman was suddenly only a mere few steps from her, and that is when Penelope noticed the blade in the blonde woman's hand. Before she had a chance to react, the blade was thrust towards Penelope, but not to harm her, merely to… Pass the blade on.

Unsure of what else to do, Penelope retrieved the blade that she saw held a decorative handle in the colours of green and brown and an engravement of a language she had not seen before at the top of the blade.

The blonde woman said something to Penelope in the familiar language pattern she heard moments before. Just as she looked up to try and form a response to whatever was being said, the blonde woman marched around where Penelope stood.

Instantaneously, new noises echoed out into the dark void. They were not voices this time. There were human cries, and roars, horses shrieking, which were overrun with loud stumps and clashes of sword against sword.

The blonde woman spoke again, causing Penelope to whip around in the direction she was marching. That's when Penelope noticed it.

Attached to the blonde woman's back was a thick and long sword.

She was speaking in an unknown language once more, looking over her shoulder and directly at Penelope as she did so. And then, as she reached towards the handle of her sword to retrieve it, she faded into the dark void.

The noises continued when a quake, a rumble, shook the dark place and pushed Penelope to the ground. The blade flew from her hands as her back hit the bottomless ground and she began to cough erratically.

A high-pitched scream sounded from the stern body of Lady Crokebane, and it is something that Lord Crokebane would never forget. It was reminiscent of the distraught yells she pounded his way two decades ago after Clayton Crokebane's death and the destruction of everything related to him and their daughter.

Only this time, the distraught was laced with fear and devastation as the two men quickly strode up to the back of Nettles Cottage.

As her hazel eyes took in Penelope's fragile figure weighed in Thomas' arms, her voice gravely lowered. "Is she…"

Lord Crokebane gave a swift shake of the head. "Just unconscious." He then looked to Thomas behind him as he strode past his fearful wife and into the cottage. "Get her up to her room. Cecilia, get as many blankets and towels as possible!" He stormed into the building, heading towards the single study of the building where he kept some medical supplies for emergencies. In his march towards the study, he passed a few startled maids and other staff members and came across the butler. "Charles, go and assist my wife in what needs to be done! And attend to the fireplace in Penelope's room!"

"Yes my lord!" Charles heeded his commands and gestured for a few staff members to follow him.

It took him a few minutes, a few minutes too long in his mind, but once he retrieved all the medical supplies he needed for the injuries he sensed Penelope had, he raced up to Penelope's room.

Inside Penelope was laid out on her bed near the edge, so Lord Crokebane could have easy access to her wounds. His and Thomas' valets were busy starting up the fire that had dimmed out during the last few hours. Thomas himself was kneeling next to the bed, holding Penelope's hand, though, upon his grandfather's arrival, he sprung up to his feet and stepped aside so Lord Crokebane could get to work.

"Get out of those clothes and dry yourself off." Lord Crokebane ordered as he spread some of his medical tools on the ground.

"I'm fine." Thomas stiffly said, his eyes staying on Penelope's form.

"You won't be when you're ill with a cold."

"I said I am fine."

"Thomas!" Lord Crokebane instantly yelled, causing their valets to briefly pause in their firing of the fireplace. "I am already concerned about one grandchild, I do not need to be concerned about the other! Now do as you are told!"

Straightening his posture, Thomas looked like he was going to yell right back at his grandfather, but fortunately, Lady Crokebane came into the room with a few maids, who were carrying sheets and towels, and stepped slightly in between the two tensed men.

"Thomas, your grandfather is right. Please. The sooner you go and change, the sooner you can return." Lady Crokebane softly advised, her eyes shifting between the two stubborn Crokebane men.

With a low sound that was a mixture of a growl and a huff, Thomas turned and stormed out of the room. His hand aggressively smacked the frame of the doorway as he did.

"Go and get Matilda." Lord Crokebane then ordered his wife, "Penelope also needs to get out of her clothes and while I know you can do it alone, it'll probably be best if you have some help." Lady Crokebane let out a long-winded breath but nodded, quickly exiting the room also.

Leaning over Penelope's form, Lord Crokebane assessed the physically noticeable wounds that were trickling with blood. One was just in the hairline on the top right corner of her forehead. It was the deepest wound out of the two and would require stitching. The lord predicted though that, when it had healed over, the only way to know it was there would be by a keen search.

The second wound was a bit tricker. It was just nestled to the left side of Penelope's temple and scaled down to the bottom of her ear. Lord Crokebane guessed this was from the sharpness of the ice when she plunged into the lake, as it was not as deep as the previous wound, so it would not require stitching. However… The scar may be more noticeable. It was too soon to say, as his remedies could heal it so much that it could be unnoticeable as the previous. Plus, with the way women often style their hair and paint their faces, if there is a scar it can still be hidden.

Lord Crokebane knew this would possibly still be a problem. While his granddaughter never expressed her feelings of low worth towards her appearance to him, he knew that she held them because of his wife's worries.

This was not the time to worry about that though.

Getting to work, he brought his tools up to the bedside table. In his haste, he knocked down something that harshly hit the ground. Frowning, Lord Crokebane glanced down and saw it was a book. A book that he recognised immediately.

Gingerly collecting it up, memories flashed before his eyes on how the book was acquired many years ago, with the much younger appearance of the girl laid out in front of him. He knew what was written inside, but it did not stop him from opening it and reading anyway.

'To my dearest sister,

You have always read me this story when I was just as short as Mr Kasher is after I tell him a joke. Now it is my turn to gift and read the story to you.

Happy birthday!

Love and loyal as always,

Adaline'

"My lord," his valet, Oliver, stepped near the bed, his voice ringing with uncertainty. "The fire is now at full blaze. Is there anything else we can do?"

Blinking back the burning sensation in his eyes, Lord Crokebane gazed at his granddaughter, the aching similarity of her appearance hitting him a hundred times over than ever before. "Pillows. Firm pillows."

As the footsteps of the two valets disappeared into the corridor, Lord Crokebane thrust the book away into the bedside table before attending to his granddaughter's deep forehead wound.

I've already failed a daughter, I will not fail a granddaughter also.

When Penelope came too again, her eyes blinked open to the day sky that was crowded by the leaves and branches of enormous trees. Confused, she flattened her hands onto the dirty ground and pushed her upper body forward. In doing so, she realised the garments she was wearing.

"What…"

Due to being born into a family of high standing, Penelope was used to wearing dresses and gowns that reflected that. In recent months, now out of her mother's control, the dresses she wore became more fitting and comfortable, as well as less citrus colours. However, she never quite wore… Whatever she was wearing.

The main attraction to the garment was not completely a dress, it was styled more of a robe. Nonetheless, it was not that either. It was not improper to wear, as it covered most of her body, having a square cutting around her chest and was short-sleeved, the fabric to her arm ending at the point of the shoulder. However, what would probably cause a lot of scandal was the fact that the garment was fitted to her body. There was no flowy or puffy skirt, far from it actually, as it had a slit down from her waist and a sizable gap to allow swift movement of the legs. The whole piece ended just below her knees.

To save her from improperness and scandal (if that was somehow averted to a crowd), her legs and lower waist were dressed in breeches, though they form-fitted just like the previous garment.

That was followed by what Penelope instantly recognised as her own riding boots that she purchased with Lady Crokebane in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Though, they appeared a bit more worn than the last she saw of them.

While the question of how she got into these clothes was lingering, a key detail to both was what intrigued Penelope the most.

The main garment had the colour of olive green, and the breeches were golden brown.

The family colours of the Crokebanes.

Realising any questions that led with "how" and "what" would not be answered by her just sitting in the dirt, Penelope pushed herself to her feet, and as her eyes surveyed the area, she immediately realised where she was.

Little Eden Woods.

Soothing her dirty hands down on her mysterious clothing, Penelope wandered through the familiar woods. Apart from her knew she was safe here, she had always been safe here but everything felt… Off. The air did not flow by to welcome her in, no birds were chirping above and it was not cold. It was winter and yet, as she drifted through, it felt like a very hot summer's day.

The heat resembled that of the south.

As she wandered deeper into the woods and to its centre's clearing, a sound could be heard, along with rough grunting. The sound increased the further she got closer, and Penelope physically cringed as sounded as though something was being hit. Repeatedly.

Soon, she found what was being hit.

There was a figure of a man dressed in complete gold that sparkled in the daylight, and when that sparkle hit Penelope's eyes, it stung and watered them. In a deadly grip, the man held a whip that was also coated in gold… And blood. The target of the whip though was what bewildered Penelope the most.

It was a tree. A silver birch tree.

The gold man whipped and whipped and whipped the defenceless tree, causing numerous cuts, some of which poured out dark red blood.

So engrossed in the scene, Penelope did not notice immediately the motion developing under her feet until it climbed up to her calves. Shooting her gaze downwards, she saw a pool of water forming, steadily increasing to her knees. The air around her cooled and when she went to look back at Little Eden Woods, it was no more.

It was replaced by a neighbouring street.

"Well?" Thomas used every fibre of his being to not let the next words that came out from him be a continuous growl. "Is she going to be okay?"

It had been a few hours since Thomas and Lord Crokebane returned with the previously drowned and unconscious Penelope. The outside world had darkened and the whole estate had been put on high alert. Household staff running around, fireplaces in every room being lit to keep the warmth in the cottage flowing, and Lord Crokebane tending to his injured granddaughter.

Penelope had not been moved much, even with a few minor adjustments. Matilda had aided Lady Crokebane in undressing Penelope from her wet cloak, dress and undergarments. By the time Thomas had been allowed to return to the room, Matilda had been drying Penelope's long red hair with a sorrowful expression. She soon left after he took a seat in the corner of the room and Lord Crokebane continued his medical care of Penelope, saying she needed to return to the children who were being cared for by Ms Jameson.

He was still quite unsure of what had happened that caused Penelope's fall and eventual landing on top of an ice-covered lake. Matilda had not said much in her haste other than telling them to get to Penelope. She was trying to soothe a hysterically crying Mae in her arms, who was screaming out for Penelope. Peter… Well, he appeared just as in shock as Thomas felt when he watched Penelope fall into the ice.

That was a small part of what was putting him on edge. Another small part was his grandfather.

Out of his grandparents, he would say he was the closest to his grandmother, and it was not hard to understand why. As stern and hypervigilant as a woman she is, she was also deeply caring and loving, especially to her family. She was very much a mother to Thomas through his childhood and was there for many of his major firsts in life.

His grandfather… They have always had a warm relationship, and, for the most part, Thomas had good memories of him. However, due to his medical focus and duties, he was not around as much as his grandmother was. This was not abnormal in this world's society, as out of two parents within a family, the mother is most involved with the day-to-day lives of the children. Lord Crokebane took his medical practice, as well as his family instinct talent, seriously and would be out for most days of the week. And then there would be the occasional months-long trip to see a patient outside of their lands.

So, while they did have a warm relationship, there was a bit of a disconnect, too. And when you add on to the fact that Lord Crokebane, throughout most of his life, refused to speak of his mother and father, the disconnect grows.

They have had a few arguments, to which Lady Crokebane would force them to reconcile, stating: "Do not let your Crokebane stubbornness override your love for one another."

Thomas often kept that in mind, with the current situation at hand, his stubborn annoyance and worry were overriding all sense.

Adjusting the pillows that were under Penelope's left ankle, Lord Crokebane let out a long breath. "She has a sprained ankle, that is for sure, from when she slipped off the tree."

Thomas sat up in surprise. "Off the tree? I thought she just fell down a hill?"

Lady Crokebane, who had been standing not too far from the windowsill seat that Penelope would spend hours sitting at, went into explain. "Matilda told us everything she knew of what occurred and what she could understand from what Mae managed to tell her. The four of them were playing hide and seek, and when Penelope was the seeker, Mae decided to hide in a tree and got stuck. And then, well…"

Thomas did not need his grandmother to finish that. It was clear to anyone that Penelope climbed up a tree to aid little Mae and ended up falling from it.

"When she hit the ground, her head slammed into, what I would believe anyway, a rock, and it caused the wound on top of her head." Lord Crokebane gestured to the said wound that was covered in a bandage. "From there, she tumbled down the hill, where she earned some grazes on her knees and hands, as well as a severely bruised right hip. I am guessing she tumbled across another rock on that hill dive. Then, when she fell through the ice, she got a wound on the left temple to her ear, and after that, her chest was injured."

Thomas frowned at that last part. "Her chest? Whatever happened to her chest?

Lord Crokebane hesitated and gradually turned in his seat in Thomas' direction. "You know the procedure I performed after we got her out of the lake?" At Thomas' nod, he went on. "That kind of force, while it can be successful in getting the water out from someone's lungs, can cause bruising and sometimes fractures. It will heal in a few weeks, maybe less with the right medicine, and rarely causes any life-altering problems."

"Rarely?" Thomas hung on that word, his sky-blue eyes flashing with untamed fury. "So it can happen?" Lord Crokebane gave a hard stare to Thomas as an answer and the younger man stood up. "And you did that knowing it could possibly have life-altering consequences?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you have rather let her die then?" Lord Crokebane threw right back at Thomas.

Before Thomas could muster up an aggressive reply, Lady Crokebane stepped in. "Enough! The pair of you! This pointless arguing is not going to help Penelope!"

The two men glared at each other for a few seconds more before the eldest broke it and turned his attention back to Penelope. "I shall stay up with her tonight, in case something happens or she awakens."

"And when will she awaken?" Thomas found himself asking softly.

Lord Crokebane sighed heavily. "There is no time to it. Could be in a few hours, or a few days. Her body and mind have had quite a shock, and they need time to recover from that."

The neighbourhood was not somewhere she knew, Penelope was most certain of that. The stonework of the buildings was unlike those she saw anywhere in Mayfair, the whole of London, or within northern England. While she did not know much about architecture, she knew enough from Eloise that the designs were not of their lands.

Eyes gazing upwards, Penelope saw it was daytime, but the area was covered by dark clouds that appeared they were about to descend their wet fury on the world.

Not that it would do much more damage anyway.

The whole of the neighbourhood and the distance of what Penelope could narrowly see was basked in water. A flood, it would seem. Where she currently stood, the water only reached her knees, however, it would seem that this would be an after-effect, as a few of the homes within the neighbourhood in her line of sight held so much damage to them that Penelope concluded the flood was much higher before.

Eyes forever searching, they landed on a home to her right. What struck Penelope as odd was the fact that, along with a small boat floating near it, the house had their door wide open.

As if someone had recently entered.

Curiosity got the best of her and, pushing her legs against the forces of the flood, Penelope entered the house. It seemed to be a big household, with the entryway being a similar size to that of the entryway of Silver Birch. The table that presumably stood within the centre was partially snapped in half, floating in the water. The few paintings that hung on the walls were still there, only hanging by a weak thread and the essence of what it held was lost to the flood. The stairs were to the right side and up against the wall, and, if she climbed up those stairs, she would be provided with solid but damp grounds.

Penelope was stopped from doing this by a mere glance into the room on her left. Her eyes widened and her legs automatically carried her closer.

Due to the broken furniture that floated in the room, she quickly summarised that this room was a drawing room of sorts. Various tokens from the shelves and the fireplace mantle had been washed away and decorated the waters below. These aspects were not what caught Penelope's attention.

It was the three floating bodies.

Two were adults: a man and a woman. Penelope could only see the back of them, as their fronts were buried into the water, but she saw the man was finely dressed, with dark russet hair. The woman too was finely dressed in a light blue gown and dark blonde hair spreading out in the water like a halo.

The third figure… The third figure was what caused Penelope the most horror.

It was a child. A young boy. A boy also finely dressed, with dark russet hair almost similar to the man's.

Penelope felt she was lucky in the regard that she could not see the boy's face either. That was not something she wanted imprinted on her mind.

However, everything about this stroke Penelope as… Odd. She thought back to what drew her to this house in particular. The small boat and the open door to the house. They must have decided to return and collect whatever had survived the flood. But that did not explain how they ended up drowned in knee-height water.

"Please God!" A voice shouted out, startling Penelope away from the scene before her.

Looking down the entryway, she saw an archway that led to a corridor and instinctively hurried through the waves of water to it. It was a small, darkened corridor, and its only sources of light at that moment were from the entryway and the room down to the left. Narrowing her eyes, Penelope trudged towards it.

At first, she saw the heat bases of a cooking stand, which concluded that the room was, in fact, a kitchen. However, as she gained closer to the doorway into the kitchen, she was greeted with another horrible sight.

Miraculously, the centre table of the kitchen seemed, for the most part, undamaged by the flood. It's possible the heavier weight than most over tables she had seen within the home aided in that. It was not the table that horrified her though, it was what lay on top of it.

Spread out on the centre of the kitchen table was that of a young girl, no older than twelve, completely dosed in water and unmoving. Like the other three people in the drawing room, she was finely dressed, with drenched dark russet hair spread out below her body. Above the young girl was a man, whose upper body did not appear as wet as his lower part. His hair was sprinkled with light greys and he seemed to be frantically attending to the little girl, repeatedly and harshly down on her chest.

The door to the kitchen suddenly, and quite swiftly, slammed closed. Fear gripping her, Penelope reached for the doorknob and, using all of her strength, opened the door. She stumbles upon its opening and soon she is diving into the waters below.

Rolling through the waters, she felt her body being further and further dragged in, and she was powerless to fight against it. There was a mere gleam of light, and when her eyes squinted towards it, she saw a ball of sorts. A ball that you could see through and that shined the brightest within the gleam that was momentarily blocked by something flying past it.

Suddenly Penelope was no longer amid water. She was slammed down onto solid ground, and she let out a low groan in response. Forcing her awareness to stay in her surroundings rather than her physical, she opened her eyes and took in the space she was now in.

It was an open field, with trees surrounding it in the vast distance. The sun was beaming down happily on the landscape and for a moment, Penelope's heart began to ease.

The reprieve did not last for long.

The ground shook as thunders raced towards where Penelope sat. Pushing herself into a stand, she let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a yelp when she saw what was coming.

A herd of shrieking and howling horses.

Knowing there was no time to escape the oncoming storm, Penelope stood helplessly, arms wrapped around her body as a way to try and protect her body. Bursts of air brushed past her as the horses sped through the field.

With nothing hitting her, Penelope gingerly opened her eyes just as the last of the herd crossed her. They all seemed determined to reach the surrounding woods and would have likely been successful with how wildly they were running until something shot through the sky and landed on one of the horses.

The horse in question shrieked out and, with a loud thump, collapsed to the ground.

Another force from the sky came and landed on another horse, causing the same action.

Shakingly, Penelope turned to the other side of the field and saw a dark figure on a dark horse, shooting arrows into the sky that were killing the horses.

Largely, the dark figure was successful.

Only two of the horses escaped into the woods unharmed and the dark figure raced their horse past where Penelope stood and after them.

Lightheaded and stumbling, the redhead tripped backwards and landed on a dark, cool wooden counter.

It was the next day, and Nettles Cottage was heightened with a tense air that had not been felt since Irene Crokebane's murder.

True to his word, Lord Crokebane stayed up the whole of the night and watched over Penelope's unconscious form. His jaw clenched so tight he was unable to eat or drink. Not that he had the stomach for such things.

Largely, for the morning, Penelope's room was left undisturbed. A few of the staff came in to attend to the fireplace, and Lady Crokebane stopped by to see how their granddaughter was doing, along with trying to encourage him to eat.

When the morning strode into the afternoon Matilda stopped by with the Woods.

Lord Crokebane grunted acknowledgement to them but did not say anything. He had no idea what to say. Rationally, he knew it was not the girl's fault and what had occurred was a simple accident. However, his emotions were heightened, even more so from a lack of sleep, and knew rationale left his mind the moment he dragged his grandchildren out of the icy lake. So he knew it was best if he kept his mouth shut.

The three did not stay for long, as Mae became quite distressed and Matilda and Peter quickly ushered her out.

Soon, the afternoon was bleeding into the evening and Lord Crokebane had not moved an inch from his seat next to Penelope's bed.

"You cannot stay up again tonight." Lady Crokebane stated as she entered Penelope's bedchamber.

"Watch me." Lord Crokebane replied with a sternness.

Forcing herself to breathe evenly, Lady Crokebane continued. "You need rest, dear husband. You cannot properly care for her if you are not fed and rested."

Lord Crokebane merely hummed and intended to only give a short glance his lady wife's way when something caught his eye. "What is that?"

Within her hands, Lady Crokebane held an envelope with the Crokebane symbol seal on top. "It is a letter."

"A letter to whom?"

"Who do you think?" Lady Crokebane shot her husband a sharp look. "Thomas has already written a letter to Miss Eloise. He kept it short, so it would not seem improper, but he wanted to let her know why Penelope wouldn't be responding to any recent letters and that she would be alright. Because of that I… I do not think it is wise that a mother should learn of her daughter's near-death experience from a third party, so I devised a letter of my own to send to her."

Lord Crokebane scoffed. "Do you really believe she will care? She hasn't responded to any of our letters regarding updates on Penelope, let alone any previous letters. Why do you believe she will now?"

"She's her mother."

"Which has become an unfortunate fate for Penelope."

"Max." Lady Crokebane almost yelled, her heightened emotions boiling to the surface. "No matter what emotional quarrels we have with Portia, she is still our daughter. We cannot shun her from the daughter she has placed in our care."

"The only person who is shunning her from her daughter is herself, Cecilia." Lord Crokebane stated with barely contained anger. "And, to add to that, she did not place Penelope in our care, she banished her to us. So that makes any information we should feel obliged to send on void."

The two stared each other down for a few heated moments before Lady Crokebane spoke once more. "I am sending this letter, with or without your blessing." And with that, she marched out of the room, leaving Lord Crokebane to his second night of watch.

When Penelope was younger, and her mother had plans for herself with the two eldest daughters without her, Lord Featherington would sometimes take pity on her and allow her to accompany him to do official Baron work. A few times this happened, she remembered how the government offices always looked well-polished but cold and filled with much tension.

The room that Penelope was thrust into was no different. Though, a room was too much for a small word to describe what she was in. It seemed to be an official hall, a meeting hall, it would seem. With various rows of seats that people, men, with great importance sat upon. Currently, though, they were chatting amongst themselves as they waited for… Something.

However, the men in the room paid her no mind as she stood numbly in the open area of the hall–as if she was not there.

A large bang on something hard drew the chatters to an end, and all the men looked up behind Penelope. Turning around, Penelope's eyes widened for the hundredth time as she gazed up at a stand that held a disgruntled-looking elderly man with a white-haired wig atop his head.

This was not a government office hall. This was a courtroom.

The elderly man, the judge it would seem, sounded his small hammer once more to bring full attention to the proceedings. Once the whole court fell into complete silence, the judge turned his attention to someone to the left of Penelope, and she soon saw a lawyer sitting to the side.

"Who shall be your next witness against the accused?" The judge asked with his voice in high command.

The lawyer stood up. "Doctor Lawerence Crokebane, Your Honour."

Penelope's jaw dropped, her eyes immediately going to where the witness stand stood. Before the person could appear, the vast doors to the courtroom lashed open against the walls and a cascade of a flood washed through.

"Oh!" Matilda jumped sometime after she closed the door to Peter's room and found Thomas leaning against the wall next to the door in the corridor. "You frightened me!"

"Sorry." Thomas did not sound like he meant his apology. "How are they doing?"

Matilda sighed tiredly. "Lady Crokebane has allowed them to sleep together again, as Mae… Peter has said she keeps waking up throughout the night, calling out for Penelope and Peter, which makes sense since she witnessed them both fall out of a tree." Thomas ducked his head down at that. "She then breaks down into tears and proceeds not to sleep for the rest of the night. Peter said he has never seen her like this."

Running a hand through his hair, Thomas looked down the corridor that led to the family rooms and Penelope's room. "Pen would know what to do. She'll probably sing to them."

"I have tried it myself," Matilda confessed. "Just now, I sang a lullaby I knew from growing up, but it did not have the same soothing effect as Penelope's voice does." Taking in the future lord's appearance, Matilda tilted her head. "How are you doing?"

Thomas did not give a direct answer, instead, he simply said: "I'll be better when my cousin wakes up."

The flood had dragged her away once more, and when she came back to solid ground, she managed to stand starkly on her front. Breathing through the dizziness of all that she had experienced, Penelope reluctantly shoved herself up and stood shakily on her legs.

Her surroundings were that of an open field. It was unlike the previous open field though, the skies were grey, there were no surroundings of nearby woods and the field itself…

It was littered with dead bodies. The aftermath of an open battle.

Unable to take in any more sights of dead bodies, some she felt were brushing against her shoes, Penelope twirled around. Trying to find an escape. And it wasn't long until she found one.

To the edge of the battlefield stood a house. It held the meek appearance of a shed, though, with a wooden base and had clearly not been inhabited or cared for a time, with a few of the windows broken and the steps up to the entrance appearing unstable.

A pit of uneasiness entered her the longer she stared at the damaged house, but her desire to be away from all the dead bodies won out. Keeping her eyes on the wooden building, Penelope walked through the battlefield and grimaced when she felt her feet stride over the occasional body.

It was a long, agonising walk that Penelope could not breathe through, as the stench of blood and the dead was too much to bear. Eventually, she found herself at the bottom of the house and climbed carefully up the steps to the front door.

With a quivering hand, Penelope stretched out to grasp the doorknob and–

A hand gripped a hold on Penelope's wrist, stopping her from opening the door to the house and she bolted her sight to the person who was stopping her.

It was herself…

It was Penelope.

"Right." Thomas started upon entering Penelope's room, eyes firmly glued to the unmovable doctor. It was early the next morning and, upon learning from his grandmother that his stubborn grandfather had not retreated for rest since they got Penelope safely to Nettles Cottage, decided to step in. "You need sleep. As of yesterday."

"I'm fine." Lord Crokebane uttered, though his exhausted appearance said otherwise.

"I will stay with Penelope." Thomas instructed, marching over to where Lord Crokebane sat. "I will stay with her for the rest of the day and night. Like you, I have not gotten any sleep so I might as well be useful."

"And what if something happens?" Lord Crokebane whipped his fierce gaze up to his grandson. "What will you do then?"

"Then I will send for you." Thomas answered easily, "But what you're doing now is of no use to Pen. Just like with me, the last thing you need to worry about is your health."

Shoulders shagging down, Lord Crokebane leaned back in his seat. "Make sure you have Brandon stay up with you during the night, as most of the staff will be abed." He suggested, referring to Thomas' valet and, with that, wearily stood up from the chair and forcibly removed himself from the room.

The scenery promptly transformed into another. The strong winds smacking against Penelope's body were the initial sensation she felt. The winds were unforgiving, whipping from various directions. The skies were dark, much darker than the grey skies of the battlefield.

Penelope knew she had to look out to where she was now. She needed to assess if there was any more danger. But her eyes could not be drawn away from the figure of herself.

The sky-blue eyes matched Penelope's. The fiery red hair matched Penelope's. The facial structure matched Penelope's. Everything upon first appearance when staring at the woman who grabbed ahold of Penelope's wrist was Penelope.

But, as she stared and stared at the mirror version of herself, she realised… There were a few details that were different.

The woman held the same curvy disposition as Penelope, but there was a little less weight to them. Her height was a few inches above Penelope. Her fiery red hair did not hold the same thickness and had more of a curl at the ends rather than Penelope's natural waves that had formed under the right conditions.

There were possible other differences, too, but it was clear as the dark sky above that the two were forged from the same vine and she could even see them being mistaken as identical twins.

The Not Penelope smiled gently at Penelope, her gaze drinking in Penelope in a hungry manner, but whose matching sky-blue eyes conveyed a deep mist of sadness and grief.

Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but then that's when, along with the gushing wind, screams rolled through the air.

It was almost an exact copy of the screams she heard when her strange dream started to happen. Screams of men. Screams of women. Screams of children. All in despair, fear and deadly acceptance.

Eyes ripping away from Not Penelope, she gazed out to the scenery and realised instantly where she was.

In the yards and yards of fields in northern England. And, in the far distance, she could see the outline of Silver Birch Manor.

"The darkness." A voice echoed out into the wind above the screams, and she quickly realised it was coming from Not Penelope. "And the vow." Pairs of sky-blue eyes clashed, and the wind became impossibly stronger. "It has torn us all apart. You will be the one to end it." Not Penelope's eyes then flickered away to something behind Penelope and released her grip from her wrist.

Penelope followed Not Penelope's gaze and saw a man standing not too far from them. The winds did not seem to affect him as much as her as he marched through them without struggle. His attire reminded Penelope of that woman she saw in the dark void, though less armour (not that the woman had much on), and more leather bound. Despite his tall build, he did not have much muscle on him as the woman did. The closer he got as well, the more Penelope saw more familiarities between the woman and the man. He too had blonde hair, though a tad darker than the woman's, braided back and the length of which was at the level at the end of his neck. The areas of his eyes were also darkly painted, bringing out his–

The man spoke in a language that Penelope knew without a doubt was the same language the woman spoke before. This time, the words were much more forceful, with a direct purpose towards Penelope.

She tried to back away but the man got to her before she could get away. Looking directly into Penelope's eyes, he grasped a hold of her face, pressing his thumbs into the centre of her forehead as he continued to speak in the unknown tongue.

Her body filled with a burning heat and her eyes rolled backwards.

True to his word, Thomas did not sleep. While it had been a good two days without it, he did not feel the effects of it. Far from it, he was alert and ready for whatever action was needed. Unfortunately, the only action that he could do was softly pacing up and down Penelope's room and keeping watch.

He did not pray much. Religion was not a major factor in his life and the few times he attended church he was forced to by his grandmother. And even then it was around special occasions. As, due to the circumstances of the beginning of his life, Thomas did not want to believe in a God that could willingly let his parents be taken away from him.

So he did not think what he was doing mentally, as he kept his eyes on Penelope's sleeping form, could count as praying. But the essence of it could, he supposed. He wished for his cousin and best friend's welfare, wished there would be no lasting effects, and wished she would soon awaken from her injury-induced slumber.

In the midst of his wishes though, movement was made from Penelope's form.

Hastily rushing to Penelope's bedside, Thomas tricked himself into believing that she finally was awakening.

But she was not. Far from it.

Her body suddenly started striking in various directions, with mumbles of pain tumbling from her lips. Eyes squeezing more shut than ever before.

Panic spread through him and he rushed to the door, knowing that Brandon was probably standing on the other side.

His suspicions were correct as his valet instantly straightened his posture from leaning against the wall when the door opened. He opened his mouth to speak, but Thomas beat him to it.

"Awake my grandfather and get him here at once! Now!" Thomas loudly commanded and, with a firm nod, the valet raced down the corridor to do just that.

When Thomas returned to Penelope's side, the rapid movements and shaking increased, with more mumbles coming forth. This continued for several minutes and was the first thing Lord Crokebane saw as he ran into the room.

Automatically, Thomas moved aside a little to make room for the doctor as he spoke. "When did this start?"

"About five minutes ago. I sent for you right away." Thomas replied with a shaky voice. "W-what is wrong? Is there an infection?"

Lord Crokebane was silent for a few moments, his sky-blue eyes drifting over Penelope's frantic form. "No."

"Then what is it?"

Another pit of silence. "I do not know…"

Thomas ripped his focused gaze away from Penelope and to his grandfather, whose expression showed more lines than ever before. "What? What do you mean? What is the instinct telling you?"

"Nothing." Lord Crokebane grunted, his eyebrows frowned down in utter concertation. "It's telling me nothing."

"What… How can it be telling you nothing? There's clearly something wrong!"

"I don't know Thomas!" Lord Crokebane shouted back in frustration. "This has never happened before!"

Mouth ajar, the two looked back at Penelope's form once more. The next few minutes continued the same until slowly, and to much relief of the men, the rapid and shaking movements stopped. When Penelope was fully still, Thomas could see sprinkles of sweat trailing down from her forehead as Lord Crokebane reached over to her neck to feel her pulse.

"Her pulse is calming," Lord Crokebane breathed out before moving his hand to touch her forehead. "It seems what has happened has stopped as… I can now feel all of the injuries again. None of them feel infected but I shall double-check. In the meantime," Lord Crokebane called out to the two valets standing outside in the corridor, who quickly entered. "Calm down the fireplace a little. Not too much, but enough so the heat is not overwhelming to her body." The valets went straight to work and Lord Crokebane looked to Thomas. "Open the windows, we need a cool air circling in here and I'll lessen the sheets on her so she doesn't get sick from overheating."

Without any protest, Thomas did as requested, wishing this time his grandfather was correct and whatever had happened stopped.

The first sensation, or pain as it were, that Penelope registered as she slowly awoke was undeniably her chest. It felt as though it had met Thor's Hammer a hundred times and somehow lived to tell the tale. It made the mission of breathing ache, but her body managed. Her chest moved up and down in a stuttering manner.

The next was a throb in her head and it was strong enough for Penelope to resist the allure of the living world and return to the comforts of sleep.

However, as she took in these pains, a groan slipped from her lips and caught the attention of someone.

"Pen?"

It was Thomas. And for that, Penelope was confused.

Her confusion pulled her further away from slumber and into the waking land, opening her eyes before quickly shutting them, shrieking at the bright light.

"Shit! Sorry! One second!" Thomas yelled, which caused Penelope to shriek once more at the loudness. "Sorry." He lowered his voice at that, and the distance of how it sounded probably helped as she heard him shifting something. "Try now."

Squeezing her eyes briefly, Penelope opened them. Everything was blurry, so she blinked, blinked, blinked and blinked many more times to aid in her sight adjusting. Soon, she was met with the worried gaze of her cousin leaning over her.

"T-Tho–" She then coughed, choked, cutting off her cousin's name as her throat was drier than it had ever been before.

Thomas reached over to her bedside table and poured out a glass of water that was prepared for her. Glass in one hand, Thomas had his spare hand reach under Penelope's neck, aiding her in drinking a few sips. "Slowly." He informed her softly, and Penelope accepted his instruction.

Once that was done and her throat was a little less dry, Penelope returned her tired gaze to Thomas. "What… What happened?"

Thomas frowned. "You do not remember?"

"I-I…" Penelope trailed off, and all at once the memories flooded back to her.

Going out to the surrounding lands of Nettles Cottage. Snowball fights. Hide and seek. Mae stuck up in the tree, and her fall from that tree. The frozen ice of Nettles Lake and–

Penelope remembered all that she had experienced in her slumber… If one could call it that. It was unlike the strange dreams she had been having for a time. These dreams or… Whatever they were, they were real but more bewildering and rushed and chaotic and incomplete. Her mind and soul were unsure of what to make of it all, especially on the yards and yards of fields outside Silver Birch Manor.

Blinking away the tears that were slowly forming, she looked up at Thomas. "H… How long was I…" She trailed off once more, unsure how to finish her question.

Luckily, Thomas knew his cousin well and understood her unspoken question. "Three days. We've all been scared shitless Pen. You cannot do that again." Thomas tempted to lightly say, but his voice was clogged with thick emotion as his own eyes watered.

With a forced light chuckle, Penelope gave the tiniest of smiles. "I'll do my best, cousin."

Notes:

No chapter preview as I have not yet started it :P But we are back with the Bridgertons, giving the Crokebanes a breather 3

Chapter 41: Chapter XXXIX: A White Christmas

Summary:

Christmas arrives at Aubrey Hall.

Notes:

Hello all! Happiest Friday! Do not fret, I AM ALIVE!

Sorry to everyone that I did not post an update yesterday, I tried to get it ready for Wednesday, and then when I couldn't I tried to get it ready for the original update of Thursday but... I have not been very well. I am currently experiencing a horrible period, and it's been hard to focus as I am really fatigued. I am really sorry about missing the update day though and, hopefully, this will not occur again and I can keep to my post days.

I also want to give a shoutout to Yul3! HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY GIRL! I really wanted to get this chapter out for you Wednesday but life laughs at plans :P I hope you enjoy this chapter as a delayed birthday gift and I hope you had an amazing day! 3

Now I know I say this a lot but... I feel there might be a divide of opinions in this chapter. Originally, Daphne was merely going to be a background character but as this story continues, the story grows. As I said previously, I do feel Daphne and Eloise's relationship will be a mirror of Portia and Adaline's, though with various differences. I am actually looking forward to where this part of the story will take Eloise, as it's clear there is a major disconnect between the sisters. I know this isn't a major thing in the TV series (or in the books?) but I do feel like with Eloise's struggles in the society they live in, Daphne is one of the major factors to it.

Also, just to add in, sorry if Simon Basset may seem a bit OOC. I never got a good grasp of his character. I thought he was decent but the writing for him felt forced at some points. I hope I captured his character well, but I know it's not perfect.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Unfortunately I have a lot of shifts at work next week, so Week 1 will be repeated next week. I hope you understand, I just don't want to be too overwhelmed.

Fun Fact #34:

I legally changed my last name from my mother's maiden name. However, I did not take my father's name either, and picked a surname that felt right for me outside my family origins.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

From her view through the window, Violet Bridgerton watched with a tiny smile as her children played in the snow. It was three days before Christmas Day, and Hyacinth declared they needed to celebrate the occasion in the traditional Bridgerton fashion. A good ole snowball fight.

They were down with people who could participate. Colin was still travelling Greece, exploring much more than he originally had in the first few months he was there, from what Violet could tell from his letters, Daphne was pregnant, and Anthony was busy finalising some paperwork so he could fully enjoy the Christmas time.

So that only left Benedict, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory and Hyacinth for the snowball fight.

Though, the Dowager Viscountess was hesitant about the fifth Bridgerton to be out in the cold.

It had been two days since, what everyone else had been calling it, the incident. She did not witness the event but from the descriptions given to her by Beatrice and Daphne, it was enough to trigger Violet into horrible memories of the late Viscount Bridgerton. This led her into protective mother mode despite many reassurances from Eloise that she was feeling fine. The doctor too, after being summoned by Anthony to check over his sister, had given the second Bridgerton daughter the clear. However he did not explain what had happened, and if anything, he seemed just as bewildered as everyone else. This added to Violet's anxieties and became more protective over Eloise's well-being, keeping a firm eye on her, much to her daughter's annoyance.

Violet had been briefly tempted to reach out to Lord Crokebane and summon him to look over Eloise just to be on the safe side. That idea quickly vanished as she knew the Crokebanes were not currently located at Silver Birch Manor, but at the Scottish Borders in Nettles Cottage. The distance, as well as the snowy weather, had made letter receiving longer, based on the numerous complaints from Eloise.

So, it took a lot of convincing Violet for her to allow Eloise to join her siblings outside, but from the moment she agreed, Violet stood by the window to keep an eye on the happenings in the snow. She was not alone either.

While Eloise was reluctant to leave her furry companion in the house, as the kitten tended to walk wherever Eloise walked, the snow was far too deep and thick for the small animal to handle and did not want her to get lost or sick as a result. So, Eloise carried Bia to a seat that overlooked the back gardens of Aubrey Hall and commanded her to stay put. Violet was surprised that Bia followed this instruction, and allowed the woman to stroke her a few times. But the kitten's eyes never wavered away from Eloise's form outside.

It had been twenty minutes since they had gone out, and Violet knew that they would have to return inside soon. It was far too cold to stay out too much longer and, even from the distance, Violet could tell their clothes were becoming damp.

Contemplating when she should call them all in, someone entered the drawing room and Violet looked over her shoulder as footsteps grew closer.

"Daphne," Violet smiled warmly at her eldest daughter. "I thought you were resting."

Rubbing her swollen stomach, Daphne fondly rolled her eyes as she stood beside Violet and stared out the window. "There was only so much resting I can do with all the fun I am missing from the outside." A burst of laughter from Hyacinth could be heard then as she managed to hit one of her snowballs at her eldest brother. "I believe this is the first instance where I am resentful of the fact I am with child."

Violet hummed. "They will have to come in soon. I am fearful of anyone catching a terrible cold." Glancing at her daughter again, Violet's blue eyes narrowed at something loosely held in the Duchess' hands. "What is that?"

"Oh!" Daphne's cheeks blushed a little, and Violet knew it was due to the fact that Daphne's memory was a bit frazzled nowadays due to her pregnancy. "I ran into Beatrice on the way here, and she had a letter for Eloise from Penelope. Since I was already on the way to meet with you and everyone else, I said I would give it to El."

Opening her mouth to say something, Violet stopped herself when she caught the handwriting on the sealed envelope. "May I see it?" Daphne frowned at this request, nonetheless handed the letter to Violet.

Taking in the handwriting, Violet knew from briefly seeing previous letters from the youngest Featherington that her style was neat and flowed with a lot of twirls and curls. The handwriting she was seeing was also neat but did not flow with each letter and seemed to be written separately. Flipping the envelope back, Violet saw the familiar crest of the Crokebane family at the back, but instinctively knew it was neither Penelope's or Lady Crokebane's handwriting.

Without wasting another moment, Violet moved closer to the window and opened it. A cold gush of air hit her face as she leaned forward.

"Eloise!" Violet shouted out, causing all the Bridgertons to pause in their snowball fight. "You need to come inside! Now!" Not waiting for a response, Violet firmly closed the window and started to pace frantically in the drawing room.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Daphne questioned as her voice cloaked with confusion.

Violet did not answer, just continued to pace and tap the envelope against her fingertips.

Eventually, the doors to the drawing room opened and Eloise marched in, with Benedict close at her heels. Seeing her owner, Bia jumped from her spot from the chair and ran over to Eloise.

"Mama I am fine." Eloise stated with strength and annoyance. "Nothing is wrong, I promise. You do not need to drag me away just as I was about to beat my siblings asses!"

Benedict frowned playfully at that. "Ugh, I do believe it was the other way around dear sister of mine." Eloise shot a glare at him for that.

"Eloise," Violet had stopped her pacing, staring down grimly at the letter in her hands. "You have received a letter."

"Finally!" Eloise breathed and approached where her mother stood. "Pen has taken forever to reply to my last letter."

"Which last letter?" Benedict teased, staying in his spot near the doors. "As you two almost write to each other daily, so it must be hard to keep track of what letter she needs to respond to."

Eloise once again glared at her brother, but Violet's voice stopped any verbal reply she was mustering up.

"It's not from Penelope."

Eloise's attention then whipped back to Violet at that. "What? Who is it from?"

Violet let out a deep sigh. "I am not too sure, but I do know it's from Penelope's household as it has the family crest stamped at the back."

As Eloise retrieved the envelope from Violet, Benedict's playful demeanour slowly turned serious. "Could it be from her grandmother?"

Violet shook her head. "I exchanged a few letters with Cecilia myself and would recognise her handwriting."

Ripping the seal open, Eloise unfolded the envelope and read the contents. Quickly, her dark emerald eyes widened and all breathing ceased to exist.

Violet attentively approached Eloise and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Who is it, my dear?" Without a verbal response, Eloise numbly handed the letter over to her mother and, upon reading its contents, Violet's shoulders rose and a flash of fear crossed her eyes. "Benedict, go and get your brother."

Benedict and Daphne shared a look of confusion and concern, but Benedict quickly followed his mother's request and left the drawing room.

"Mama?" Daphne propped, watching on as Violet wrapped an arm around Eloise's shaking form. "What's happened? Who was it?"

Violet took a moment to reply, repressing her own emotions to fully support her daughter. "Penelope's been in an accident."

"Jesus." Benedict breathed out an hour later. After being tasked with summoning his eldest brother, who was sharing a tense drink with Simon Basset, he and Daphne went outside to gather the rest of the Bridgerton children inside. Hyacinth and Gregory were annoyed by their disturbed game, but when Francesca saw the serious expressions of her older siblings, she stated that the three of them could continue to play a few more games in Gregory's room, to which the younger two enthusiastically agreed too.

Benedict had truly known then how blessed they were to have such an intuitive sister, and soon after getting them settled, Benedict and Daphne went on to return to the drawing room. However, no one was there and instead, they eventually found their mother, brother and Simon in the Viscount's study.

"Penelope is not having a great year," Benedict went on to say as silence encompassed the room after the contents of the letter was read to him and Daphne. "First, she is forced to debut a year early, then she reveals her family's trickery which she is banished for. Then her father's death and now she falls into a frozen lake?"

Anthony dragged his hand down his face, which showed grave concern. "I truly hope this is the end of her bad luck. She is the last person who deserves it."

"How does this even happen?" Daphne then asked, confused over the events. "I mean, was she not with any other staff members who could've prevented this?"

Violet sighed heavily. "Penelope's family, and the north as a whole, is quite different than London or Mayfair Daphne. Propriety is… A bit more loose there. Penelope is normally only with her lady's maid on outings, which I suspect was the case in this instance as Thomas said it happened when she was out with the Woods children."

"How's Eloise?" Benedict jumped back in then, seeing that Daphne was not satisfied by this answer but knew that it was a useless conversation to the present concerns.

Slumped back in one of the chairs, Violet appeared as exhausted as when she first lost their father. "She's devastated. I only managed to calm her down from hightailing it to where the Crokebanes are currently staying in the Scottish Borders, and that was mainly due to the fact that she does not know how to get there. As well as the fact the thick snow would make any long travels longer." Violet's emotional eyes then darted towards Anthony. "She wants to write back. To Thomas."

Benedict himself was calm about his younger sister's desire. He understood, from the stories that Eloise had told him from her time in Silver Birch that the younger male Crokebane had become as close to Penelope as Eloise was, almost acting as an older brother to the youngest Featherington. That led to the formation of a friendship between Eloise and Thomas, with Eloise comparing the Crokebane to being a mixture between himself and Anthony.

So with that, and the situation that led to Thomas reaching out to Eloise, Benedict was not opposed to Eloise reaching out and gaining more information on her best friend's condition. Even if it was horribly improper for an unmarried woman and man to send letters to one another.

And from what he could tell, their mother did not oppose it either.

However, there were two people in the room he knew would have a problem with it.

With a brief glance at his older brother, Benedict was surprised to see that Anthony appeared emotionless. He was expecting to see disappointment, or even anger, at his mother's suggestion. Instead, he looked as though he was… considering it.

Daphne though was not.

"Absolutely not!" Daphne roared from her spot near the window with her husband.

"Daphne," Violet calmly tried to begin, but his sister was having none of it.

"Do you not realise how scandalous it would be if any information got out of Eloise's letter from an unmarried man would be? How it could damage our family's reputation?" Daphne whipped her gaze to Anthony as Simon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Tell her Anthony!"

Anthony was silent for a long moment, his eyes locked in with Violet as they wordlessly communicated with one another. "I agree it is horribly improper."

Daphne let out a breath. "Thank you, brother. I believe–"

"However." Anthony heightened his voice to cut off his sister's speech. "I do believe in this circumstance I can allow this correspondence."

Daphne's light blue eyes widened. "W-what? Anthony, do you realise what you are risking? For Eloise? For all of us?"

"Are you going to tell anyone about it?" Anthony instead questioned.

"What?"

"About Eloise writing to her best friend's cousin on her condition. Are you going to tell anyone about it?"

Daphne was offended. "Of course not!"

Anthony then let his gaze sweep through the room. "And is anyone else going to let it slip?"

Simon straightened his posture. "Never."

Benedict shook his head. "My lips are sealed."

Anthony then met Daphne's sharp gaze. "And all of our staff is paid and treated well. They would not go about gossiping about it, especially due to the circumstances. In any case, though, only Beatrice would know about it, as she is the one who retrieves letters for Eloise as well as sends them on. So, not many people will even know about it."

Flabbergasted, Daphne eyed all her family members with a look of betrayal. "You cannot be serious about this! She is unmarried lady about to debut! Never mind about word getting out to the Ton, what if this cousin of Penelope's takes advantage of this opportunity? Just as Lady Crane did with Colin?"

If Benedict had not been leaning against the wall, he would've likely stumbled back at the fierce glares directed Daphne's way by both Anthony and Violet.

"Be careful with your words Daphne." Violet gently warned her eldest daughter.

"It's true, is it not? I mean, it should've been Penelope's grandmother who wrote to Eloise, instead, it was the male unmarried cousin?" Daphne then shook her head in disbelief. "This is completely out of the bounds of propriety and, after what happened last season Anthony, I thought you would be on my side."

"And if I did not know the man, I would be." Anthony's voice was intensely controlled, which highlighted to the second Bridgerton how much the Viscount was angered by this discussion. "But I have met him personally when he came here to ask for Eloise's assistance in Penelope's grief."

"Which was completely improper also!"

"Daphne." Simon exhaled, trying to calm his agitated wife.

"No Simon. I understand that things have been difficult for Eloise but to be putting her future on the marriage mart in jeopardy along with her younger sisters is not the way to deal with things!"

"Daphne." Violet sharply reprimanded, not pleased with how Daphne was dealing with the matter. "I've come to know Thomas fairly well after spending nearly a month with his family, and he adores Penelope and understood how important telling Eloise about her condition would be for both girls. He even kept the letter as short as possible as he knew how improper it was. And while I understand your concerns, I also know that Eloise needs reassurance from a person who deeply loves Penelope as she does."

Daphne opened her mouth to protest further, but Anthony quickly stopped her. "It's been decided. Eloise will write to Thomas."

Daphne's face reddened, but a gentle squeeze of the shoulder from her husband stopped her from protesting any further.

Eloise was not sure how she wrote the letter. She could not even know fully what she had written, as her blurred eyes made it difficult to translate. However, she did manage to write the letter to Thomas, keeping it short as per her eldest brother and mother's instruction, and sealed it shut.

A soothing hand pressed against Eloise's upper back. "I'm sure she is well, Miss Eloise."

Exhaling a shaky breath, Eloise glanced up at the maid. "How can you be sure?"

"While I do not know Miss Penelope personally, from what you have told me of her she sounds to be a very resilient girl. I very much doubt that an icy lake could take her out."

Eloise snorted with mild amusement at that, and just as she was about to write the address to the sealed envelope, a voice rang out.

"Excuse me," the two turned to see Daphne standing in Eloise's doorway, her face filled with deep concern. "Can I have a word?"

The two exchanged a look, but Beatrice could not reject the commands of a Duchess. "I'll be back in a few minutes to retrieve the letter, Miss Eloise."

"Thank you, Beatrice," Eloise gave a genuine small smile. "I'll just write down the address for the cottage."

With a single nod from the maid, she quickly exited.

"How are you doing?" Daphne asked as she approached where Eloise sat at her desk.

Eloise let out a long breath as she wrote out the address for Nettles Cottage. "Not brilliant. I believe this is the worst I felt since Papa's death. The not knowing is truly the worst part."

Daphne nodded with sympathy. "Beatrice is correct though, Penelope is quite strong despite everything. I am sure she will be fine. But I am sorry that this has happened."

Eloise pushed her lips together in consideration. "I am sorry too." Daphne tilted her head, and Eloise coughed and straightened her posture. "What I said to you the other day… I am truly sorry for that. It was uncalled for, and I truly regret taking my anger out on you when you were only trying to be there for me."

A soft smile graced the Duchess' face. "I am truly glad you see that El as… I am concerned now."

"Concerned about what?"

Daphne gestured to the envelope. "The letter you are sending to Miss Penelope's cousin. It is truly improper and I am terribly concerned that it will hinder your prospects next season."

Eloise's expression changed in an instant. "I formally take back my apology." She then pushed herself up from her seat, envelope in hand. "I need to get this to Beatrice."

"Eloise, please!" Daphne followed Eloise out of her room. "I am only thinking of your future!"

"No, you are thinking of a marriage that I have already made clear I do not want!"

"You will when you meet someone as I have!"

In mid-stride in the corridor, Eloise halted and whipped around, her blazing eyes locked on her sisters. "Someone you too had improper relations with, if rumours are to be believed!" Daphne's head ducked down at that. "So sorry if I do not want to take advice from a Duchess who essentially entrapped a man into a marriage!"

A flash of rage crossed Daphne's expression but before she could open her mouth to reply, a stern voice interrupted them.

"What is going on here?" Violet stormed down the corridor, her lady's maid hot at her heels as she assessed the situation with mild freight.

"If you still wish to be a grandmother, keep her away from me." Eloise practically growled out, storming away soon after to find Beatrice.

Understanding settled over Violet, and she promptly dismissed her lady's maid to give her and Daphne privacy. "Whatever were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that someone had to put a stop to this madness before something happened that could not be undone." Daphne defended herself, clutching her swollen stomach.

Violet rubbed her forehead. "That is your decision to make Daphne."

"Well no one else is thinking clearly enough!"

"Daphne." Violet warned lightly. "While Anthony and I appreciate your assistance with Colin last season, I do not appreciate you trying to control matters regarding your sister."

"But–"

"The Crokebanes are a good family," Violet went on, her voice hard as steel. "They have raised a good man with Thomas, and he would never do anything to dishonour us, especially after our assistance and willingness to be there for Penelope when she was grieving for her father."

"Mama you spent merely a few weeks with them," Daphne pointed out then. "You cannot know for sure how good their hearts are. I mean, there must have been a reason why Lady Featherington does not have any contact with them."

Daphne almost flinched at the glare Violet sent her daughter's way. "Daphne, you need to step back and consider how your opinions are complicating matters further." Daphne went to speak, but Violet raised a hand to stop her. "The decision has been made. You must accept it." And with that, Violet walked away from her eldest daughter.

Later that night, as the Duke and Duchess readied themselves for bed, Daphne let her fury and disappointment out. While they had not been married for too long and had rocky beginnings due to his past and deceit, the regret that Simon will carry with him to the grave, he prided himself on understanding his wife well. He understood, as he watched Daphne furiously flash across the room, Rose trailing behind her and assisting her into her nightwear, there was something more deeper to her fury.

So, when a flustered Rose bid her goodnights to the married couple, Simon gestured to his restless wife to join him in bed.

"I cannot." Daphne protested, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. "I cannot sleep right now."

"Daphne," Simon softened his voice in a measure to calm but not belittle his lady. "You wearing a hole in the floorboards will do nothing but upset our baby." Daphne halted at that, her hand rubbing against her stomach. "If you still need to get your frustrations out, I'm sure the bed will be more of a comfort for you, the babe and your swollen ankles."

Daphne let out a frustrated sigh, but ultimately agreed and climbed into bed, automatically leaning forward as Simon went to rub her aching back. "Do you think I am being ridiculous?"

It was Simon's turn to sigh. "No. I do not."

"Well, everyone else does. Mama nor Anthony would not even look at me during dinner. And I wish Eloise wouldn't have, with the amount of death glares she was sending my way." Daphne moaned as Simon worked on one particular lower muscle.

"That's because they are not ridiculous either." Daphne glanced over her shoulder to Simon. "Daphne, you accused a man who they think fairly highly of, the most I've seen Anthony thinking highly of anyone, of possibly being inappropriate with Eloise."

"He could possibly."

"Yes, you are right about that. You were right about your concerns, but this situation is not something that holds a right or wrong. Miss Penelope's cousin reached out instantly as he knew Eloise would want to know, it's only natural she would want to write back for more information. Yes, it's not proper, but Anthony and your mother trust the Crokebanes, they trust Thomas, and I think you should take that into more account." Simon stated, deepening his fingers into Daphne's lower back.

Daphne thought over her husband's words. "Do you know them? The Crokebanes?"

Simon hesitated, the silence in between his next words was almost deafening. "I met the Lord of Silver Birch. Briefly. Once."

Daphne widened her eyes at this. "What? When? Why did you never tell me?"

"Well, first of all, I had no idea that he was Miss Penelope's grandfather, otherwise that would've made the search much simpler. Lady Featherington truly covered her tracks with that." Simon explained easily, to which Daphne gave a thoughtful hum too. "And because it was so brief and I was so young, I never thought it would be of any value to anyone."

"How did you meet him?"

Simon struggled this time. "When I grew up to have… Issues. My father sent me away to various locations to hide the shame." Daphne reached behind her to grasp one of Simon's hands. "One of them was to his estates in the north. It wasn't in the locational areas that the Crokebanes run, but it was nearby. One of the servant boys that I was allowed to play with had taken a harsh fall down the stairs. My governess knew of the Lord in Silver Birch who was a doctor and did not charge much. She sent word for assistance but did not hold much hope. The next day, she and other staff members were rounding up their saved money for a nearby doctor when they finally got word back saying he was on his way.

"He was… He was a very straight-to-the-point man. He was not much of a soother to the boy either, which is why he called for me to help calm him. I was nervous, and my stutter was heightened because of that, but, while not much of a soother, his words and directions calmed me enough to help him help the boy. I could see then that, as well as the fact he refused any money from the governess, he was a good man. A crabby man, but a good one." Simon gave his wife's hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go and returning to her back. "I've heard a few things about them from other sources also. Everything I have heard has been good. A family of honour and duty to their people and country. Miss Penelope is in good hands."

Daphne tiredly puffed out. "Now I feel terrible."

"It's understandable to be worried about the possible scandal it could bring, but after all that we have been through last season, I do believe there is something more to this."

Awkwardly and slowly, Daphne turned in her position on the bed to look at Simon. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Daff… What do you think of Miss Penelope?"

Daphne blinked. "I… I think she is a nice enough girl. She has been a great friend to Eloise and Colin."

"Been?"

Daphne shifted uncomfortably. "Well… She can't truly be a friend now, can she? I mean, she is all the way in the north, and she is not going to be around for the upcoming social season."

"But you will." Simon added in, a single eyebrow raised. "You will be there for the next social season to support Eloise, I presume?"

"Of course I will be. I'm her sister. She will need me."

"Will she?" Simon then questioned, which caused Daphne to reel back as if she had been hit. "I do not want to hurt you Daff but… You have told me many times how Eloise has expressed her distaste for marriage and how she longs to be a spinster."

Daphne waved that off. "She is young and nervous. Once she meets a man who is truly her match, her mind will change and she will be settled."

"Is that what you truly believe or what you hope to happen?" Simon probed, leaning towards Daphne with a look of deep care and concern. "Do you hope for that to happen for Eloise's happiness or your own? Or what you perceive to be a happy life?"

Tears burned in Daphne's eyes. "I…"

"I do not like to bring the past into this Daff, as I have many wrongs in that department, but you insisted that having a child would be a blessing, which to be clear I know that is true and I am very much looking forward to our child." Simon pressed his hand against Daphne's above her stomach. "But I do believe your view on such things and what happiness should look like was an element for our miscommunication. You were so set on living the same exact love-story life as your parents had anything that was different was not a truly happy life in your eyes. And you have adapted and changed your view on such things now that our marriage is settled and our communication is strong, I do feel you are now pushing those beliefs onto Eloise."

Daphne was quiet for a long moment, taking in her husband's words and staring down at their hands over her stomach. "It's… It's not just that…" Simon waits patiently as Daphne gathers herself with a few deep breaths. "I… I remember growing up with Ant, Ben and Colin. I love them dearly but… They were not girls, and I was so looking forward to when Eloise, and then eventually Francesca, got older so I could do… girly things with them. But… Eloise did not want to do any of that. She did not want to do anything with me. She preferred to read more than anything, and if it came down to the two sisters, she would much rather Francesca than me. Which I understood, they are pretty much twins separated by a year. But…"

"It was lonely?" Simon guessed.

Daphne nodded. "I did not get along with many girls my age either, as it became obvious after some time that they were only friends with me for my status or they fancied my older brothers. And then father died… While Anthony had to become the Viscount and everyone's father, I had to take on Mama's role for a while. Seeing to baby Hyacinth, and making sure Eloise, Francesca and Gregory were well."

"And how did Eloise react to that? You stepping into your mother's role?"

"As well as you can expect." Daphne let out a watery chuckle. "She would never listen to me, and anytime I tried to be forceful with her, she would go down the fury alley, and it would take both Benedict and Francesca time to calm her down. Eventually, Mama returned to us, and I tried to find a sisterly bond with Eloise, which was mostly unsuccessful until she met Penelope. After that, while Eloise was still fire and fury, she calmed down considerably and we went on to build a bond. A bond I felt was growing more during my first season, as she tried to stay with me when Burbrooke visited me, but then Penelope was banished and I went on to aid Lady Crane. And I stupidly thought we could get back to that upon her learning Penelope was well but…"

"It has not happened."

"I always felt inferior to Eloise. Even more so when she considered Penelope more of a sister than I." A few lone tears trickled down Daphne's cheeks. "So, horribly, I thought, after the dust had settled that maybe…"

"Maybe Eloise would turn to you more?" Simon guessed, brushing away Daphne's tears.

Daphne nodded. "I thought, with this upcoming season, and seeing how well marriage has been for me, it could inspire Eloise to want the same things and maybe bring us closer." A scoff filled with disbelief came from her. "And yet, here I am, jealous of a girl who is miles away in the north."

"Daphne…" Simon sighed heavily, bringing their hands away from her stomach and holding them tightly. "Have you ever considered why Eloise prefers Miss Penelope?"

"Because she reads as many books as her. Lets her go into rage-induced rants."

"Because she does not force Eloise to be anything else but herself." Daphne remained quiet at that, which encouraged Simon to go on. "Daphne you want to believe because you are sisters by blood that you will act and want the same things. However, Eloise is her own person. Yes, she can have a short temper and isn't afraid to speak her mind, but she also wants things in life that don't align with what you want. And that is okay. Sisters, brothers, family members–they aren't meant to be the same. The good families in that aspect are just meant to be there and love each other. And that is why Eloise loves Miss Penelope as much as a blood sister would, she has always embraced Eloise for who she is and encouraged all her desires."

"Even if those desires are unattainable?" Daphne questioned.

"Are they truly though? I mean, look at Miss Penelope, she's being trained in the medical field by her grandfather. While these times are not pleasant for women, Eloise's best friend is a prime example that things can change."

"But will that make her happy?" Daphne pressed again, stubbornly clinging to her beliefs.

"I do not know Daff, and I do not know if you know that answer either." Simon closed his eyes. "But right now your beliefs and jealousy are what is controlling your behaviour today, and not for the sake of Eloise's welfare. You need to consider whether your stance is beneficial or detrimental."

Christmas Eve morning, as the Bridgertons and Bassets were gathered in the dining room for a big breakfast feast, Beatrice rushed into the room holding an important letter in her hands.

"Pardon me, but this has just come through for you Miss Eloise!" Beatrice said in one fast breath, approaching where Eloise sat between Benedict and Francesca.

Wordlessly, Eloise took the envelope from Beatrice's hands, recognising the handwriting as Thomas'. Ripping open the Crokebane seal, she swiftly unfolded the letter as the family watched on with intense silence.

Reading over the contents, Eloise breathed out a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and cough. "She's awake. She's fairly injured but will make a full recovery."

The amount of relieved sighs that followed could've made Eloise laugh, but instead, she just burst out into tears. Benedict fulling her into a tight hug as she unleashed all of her emotions.

Bia was curled upon Eloise's chest when she slowly blinked her eyes open Christmas day, the kitten's purring so soothing that she almost went back to sleep. Unsure of what awoke her. The perplexing dreams were no more and the exhaustion of deep worry for the past few days caused her to wander to bed early. Her slumber was a welcoming peace once more, and she wished to return to it.

That would've been her Christmas gift to herself.

Unfortunately, the source of what awoke her was revealed when a white noise became a loud siren.

The door to Eloise's door suddenly whipped open, causing Bia to jump up from her curled position on the Bridgerton's chest and hiss at the intruders.

"It's Christmas!" Gregory screamed as he ran in first, speeding across Eloise's room with childish cheers.

"Merry Christmas!" Hyacinth hollered next, following Gregory into the room, with their kittens, Milo and Acacia, not too far behind.

Eloise groaned as she sat up on her bed, rubbing her palms against her eyes. "Yes, alright, I understand the message. Now get out of here before I make sure you never experience a joyful Christmas ever again."

Gregory and Hyacinth laughed and after a few more circles around Eloise's room, screaming the same things as before, they skipped out of the room and in the direction of where Francesca's room was held.

Beatrice soon appeared when the children departed from her room with a gentle grin. "Morning Miss Eloise."

Another groan rumpled from Eloise as Beatrice rounded her bed and to the windows to open the drapes. "I see you did not use the term 'good' there Beatrice."

"I do not believe you would've liked it, with the display your siblings decided to do."

"You believe correctly. I would've told you to get stuffed with your 'Good morning' and hide myself under the covers."

Instead of taking offence or becoming silent, Beatrice chuckled softly. "I seem to recall how excited you would get over Christmas, Miss Eloise."

"That was when I thought Christmas was the best day in the world, forgetting to account for the day I was born. And also when thought it should snow every day as it was the best weather in the world until I got a cold from it." Running her hand through her messy and tangled hair, Eloise glanced towards one of the draped-open windows. "At least it did not snow anymore overnight."

"It appears that way." Beatrice then shot a look towards Eloise, "Another night of no perplexing dreams?"

Hand automatically moving towards Bia to stroke her grey fur, Eloise looked away. "Yes. The perplexing dreams are truly gone."

Understanding she could not push any further, Beatrice strode to the doorway of Eloise's room. "I'll go and get a pot of coffee for you. So you won't death stare your siblings for the entirety of the present openings."

Eloise snorted. "Probably the best idea."

Once they had a Christmas breakfast feast, that was sped up by the complaining nature of Gregory and Hyacinth as they were impatient to the crowding of presents below the Christmas tree in one of the drawing rooms.

Eventually, they all got comfortable within the said drawing room that had a portrait of the late Edmund Bridgerton hung over the fireplace. The Duke and Duchess were sat together on one settee, the latter was soothing down her stomach as she watched on.

Eloise was sat with Violet and Benedict on the opposite settee, with Bia curled up on her lap, watching the proceedings with curious eyes.

Anthony sat in a lone armchair, loosely holding a glass of whiskey.

Francesca, with Eirwen snuggled onto her lap, sat on the floor with Gregory and Hyacinth. Presents were opened one at a time when retrieved from under the tree. They never had a pattern, just whatever was grabbed from under the tree first, and then second, and then third…

It had been a good hour since the chaos of the presents opening began and Eloise glanced down at the stack of books and quills that were sent on from Penelope, possibly a day or two before her accident (as did Eloise). She had yet to hear word from her best friend and sister, only hearing from Thomas about her, reassuring her that Penelope would make a full recovery and would send a letter on once she could.

"El!" Hyacinth yelled out, bringing Eloise back to the current proceedings. "This one is for you!"

From the corner of Eloise's eye, she saw Daphne sit up higher than before as the large, rectangular box was handed to her and understood who it was from.

Body tensing, Eloise gestured for Bia to sit beside her, to which the kitten looked disgruntled but did as she was requested. Once Bia was nested against the books that were gifted by Penelope, Eloise took the box and began to unwrap and open the gift.

"Oh!" Violet gasped delightfully. "Oh, do stand up and show it to us Eloise."

Eloise repressed the urge to scowl and followed her mother's instructions. Violet placed the box on her lap as Eloise stood up and reached for the gown inside, holding it for everyone to see.

"It's beautiful!" Hyacinth gushed as everyone else smiled at the gown.

"It's similar to the gown I wore to my presentation to the Queen," Daphne explained with a wide smile, her blue eyes glinting with pride. "I thought it would bring you good luck."

Lightly shaking, Eloise breathed in deeply before she slowly turned to the Duchess. While the smile that appeared on her face seemed genuine, the coldness in her eyes gave away her true feelings. "Thank you. I truly appreciate this thoughtful gift."

Daphne's smile faltered slightly. "You are welcome."

Later that afternoon, Simon encouraged Daphne to find her sister. She was hesitant, as their last two lone interactions had not gone to plan, but understood that she needed to settle down the tension between them as their family did not deserve to be in the middle of it.

As well as that, she was about to be a mother. She wanted her daughter or son to know their Aunt Eloise and for her to be a part of their life. Daphne desperately wanted her sister by her side.

She desperately wanted to connect with her sister.

So, taking in her husband's words as she searched for Eloise, she found Eloise outside and sat on the steps to the gardens with Bia on her lap. Rose aided Daphne in quickly securing a thick cloak on before striding outside and approaching where Eloise sat.

"It's a beautiful Christmas Day." Daphne began, taking her time down the steps to where Eloise was sitting and clutched her stomach protectively. "I heard Greg and Cin trying to convince Mama why it was reasonable to have a fifth cup of hot chocolate due to the cold weather."

Eloise snorted. "If she does, she has no one but herself to blame for their hyperactivity." With a grumpy sigh, Eloise kept her eyes out in the distance as she held up her hand to help Daphne down onto the step.

"Thank you." Daphne used Eloise's assistance and let out a puff of breath when she finally managed to sit down. "I was surprised to find you out here. I thought for sure you would be in your room or in the library."

Eloise simply shrugged, eyes still outwards. "Needed a change of scenery."

Daphne nodded, pushing her lips together momentarily. "I… I wanted to apologise. For trying to stop you from responding to Miss Penelope's cousin. While I do feel valid with my concerns, I should've taken Ant and Mama's trust in Penelope's cousin to heed and not… Not try to take over." Finally, Eloise turned her dark emerald eyes to Daphne, who smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Eloise studied her sister for a long moment before answering. "I am sorry too. For everything I said the other day and for trying to take my first genuine apology back." With that, Eloise turned her attention back to the scenery.

However, what should've felt like a victory came across as more dry than bread being left out. "Eloise… Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask, whether I will answer will be up to me."

Breathing out deeply, Daphne straightened in her spot. "Are you truly not looking forward to your debut?"

"Whatever is there to look forward to?" Eloise frowned.

"Lots of things!" Daphne examined, her smile widening. "There is a long list of balls you will have hundreds of dresses for. Meeting various people at various standings. The dancing, the hidden romance…"

Eloise let out a humorous snort at that. "You sound a little like Penelope."

Daphne's eyes widened with surprise. "What? I thought Penelope did not want to wed?"

"No, she did not believe she would wed, not that she did not want it. There is a difference." Eloise patiently met Daphne's eyes. "The Featherington's are not to the same standards as us. While we will have men flocking at our feet, the Featherington's need to work for any man to glance twice in their direction. It was much worse for Penelope, as both society and even her family looked down upon her. I almost got into a few scuffles with other girls for the way they spoke to her. So, Penelope does want marriage and children as you have always had, and, while I hadn't fully realised that at the time, I do support her in that if she wants to pursue it in the future. As I support her in her medical training. Just as she supports me in not being wed and not having children, and my various interests."

While this was achingly similar to the conversation she held with Simon, the optimistic part of her gripped tighter to hope. "But… Do you not believe that could change? After your debut?" Eloise narrowed her eyebrows and Daphne took that as encouragement to continue. "I mean, you are probably fretting over the actual debut and once you grow into the Ton, socialise and prepare, you could change your mind. Meet someone that will change your mindset on it all."

Eloise swallowed harshly. "Perhaps."

Daphne grinned at this. "And you will not be alone. I will be there, along with Anthony, Benedict, Mama and Colin when he returns from his travels. We will be there to help you adjust and mingle with the Ton."

Returning a small smile, Eloise nodded. "I look forward to it."

Hope tinkling in her heart, Daphne looked out to the Aubrey Hall gardens.

Whereas Eloise, who ducked her head down and buried her fingers into Bia's fur, felt even more alone.

Eloise's loneliness did not carry on for too long, as two days after Christmas Day she received a long-awaited letter from her best friend and sister. To which, upon seeing Penelope's familiar handwriting, Eloise felt she could finally breathe.

Notes:

Preview of "The First Christmas":

"Grandpapa is going to kill me."

Chapter 42: Chapter XL: The First Christmas

Summary:

The Crokebanes and the Woods enjoy their first Christmas together.

Notes:

Hello all! Happiest Thursday! I am here with another update! :D Just to let everyone know though, I will be replying to everyone's comments from the previous chapter and this chapter tomorrow. I promise! I love my dialogue with you all, and sorry I haven't been so much on top of it. 3 But I am dedicating myself tomorrow evening to replying to everyone! :D

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Once again, a repeated Week 1 will be next week. I am giving myself a bit more time to prepare the future chapters as for two weeks there will be Week 2 in a row, as there will be a bit of time skips.

Fun Fact #35:

Nettles (plant) are often used in rituals and spell works for their protective, banishing, and healing properties. They are associated with the element of fire and used in spells that are related to passion, courage, and strength. People can use nettles to treat painful muscles and joints, eczema, arthritis, gout, and anemia.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Grandpapa is going to kill me." Thomas grumbled as he and Matilda slowly brought Penelope up from the bed.

It was Christmas morning, and it had been a few days since Penelope awoke from her fall into the icy Nettles Lake. Fortunately, due to Lord Crokebane's remedies and levitation of Penelope's ankle and hip, she was healing at a good pace. Her sprained ankle was hurting a little less, and her severely bruised hip was calming down. The scrapes on her knees and hands were not much to be concerned with and Penelope found yet to have any pain from them.

However, Penelope felt an inkling of dread towards the head and face injuries.

She often had to remind herself that she should be grateful to be alive, and that it was a miracle that she did survive when many in her situation would have probably not. That she should be blessed to be surrounded by a family that cared enough for her to face certain death to rescue her.

And she did feel all those things. She was grateful and blessed and thanked whatever existed, God, Heaven, for the miracle that they gave her.

But… She had brief look at her wounds when Matilda and Lady Crokebane assisted her with a wash and change of clothes. The wounds were still stitched at that point and still healing. So there was no way to know what the finishing result would look like.

That was what Penelope was trying to reassure herself with.

The wound up in the far corner of her forehead was interlaced with the hairline so if the scar were prominent, it would be easily hidden.

The wound from her temple to the end of her ear, however… That was the scar that Penelope was most concerned about. Every time her anxiety built up around it, she could hear her mother's degrading voice shout all types of insults.

"Fat and now scarred? What was even the point of saving you?"

"There wasn't much to look at before, now even the nuns will turn away."

"What man could find anything about you attractive?"

Penelope tried not to think about it. She tried to push it at the back of her mind. Tried to focus on the good… But in the darkest moments of the night, when her strange dream startled her enough to wake up and groan out in pain from her injuries, her anxieties and insecurities come forth and the crying descends.

No one knew of this though, and Penelope was keen to keep it that way.

As well as everything that she went through mentally as she slept for three days.

The dreams… If you could them that, was another aspect that plagued Penelope constantly. She hoped, over the last few days of consciousness and healing, that the images that her mind conjured up would slowly fade into the background.

They did not fade. When the strange fiery dream was not disturbing her slumber, the images of her three-day injury-induced unconsciousness were disturbing her days.

Though, Penelope believed–and hoped again–that this was due to the fact she was stuck in bed most of the time. Not doing much other than reading and speaking with her family. That was why today she was determined to fix that.

It had taken a lot of convincing of Thomas to agree to Penelope's plan, as he knew that Lord Crokebane would rather Penelope remain on bed rest for the whole of the week. But Penelope was near tears when begging both him and Matilda to get her downstairs and to enjoy the first Christmas at Nettles Cottage.

Alongside that, she wanted this day to be memorable for Peter and Mae, the latter of who she was becoming deeply concerned about.

"He won't. Grandmama will not let him." Penelope breathed out, her arms supported by Thomas and Matilda on either side of her. Her ankle burned slightly, and there was a tinkling sensation in her hip, though it was nothing that Penelope couldn't handle.

Thomas snorted. "You really think she would be able to stop him?"

"If that fight would ever occur, my money would be on your grandmother." Matilda remarked with a soft smirk. "You ready?"

Straightening her back, Penelope gave a firm nod. "Let's go."

"Slowly." Thomas added in and Penelope nodded again with the plan.

As carefully and steadily as they could, Thomas and Matilda supported Penelope through her limp-coated walk through Nettles Cottage. It took some time, Penelope felt that it took aeons to get from her room to the stairs closest to the dining room down below, but the likelihood was that it took ten minutes roughly. Going down the stairs was the most complex of issues, as the burning and tingling sensations of both her injuries heightened with each step down, and caused a lot of heavy breathing from the redhead.

"Right, we're heading back." Thomas had said at one point midway down the stairs. "You are clearly not ready for this."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Penelope gritted through her teeth. "If it's caused so much trouble to get down the stairs, do you think it will be any easier going back up?"

"I'll carry you."

"Which you will need to hold onto my hip, which will cause me to scream out in pain and alert everyone as to what we are doing." Penelope pointed out, turning her head slightly to the deeply frowned appearance of her cousin. "And could awake Mae, who has only been able to get to sleep last night due to one of grandfather's medicines."

"She will be awoken soon anyway for breakfast."

"Soon is not now!"

Matilda coughed dramatically. "May I just point out that the amount of energy that is being used in this argument could be directed towards our journey down the rest of the stairs. Or back up, depending on whose side wins out."

The two cousins fiercely stared each other down, and it was broken when Thomas let out a defeated puff. "You're becoming more and more Crokebane each day."

A brief victorious smirk dashed across Penelope's lips before returning to a pained, pinched expression as they continued on down the stairs. When they finally reached the ground floor, Penelope exercised a break by leaning on one of the pillars of the staircase. Thomas and Matilda watched on with deep concern as she closed her eyes and took very large gulps of breath. Realising they were not too far from the intended destination, determination sparked through Penelope and she leaned away from the pillar. Thomas and Matilda quickly returned to Penelope's sides, assisting her once more.

"What on Earth…" A voice spoke out as the trio entered the dining room wobblily. "Goodness gracious, Penelope! You are meant to be in bed! Resting!"

Penelope sent a wry smile in her grandmother's direction as she stood up from her place at the table and stormed her way to where they were. "Surprise?"

Lady Crokebane shook her head. "While I am none too surprised that you agreed to this," she sent a sharp look to her grandson, "I am, however, surprised that you did too Matilda."

Shrugging simply, Matilda pushed her lips together that Penelope understood she was hiding a smirk. "I could not deny my lady, milady."

Thomas snorted, which he promptly covered up with a cough. Penelope was currently grateful for her pain distracting her, as it stopped any probable laughter coming from her as well.

Amusement darted across Lady Crokebane's expression before she turned sombre. "Aren't you in pain?"

Penelope grunted. "No worse than when I first woke up."

Shoulders slumping down, Lady Crokebane rubbed her forehead. "Your grandfather will be none too pleased about this."

"None too pleased about what?"

Everyone's eyes widened to the sudden voice and entrance of Lord Crokebane behind where Thomas, Penelope and Matilda stood. It did not take him long to find his answer.

"What in the hell were you three thinking?" Lord Crokebane almost roared out, causing the trio to flinch. "Penelope, you are meant to be resting, not harming yourself further."

"Grandfather," Penelope began weakly, leaning on Thomas more as her strength was waning. "We both know that staying in bed will do nothing but make my muscles stiff and slow down the healing process. It's important to keep moving."

"Moving as in short spaces. Like from your bed to your chamber pot. Not from one side of this enormous cottage to the other." Lord Crokebane rounded where the trio stood, taking in Penelope's exhausted demeanour. "In God's name Penelope, you look as though you are about to pass out."

"Well, possibly because I am still standing when I can now be sitting."

Lord Crokebane's face reddened. "Penelope–"

"I refuse to be cooped up in bed for my first Christmas here in Nettles Cottage." Penelope interrupted her grandfather, her expression lining with temper and stubbornness. "Especially when Peter and Mae are here too. They deserve a Christmas to remember. We all deserve a good first Christmas with one another. Please."

Despite the fact Lord Crokebane still appeared very unhappy with this but softened slightly. "I will only agree to this with one condition." At Penelope's titled head, he went on. "Pain medicine."

"Grandfather–"

"I was not too fussed about you not taking so much when you were resting, as there were other ways to lessen the pain that did not involve medicine. However, since you are limping across the estate with a tightened grip of a mission, then my only condition is that pain medicine will be given to you every few hours."

Grandparent and granddaughter stared each other down until Penelope eventually puffed out a breath. "Very well."

The morning had been calm after that. As calm as one could expect anyhow for Christmas Day. Once Penelope had been settled at the dining table, with her ankle up on a stool provided by one of the valets, and her breakfast served out to her–and awaiting pain medicine that Lord Crokebane fished out from his medical supplies–Matilda left to go and awake the children for Christmas breakfast.

There was a big discussion the day before about what to do with Mae's lack of sleep and nightmares. While the little girl was comforted by the fact Penelope was now awake and would make a full recovery, she was one of the three people who visited Penelope the most in the last few days, Mae's sleep had not improved. Even with her brother keeping to her room and trying to be a steady presence for her, Mae continued screaming for Peter and Penelope in her nightmares.

Penelope was sick with guilt. She knew Mae blamed herself for both Peter and now Penelope's falls when, in reality, it was down to Penelope. She should've been more careful on that tree. She should've yelled out for Peter and Matilda first. She should've–

The list was endless, but the fact remained that the guilt of what happened that day lay on Penelope, not Mae.

She tried to express this to Mae, reassuring her she was not to blame for what had occurred. But Mae was unconvinced.

So, yesterday, after a heated discussion where Lord Crokebane laid out all the potential risks to Penelope (and a little later to Peter), it was decided that Mae would take a herb that is meant to help with sleep. She already knew of this herb from one of the many medical books that Lord Crokebane instructed her to read for her training and knew the risks were minimal. Still, Penelope was anxious about giving Mae anything with even no risks tied to it.

Though, from what Matilda had told her briefly in the morning as she changed into a deep red dress for the day, the herb seemingly had worked as none of the night staff reported any disturbances from Woods girl's room.

This was further proved when Peter and Mae finally made their appearance in the dining room and neither looked like they had suffered through the night wide awake.

And both were further brightened at seeing Penelope's presence in the dining room.

"What good is Christmas Day if I am locked away in bed all day?" Penelope had said as the two rounded where she sat and immersed her with hugs–being careful of where her ankle was laid out.

Breakfast was a delightful affair after that. Conversations mingled and laughter followed, it was only when breakfast had ended and Penelope raised an eyebrow towards Thomas that the next issue popped up.

"Where are you going now?" Lord Crokebane's small, soft smile was quickly replaced with the natural grumpy frown as he watched Thomas help Penelope back up.

"This has been swell." Penelope ruffled Peter's pale blonde hair with her free hand, to which he shot a playful glare at her. "But we really must be getting off."

"You're not getting off anywhere until you tell us where you are going." Lord Crokebane stated as his sky-blue eyes shifted between the cousins.

Penelope glanced towards Lady Crokebane, but the lady just held up her hands as if to say: "I'm saying out of this."

Breathing out for a long second, Penelope met her grandfather's eyes. "Where do you think?"

Lord Crokebane just stared at Penelope before the realisation settled in. "No. Absolutely not!"

"Grandfather–"

"It is one thing to go about limping within a home against my orders, it's another thing entirely to go about limping outside a home against my orders." Standing up from his seat, Lord Crokebane leaned his palms against the dining table. "Not only will you possibly strain your ankle and hip injuries, you may cause an infection in your head wounds that are still healing."

"We both know that the chance that they'll get infected at this point is slim."

"Slim, but not impossible."

Penelope resisted the urge to throw a plate at her grandfather's stubborn face. "He's not eaten since I saw him that morning before I–" She cut herself off, gesturing to her injuries. "He's just as restless as when he first came to Silver Birch and it's been absolute wonder how he hasn't broken down the entire stable just to get to me."

Thomas jumped in then just as Lord Crokebane opened his mouth to protest. "I'll be with her the entire time. And, knowing how protective Blackburn is of Penelope, he'll probably insist himself that she leaves after ten minutes."

"How about we do another compromise?" Lady Crokebane also jumped in, seeing that her husband seemed unmoved by either statement from their grandchildren. "Let's say a max of twenty minutes in the stables so Penelope can properly feed Blackburn and assure him she's fine. Afterwards, Penelope will remain in bed for the majority of the afternoon, only arising for dinner and the present opening. And will continue to take the pain medicine throughout the day as instructed earlier."

While Penelope did not look happy with this compromise, she knew it was the only way to, somewhat, satisfy her grandfather. Which it did.

So, after twenty minutes of Thomas patiently assisting her, they found themselves within Nettles Cottage stables. Knowing Penelope's plan after breakfast, Matilda had organised a bucket of food for Blackburn to be delivered in the stables, which Thomas easily found near the holdings.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Penelope could not stop the smile that crept upon her lips when she saw the similar pacing of her dark horse.

'Shall I go walk the wood so wild

Wandering, wandering here and there

As I was once full sore beguild'

Blackburn's frantic pacing halted and Thomas had to grip Penelope back to stop her from rushing forward.

'Alas!

For love!

I die with woe.'

The cousins stopped just in front of the gate to Blackburn's holdings, and Penelope met Backburn's dark eyes, that seemingly lit up when she appeared. She had to suppress a giggle at how uncharacteristically eager her horse appeared when approaching the gate to meet them. It reminded her of Gregory Bridgerton and how excited he would be when his favourite biscuits appeared.

However, his excitement and relief were disturbed when he took in the wounds to her head and face. What caused the giggle to come forth though was the accusatory glare Blackburn shot Thomas.

"Hey! That was not me! That was all Pen!" Thomas defended himself and more giggles burst from Penelope and caused a tingle of pain in her hip that was well worth it.

At the time the compromise was set, Penelope was not pleased to be returning to the bed-bound station. But, after spending twenty minutes talking and reassuring Blackburn, as well as feeding and hydrating him, Penelope was exhausted. She apparently pushed her body too much and as her limping increased, Thomas decided action was needed and once he got reassured on where to hold her, he picked Penelope up bridal-style and carried her up to her room.

When placed on her bed though, sleep did not find her immediately. Her body was sore, but her mind was wired. Peter and Mae kept her company for a while, Mae showing her the drawing she had recently done and Peter reading her a book from one he brought with him from Hinderside. His reading skills improved massively since being there, and Penelope looked forward to the day when they could gush over books together.

It was when she was supplied her pain medicine from her smug grandfather that the morning's activities finally caught up with her. The Woods quietly sneaked away as her eyes grew heavier.

Opening her eyes next though, she regretted ever closing them.

She was back in that room. That was crowded in the fire with grogginess that was not relative to her in-reality injuries. She coughed, an automatic reaction when amidst fire, and pushed herself up from the ground she always started at within the strange dream.

"H-hello?" Penelope coughed again, "Is anyone–" She suddenly cut herself off as she saw something different.

No. Nothing was different. It was still the same dark wooden room with various old furnishings that would soon be ash to the fire. Nothing in the scene was different.

How she was seeing it was different.

The edges of everywhere she looked, her vision, her sight… It was blurring. It was becoming unclear. It reminded Penelope of when she first woke up on top of Nettles Lake, the shock and the head injury making seeing anything a tad difficult.

Maybe that was what this was–the strange dream being affected by her real-life injuries. But… Penelope felt that it wasn't the case.

After what she experienced in her deep slumber from plunging into the icy lake, her strange dream returned for the past few nights and was seemingly unaffected then. So why now?

She then heard something. Something distant–a shout? No, it wasn't a shout, it sounded more like a shriek. A shriek from–

Penelope gasped as she pushed herself up onto her feet, in a very wobblily manner. "Blackburn…" The shriek sounded again, though it was a little closer than before. "Blackburn! Bl–"

Suddenly, the world of the strange dream shook and quickly she was ripped out from it, her mind consciously awakening to reality.

"Blackburn." Penelope breathed out before a startled groan whistled out from pushing her body all at once and triggering her injuries.

"Sorry." Matilda said, her voice full of uncertainty. "I did not know how else to wake you up."

Blinking for a few seconds, Penelope glanced around the room that was still alight with the winter sun. "H… How long was I…"

Matilda gave a small smile. "Just an hour. I was just tying things up in here when I heard you calling out for Blackburn." Penelope held up her arms and quickly understanding what she needed, Matilda aided her in sitting up on her bed, fluffing up the pillow in the process. "Bad dream?"

Penelope exhaled heavily. "You could say that." Ignoring Matilda's curious gaze, Penelope's eyes settled on an object at the windowsill seat. "Whatever is that?"

Seeing what caught Penelope's attention, a light blush covered Matilda's cheeks. "Oh. Ugh. It's your Christmas gift. From me." Matilda straightened and approached where the gift was. "I… I know your family often opens their gifts in the evening, but since I will be with the other members of staff I thought you could open my gift to you early. If that is alright with you?"

A gentle smile climbed up Penelope's expression. "Only if you open my gift to you first."

Matilda's amber eyes widened. "You got me a gift?"

"The trunk nearest to the door. It should have a note like the others with your name on."

As Matilda searched through the said trunk, Penelope shifted and moved lightly at her position on the bed, getting more comfortable. When Matilda returned, she held two gifts. The first was what Penelope was most aquited with, that she wrapped and sealed herself. It was the shape of a small box, that fitted perfectly in one hand. Whereas Matilda's gift to her…

"Jesus Matilda." Penelope looked at that much larger gift-wrapped box settled upon her lap that was the length of half of the bed she was on. "Whatever have you done?"

"Do not fret, I did not spend any money. Not much anyway." Matilda winked at Penelope's pointed gaze. "Who first?"

Penelope nodded to her gift. "Smallest first."

Matilda snorted but obeyed, carefully unwrapping the gift and her eyes lighting up with recognition of what the uncovered wooden box was. "Pen…"

"I asked Ms Jameson for advice on what needles and other sewing equipment you needed. From that statement alone, you can probably tell I'm not well-versed on the subject." Penelope watched as Matilda opened the wooden box that contained the needles and equipment that she was speaking about. "She told me that the things you have are already a few years old and needed updating, and gave me the list of things you would need, which could all be purchased in that small wooden box."

Tears welling up in her eyes, Matilda moved her eyes away from her gift and to her lady. "Thank you."

"No, thank you." Penelope reached out and grasped Matilda's hand. "I… I do not think I would've gotten through those first few weeks at Silver Birch without your kindness and patience. Nothing I can do will ever truly repay you."

"Your friendship is payment enough, Penelope." Matilda squeezed her hand. "As well as continuing to be the best lady to ever serve."

Penelope laughed. "I'll do my best."

"Though, this gift is the perfect pathway to your gift."

Narrowing her sky-blue eyes, Penelope tilted her head. "Did you make something for me again?"

Matilda's smile faltered slightly. "Yes. I do hope you like it."

"I most likely will, if it's anything like the dress you made me the first time around, as well as the dresses for Mae out of my old citrus dresses." Penelope missed the look of conflict flickering across Matilda's face as she focused on carefully unwrapping the gift. There was a white cardboard box underneath, and quickly lifting up the lid, Penelope's eyes widened as they saw a familiar olive green garment.

"Would you like me to hold it up?" Matilda asked excitedly, seeing Penelope's shock as wonderment. Taking her silence as confirmation, Matilda lifted the garment from the box and stood up with it.

The garment was not a dress, styled as a robe but was not even a robe. It covered the majority of her body, so it was not improper, holding a square cutting around the chest and short-sleeved. However, it was form fitted and with the lack of ruffle skirt, with the end just reaching below her knees and a slit from the waist to create a sizeable gap for leg movement.

Penelope had seen this before.

She had worn this before.

But not in the conscious world. In the world where the depths of the icy lake froze her mind to exist in something that wasn't real.

Now though… Now an aspect of that unconscious world came into reality.

"What do you think?" Matilda questioned after a few minutes of Penelope staring helplessly at the garment.

Letting out a shaky breath, Penelope forced a smile. "I-it's bea-beautiful but… W-what is it?"

Matilda grinned. "It's kind of a riding dress. Though with a little less skirt. I remembered, when you returned from one from visiting one of the patients with Lord Crokebane, that you were frustrated that you could not move faster in your skirts. And I thought maybe I could make something that you could wear on the days you do your medical work. I even made the pants for it also." Matilda nodded back to the cardboard box on Penelope's lap.

If she could not breathe before, she certainly could not anymore when Penelope saw the familiar golden brown pants she wore in the icy-lake unconscious world.

Fingertips smoothing over the pants still folded in the cardboard box, Penelope tried to come up with a logical explanation as to what was happening, but her mind was clouded with shock.

"Do you like them?" Matilda quizzed.

Swallowing harshly, Penelope met Matilda's anxious eyes and genuine smile cast upon her lips. "It's perfect."

Since the household staff would be given the night off after dinner, Penelope and Matilda thought it would be best that she would dress into her nightwear and cover herself up with a robe. The redhead was nervous about this at first, feeling that it might be improper, but Matilda reminded her that she would be in the presence of family, and they would not judge.

Sure enough, when Thomas came to assist Matilda in getting Penelope down the stairs and back to the dining room, he did not blink at her attire. Neither did the Woods and their grandparents, just insisting she sat down, with Peter quickly getting the stool for her to rest her ankle upon.

Christmas dinner was filled with much food (Penelope had begun to worry that the Woods were eating too much, from the way they were rubbing their stomachs), wine (Penelope noted how flustered her grandfather looked on his third glass of wine), and laughter. Some of the conversations would be causal, some were friendly debates that even got the Woods to giggle even though they did not understand the essence of the debates, and others would be stories. Stories of previous Christmases, stories of Thomas' childhood, stories of Penelope's childhood and her time with the Bridgertons.

No matter what the story, it was all round heartwarming and comfortable.

A few hours later, they all gathered in the main drawing room, Penelope stared wistfully at the Christmas tree. She remembered throughout her childhood that the Christmas trees previously had always been… on a smaller scale. The ones she had become acquitted with were on top of an unused small table. Penelope had always thought this was the way, that was until she visited the Bridgertons at their home estate of Aubrey Hall and saw how big Christmas trees could be.

Afterwards, she timidly asked her Mama why they never had a big Christmas tree.

Her Mama had scoffed. "And what? Let in bugs all over the place? Have the tree ruin the carpets that are older than you and I? Or to finally have something that is bigger than you?"

Penelope firmly kept her mouth shut about the Christmas tree after that.

Gazing upon the Christmas tree, Penelope smiled. It appeared as big as the ones that Bridgerton's always had, decorated with various ornaments that had been done by the Nettles Cottage staff's children. It had been a tradition that Lady Crokebane started when they first began their Christmas stays at the cottage.

"Those children will probably not have a Christmas tree," Lady Crokebane had said. "And I want them to experience the joy of decorating a tree like many other children do."

Now, sat on one of the settees next to Thomas, her injured ankle up on his lap, Penelope felt right at home as she watched the Woods children hand out the Christmas presents below the tree. The fireplace being the main source of light for the evening, with a few candles flickering in the background.

Mae gasped as she opened her present from Penelope, which was a slim rectangular box filled with paint supplies. "Thank you Penny!" Mae jumped up from her spot on the ground and ran over to where Penelope sat, embracing her in a tight hug. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"You're very welcome Mae." Penelope returned the hug, her eyes on her grandparents.

The two were in high spirits this evening, which was out of the ordinary for the old lord. He was smiling much more freely, and seemed much more affectionate, especially with his wife who he too pulled into a firm embrace upon opening his gift from her.

"Penny," Peter called out from where he sat near the tree, and Penelope turned her attention to him, pulling away from Mae's hug. "This one is for you."

From the way Thomas shifted below her ankle, she understood the small wrapped box was from him.

"Thank you Peter," Penelope retrieved the gift and confirming it was from Thomas from the small note attached to it, she opened it. Wrapping paper to one side, she saw there was a valet box inside.

"Ugh," Lord Crokebane coughed. "That better not be what I think that might be."

Penelope had simply frowned at the deadly glare her grandfather was sending her cousin's way. Thomas just simply rolled his eyes. "First Grandmama, and now you. How many times do I need to say she's my bloody cousin and I do not see her in that light." He then held up a hand as he turned his attention to Penelope. "No offence. You are beautiful cousin, but you are way too much family feeling than anything else."

A deep red blush spread across Penelope's cheeks as the Woods children giggled. "Ah. Yes. Same goes for you, cousin."

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"Okay, maybe not entirely the same." Thomas playfully smacked Penelope on the shoulder, to which she burst into a fit of giggles with the children. "Do you want me to open this or not?"

"At this point I'm tempted to take it away."

"Now where would the Christmas spirit be in that?" Thomas rolled his eyes again but gestured for her to open the valet box, which Penelope did so and her eyes widened when she saw what was inside. "Thom…"

It was a necklace of silver, with the chain thick and the pendant… The pendant was of the Crokebane crest. A silver birch. Tears burned in her eyes as her fingers trailed over the pendant.

"I know you do not bear the Crokebane name," Thomas said softly. "But you are every bit of a Crokebane as I. And I think you deserve something close to you that reminds you of that."

Without considering any of her healing injuries, Penelope reached over and pulled Thomas into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you, cousin." She muttered emotionally, letting a few tears trail down her cheeks.

"Always cousin." Thomas returned her hug, seemingly just as emotional as Penelope.

And he was not the only one.

The only reason they broke apart was the sound of sniffing and seeing that their grandmother was crying.

"Grandmama?" Penelope questioned, unsure how to approach her crying grandmother as… Well, she had not seen her cry before.

Lady Crokebane waved her hand as Lord Crokebane wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "No, I am fine I just…" She gazed upon everyone in the room with a smile so wide that Penelope was concerned her face would break. "I believe this is the best Christmas I've ever had."

Lord Crokebane gave a look that was between a grimace and a blush. "Me also, wife."

Penelope and Thomas shared a smile with them, and their happiness was brought back to the children on the floor when Mae gasped aloud.

"Peter!" Mae squealed, a medium sized box in her hands. "This one is for you! It's from Penny!"

Peter shot Penelope wide smile as he retrieved his gift. Taking a few minutes to unwrap the gift and open the box inside, his doe brown eyes widened as he saw what was inside. "Is this…"

"A compass." Penelope confirmed. "I thought, while the circumstances of your arrival to the north were not pleasant, you could have something to help you in the future with navigation. That you can continue to have adventures–when you are old enough."

While not as fast as his sister, Peter got up from his spot and went over to where Penelope sat. Wary of her injuries, Peter gave Penelope a long hug. "Thank you so much. For everything."

"Always Peter Woods." Penelope soothed the boy's back. "I will always be here. No matter what."

At that, Peter's arms tightened around Penelope.

"You've pushed yourself too much today." Lord Crokebane grunted as he and Thomas were at both Penelope's sides, aiding her to her bedroom.

It was just after midnight, and once Penelope had settled the children into bed with a story and song, Lord Crokebane and Thomas appeared to help her. The day's activities had not been too overwhelming, but her grandfather was correct. Penelope had pushed too much. Her ankle throbbed, her head wailed and her hip burned. She was very much looking forward to sleep, even if it came with a strange dream.

However, despite this, Penelope could not bring herself to regret it.

"It was a good day though." Breathing heavily, Penelope leaned a little more towards Thomas. "Sorry that you two had to wait for me though."

Thomas shrugged in response. "I imagine everyone is going to be sleeping in tomorrow, so it's not so much of a big deal."

As they got closer to Penelope's room, however, Lord Crokebane saw Thomas attempting to hide a yawn. "Thomas, go to bed." He ordered, shifting his stance and his arms so he grasped both of Penelope's arms. "I'll get her into bed."

"I'm–"

"Thom." Penelope cut him off, soon following with a yawn of her own. "We'll be fine. All he needs to do is to get me to my bed. Go to bed yourself. Please."

Thomas did not have the energy to protest further and bid his goodnights as he went to his bedroom across from Penelope's.

In Penelope's room, a few candles were lit along with the fireplace, so it made Lord Crokebane's job of getting Penelope into bed much easier. Helping her out of her robe and pushing out her blankets. Once she was down, Lord Crokebane tucked her in and reached over for the pain medicine that was on her bedside table.

"No." Penelope gently grabbed his hand. "No more. Please."

"Penelope," Lord Crokebane started.

"I am too tired to even fully register the pain," Penelope argued tiredly. "Let us save it for tomorrow."

Lord Crokebane snorted. "Will you actually take it tomorrow?"

Penelope gave a sly smile. "I could pretend to do so."

Letting out a low belly laugh, Lord Crokebane shook his head and relented. "You are a very stubborn woman, you know that?"

"I heard it's a Crokebane thing."

Another snort. "Yes, but I believe it's magnified by female Crokebanes."

Though her eyes were heavy, Penelope kept them open as she observed her grandfather. "Like my mother?"

Lord Crokebane ducked his head down, considering the answer. "She was fairly stubborn but…"

"But?" Penelope prodded, feeling the edges of her vision blur slightly due to her exhaustion.

"But your stubbornness… It reminds me more of Adaline than Portia."

Penelope's eyebrows rose at that. "W… Why do you say that?"

Lord Crokebane exhaled heavily before he answered. "While Portia's stubbornness was to the point she would reach her goal despite who she hurts, Adaline's stubbornness was to reach her goal despite how much it hurts her." Lord Crokebane met Penelope's eyes and she was taken aback by the amount of grief shining in them. "Why do you think she did not stop after the miscarriages and stillborn child? She had a goal in mind, and she was determined to accomplish it, no matter the personal cost."

A sad frown crossed Penelope's lips. "But why? I understand wanting children but… Hinderside has many children, babies even, that are waiting to be taken in. Could she…" Penelope trailed off as a yawn came out then.

A dark and sad look flashed across Lord Crokebane's expression then. "That… That is a complicated answer that I do not think it's the time to tell." Penelope wanted to protest, but another yawn betrayed her and Lord Crokebane chuckled. "Sweet dreams, granddaughter." He leaned over and gave a brief kiss to Penelope's forehead.

Eyes on him as he straightened up and turned on his heels to leave, Penelope wet her lips as she considered her next words. "Goodnight… Gran-Grandpapa."

At the doorway, Lord Crokebane whipped around at the title, and, very achingly slowly, a wide smile gathered upon his wrinkled face. "Goodnight."

'Dearest Colin,

I do not know how but…

The strange dream… I believe it is leaving me.'

Notes:

No preview for next week's chapter as, while I have written two chapters ahead atm, I cannot decide which will go first.

Chapter 43: Chapter XLI: New Year, New Promise

Summary:

The Crokebanes attend The Lennox New Years Celebrations Ball.

Notes:

Hello all! I AM ALIVE! So sorry for the no update on Thursday. I honestly was very busy with work, as I got a new job last Sunday, and my writing perfectionism wouldn't let me upload until this chapter was perfect. :P However, I do think this chapter will be worth the wait and I hope you thoroughly enjoy it as I did writing it.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

So, next chapter might be a bit shorter as it will be slightly different. It's kinda a breather chapter. And then afterwards I am considering taking a week off. This is not because of a lack of inspiration, this is too much inspiration. I am honestly so excited to get to the end of this first book and onto the next, as well as the other key points before the end of this book. However, my impatience may be effecting the build-up slightly and I do need a week just to have a breath and work on the chapters a bit more. As well as that, I am being called into work a bit more since I am approaching the summer months in Australia, so I need to replan my routine of things. If I do take that week off, I will put down the date of the next chapter and I promise to keep to it 3

Fun Fact #36:

I am currently planning my travels around Indonesia next year.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"What are you–"

Lady Crokebane shushed her husband in a harsh but soft manner. "Quiet."

Frowning, Lord Crokebane crossed the remaining steps of the corridor and to where his lady wife stood directly outside Penelope's bedroom. When just behind her, he realised the door was half open, giving the perfect view of Penelope's room and bed. Leaning over Lady Crokebane's shoulder, he smiled at the scene.

Penelope was deep asleep in her normal position she held since her injuries and she appeared to be more relaxed than she had been since she awoke from the icy lake plunge. Lord Crokebane felt some relief at that, as it was a signal that she would not be too far from full recovery. Next to Penelope was little Mae, who had buried her head into his granddaughter's side, with knees tucked up to her chest along with her arms. Not too far behind Mae was Peter, though he had a more… laid-back approach to sleeping. Arms and legs spread out, mouth hanging open companied by a light snore and drool. Following next to Peter, at the very edge of the bed was Matilda, who also had the laid-back approach, only she had her chest and stomach to the bed, with a leg hanging off the bed. Then, at the foot of the bed was Thomas, laid on his back, with hands tucked under his head.

Penelope and the Woods were dressed for bed and were under the bed sheets, whereas Matilda and Thomas seemed like they were party crashing to the sleepover as they were still dressed in their day clothes.

"Penelope asked if they could sleep in her room for the night, since they are leaving in the morning." Lady Crokebane informed her husband in a low voice. "I'm guessing at some point the other two joined and they all fell asleep together."

Lord Crokebane let out a soft chuckle. "You going to wake them?"

To his surprise, Lady Crokebane shook her head. "No. I know it's not proper but… Some rules are meant to be broken."

"I see now that Penelope is not the only one who is more Crokebane." Lord Crokebane had to suppress a laugh at the glare his wife directed at him. "What can I say? Us Crokebanes are rule breakers."

Lady Crokebane hummed. "Do you remember that story I told you? Of when you first went out to war?"

A grin spread across Lord Crokebane's. "Of when my cousins paid a visit to Silver Birch."

"If I thought you and Irene were trouble together, then I was not prepared for the trouble Hazel and Irene could cause." Lady Crokebane shook her head fondly. "Despite being Crokebane healers, they did like to find trouble for themselves. And I remember Reginald telling your father how Irene should be setting a good example to the young girl, not teaching her how to pickpocket her own little brother."

"And from what you told me, Oscar had it coming, due to the fact he often liked to prank his older sister."

"I cannot believe I am the one who has to be teaching you this, but two wrongs don't make a right."

Lord Crokebane briefly glanced towards his wife. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're not quite full Crokebane then." A burst of loud laughter came from Lord Crokebane then when Lady Crokebane decided to smack him on the chest. He quickly stopped as soon as it began though, and the two watched on anxiously to see who they woke up.

Much to their surprise and relief, despite a few groans and mumbles, and little physical shifts, no one on the bed woke up.

They must have been tired, Lord Crokebane thought, his eyes drifting over to where Penelope was laid.

"She called me Grandpapa," Lord Crokebane then whispered to his wife, and soon felt her eyes burning on him. "Christmas night, when I got her into bed, she called me Grandpapa."

Lady Crokebane's eyes watered slightly. "That is lovely Max."

He nodded in return. "I hope that means that… That she trusts me, fully. That she…"

Understanding what her emotionally constipated husband was trying to say, she intertwined her fingers with his. "I'm sure she does."

Nodding again, Lord Crokebane cleared his throat. "You never told me."

Lady Crokebane narrowed her gaze up to her husband. "Never told me what?"

"If Portia has written back."

Inhaling deeply, she directs Lord Crokebane away from the half open door. Briefly listening out to make sure they were all still asleep, Lady Crokebane finally released her long intake. "No, she hasn't. But it hasn't been very–"

"Cecilia." Lord Crokebane stopped her. "If we haven't heard from her now, I very much doubt we will ever hear from her in regard to her daughter's health."

Lady Crokebane sighed warily. "And how do we tell Penelope that?"

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, his eyes on the half-open door to the dimly lit room. "We don't."

"Max, she needs to know we've written to her mother."

"Like we've told her about the other letters?"

"That was different."

"How?" Lord Crokebane asked, to which his wife could provide no answer. "Penelope already knows from her childhood to her banishment that Portia doesn't give a damn about her. Why continue to open that wound?"

Staring out to the half-open door of Penelope door, Lady Crokebane gave a slow nod. "I suppose you are right."

Penelope should be happy, as Christmas, while issues had been placed, had gone much better than planned. She felt content within Nettles Cottage and full in a way that her previous life in Mayfair appeared more like a smoky dream. Additionally, she should feel happy that she can now walk on her own without much assistance. She would need someone close by just in case, and she wouldn't be running around the Nettles Cottage grounds anytime soon, but it was another step in her recovery.

There were a lot of what she should be feeling, but all she could currently feel was sadness.

She knew this day was coming the moment the Woods arrived at Nettles Cottage. She understood that the family bliss that was held throughout this short week would not last forever. She was aware that Peter and Mae did not belong to her.

Yet, her heart ached as she watched all their belongings being packed up and taken down to the carriage that would be taking them back to Hinderside Orphanage.

Upon entering Mae's room though, her heart broke.

Mae watched on silently as the last of her things were packed up by household staff. Leaning against the headboard of her temporary bed, Mae sat with her knees tucked underneath her chin and her arms firmly wrapped around her knees.

"Hello there," Penelope mumbled as she approached Mae's bed and sat on the edge. "How are you doing?"

Mae did not answer and kept staring away as the household staff cleaned up the room a little.

Shoulders slumping downwards slightly, Penelope glanced out the window. "I'm really sad too. That you're leaving."

Mae's head ducked down. "I know…"

Shifting from her spot and slowly sitting next to Mae, Penelope went on. "I probably should've thought this through a bit more. Bringing you and Peter here I thought… I thought it would be a nice treat for you both after everything you've both been through. But now…" Leaning against the headboard as well, Penelope bit back the pain that travelled through her head wounds when she collapsed it against the wall. "Now I feel it was rubbing salt into the wound of what you don't have."

Mae didn't answer right away, and Penelope understood that it was her way of trying to translate her feelings into words. While she was the more talkative and outgoing of the Woods siblings, there were moments when Mae resembled her brother when it came to collecting emotions. It was something that Penelope could relate to and appreciate.

"I… I am glad we have come here." Mae started after a few minutes. "I am happy to have spent Christmas with all of you and… I would like to do it again."

"But?" Penelope encouraged gently.

"I…" Mae tightened her grip around her knees before she met Penelope's eyes. "I-I can't… I cannot help but think of them."

Understanding dawned on Penelope. "Your parents?"

Mae nodded. "Peter… Peter has told me everything he can remember about them. Well, all that he remembers of our Mama."

"Not your Papa?"

"He… He was… Sent away?" Mae frowned with utter concertation. "He had a job that was important for… people?"

Penelope placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're fine. What has he told you of your Mama?"

Mae smiled a little. "We have her hair. She also sang to him, to us, like you do. And… She liked to bake."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Peter always said our home always smelled sweet and… nice? He said her baking was one of the reasons Papa fell in love with her."

Smiling sweetly at the girl, Penelope smoothed some of her hair back. "It sounds like a lovely marriage."

Mae nodded sadly. "I… I wish I had been old enough to remember her."

"Come here." Mae did not hesitate to follow Penelope's command and leaned over to the redhead, who pulled her into a firm hug. "Do you remember what you told me after I received the news of my own Papa's death?"

"Missing them feels less when I draw them."

Brushing a few strands that had fallen away on Mae's face, Penelope nodded. "And have you been drawing them recently?"

"No… I've… I've been too happy." Mae said, her voice littered with shame. "And now I cannot feel I've betrayed them for not drawing them… For not missing them as much as I once did."

Penelope let out a breath. "Grief… It's a complicated process Mae. And… I feel like moving on from that grief is much more complicated. You feel guilty for moving on and finding some type of happiness, but you know you cannot wallow in it as… Life goes on. People go on." She then gave Mae a squeeze, "But I think the most important part is understanding that your parents would want you to go on. They would want you to live, love and be happy. Preferably not in a tree."

Mae giggled softly against Penelope before she went silent again, deep in thought. "Do you think your Papa would want the same for you?"

Penelope bit her bottom lip. "I hope so."

As the carriage was ready out front of Nettles Cottage, all the members of the household staff (who grew to love the Woods as much as the Silver Birch staff), and each member of the Crokebanes. Mae and Peter stayed attached to Penelope the longest, whispering their many thanks to the redhead.

After promising them numerous times she would visit them the moment she returns to Silver Birch, Mae and Peter went on into the carriage, quickly followed by Ms Jameson and Matilda.

Thomas pulled Penelope as tears sprang out of her eyes and continued to wave the departing carriage off.

A few days after the Woods return to Hinderside Orphanage, two carriages were similarly being packed up for a three-night stay at the Lennox family estate. Penelope was upset to be gone from Nettles Cottage, but Lady Crokebane assured her that they would spend the last two days in Scotland there, which was why the packing was a little less.

"You came here with five trunks," Thomas began from his leaned position against the doorway as he watched Penelope and Matilda pack up her belongings. "And for a three-day stay with the Lennox's, you have three trunks."

Matilda took the initiative and threw a pillow at Thomas' figure.

"I only packed one trunk!" Thomas defended, straightening from having stumbled back a little. "I do not understand why it is necessary to have three whole trunks for three days."

"Then you are very blessed to not have been born a woman." Penelope groaned out, leaning against the windowsill seat and gently lifted her ankle.

"Are you alright Pen?" Matilda asked, both her and Thomas holding expressions of concern.

Slowly lowering herself down onto the windowsill seat, Penelope nodded. "I feel my ankle needs a break from the packing." Matilda quickly acted and retrieved the footstool, placing it near Penelope. "Thank you Matilda."

"I'll go and get you some fresh water." Matilda smiled gently at Penelope before making her way out of the room. She halted, however, just before Thomas and gestured to the discarded pillow on the ground. "Be useful and return that to its rightful place."

Penelope laughed as Matilda skipped out and Thomas gave an exasperated look. "You would think I worked for her." He then bent down to collect the pillow.

"I would think after all the horror stories she's witnessed and heard of your childhood, you should probably work for her. You know, to buy her silence." Penelope smirked, watching her cousin return the pillow to her bed.

"Oh ha ha ha!" Thomas made a silly face, which caused more laughter from Penelope. "And, plus they aren't horror stories!"

"Not according to Ms Jameson."

"And as I've already explained to you, that woman is a demon! She would make the Devil quiver in his boots."

Penelope looked behind Thomas and smiled. "Good afternoon Ms Jameson."

Thomas whipped around, with the wide eyes of a startled deer. Seeing no one in the doorway, he slowly turned back to Penelope, who was barely containing her laughter. "Very funny. You'll be the court jester in no time."

Penelope laughed fully, clutching her stomach. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist."

"The ankle pretty much saved you today, cousin." Thomas rounded the bed. "Otherwise I would've followed Miss Hopper's example and made the pillow into the ultimate weapon."

"Thank god for the reckless idea of climbing up on a tree then."

Thomas sat down on Penelope's bed across from her. "See, becoming more Crokebane by the day. Self-sacrificing reckless decision making is in our blood." He then gestured to the ankle, "Though, this will probably make the Lennox's New Year Ball a bit more of a pain for you."

Penelope's lips were pursed between a confused frown and a bemused smile. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, the dancing of course."

"What dancing?"

"Jesus Pen. You've been to balls before during the social season right? I'm sure you know what dancing is."

Rolling her eyes, Penelope gestured to Thomas. "Yes, I know what dancing is, but what does it have to do with my ankle?"

Thomas frowned as if Penelope said the stupidest thing one could say. "Your ankle will probably hurt with all the dancing."

Penelope blinked. "Why am I dancing?"

"Why wouldn't you dance?" Thomas retorted.

"Because you need men to dance with you."

"Exactly."

"Thomas, you're making no sense."

"Actually you'll find it's the other way around."

Penelope let out a long breath. "No men will be dancing with me. That's if we're not counting you and possibly Grandpapa."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at Penelope. "How do you know that?"

"Because that was what happened in Mayfair. I struggle to see how it will be any different in Scotland."

"Wait, no possible suitor danced with you?"

"If we're excluding the Bridgerton men, who I am sure Lady Bridgerton pressured them to do so, then no. No other man danced with me." Penelope leaned her back against the window, looking crestfallen at the information.

"I think it's been good that us Crokebanes have stayed away from London society. I don't think any of the healers within our family would've been able to fix their absolute blindness mingled with idiocy." Thomas stated confidently, his expression assuring as Penelope met his eyes.

"You're just saying this because you are my cousin." Rolling her shoulders upwards, she prepared herself to try and divert the conversation.

Thomas though beat her to it with his response. "No, I am saying that because I was blessed to be born a male." Penelope tilted her head teasingly at that. "I have been honest in both of my statements to our grandparents that I do not see you in such a light. In fact, I would rather throw myself into the icy lake as you did for any thought of such were to cross my mind."

"Such a confidence booster."

"But," Thomas heightened his voice for a moment. "I also know, if I look past my familial feelings towards you, that you are quite what a man desires in a woman."

A tiny smirk curved at the corners of Penelope's lips. "Say that with less physical pain next time."

Thomas laughed. "That is not just me saying that. I've noticed a few of our staff at Silver Birch eying you up, and our grandfather has even made some disgruntled remarks about some of the patients doing so too."

Cheeks turning red, Penelope straightened up in her seat. "W-wh-what? Who?"

"I'm not naming names." Thomas held up his hands. "Do not fret though, none of them would ever do anything. They respect you too much as a high-born lady and just as you as a person. They are also scared of me and Grandpapa, and petrified of Grandmama. But in any case, men do notice you, at least now anyway."

"Why now though?"

"Because you're you." Thomas shrugged a shoulder, "You've grown more into who you are and wear that more confidently now. Men love confidence, as well as toned down coloured gowns."

Penelope laughed a little at that last part. "I really do not think that will change my attractiveness to men. Especially at a ball."

Thomas hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "Wanna bet on that?"

"What?"

Thomas shrugged once more. "If you're so sure, I guess you wouldn't mind betting on it?"

"And what would that achieve? If I know I am correct?"

"Amusement."

Penelope did not know what she wanted to do more–roll her eyes or huff out a breath. "And what would we bet on."

"Arnold's shit."

"What?"

With a wide smirk, Thomas leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. "If I am correct and you have a horde of potential suitors dancing with you, on the first week of our return to Silver Birch, you have to clean up Arnold's shit every morning."

"And what do I get if I win?"

"Depends. What is it that you want?"

Considering this for a long moment, Penelope settled on one idea. "In the spring, when the ice melts, I want you to take me back to Nettles Cottage for a weekend."

Thomas blinked at that. "Wow, out of all the things I thought you would ask for, that did not even crack the top ten."

It was Penelope's turn to shrug. "I would love to see the area in the spring, since you told me once it's quite beautiful. Especially at the lake."

"The lake?" Thomas scrunched up his nose. "I thought that would be the last place you would want to go."

"It's not the lake's fault I fell from a tree and onto its icy surface," Penelope smirked briefly at Thomas' snort at that. "Also… I do not know, I just feel connected to it now."

"Odd way to build a connection to a lake." Thomas muttered and laughed a little more at Penelope's playful glare. He then darted out his hand as he spoke the next words. "Well then dear cousin, it seems we have our very first bet."

Penelope shook his hand, firmly confident as to whom would be the victor.

"Woah…" Penelope breathed out as she slowed Blackburn down on the drive trail. "This is… Woah."

Thomas snorted beside her, "This is how wealthy people make up for their lack of title."

Penelope was too stunned to reply. After an hour of slowly riding through Scotland's countryside alongside Thomas, who very sternly told her not to ride too fast due to her still-healing injuries, they arrived at Wayner White, the home to the Lennox family. Lady Crokebane had told her some of the Lennox family history and how Wayner White was built and constructed over the many generations of Lennox family members. True to its name, the brickwork was pure white, though as they got closer, it was easy to tell what sections of the building–or palace really–were generations old or relatively new additions, due to the faded pearly white at the very corners.

It was much bigger than Aubrey Hall, and a few other titled families' homes. In fact, she would even bet it would give the royal palace a run for its money.

"I can't believe I had no idea that this existed." Penelope breathed out, her awe growing the closer they got.

"Unless you've somehow travelled to Scotland in the last seventeen years of your existence, I would doubt you would." Thomas teased, his smirk growing at Penelope's glare.

"I mean, it's not been documented in the history books."

"So you've read every history book on buildings within England and Scotland?"

Penelope shrugged. "I was reading a fictional book that was primarily based in a castle, and I wanted imagine it better so I picked up a book about castles and historical buildings. Aubrey Hall was in there."

"Was Silver Birch Manor?" Thomas then probed, and Penelope ducked her head down. "Those books only really talk about those in high ranking or high regard to royalty or England's society."

"The Crokebane's legacy is directed to the royal monarchy, even generations after Emil and Aloisa Crokebane."

"But the monarchy does not like to showcase that. We're their secret weapons after all, and it helps that we don't participate in London society either." Thomas nodded towards Wayner White. "Neither do the Lennox's, much anyway. Plus, it's Scotland, and they are Scottish. While relations have improved here and there, English people don't like to dose the Scottish with too many praises."

Penelope rolled her eyes but did not say anything in response as their horses slowed to a stop in front of the entrance, where they were greeted by Mr and Mrs Lennox.

"Thomas, Penelope, it's so good to see you both again. I hope your Christmas was joyful." Mrs Lennox said from her spot, not moving forward to meet them.

Grandmama probably warned her about Blackburn, Penelope understood and sent her a smile. "It's good to see you too Mrs Lennox. Christmas was… busy."

Mrs Lennox's smile wavered slightly. "Cecilia told me of your accident. Since you've ridden here, I assume you are healing well."

"Sore and achy, but better than I was before." Penelope assured the older woman, shifting her hands with the reins.

"Our grandparents aren't too far behind," Thomas then said, "Shall we head on to the stables?"

Mr Lennox nodded, "You remember the way?"

"Stables are practically my second home, I can smell them miles away."

Penelope's face scrunched up. "You can smell a stable?"

"Okay, fine, it's like my first home then."

It was clear to Penelope after numerous tours of Wayner White that she would need a map to get around. The rooms were endless, the corridors seemed to stretch on into the horizon––everything in this building was limitless. And Penelope for the life of her couldn't understand what the point was. To have this big a scale of a building. Maybe she might've been at Silver Birch for too long where the number of rooms was reasonable, or had too many patients that hardly had enough rooms for all the members in the household, but she could not understand the necessity of having so many rooms in a building that were hardly used.

It was late evening when Penelope returned to her guest room, with Matilda assisting her in getting settled more.

"For a fancy palace, the Lennox's sure like to keep it simple in the rooms." Matilda mumbled as she went through one of Penelope's clothing trunks, trying to locate her nightwear. The room Penelope was located in was nearly a huge, white void, with a few dark wooden furnishings such as a bed, vanity dresser, a few drawers, wardrobe and fireplace. It was very… Spacious. Empty really, which caused their normal speaking vocals to echo off the white walls of the room.

Penelope hummed as she carefully braided her hair at the vanity, eyes focused on her reflection. "Makes me wonder what tomorrow's festivities are going to be like."

Matilda snorted. "The very opposite of simple. It will be an all outright expensive, extravagant and bright occasion."

Biting her bottom lip, Penelope glanced away from her reflection. "Do… Do you think the champagne dress will be enough for it?"

Sensing her lady's unease, Matilda stopped her search and slowly approached where Penelope sat. "It is perfect. Eye-catching, but doesn't blind anyone like I know those gold champagne glasses will."

"There will be gold champagne glasses?"

"Only when it's midnight. To truly bask in the delights of the New Year."

A soft laugh breathed out through Penelope's nose. "I…" Tying the end of her braid, Penelope moved her hands to the left side of her head to start the second braid, but Matilda beat her to it, quickly getting to work. "I am scared."

"Of what?"

"Of being a complete embarrassment."

Matilda paused in her braiding. "How in the world could you be an embarrassment?"

A harsh exhale released itself from Penelope's lips. "I'm a wallflower Matilda. My debut… No men outside of pity ever looked my way. No man ever danced with me unless they held the last name Bridgerton, and their mother pressured them to do so. And even outside of that… I was permanently attached to the wall. Always witnessing the event but never… Never being a part of it."

Matilda met Penelope's eyes in the mirror. "As they say, my lady, Mayfair's loss is northern England's and Scotland's gain."

"How will this be any different to Mayfair?"

"Because you are different, Pen. You may not fully believe that, but the change between when you first arrived at Silver Birch to now is stark. You just need to trust in yourself a little." Returning her attention to Penelope's second braid, Matilda went on. "Plus, I assure you that you will have at least one guaranteed dancing partner tomorrow night."

Penelope snorted. "Thomas does not count."

"I wasn't meaning Thomas, though, now that you mentioned it, you have guaranteed two dancing partners tomorrow night."

Brows furrowed as she stared at Matilda through the mirror reflection, Penelope tried to think of someone else. "Grandpapa?"

"Very well, three then."

"I'm confused. Who is the first?"

Matilda met Penelope's sky-blue eyes through the reflection once more, looking just as perplexed as her lady. "Mister Fraser Lennox of course?"

Penelope's frown grew. "Why would Fraser want to dance with me?"

"You do not know?"

"Clearly."

Matilda fought down her bemused smirk that was hungry to appear across her face. "You spoke a lot with him during the Lennox's stay at Nettles Cottage, and this evening at dinner."

"That was because we were sat next to each other and are around the same age."

"Thomas was sat near you two and didn't speak to Fraser as much as you did."

"That's because…" Penelope trailed off then, her mind whirling with the memories of all her conversations with the second in line for the Lennox's family business. "Do you believe he is… Interested?"

Matilda tilted her head and shrugged. "I cannot say for certain, as a lot of your interactions have been manipulated."

"Fraser manipulated our interactions?"

"You truly have not noticed?" Matilda let out a sound that was caught between a huff and a laugh at the glare directed her way by Penelope. "No, Fraser is not the manipulator. That title would go to your grandmothers."

Penelope's eyes widened at that, and at first, she opened her mouth to reject that notion. However, the more she thought about it, the more the truth of it dawned on her. She remembered how she and Fraser always ended up in polite conversation with one another, whether it was Lady Crokebane pulling Thomas away into another conversation elsewhere, or Mrs Lennox asking for assistance with her youngest granddaughter. No matter what, Penelope and Fraser were left to their own devices.

"Crap." Penelope breathed out as Matilda finished her second braid.

"What is it?" Matilda asked with concern, knowing her lady was not the type to randomly curse.

"Thomas is going to win the bet."

"Woah…" Penelope mumbled, slowly becoming a common theme with her stay at Wayner White.

Most of New Year's Eve was dedicated to preparing Wayner White, with many of its staff running around the massive building, cleaning the windows and floors, preparing the decorations and blocking out rooms that would not be available during the ball. Aside from visiting the stables and feeding Blackburn, Penelope kept to her guest bedroom throughout it all. Thomas and Matilda stayed with her, helping her ease her anxieties for the upcoming night.

Eventually, she started to get ready. First, a hot bath, washing her hair and drying herself off. Then there was the make-up… Normally, during her last social season in London, she kept the make-up to a minimum. She didn't see the point–how could make-up change the ultimate fact that she was the most undesirable woman in the room? However, tonight, there was a specific reason for the make-up.

Her head wounds were healed up and the stitches were removed. While she did not have much to worry about the forehead wound (a bruise can still be seen but mostly covered by her hairline), the wound from her temple to the end of her ear could not. And it seemed with make-up on, it was still somewhat visible.

Matilda had a small solution to this with her hairstyle. Her fiery red hair was mostly pinned up in what Penelope would describe as an elegant but messy manner. Though, chunks of strands at the front of her head were left down, and with some aid from hair cream, Matilda styled it in a way that those strands were covering the scar. While it wasn't permanent, as general movement will show it here and there, it satisfied Penelope enough to continue into her dress.

The champagne mingled with gold details turned out to be the perfect dress for the ball as The Great Hall of Wayner White, and the surrounding corridors and rooms, were decorated with the colours of black, white and gold.

Penelope gazed upon The Great Hall from her spot next to Thomas above on the balcony that led to the stairs to the room below. Even though they were guests of the Lennox family, they would be introduced along with every single participant and family invited to the ball.

Which was a lot.

Lennox's could give Lady Danbury a run for her money, Penelope smiled at the thought, a temporary release from her building anxiety. The Great Hall was vast, with the floor tiles being squares of black and white, and the walls painted white. There were a few paintings hung on those white walls though, depicting previous members of the Lennox family, the frames were in good wood. Off to the right corner of The Great Hall, near the entrance of the open doors to the gardens, was a band playing a soothing melody throughout the space, taking a break from the scheduled dancing sessions.

"You alright there cousin?" Thomas asked, them waiting patiently behind their grandparents for their introduction.

Penelope drew in a shaky breath. "Fine. Just…" She trailed off, ducking her head down.

"Hey." Thomas said gently, causing his cousin to anxiously peer up at him. "We're right here with you. No matter what."

Swallowing down her nerves, Penelope forced a smile and a nod. Just then, one of the staff members gestured for the Crokebanes to step forward on top of the staircase.

"Thomas and Penelope, you two in the centre," Lady Crokebane instructed as they readied themselves. "Max, you go beside Penelope, and I'll be beside Thomas."

Lord Crokebane did as his wife commanded, though he let out a huff. "I still do not understand why we cannot walk down together since I'll be attached to your hip the whole night."

Both Penelope and Thomas suppressed laughter as Lady Crokebane whipped him a firm glare. "We are showing a united front."

"Since when is a fancy party a battleground?" Lord Crokebane quipped and shot Penelope a wink when she let out a puff of laughter at that.

Lady Crokebane simply rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips rising slightly.

"May I present!" The announcer began, gathering all the attention of the people in The Great Hall. "The Crokebane Family! Lord Maximillian Crokebane and Lady Cecilia Crokebane of Silver Birch Manor, and their grandchildren, Mister Thomas Crokebane and Miss Penelope Featherington!"

Penelope's heart raced as she followed in line with her family members down the stone white stairs, sweat forming at the back of her neck as she felt everyone's eyes on them. Though, she noted with certain embarrassment, there were more curious eyes on her than the Crokebanes themselves.

Mr and Mrs Lennox met them at the bottom of the stairs, but unlike the other announcements, they did not chat with the Crokebanes for long as they were already staying at Wayner White. Instead, once they shared pleasantries, the Crokebanes went on their way to mingle.

"Drink?" Thomas leaned to Penelope, offering his arm.

Nodding enthusiastically, Penelope accepted his arm. "Please."

The two then glanced at their grandparents, and it was Lady Crokebane who gave her permission. "Do not wander too far though Thomas. There are some people I would like you to converse with, as future Lord of Silver Birch."

"Very well." Thomas sighed heavily and the two soon retreated away into the crowds.

Luckily, the attention was not centred on the Crokebanes and Penelope for long, as the announcer was soon speaking again with another declaration of a new arrival. Which made getting to the refreshments section easier.

"That went well I believe." Thomas said as he reached over to two glasses of ready-made wine.

"As well as can be expected." Penelope took a large gulp of her wine. "I do not believe I've had so many eyes on me at once."

Thomas was about to say something, but a large clap on his shoulder from behind stopped him. Jumping slightly, Penelope and Thomas looked at the same time at the man behind him.

"Thomas!" The man greeted joyfully. "Good to see you!"

From the corner of Penelope's eye, she saw Thomas frown momentarily before flashing into a neutral expression. "Mister Killian Harding." The friendly smile that Thomas now held was entirely forced. "Good to see you also." Penelope knew that was false.

Killian grinned. "How is everything at Silver Birch? The horses still keeping you busy?"

Thomas kept his forced smile intact. "Always, Killian, always."

Eyes switching to where Penelope stood, Killian's grin became charming. "And who is this lovely lady?"

Penelope blushed heatedly under the gentleman's gaze as Thomas introduced them. "This is my cousin, Miss Penelope Featherington."

"May I?" Killian gestured to Penelope's free hand.

Blush intensifying, Penelope moved her hand towards Killian. "O-of course."

Killian gently grabbed Penelope's hand and, ever so softly, kissed her knuckles. "Mister Killian Harding. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady."

Once it was socially polite to do so, Penelope retrieved her hand back. "A-as you, sir."

It was then the music from the band slowed as they were preparing for a different tune. "I believe the next dance is among us," Killian glanced briefly towards the band, and then held out a hand to Penelope. "May I have the honour of being your first dance of this evening?"

"O-oh." Penelope was stunned, unsure of what to do other than gape at him.

"She would love to, Killian." Thomas said confidently, his smile becoming more natural as he looked at Penelope. "I'll even hold her wine."

Penelope shot a brief glare towards her cousin as he retrieved the wine glass from her before turning to Killian and his awaiting hand. A small smile lifted her lips as she clasped his hand. "Of course, Mister Killian."

"Please, just Killian." He then winked at Penelope, which threw her through a loop momentarily.

With a short nod, she gave one last look to Thomas whose eyes sang with victory.

One dance with Mister Killian Harding, turned into another dance with another gentleman. Sir… Abney? Penelope for the life of her could not recall the second dancer's name, because as soon as that dance was finished, another gentleman came and so on and so forth. The names became blurred with one another. However, this did not mean that the dances were unpleasant. If anything the dances were… enjoyable. The men were courteous as well as good conversationalists and were fairly good dancing partners.

Not as good as–Penelope cut that thought off as she smiled gratefully at the end of the latest dance to the gentleman before her.

"Thank you, sir. I believe I must find my grandparents now if you please excuse me."

The gentleman bowed briefly. "It was an honour to dance with you, Miss Penelope. I hope a chance to do so comes again tonight."

With a polite nod, Penelope escaped to the sides, brushing past the crowds and finding her retreat to the oh-so-familiar wall. Leaning a hand against the wall, Penelope closed her eyes as she slowly caught her breath.

"Miss?" Penelope blinked and saw a gentleman standing near her, holding a look of concern. "Are you quite alright?"

Thankfully, Penelope was saved from a potential new dancing partner when a voice cut in.

"Excuse me Sir Jenkins," Lord Crokebane appeared behind the now revealed Sir Jenkins. "I believe my granddaughter is searching for my wife for assistance for something."

Sir Jenkins nodded in understanding, "Of course. I do hope you are able to save a dance for me Miss Penelope."

Penelope forced a polite smile as she straightened in her stance. "I shall try my best, Sir Jenkins."

Lord Crokebane offered his arm to his granddaughter, which she took eagerly, and led them both away from the crowds. Penelope was surprised to soon find themselves in an empty corridor located near the bottom of the stairs.

"I thought you could use a minute." Lord Crokebane explained as they went deeper into the corridor. "You've been dancing nonstop for nearly two hours."

Penelope's eyes nearly jumped out at that. "Two hours?"

"Nearly." Lord Crokebane slowed them to a stop, back leaning against the wall. "Your grandmother is convinced we are going to have a few callers in the New Year."

"O…" Penelope's shoulders shagged down. "I-I…"

Lord Crokebane rose an eyebrow. "You are displeased about this?"

"No! I…" Following her grandfather's lead, Penelope leaned against the wall beside him. "I just… I am unused to it."

"What? Callers?"

"As well as the dancing."

The resemblance between Lord Crokebane and Thomas was uncanny with their expressions of confusion. "You never had either back in Mayfair?"

Groaning so loud it echoed down the corridor, Penelope banged her head against the wall. Striking a little ache to her still healing wounds. "Why is everyone so surprised by that?"

"Because you are a bright, smart and beautiful young woman." Lord Crokebane quickly explained without hesitation. "Any man can see a treasure when it appears."

Penelope bit the inside of her cheek. "Not if a treasure is a small lump as I am."

Letting out a harsh exhale, Lord Crokebane took a few seconds to speak. "Despite the fact I raised two daughters, I am no good at these types of talks, but…" As Lord Crokebane trailed off, Penelope was compelled to meet his gaze. "Granddaughter, you are a diamond. Any gentleman will be thoroughly blessed to be your caller, let alone husband."

A faint but genuine smile lifted Penelope's lips. "Thank you Grandpapa." Lord Crokebane gave her a beaming smile at his fresh new title. "But, as much as I would like too, we cannot hide out here forever."

"I suppose not," Lord Crokebane agreed. "Though a lot of the night is just me standing there, with your grandmother mostly doing the hard work."

Penelope laughed at that as she knew how true that statement was. In the midst of her dancing, she caught sight of her grandparents here and there, with Lady Crokebane mingling and Lord Crokebane dutifully at her side, staring away into the far distance.

Once she calmed down, Lord Crokebane held out his arm and Penelope looped it with hers once more. Making their way back into The Great Hall, Penelope clung onto her grandfather as they made their way through the sea of people, only giving a polite nod and smile to a few gentlemen that eyed her. Eventually, they found Lady Crokebane conversing with a man who appeared in his late forties, with dark auburn hair peppered with greys. While from the outside it seemed like a polite conversation, from the way her grandmother held herself and how Lord Crokebane suddenly tensed up, she knew whoever the man was, neither grandparent was pleased to see him.

"Cecilia." Lord Crokebane called her attention just as they were inches from the two, and Lady Crokebane turned, smiling upon seeing her husband and granddaughter.

"Penelope," Lady Crokebane breathed out. "I am happy to see you off the dance floor for a moment. Your ankle must be hurting you by now."

Tensing slightly due to the atmosphere she has walked into; Penelope sent her grandmother a tight smile. "It's a bit stiff and achy, but I'm soldiering through."

Lady Crokebane opened her mouth to reply, but the man she was speaking to beat her to it.

"Wow, you truly are making her into a Crokebane." The man said with a tone of bitterness.

Lord Crokebane's arm tightened around hers, and she could see that his jaw was clenched so hard that she briefly worried for his teeth. Lady Crokebane had a better time hiding her displeasure, the only sign was her fingers twitching together.

Penelope took in the man, similarly dressed in a smart black suit as the many men in the room. His dark auburn/grey hair was neatly brushed back, his face held in a depressing neutral way, with his dark brown eyes keenly assessing her.

"Penelope," Lady Crokebane began carefully. "I would like to introduce you to Mister Edgar Hogbourne. Your cousin."

Sky-blue eyes widening, Penelope took in the man–Edgar Hogbourne, her cousin–again. "O-oh… I did not realise I had any more cousins."

Edgar snorted. "None that are still alive really. I'm pretty much the last one you will meet." He nodded briefly to Lord Crokebane stood beside her. "His father is my father's eldest brother. Hamish Crokebane, then Hamish Hogbourne."

"Oh." Penelope did not know what else to say, as she felt that Edgar did not like conversing with his own family.

Edgar's attention peeled to Lord Crokebane. "I see that the old age has still not gotten to you yet Maximilian."

"No. Not yet anyway." Lord Crokebane tensely responded, and Penelope felt that if it weren't for the crowd, he would have added a curse into that sentence.

Bitter smirk in place, Edgar returned his attention to Penelope. "Excuse my bluntness Miss Penelope, but I do think you should've followed in your mother's footsteps."

"Ex-excuse me?"

"She had the right idea." He gulped the last of his wine. "Getting as far away from the name Crokebane saved her life. You will do well to do the same." He then politely nodded to the elder Crokebanes. "Have a good rest of the night." And, turning on his heel, Edgar marched away from the three.

"I…" Penelope was unable to find any words for what had occurred, but when she glanced between the unhappy and angry looks of her grandparents, she understood that what had just happened had a… complicated background. Not something that could be discussed amid a ball.

"Fraser!" Lady Crokebane suddenly exclaimed, causing Penelope to jump a little before turning in the direction that her grandmother was looking towards. "So good to see you!"

Fraser frowned at this. "You saw me not thirty minutes ago?"

"Oh, well, yes, but Penelope is now with us!" Lady Crokebane gushed out, and then she looked out into the distance of The Great Hall. "And I do believe I see your grandmother waving me down."

It was Lord Crokebane's turn to frown. "No she–"

Lady Crokebane interrupted her husband by grabbing a hold of his free arm and slowly pulling him away from Penelope. "I believe she needs assistance with some… Staffing issues she told me about earlier. But please, do converse amongst yourselves." With that, Lord and Lady Crokebane disappeared into the ground behind Fraser.

Standing in front of Penelope, Fraser shook his head and laughed. "She is not very subtle, is she? Neither of our grandmothers are."

Penelope blinked with surprise. "Y… Y-you know that they are…"

"Hoping for us to fall madly in love." Fraser finished off Penelope's struggling sentence with a bemused grin. "Oh yes, they are very obvious about it."

Letting out a shaky laugh, Penelope glanced around. "I-I… I do not know how I feel about that."

Fraser's grin turned into a kind smile. "Can I be honest with you, Miss Penelope?"

"O-of course."

"I find you a very interesting young woman, and if the circumstances were different, I would not mind the meddling from our grandmothers."

Not sure how to take this information, Penelope's curiosity won out. "And what are the current circumstances?"

Gazing down his wine cup nervously, Fraser gave himself a moment to collect his words. "I… I do not know if I necessarily want marriage. I know I have a duty to do so for the family business, but… I am still young and unsure if that is what I truly desire. I would hate to be in a marriage out of sheer duty, so I am not actively searching for it. Alongside that, I am still learning my family's business and trade and learning what I need to know for when I take over one day. So, my attention and priorities are very much into that instead of courting pursuits. So, what I am trying to say–"

Penelope briefly placed a hand on Fraser's forearm in a soothing manner. "Do not fret, I am not looking for anything either."

"Truly?"

Shaking her head, Penelope reached over to a tray of wine being handed out. "In truth, my heart… My heart belongs to another. Another I shall never have and… I am trying to build a life outside of marriage and love. Which is unusual for a woman, I know, but… I do not see myself wanting marriage in the foreseeable future."

Fraser appeared sympathetic. "I completely understand, and my respect for you has only risen. Thank you for not taking what I have told you offensively."

"And thank you for not laughing at my desires."

"Well, if you want to laugh outside of that, I do have a suggestion." Penelope tilted her head at Fraser whose smirk was wicked. "How about we… Give our grandmothers something to swoon over? As punishment for their meddling ways."

Penelope's smirk was a near match to his. "And how would we do that?"

Placing their glasses of wine down the nearest surface, Fraser held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

With a wild giggle, Penelope gave a playful curtsy before accepting his hand and making their way to the dancefloor.

"So what are you looking for, Mister Thomas?" The woman–Miss Grace?–nervously asked as they met once more within the dance.

Thomas held in a groan and a curse. This was not his idea. He would've been happy enough talking to men he was friendly with as well as people of importance to one day governing over the northern lands. However, his grandmother was insistent that he should at least dance with a few females this night–none that are Penelope. So, under the direction of Lady Crokebane, Thomas danced with a few gentlewomen.

This was gentlewoman number three.

"Not completely sure," Thomas forced himself to say, not wanting to be rude. "But I am sure when I find it, I will know."

The woman–Thomas was pretty sure her name was Miss Grace–looked a little disheartened at this and the dance remained quiet between the pair as they flowed with the music.

Once the dance was done, Thomas politely bowed before making his way to the sidelines where his grandmother was waiting for him.

"You could look like you enjoy the dances a bit more." Lady Crokebane teasingly criticised, handing him a glass of wine.

"And take away the pleasure of you teasing me? I would never." Thomas took a slip of his wine, eyes searching for his other family members. "Where are Grandpapa and Penelope?"

"Your grandfather has gone to use the chamber pot, and Penelope is about to be asked for another dance." Lady Crokebane then gestured in the direction of where Penelope stood on the sidelines.

His grandmother was correct. Just as Penelope was thanking her most recent dancer for the dance she also participated in, Mister Killian Harding was making his approach. Thomas narrowed his eyes at that, knowing it was unusual for the Harding man to approach any gentlewoman for another dance. Thomas had nothing against the man, but from what he heard from other men he was friends within society, Thomas knew he had many female lovers. There was nothing wrong with that either, he's known a few social rakes settle down into good marriages. Though Thomas knew Mister Killian was not looking to settle down anytime soon, which meant his interest in his cousin might not be the purest.

Still, he would not stop any further dances. That was solely Penelope's choice. He would just… Keep an eye on them.

"She met Edgar."

Thomas whirled his attention to his grandmother, his mind taking a moment to catch up. When it did, his sky-blue eyes widened. "Edgar? As in our cousin? What's he doing here?"

"Beverly only informed me this morning of his attendance, as her husband forgot to mention." Lady Crokebane sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. "Apparently Allister and his son were dealing with some business in London that Edgar and his office helped with. Allister, as a thank you, invited him to the ball, which for some reason he accepted."

Letting out a frustrated huff, Thomas spared a glance towards where Penelope stood with Mister Killian and the previous dancing partner, who appeared to be in a much more amusing conversation. "What did he say to her?"

"That she should've followed her mother's lead and stay far away from us."

"So the usual family-hating nonsense."

"Thomas."

"Grandmama don't even defend him." Thomas grounded out, "I understand his reasoning, but he has no right to take it out on us."

"I know Thom, I know." Lady Crokebane conceded, "I just remind you that, while he may hate his and our family, he still has done a lot for us."

"Which he firmly likes to hang over our heads." Taking another large gulp of wine, Thomas watched with amusement as Mister Killian held out his hand to Penelope as the melody of music changed for the next dance. "What dance is this? I've lost count."

Lady Crokebane laughed, "I am not sure, but I predict we are going to have a few callers in the New Year."

"And I'll have a week off Arnold duty." Thomas mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing."

"So, tell me Miss Penelope, how was Stirling for a dancing partner?" Mister Killian asked as they swayed with the music.

Penelope had lost count of how many times she had been on the dance floor. After her dance with Fraser, all the other eligible men saw this as a signal she was ready to dance once more, and one by one they came up to her. She had briefly seen her cousin on the dance floor as well, though looking less enjoyed by the prospect than she was. Though, her enjoyment from the sudden attention was waning slightly as her stiff ankle was now throbbing with pain.

This would mostly likely be the last dance for a bit, Penelope thought to herself, mentally developing a plan to go to her grandmother who stood at the sidelines with Thomas.

"St-Stirling?" Penelope then blinked, unsure of what he meant.

Mister Killian let out a booming laugh. "The man you were just dancing with and who we had a pleasant conversation with. Lord John Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin."

"Oh!" Penelope blushed a deep red. "I-I-"

"You forgot his name?" Mister Killian guessed, grinning with amusement.

Penelope closed her eyes briefly. "Th-there have been a l-lot of names to remember."

Mister Killian nodded. "If it helps, it's easy to forget Stirling. He's one of the quiet bunch."

While Penelope frowned at this, she did see his point. During her dance with Lord Stirling, he was… Very quiet. There was a politeness to whatever he said, but it often felt forced. She even felt bad for dancing with him despite the fact he was the one to approach her. It was more friendly once the pressure of the dance was off and when Mister Killian was there to direct the conversation, but Penelope did see Lord Stirling as quiet.

Still, she did not appreciate the implication that he was forgettable because of that trait.

"I am quite quiet myself, does that mean I am forgettable?" Penelope boldly questioned, one of her eyebrows raised in a light challenge.

Mister Killian opened his mouth in surprise at this, but then quickly smirked. "Why, don't you have some fire in you?" Despite the blush travelling down to her neck, Penelope held the man's gaze. "But you are correct. I apologise for my ill words there, but I do disagree with you. You are not one of the quiet bunch."

With an unladylike snort, Penelope narrowed her gaze at her dancing partner. "Oh really? How do you figure that?"

"Well, for one, you are a great conversationalist. Why do you think I've asked you for another dance?" Mister Killian winked at Penelope then.

Struggling for a moment, Penelope's smirk softened to a smile. "I think I recall you starting most of our dancing conversations."

"True, but it is tremendously hard to shut me up." They both laughed at that. "But you are very skilled at holding and carrying on the conversation. Something Stirling often struggles with. So, while I do not know how you are in your personal life, I would say, at least in public, you do not belong in the quiet bunch."

Penelope ducked her head down, thinking over his words with a new sense of confidence.

"May I say something that might possibly throw you off your dancing game this night though?" Mister Killian requested, and at his uncharacteristically serious voice, Penelope met his eyes once more. His throat bobbled a little as he prepared himself. "I give my deepest condolences for your father's passing."

Air caught in Penelope's throat. "Y-you… You kn-knew my father?"

"Not very well, I met him only once. My father though was friendly with him and had some business with him on occasion." Mister Killian explained, a sad smile pulling at his lips. "He attended his funeral. I would've but I was away in Greece."

"Greece?" Penelope breathed out, "Why–" She cut herself off, stopping all her movement on the dance floor.

Mister Killian's eyes flashed with concern, still holding Penelope's hands. "Miss Penelope? Are you well?"

"I…" Penelope couldn't speak, as the sensation through her body demanded attention.

It was like and unlike The Crokebane Instinct. With that, she felt in the pits of her gut. That caused her to pinpoint a problem with a patient, or where an injured person was. This… No. This was… The hairs all over her legs, arms and neck rose up, her temperature spiked, and every noise, every movement, every sight was suddenly heightened to the max. Throat dry, Penelope tried to understand what was happening as a burning feeling developed with her temple wound.

That was when she heard it.

Among the noise of the band, there were loud voices that were coming from the balcony above the stairs. Two angry loud voices that drew the majority of attendees' attention. It was two men, standing not too far from the stairs' edge, having a heated argument. It intensified quickly, leading to pushing and shoving between the two men that one of the staff members of Wayner White was trying to stop. This unfortunately led to one of the men throwing a punch, hitting the staff member, and led him to stumble into the other man.

The other man, possibly weakened by the alcoholic beverages, fumbled backwards from the weight of the staff member and slipped on the first edge of the steps. Quickly, he fell, crashing down into nearly every white stone step until he reached the ground.

Gasps and screeches sounded throughout The Great Hall and the music came to a dramatic halt. Penelope wasted no time in detaching herself from Mister Killian's grasp and shoving her way through the other dancers to get to the injured party.

The Crokebane Instinct was now screaming in her gut once she got to the man who was unconscious on the floor. Blood leaking out of his forehead, Penelope kneeled down and reached for the man's pulse.

Penelope let out a breath of relief as a familiar gruff voice neared her. "Is he alive?" lord Crokebane calmly asked, coming to kneel to the man on the other side.

"Yes," Penelope nodded with this confirmation. "Though, it's a little fast."

Lord Crokebane nodded, his expression grim as he called out to the guests. "I will need assistance getting him to a spare room!"

Several men volunteered and soon, under the careful direction of Lord Crokebane, the men lifted the injured man and followed a staff member out of The Great Hall and into one of the corridors, seemingly to a room where they could treat him.

Penelope moved to follow but was stopped by Lord Crokebane. "I've got this."

"But–" Penelope started, though was swiftly cut off by her grandfather.

"Enjoy your night granddaughter." Lord Crokebane patted her shoulder, "Do not fret, I will be putting you to work again in the New Year."

Penelope watched on as Lord Crokebane disappeared down the same corridor the injured man was carried through, desperately wanting to follow.

The music suddenly returned, and ball attendees soon immersed into small gossip crowds, whispering over the incident. Glancing upwards, Penelope saw Mr Lennox and his son, Bryce, thoroughly scolding the attacker with three staff members ready to throw him out. For his part, the attacker seemed remorseful and took the verbal bashing from the ball hosts with a ducked head.

A light touch on her shoulder made Penelope jump out of her skin and whip around to the source.

Mister Killian held up his hand. "Apologises, I did not mean to frighten you, Miss Penelope. Are you alright?"

Inhaling deeply, Penelope nodded. "Y-yes. I am sorry. I-I… I believe I will go t-to find my grandmother. Th-thank you for the dance." With that, Penelope disappeared into the crowds, eager to get away.

Thomas could not help but snort at the stupidity of the source of the argument that led to a man being pushed down the stairs of The Great Hall. From what he gathered from the gossiping men he was friendly with, the two men at the centre of the night's gossip had a long history. They used to be the very best of friends until they both fell in love with the same woman, and it was the injured man who ended up securing the match, leaving the attacker heartbroken and forced into a dutiful marriage.

The woman though died two years prior during a birth for the injured man's third child with her. This led the attacker to privately, and then sometimes publicly, blame the injured man for his wife's death, souring relations further. Thomas then assumed tensions must have been heightened further when they ran into each other tonight and well…

Thomas shook his head at it. It seemed unnecessary, but the gossipers, both men and women alike, grasped onto this new development like lion devouring its prey.

Amid this though, he could not locate his cousin.

At first, he thought she went to attend the injured man with their grandfather and, when the gossiping got too much, sought out to find them. After a few directions from some of the staff in the corridors, Thomas found where they housed the injured man and was surprised to find Lord Crokebane alone with the man. When he asked where Penelope was, Lord Crokebane told him he told Penelope to stay behind and enjoy the rest of the night.

Swallowing down his concern, Thomas wandered back into The Great Hall and continued his search. He went on to find his grandmother with a distressed-looking Mrs Lennox in the corner of The Great Hall.

Lady Crokebane frowned when Thomas asked if she'd seen Penelope. "Not since the gentleman's fall down the stairs. Wasn't she dancing with Mister Harding?"

Thomas' worry grew at that, remembering all the stories of what he heard of Killian's activities and sped up his search for his wayward cousin. However, his panic led into further confusion as he located Mister Killian Harding on the other side of The Great Hall, chatting amongst other men.

"She told me she had to go and see her grandmother," Killian told Thomas with a shrug. "I assume she is with her."

She was not.

Understanding that wherever his cousin was hiding was not in The Great Hall, Thomas headed up the grand stairs and headed in the direction of where her rooms were located. Nodding to a few staff members on the way, he was pulled to a sudden stop as he spotted a figure standing out on an outside balcony that overlooked the gardens. Nearing the window doors, relief flooded through Thomas when he realised the figure was his missing cousin.

Soundlessly opening one of the window doors, Thomas smiled. "There you are." Once the door was sealed, he approached his cousin who stood directly at the balcony's pillar. "I was beginning to think I needed to get a search–" Now standing beside her, Thomas' smile faded as he saw Penelope look out into the dark distance, a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks. "Pen? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Shaking her head, Penelope closed her eyes and wiped away her tears. "N-no. I am fine. Truly. J-just… Overwhelmed."

Gut turning, Thomas leaned his hip against the pillar. "Why am I sensing a lie?"

Penelope shook her head once more, her eyes meeting Thomas'. "N-no lie, I promise. I… I am just overwhelmed. Not just with tonight but… With everything."

While Thomas knew there was something else, something that could've triggered this, he decided not to push it too much and instead asked: "Everything?"

"This past year." Penelope scoffed. "I remember so clearly this time last year I was entering the New Year with the news I would be debuting early with my sisters. I remember… I remember writing to Eloise in such a state, not knowing what to do and how everything would go. And now here I am… At a lovely ball, with dancers every minute, and sharing pleasant conversations with them. Feeling both free and more confused than ever before."

Thomas' lips pressed together in a grimace. "You've been through a lot this year. It's understandable you would feel so overwhelmed."

"I just… I never would, in a million years, predicted this year."

"I do not think even a genius would." Thomas lightly joked, causing a small smile from Penelope. "But I do think this New Year will be different."

Penelope tilted her head. "Oh? And how would you possibly know that?"

"Cousin instincts," Thomas smirked confidently then, making Penelope let out a huge belly laugh. "How about this, New Year, New Promise?"

"What is the new promise?"

Leaning away from the pillar, Thomas gestured his arms out to the dark night. "I promise to the New Year that I will make sure my best friend and cousin will have the most joyful, eventful and danger-free year in existence! That this year will be the one for the ages!" Thomas met Penelope's eyes once more, "So this time next year, when we have had another happy Christmas, minus a lake dive, and be back here at Wayner White, dancing with all the eligible bachelors that come your way."

A wide smile took over Penelope's face. "That sounds like a very good promise cousin."

Thomas held out his hand. "Shake on it?" Penelope laughed again but did as requested. "Come along now, it's not too far from midnight and there are two gold champagne glasses with our names on them."

Penelope happily followed her cousin into the building once more and to the party once more. Neither of them knew that this would be the last time for years to come they would celebrate Christmas and New Year's.

Notes:

The next chapter will be titled "Letters of Collection".

Chapter 44: Chapter XLII: Letters of Collection

Summary:

A series of letters.

Notes:

Hello all! Happiest Thursday! As said in the previous chapter's notes, this chapter is much shorter than before. This is just for a small breather as well as slowly setting up things for the end of P and the second instalment of Courage & Kindness. Plus I noticed everyone was curious about the letters being sent during the events of "A Drowning In Nettles Lake" and "A White Christmas".

In bullet planning the chapters recently, I've discovered I might actually be correct in this being 68 chapters--possibly one less or one more? It's still rough planning right now for the future chapters but I'm taking this victory guys! 3

ANNOUNCEMENT:

As discussed in the previous notes, I have decided to take a week off. I want to assure you this is not due to running out of inspiration, but more having too much inspiration and I need a moment to plan and write a few chapters ahead. Plus with my new job and more shifts being acquired at my second job, I need a bit more rest as well. However, I will return to Week 2 of updates, with the next update being on Tuesday 19th November.

Fun Fact #37:

I went to my first ever concert Tuesday and saw Hozier.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

'Dear Miss Eloise Bridgerton,

I am terribly sorry for the improperness of this letter, and I will keep it brief as not to cause conflict or scandal. I am writing as Penelope… There has been an accident. She was out playing with the Woods children in the surrounding area of Nettles Cottage and ended up falling into an icy lake.

Penelope is currently unconscious with a couple of injuries, but our grandfather expects her to wake up and make a full recovery.

Apologises for the bluntness of this letter, but I wanted to keep it as brief as possible. I shall notify you when she has awoken.

Sincerely,

Thomas Crokebane'

'Dear Thomas,

I do not care for propriety or scandal. Not when it comes to Pen. Please tell me exactly what has happened. What injuries does she have? How can your grandfather be sure she'll make a full recovery?

Do not leave anything out for the sake of easing my worries.

Sincerely,

Eloise'

'Dear Eloise,

Pen is awake. She is a bit groggy and very much in pain, but she will recover.

I do not know the full details of how it occurred, but from what Matilda had told me of what Mae managed to tell her… They were playing hide and seek, and Mae felt the best place to hide would be in the trees. She got stuck, and Pen went to aid her and ended up falling from the tree. She was then sent stumbling down the hill and ended on top of the icy lake. I only managed to get there when she fell through.

She has a sprained left ankle and severely bruised right hip, along with some grazes on her knees and arms from the fall. The two most concerning injuries are to her head. One is at the top of her forehead, which caused her to go unconscious when she fell from the tree and left concussion. The second injury is to her left temple to the end of her ear, which grandfather has said was likely caused by the ice during her fall into it.

Eloise… I am sorry that I let this happen. I cannot… I cannot imagine the anxiety you must be feeling right now. Please know nothing like this will ever happen again.

Sincerely,

Thomas'

'Dear Thomas,

Do not apologise. You saved her. And you kept your promise to me. I cannot thank you enough.

Sincerely,

Eloise'

'Dear Mister Crokebane,

I've been meaning to write a letter to thank you and your grandmother for their assistance on the issue I brought to you. It helped tremendously, and I hope one day to return the favour.

I am writing now because we have just received the letter you addressed to Eloise about Miss Featherington's accident. Under normal circumstances, I would've been furious over this and would have demanded similar action when I caught my sister and the Duke together. However, I cannot thank you enough for your loyalty to your cousin and, hence, my sister and alerting her to what had happened. It truly shows you are a man of honour.

This leads me to the essence of writing to you. Are you well? I know firsthand that whenever something strikes your family, it can leave you… Unbalanced.

I am not one who discusses feelings in an easy manner, but please know that you can write to me about any difficulties you face also. I may be able to assist you as you have done for me.

Sincerely,

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton'

'Dear Viscount Bridgerton,

How many times do I need to tell you? Please do not refer to me as 'Mister Crokebane'. That makes me feel as old as Silver Birch Manor itself. Christian name will suffice. And there is no need to repay me, friendship is without cost.

Thank you dearly for not challenging me to a duel. I do not think the possible bystanders would survive, from what you told me of the previous duel. But I would never have written to Eloise if it wasn't of great importance, as she made me promise before she left the north to write to her if anything were to occur with Penelope (as she could not be trusted to be truthful).

It is hard for me also to put into words how I feel. Penelope is more the writer than I. I prefer actions, but… I cannot lie, I have been struggling. I've masked how I feel, putting on a brave exterior as not to further upset Penelope. However, as much as I welcome my current dreamless nights, sleep evades me. Every time I close my eyes, I see Penelope fall into that lake and her scream… I've gotten into a routine in the night where I continuously check on her, and make sure she is breathing until I eventually tire myself out.

What makes the whole situation worse is that… Penelope is hiding something. There are times in the day, in between conversations with the Woods or our grandparents, or even me, where she will look away and… There is something in her eyes. Something that is haunting her. And while I have gently tried to prod her, Penelope redirects the conversation. As this continues, I cannot help I failed her further.

Sincerely,

Thomas'

'Dear Thomas,

If we are going by Christian names, I must insist you refer to me as Anthony.

You and Benedict would get along swimmingly. Thank me in one sentence and then in the next berate me for almost shooting my sister. It truly was not my fault she decided to ride through at that precise moment.

I am not one for words or feelings myself, so I can understand your difficulty. But I want to state you have not failed Penelope. I know we have only briefly met and only exchanged a few letters, but from what I observed of you and what I heard from my sister, you have done more for Miss Featherington than her own parents have. While I do not like to speak ill of the dead, Lord Featherington did not really spare much thought to Miss Featherington's welfare and probably would've never fretted over her as much as you have.

As for the memories… I'm afraid that might be something you will always struggle with. There are days when I feel my mind and body return to that moment where my father collapsed to the ground, and my mother's screaming shortly thereafter. My only advice is to continue what you are doing, in some part. Keep reminding yourself that Miss Featherington is safe and well now, and hopefully, the memories will become easier to deal with.

And for Miss Featherington holding back on something… While the two are starkly different in how they would react, I know it is best not to prod or force any information from Eloise. She would rather drown me in the Thames than share information by prodding or force. Though Miss Featherington may not react in the same manner, I do think it's best not to prod her for what is bothering her. Just keep doing what you have always done, be there and be present, and she'll soon find a way to express it.

Sincerely,

Anthony'

'Dear Anthony,

If it will help soothe your ego, when you visit Silver Birch after the next social season, I can help teach your future aims. I have been learning since I could pick up a sword.

Sincerely,

Thomas'

'Dear Thomas,

I might just take you up on that.

Sincerely,

Anthony'

'Dearest Cecilia,

Thomas' letter has just come through. How is Penelope? How are you? Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.

Kindest regards,

Violet'

'Dearest Violet,

Penelope is now awake and, according to my husband, will make a full recovery. Though, that recovery will take some time, much to my granddaughter's disdain. She's becoming more and more like her grandfather each day.

I will not lie my friend, I am quite shaken. Much to my regret, I was not there for Thomas' birth and Adaline's death and had only returned hours after Clayton's death. And as much as it shames me to admit, after what has occurred, I am glad I was not present.

Seeing Thomas carrying Penelope, thinking for a split moment she was dead… It was a few seconds I did not think I could ever recover from.

It was by the grace of God she did not die. That Thomas and Max got to her in time. But… We were so close to losing her and… All I want to do now is to lock her away in her room and throw away the key so no harm will ever come to her.

But, as Portia said to me, she is more Crokebane than Featherington, and nothing will keep a Crokebane trapped for long.

Kindest regards,

Cecilia'

'Dearest Cecilia,

I am grateful that Penelope will make a full recovery and hope the process is not too long. Eloise has told me briefly about her injuries and how the accident happened. It is truly a miracle that nothing life-altering occurred.

I can imagine the conflicting emotions you are currently feeling quite clearly. After Edmund's passing, and when the world became a dark vision, I held similar thoughts. Shutting myself and my children away so the dangers of living would never touch them. But I knew that idea was neither practical nor wise. And it would not be what Edmund would want.

The instinct is strong to protect your cubs, but, as you advised me with Eloise, it is best to prepare them for living so they have the strength to survive whatever comes their way.

If there is anything I can do Cecilia to ease that burden, do not hesitate to ask.

Kindest regards,

Violet'

'Dearest Violet,

There is one thing I need to ask of you, my friend. I have written a letter to Portia and I unfortunately have not heard back. Max is quite content about this, understanding that it shows the little care that Portia has for her youngest. And while I am in agreeance with this, I do feel obliged as a mother to see if Portia will respond by other means.

I know this is a task I am giving you, but could you write to Portia? And let her know her daughter has woken up and will make a full recovery. I am hoping she may be more open in responding to you than I.

Kindest regards,

Cecilia'

'Dearest El,

Thomas has informed me that he sent a letter to you about my condition and I'm terribly sorry for any fright this has caused you. I just want to let you know I am well and I will respond to your waiting letters as soon as I can sit up for more than ten minutes.

Love and loyal as always,

Penelope'

'Dearest Pen,

Do not ever do anything so incredibly stupid ever again Penelope Anne Featherington! Otherwise, I will be forced to move into Silver Birch Manor and never allow you away from my sight!

As much as I want to praise you for your bravery, I also want to shout at you for all the highest of Heaven's for risking your life!

Please, please Pen! Never be so careless with your life again! Please!

Love always,

Your sister, Eloise'

'Dearest El,

I shall try my hardest, sister.

Love and loyal as always,

Penelope'

'Dear Penelope,

I understand why you would dismiss my letters, or possibly that Lady Featherington has banned you from communicating with me after the last social season. However, I must ask, is everything well? I feel… I feel there is something wrong.

Even if it's just a short letter, please allow me some comfort in knowing nothing has happened.

With great regards,

Colin Bridgerton'

Notes:

Preview of "New Year, Old World":

"I am not sulking."

Chapter 45: Chapter XLIII: New Year, Old World

Summary:

Eloise tries to keep her control with the subject of her debut looms over her.

Notes:

HELLO ALL! Long time no see huh? ;) I'm soooo happy to be posting again, especially after the week I had :P

To summarise, in one week I managed to fall down a plant hole, spraining my foot in the process, then I caught a stomach bug, then I was on my ladies' time, which was followed by catching a cold and ending up in the emergency room for a six hour long nosebleed that would not stop :P

Like the Crokebanes, bad luck seems to follow me hahaha.

I'm in the process of still recovering from my illnesses, so the notes today will be pretty short. The second update of this week will be on Friday instead as well, just gives me more time to edit through the next chapter without feeling like it's a race against time.

I hope you all enjoy the Welcome Back to Business chapter! I'm now gunna go to bed :P

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

January 1807

Knocking lightly on Eloise's guest chamber door, Beatrice quietly let herself through, humming a musical tune. "Morning Miss Eloise." Quickly, she approached the windows and ripped the curtains open.

A loud, winding screech sounded through the guest room, and Beatrice hurriedly spun around to see Eloise drag the bed covers over her face.

Chuckling lightly, Beatrice slowly approached the bed. "One too many wines last night, milady?"

"I only had four." Eloise groaned out, "And two of them were what Ben gave me when Mama wasn't looking. Since it's not proper for a lady who hasn't debuted to drink too much."

Beatrice's bemused smile grew as she watched the grey kitten Bia stretch out her small body near where Eloise was lying. "It does take some time for the body to adapt to wine. This time next year you should feel less head worn."

"Less?" Peeking out from under the covers, Eloise's emerald eyes squinted as the morning light burned them. "I would rather not at all."

With another chuckle, Beatrice shook her head. "Then, in that case, you must avoid all alcoholic beverages." Eloise groaned once more, disappearing back under the covers. "I'll get some tea I know will help soothe the ache, and possibly some pain medicine."

"I think that will be wise."

Lady Danbury's lavish New Year's gathering was like many she had held before. The only difference was the theme–which was that of Mystic Night. Eloise did not know what that even meant but just wore whatever her mother told her to wear and did the politeness of a female Bridgerton as the party went on.

Many in the high society of London were at the gathering–even the Cowper's, which Eloise skilful managed to avoid at all cost. There was only so much of Cressida's sneer she could handle, especially now that Penelope was not present to stop her from clawing off the said sneer.

Speaking of which, Lady Danbury and other noble families noted the absence of the Featheringtons. While Lady Danbury had received a letter stating they were away tending to a sick relative, something in the older woman's tone led Eloise to suspect she also knew that the excuse was complete rubbish. Since she and her mother were quite close as well, it was highly possible Lady Danbury knew all that had occurred and probably was relieved not to have to host them.

But that may be Eloise exerting her beliefs outwardly.

The main highlight of the night though was the Duke and Duchess of Hastings and their unborn child. Eloise had lost count of how many times the pair were approached by the party attendees to congratulate them on the pregnancy and inquire about the possible gender. Did people not have anything else to talk about?

Well, there was one thing.

Creeping away into the corner for a moment, with a sneaky glass of wine that her brother managed to acquire for her, she stood near the corridor leading to the servant's rooms when she heard harsh whispering. Curious, Eloise stepped closer to the edge and peeked a glance down the corridor.

There were two figures. A man and a woman. The man was whom Eloise recognised instantly as one of Anthony's friends. Friends being a loose term anyway.

Lord Fife was stood in the corridor, leaning very closely to a woman that would not be seen as proper if anyone were to come across them. The woman continued to whisper harshly to Lord Fife and shoved his hand away when he moved to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the woman stormed away from Lord Fife and in the direction where Eloise was lingering, to rejoin the party.

Quickly, Eloise went back to her corner, hoping that the woman would not notice her, and, thanks to her heightened emotions, the woman did not.

The rest night went to plan. Many dances, many drinks, many conversations and one massive cheer to the stroke of midnight. It was a nice night, but Eloise could not fully find herself investing in it.

Since the Bridgerton's were still residing at Aubrey Hall before the next social season, Lady Danbury had invited the favoured family to stay at her estate on the night and the night after the New Year's celebrations. This included the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, who were–as they now all sat around the dining table for breakfast–eagerly speaking with Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton.

Eloise sighed heavily as she dug in further into her breakfast, and felt eyes from Francesca, who was sitting beside her. "Everything well, El?"

Eloise let out a bemused snort. "I didn't know you had a passion for rhymes, Frannie."

Francesca gave her older sister, her twin by one year gap, a look that was a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "Eloise."

"I was just thinking about last night," Eloise shrugged, "And how Penelope should've been there."

Shooting her sister a sad smile, Francesca bumped her shoulder with Eloise. "Do not fret, soon enough September will be upon us."

"Yes, while I cling onto that hope, I must endure Mama and the Duchess' constant pushes for me to find a suitor. Or, in their words, true love." Eloise spat out; her disgust reflected when she furiously stabbed her fork into an egg.

"They mean well," Francesca stated in her normal soft voice.

"I'm really hoping her babe is delayed," Eloise mumbled. "She wants them born mid to late February so she can be fit enough to return to Mayfair for my debut. Here's to hoping her babe hates the idea of a debut as I do."

Hours later, Eloise found herself alone at Lady Danbury's estate gardens. The winter snow that laid upon the south had been slowly melting away, giving the fifth Bridgerton the perfect opportunity to sit on the wet grass as her grey kitten enjoyed her daily outing.

Eloise watched on with a fond smile as Bia was chasing after a few birds and if Bia was a full-grown cat she probably would've succeeded in catching them. But in the present moment, Eloise could imagine the birds having fun with her kitten as they jumped from spot to spot, giving Bia constant places to run too.

"Quite a fierce kitten you have there." Eloise jumped at the sudden voice coming behind her and quickly moved to stand. "Do not worry. I am not here to scold you for ruining your dress."

Exhaling deeply with relief, Eloise settled back on her spot on the ground and looked over her shoulder to where Lady Danbury was slowly approaching her. "She's been fierce since the moment we met."

Stopping a few inches away from where Eloise sat, Lady Danbury laughed. "Yes, your mother told me how you two met. I guess it was the perfect scenario for a fierce kitten to meet an equally fierce human."

Eloise snorted. "Don't tell the men that after my debut. Actually," she looked directly back to the older woman. "Tell them exactly that. Might scare them off from me."

Lady Danbury's natural smirk widened. "I have been told you are suffering from nerves for your upcoming debut."

"Suffering from nerves? I assume my dear sister told you that instead of my mother then." Lady Danbury gave no verbal reply to that, which was a clear answer to Eloise as she let out a scoff and centred her attention back to Bia's chasing of birds. "What do you call a woman who likes to stay in her own disillusioned world?"

"Are you saying you are not suffering with nerves?"

"I'm saying that the Duchess is mistaken on the source of those nerves."

"So the source of your nerves isn't to do with your upcoming debut into The Ton?" With no response given, Lady Danbury assessed the girl on the ground. "Sulking does not suit you well my dear."

"I'm not sulking." Eloise retorted.

"Oh, well, whatever you are doing, it does not suit you."

Eloise glared up at the amused lady. "Yes, I am suffering from nerves due to my upcoming debut, but not in the way the Duchess has probably told you."

"And how has she told me?"

Clearing her throat, Eloise sat up for dramatic effect. "Oh, you know Eloise, she is very high-spirited, but the nerves are getting to her. She says she does not want any male attention her way, but I know she'll feel differently once she meets a man like myself and Mama. Her first season will be her season." At the bemused chuckling behind her, Eloise turned back towards her. "Word for word?"

"Not exactly, but you weren't far off." Bringing her cane right in front of where she stood, she joined Eloise in watching her kitten attempting to jump on the amused birds. "So what is it about your debut that unsettles your nerves?"

"Firstly, my best friend is not going to be there to help me wade off the greedy men who desire the Bridgerton name under their wealth." Eloise scorned, tucking her knees under her chin.

Lady Danbury ducked her head down slightly at that. "While I did not miss Lady Featherington's…Dismissive gaze upon me during last night's celebrations, I did miss Miss Penelope's bright smile and mind. Nothing ever escaped her keen eye or wit," she then raised an eyebrow. "Which I heard she is putting to good use now. A future doctor I believe."

Eloise gave a soft smile. "It's early days, but… She is a natural at it. A good mind and a good heart makes a good doctor."

"It is rare in this world for a woman to be given such opportunities. I am glad she is taking it."

"I am too. But…"

Lady Danbury looked down at Eloise as she trailed off. "But?"

Eloise let out a weary sigh. "I cannot help but feel envious…"

"Would you like to be a doctor?"

"Oh God no!" Eloise exclaimed, briefly attracting the attention of Bia before she eagerly returned to her hunt of the birds. "Last time I was ill with the stomach flu, I could barely manage the sight of what came from me. I very much doubt I could handle anyone else's."

Lady Danbury chuckled. "And what are you envious of then?"

"Because of the horrible truth you have stated just before." Arms now wrapped around her legs, Eloise fully rested her head upon her knees. "It is not often women are given opportunities outside of the marriage mart." Lady Danbury remained silent, understanding that Eloise would need a moment to collect herself before she continued. "I am envious of Penelope, just as I am envious of Anthony. Both earn their way in the world, both having control over their lives and their finances, without having to rely on a significant over. Both marking their life into the world, whereas the only mark I will make is depended on how many sons I produce."

Lady Danbury's natural smirk now shrunk into a concerned frown. "Is that how you truly see marriage? Something without meaning? Without reason?"

Eloise pushed her lips together. "It's not without reason. I mean, I remember Mama and Papa. How… Besotted they were with one another. I saw it but… I never understood it. I never understood the urge to kiss or hug someone you were bound to, or to fall hopelessly in love as Daphne did in her first social season. I never understood the reason for children, as I never much liked myself as a child, I do not see how it is possible for me to like any children that come from me." Eloise shook her head with a huff. "I see it's reason for other people, but… I do not want it to be my reason.

"I want my reason to not be centred around a marriage, around being a wife or mother. I want my reason to be… Thrilling, freeing… I want my reason to be more than Eloise Bridgerton, the fifth child to the love-filled marriage of the late Viscount Bridgerton. My reason, my mark on the world, should mean something other than what my body can produce."

Lady Danbury did not reply instantly, the wind of the chilly afternoon swaying through them as they continued to watch the birds flying around teasingly above Bia. "Have you told your mother this? About how you feel?"

"She knows."

"I would not be too sure about that. I remember a conversation from last night between me, her and Daphne on how to make you the next Diamond of the Season."

Eloise stared up at Lady Danbury, flabbergasted. "You are joking."

Lady Danbury shook her head. "The two got quite excited, which I do believe was heightened by your lady mother's wine-drinking for her eldest daughter."

"But she knows I do not want to marry!"

"She knows you have a disdain for the London society, which she sees was further damaged after what happened to Miss Penelope, and that she understands." Lady Danbury explained, seeing the young Bridgerton's body tighten with frustration. "She even knows you do not particularly… desire marriage. But she does not understand the depths of why, and what you actually desire. She simply believes that when you go on to meet a young gentleman, your beliefs and wants will change."

"So she's no different from her eldest daughter."

Lady Danbury let out a regrettable sigh. "Violet is my dearest friend Miss Eloise, and her heart is in the right place. But I also know she sees happiness with only one ending. I do believe though she loves you deeply and if she knew how much marriage is a horrible solution for you, she wouldn't push it as much. She'll even delay your debut another year."

"I cannot delay it," Eloise said with such firmness that it shook Lady Danbury herself.

"Pray, tell me whyever not?"

"Because while I may not desire marriage, I cannot say the same for my younger siblings." Eloise sighed, smiling briefly at Bia's attempt at hissing viciously at the birds. "I do not know Francesca's stance on such things, she does not think much outside of her love for the piano, but I do know Hyacinth desires it. She wanted all the details of Daphne's courtship with both the Duke and the Prince. Gregory I could imagine would want marriage also, and I pray heavily for the young woman who has to put up with his antics. If I were to delay my debut another year or longer… It will raise questions among The Ton, leading possible suitors or gentlewomen away from anyone carrying the Bridgerton name."

Lady Danbury hummed thoughtfully at this. "This could still happen if you continue to be unwed a few seasons in."

Eloise shrugged briefly. "Not so much though. By that point, hopefully, all my siblings should be married off. If that is what they desire. And then I can live contently as a spinster for the rest of my days."

"Which will still be an unfulfilling fate for you." Eloise whipped her head around to Lady Danbury. "You said you wanted reason, and yet being a spinster in the eyes of the world is still reasonless."

"So, what? Should I push ahead with the plans my Mama and the Duchess have planned for me? Get married for the sole purpose of having my aching desire for a reason?"

"No. What I am advising is that you speak to your mother." Lady Danbury raised an eyebrow at the young Bridgerton girl.

"She wouldn't understand."

"And you are not giving your mother enough credit." Lady Danbury argued. "She is not like most mothers in London society, who only desire to have their daughters marry up and have security. She wants you to find happiness, to find love. And if your happiness is to not be in a marriage, she would come around to that and aid you in finding something that suits you."

"Just as you said though, opportunities for women in this old world are rare." Eloise pointed out, not relenting in any way.

"Rare yes, but not impossible. I believe Miss Penelope is proving that." Lady Danbury smirked slightly at Eloise's body slowly losing its intensity. "Speak to your mother, preferably before your kitten grows to full size and has the ability to scare off potential suitors for you." And with that, Lady Danbury turned on her heel and walked away from where Eloise sat on the grass.

Gazing out to where Bia was running around, an idea struck Eloise and once she waited for Lady Danbury to return fully inside her estate before she called out: "Bia!"

The grey kitten suddenly stopped chasing the birds and raced over to where her human companion sat, which took a few minutes due to the shortness of her legs.

Smoothing Bia's grey fur, Eloise smirked wickedly. "Come along, it's about time I teach you some tricks."

Anthony Bridgerton did not take much time off from his duties as Viscount. The only time he took off was when he was with–

He quickly shook himself, refusing to remind himself of Siena. It was an ill-fated relationship that he should've calculated would end horribly. But there was no use wallowing over it now. It was done, and he can only look forward to the future.

Sitting in the drawing room, Anthony attempted to enjoy his New Year off from work temporarily and read one of many newspapers that Lady Danbury had sent to her estate. He was currently reading about the current happenings in France when someone cleared their throat.

Anthony briefly lifted his gaze from his newspaper. "Hastings. Daff has gone to bed. I believe the babe was restless last night."

"Yes, I am aware. I just checked on her myself." The Duke nodded, slowly approaching the settee opposite where Anthony sat. "Any interesting updates in the world?"

"No, Napoleon is thankfully silent over the Christmas and New Year celebrations." Anthony turned over the page. "A lot has been quiet actually."

Simon sat down with a bemused frown. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then why do you sound so suspicious?"

Inhaling roughly, the tension rose in Anthony's shoulders as he tried to continue reading the newspaper. "You know what the sailors say," Anthony met Simon's eyes. "The calm before the storm."

Interlacing his fingers together across his stomach, Simon leaned back with a confident smile. "I very much doubt whatever storm is brewing in France will affect us here."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that–from what I hear from some of the clubs in London, shipping has been strained, along with trade and so forth."

"Then it shall not affect us long term." Simon assured, "Whatever happens, whoever ends up in power, no country can overpower the might of the British Empire."

Anthony hummed thoughtfully and returned his eyes to the paper. "Is there anything you need, Hastings?"

"Do I need to need anything?"

"Not particularly, but I do feel there is a reason as to why you are here instead of attending to your heavily pregnant wife."

Simon sighed, fingers drumming against the top of his hands. "I guess I wanted to catch up."

"Catch up?" Anthony raised his eyebrows at that, keeping the newspaper open as he went on. "You know already everything that has gone on now. Even without you two visiting, I'm sure Mama's letters to Daphne were enough to keep you up to date."

"Perhaps I wanted us to catch up. As friends." Simon said, his voice giving no leeway into how he was feeling.

"As friends?" Anthony repeated, though as more of a question than a statement.

Exhaling, Simon ducked his head down slightly. "I know the actions of the last season have tainted our friendship–"

"Tainted? I believe the word you are searching for is ruined. Just as you nearly ruined my sister's reputation."

Simon met the viscount's fierce gaze with one of his own. "While I do regret how everything occurred, I cannot regret the outcome. I love Daphne, and our future child, and even as it took me a while to see it, they are all I want." Simon was silent for a beat, letting his words wash over Anthony. "However, I never wanted our friendship to be a cost of it. I still highly admire and respect you, and while it may not be the same as it once was before, I hope we can continue the friendship."

Anthony stared long and hard at Simon before he too sighed. Folding the newspaper and settling it on the settee next to him, he spoke. "I do not know how we can go about that Hastings. While I am happy for both you and Daff, I am still angry over the events. I know I had my own hand to play in what happened, I do wish you would've spoken to me about how you felt about my sister."

"As you had such an easy time expressing your feelings for the singer?" Simon pointed out without heat but still received a glare. "I meant no offence, just to show you that I equally struggle in expressing my feelings at the beginning. I did not fully realise the depth of my emotions for Daphne until I was close to losing her."

With another sigh, Anthony ran a hand down his face. "That is the second man who has expressed their difficulty in sharing their emotions."

Simon frowned. "Who was the first?"

Considering, Anthony let out a soft chuckle. "Well, maybe three, as I was technically the first." The two shared a light laugh between them. "The second was Thomas after I inquired how he was doing."

With a hum, Simon appeared more comfortable in his seat. "It seems you two have grown a friendship. Daff told me he recently aided you with an issue with your lands."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, him and his grandmother, as his grandmother governs their lands instead of Lord Crokebane. He is a good man who has had a bad hand in life."

"Yes, I heard a little bit about the Crokebanes. I know their history is tracked with a bad hand." Simon mumbled, "Though, they are an inspirational family. Anytime I have been near their governing lands the northerners speak nothing but praises."

"Probably is the reason why we had such a hard time tracking Miss Penelope down," Anthony mused, eyes drifting over to the nearby dimly lit fireplace. "When you earn the respect of the people, they are less likely to spread gossip to outsiders."

Simon tilted his head in agreement. "I heard you all are visiting them after the next social season."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, if Eloise does not secure a match and… If I haven't either."

Dark eyes wide, Simon took in his friend's stiff posture. "I am assuming, since I have not heard this news from Daff, that neither she nor your mother knows that you intend to look for the next Viscountess?"

"Not yet. As with Eloise, I do not think I can handle their true love match-making ways." Anthony grunted, "So I would be most pleased if you keep this information to yourself. I know they will find out eventually, but I want to be sure I know what I want in a wife before I deal with their meddling manners."

The corner of Simon's lips quirked up. "On one condition."

Anthony raised his eyebrows at that, not verballing agreeing yet.

"Let's have a drink. And we can discuss your possible wife requirements."

A slow-winded smirk dragged across Anthony's face at that.

After the strong discussion with the fifth Bridgerton, Lady Danbury went in search of her friend, the Dowager Viscountess. She knew tensions were high within the Bridgertons after the potential scandal that caused the youngest Featherington to be banished, but Lady Danbury was beginning to see that maybe the tensions were already long building beforehand. The strong words and stance that Eloise Bridgerton displayed… They did not belong to a young woman who was simply nervous about debuting and could be eased once settled.

No, she was nervous, but more to the fact she could not achieve a desire that her mother–and now her older sister–held for her.

She was nervous to be locked in a life that her spirit had already denied.

Lady Danbury hoped to locate Lady Bridgerton quickly, as the window of opportunity for the fifth daughter to open up to her mother was small. She knew all too well the stubborn nature that glinted in Eloise's dark emerald eyes.

However, she was stopped in her search when she heard a sound. A lovely sound that belonged to a piano. Intrigued, Lady Danbury followed the music until she found the sixth Bridgerton child in the music room, back to the older lady as she played the piano.

Careful not to bang her cane too much, Lady Danbury slowly rounded the piano, stopping short to the side and near the eye line of Francesca. Despite this, the young girl did not notice the lady of the estate and kept on playing the music from the sheet before her. It was only when the played the last note when she noticed she was being watched.

"Milady!" Francesca rushed out as she went to stand.

"No, Francesca, please remain seated. I was only enjoying the beauty you were admitting to this dusty estate." Lady Danbury said calmly, shooting the girl a friendly smile.

Francesca gave a nervous smile in return as she returned to her seat at the piano. "Thank you. That was my first successful run since I began learning this sheet."

"And how long have you been learning this music sheet?"

Hesitating with a light blush covering her cheeks, Francesca answered. "Sometime after breakfast. I was looking through some of the music sheets you have in here and found this one… Challenging."

"Do you like a challenge, Miss Francesca?"

"While I may not like to compete much like my siblings, I am still a Bridgerton Lady Danbury."

Lady Danbury's smirk widened as she laughed. "That you are Miss Francesca." Turning her gaze, Lady Danbury's interest grew. "This is a particularly hard piece to learn in such a short time. Does your mother know of your musical talents?"

"Oh, I…" Francesca's cheeks reddened. "She always compliments my ability, and El once told me she preferred my time on the piano to Daff's. But I believe she said that mainly to upset our sister at the time."

Nodding with a thoughtful hum, Lady Danbury's eyes lit up with an idea. "Would you desire to enhance your talent? If given the opportunity?"

Francesca straightened up in her seat. "If a chance was ever to occur, then I would be most grateful for it."

Swinging her cane out momentarily, Lady Danbury gave Francesca a cunning gaze. "Leave it with me, my dear. While we women get few chances, I will ensure my part in changing that."

"You're late." Benedict teasing criticized later that night when most people at Lady Danbury's estate had taken to bed.

Despite the fact they did not have the safety of hiding in their own known gardens of Aubrey Hall, Benedict and Eloise did not let it stop their nightly routine of sharing a puff. What was much different this time around was the fact that it was Benedict who reached their agreed spot, as Eloise would normally be there first with Bia sat beside her.

Which added another odd element to Eloise's late appearance. "Where is Bia?"

Eloise let out a long sigh, slumping down beside Benedict. "She is a bit tired, so I left her to sleep on my bed."

"Willingly?" Benedict held up his hands at his sister's fierce glare. "You cannot deny the fact that Bia hardly lets you out of her sight."

"It did take some… Negotiating."

Benedict snorted. "I would have loved to have seen that." He laughed as Eloise playfully shoved him. "Alright! Alright! Shall we just get to business?"

Once they lit up the puff, silence dawned on them as they stared up at the dark sky. Benedict tried to memorise all the stars in the distance, so he could hopefully paint it upon returning to Aubrey Hall. However, Eloise's low and emotionless voice pulled him away from it.

"Ben." Eloise only continued when she felt her older brother's attention on her. "Can you promise me something?"

Benedict hummed lightly, keeping his eyes on his sister who continued to stare up into the darkened heavens.

"When I debut, can you promise to dance with me as many times as possible."

Letting out a bemused snort, Benedict leaned back on his palms. "I do not think our Mama would appreciate that. Nor would Daff."

"Please." Their eyes met, and Benedict was taken aback by the desperation crawling in Eloise's expression. "Please."

Chest shacking downwards, Benedict flashed a small smile. "I shall promise to try." Seeing Eloise somewhat settled by this, he decided to try and lighten the mood. "And, if you do need to dance with a potential suitor, you can always scare them off with your thoughts on women's rights and ability to make their way in the world."

Eloise's back stiffened up. "Is that truly a horrible concept?"

"No!" Benedict almost shouted, quickly realising his mistake as they both stared back to the estate, to make sure no one overheard him. "No, to me it's not. I fully support you on your opinions. Good men with a good mind would support your opinions but…" He then trailed off, not knowing how to say the explanation he was forming in his mind.

"Not most men in society are good men with a good mind." Eloise finished off for him, "Just like most women in society are not good women with a good mind."

Benedict remained silent as he took his whiff of their shared puff, unsure of what he could say to comfort his struggling sister.

Notes:

Preview of "A Dance With Dreamless Nights":

"I lost count after the twentieth."

Chapter 46: Chapter XLIV: A Dance With Dreamless Nights

Summary:

Penelope and the Crokebanes spend their last days in Scotland.

Notes:

HELLO ALL! Happiest Friday and welcome back! So happy to get this chapter out, as I was nervous with my sicknesses I wouldn't be able to get it ready on time. But, thankfully, I started to feel better yesterday and am on the mend! WHOOP WHOOP! 3

UPDATES:

So, remember that story I told you I was preparing to release in the breaks between the first instalment and second instalment of this series? :P Well, I'm debating not doing that anymore mainly because I do want to focus all my energy on only two writing projects. My individual travel novel (that is the first of a series) and this trilogy. I think if I add another writing project it's just going to overwhelm my creativity and hinder my progress. I'm still considering it as I do like the Polin story I developed on the side, but I also just wanna focus on this story first. I'll keep you guys posted.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:

Week 2 will continue into next week with two updates, again with Tuesday and Friday. I will eventually go back to Thursday updates, but with my work schedules next week, my days off are Tuesday and Friday, so it works out better this way.

Fun Fact #38:

I'm on and off Bumble dating. I would love to meet someone and fall in love, but my attention span for dating is very small :P

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"You know," Matilda softly began as she whipped open the curtains to the guest room Penelope was staying at. Once all the curtains were opened, Matilda's voice echoed through the nearly empty room as she continued. "This is probably the sixth time this week I've woken you up instead of you beating me to it." With a skip at her heels, Matilda approached Penelope's bed just as she was sitting upwards. "Enjoying the Scottish break?"

Rubbing the corners of her fists against her closed eyes, Penelope let out a long yawn. "Ye-yeah. You could say that."

"One too many champagne's last night?"

"Most definitely." Another yawn followed shortly after.

"I'll go and get you some tea that will help you with your headache, as well as a much-needed breakfast," Matilda stated, heading to exit the room.

"Matilda." Penelope suddenly called out, causing her lady's maid to pause in the doorway. "Happy New Year."

Matilda smiled widely, "Happy New Year Pen."

Much of New Year's morning was spent resting. Penelope only managed to leave her bed and change when the afternoon sun hit her room, and that was mainly because she was invited to afternoon tea and lunch with her grandmother, Mrs Lennox and her daughter-in-law, Eara. Penelope was a bit nervous about this. Was this to do with my dance with Fraser? She obviously did not want to offend Mrs Lennox or Eara by saying she was not interested in their grandson/son–not that he was interested in her either. But Matilda assured her it was not solely based on that particular nosiness. The three women often gathered together the afternoon after the celebrations to discuss some of the gossip and probably just wanted her to join in.

Which they had plenty to talk about, Penelope thought with a heavy heart as the image of the man tumbling down the stairs flittered through her mind.

Eventually, Penelope found herself in one of the smaller but very much decorated drawing rooms with all the women sat around the circular table near the wide window. Among the table were variations of teas, biscuits and small cakes that each women took helpings too as they spoke. For the most part Penelope was silent, listening in to the gossip the concerned the two arguing men the previous night as well as other mingling gossip.

Only an hour in when half of the tea and treats were gone between all four women, the conversation drifted to Penelope.

"Penelope," Eara began softly, her eyes equally soft as they set upon the redhead sitting just next to her. "I saw you had quite a few dancing partners last night."

"A few?" Lady Crokebane amusedly snorted. "I lost count after the twentieth."

"It wasn't all new people," Penelope stated simply, stirring milk into her tea. "Some had been second dances."

"Ah yes, I do remember seeing a few familiar faces with you repeatedly." Mrs Lennox said, eye tilted upwards as she recalled the said faces. "I believe I saw Mister Killian Harding dancing with you twice."

"Oh! I've heard of Mister Harding!" Eara's eyes flashed with concern as her Scottish accent became more pronounced. "If he does call for you, please be careful Penelope. He has quite a reputation."

"All men have a reputation nowadays, Eara," Mrs Lennox assured her daughter-in-law. "Rakes are just as common as whores. The only difference is that men are seen more worthy with such experience, whereas the women are looked down upon."

"You would like my best friend Eloise." Penelope mumbled with a small smile. "She could add a lot more to that sentence."

Mrs Lennox flashed Penelope a smirk. "I look forward to the day possibly meeting her. And if you need a few tips on how to be… Careful with a rake, I would suggest you converse with your grandmother."

Penelope's eyes widened and she looked over to her grandmother just as she shot a glare at her longtime friend. "I never had to be careful in the aspect you are hinting at."

Despite Penelope's growing inner confusion about what they meant by careful, Mrs Lennox grinned playfully. "But you did test try a few men. Some of whom were rakes."

"Kissing and… Petting are vastly different careful than what you are suggesting."

"And what if I meant just that?" Mrs Lennox winked to her frustrated friend before returning her gaze to Penelope. "She can teach you ways of sneaking off into dark corners or locating the best location for a secret kiss."

"Grandmama!" Penelope mockingly scolded, her amusement growing as she saw her grandmother's cheeks redden slightly. "The scandal!"

Lady Crokebane sighed heavily. "Yes, I had some experience in that department. Not that I thought it would go anywhere with any of those men."

"Because of Grandpapa?"

"Oh God no!" Mrs Lennox examined, her physical being filling up with excitement as she realised Penelope's missing information. "Because, technically, your grandmother was already betrothed to a man."

Penelope frowned for a moment, trying to place the information in her mind before a past conversation reappeared in her mind. A time when she and her grandmother went on their first shopping trip, and she learned more about her family's history. A conversation that only took place a few months ago that felt like lifetimes ago.

Turning her head towards her grandmother, Penelope's eyes remained as wide as ever. "The high French lord? The one your father had personal dealings with?"

Lady Crokebane grumbled under her breath for a moment before finishing off her herbal tea. "Unfortunately yes."

Biting her bottom lip, Penelope felt that the conversation was best to be moved on, but before she could come up with a division away from it, Mrs Lennox jumped in.

"What was his name again?" Mrs Lennox leaned back in her seat, eyes upwards once more as she tried to recall the name. "Lord… Antoine?"

With a deep understanding that her old friend would not let this topic lie, Lady Crokebane placed her teacup back on the table. "Lord Adrien. Adrien Babineaux."

Eara leaned toward the table with intrigue. "What was it about him that did not appeal to you, Cecilia?"

Lady Crokebane snorted. "Well, for one, he was thirty years my senior." Oh, Penelope thought, her stomach churning as flashes of Daphne's brief engagement to Lord Berbrooke came to mind. "And was a widower with four children, wanting to add more to the pile. I, on the other hand, after raising my father's three children, did not want to continue to raise other children that weren't my own."

It was Mrs Lennox's time to snort. "If I recall correctly, you wanted no children of your own at all."

This surprised Penelope further. "Truly?"

With a heavy sigh and deep sadness flickering in her eyes, Lady Crokebane nodded. "As I said, I raised my siblings, and I did not feel eager to repeat the task. I was very much content to remain as a spinster for… However long I lived, depending on the curse that followed my family."

Mrs Lennox placed a hand on Lady Crokebane's arm. "Duke Outterridge was very much against this though, as your grandmother… She was certainly a beauty to behold in her youth."

"She still is," Penelope stated and shared a smile with her grandmother.

"Agreed." Mrs Lennox sent a wink to her friend before releasing her arm. "In any case, Outterridge saw it to be a waste that a young beautiful woman to be made a spinster, and by chance one of his… Acquaintances from France, Lord Adrien Babineaux, met the young Cecilia at a gathering and instantly fell in love with her."

Penelope's lips tilted as she took in the information. "He was a widower… How old was he?"

"He was of four and forty," Lady Crokebane answered briskly, "I was of seven and ten when we met."

"And your father was fine with that?" Eara gaped, horror of the situation paling her skin.

"The match provided him with much stronger connections in France," Lady Crokebane explained with an emotionless tone. "I managed to convince my father though to have the marriage postponed until my younger brother and his heir were a little older."

"You did not object?" Penelope found herself asking.

Lady Crokebane met Penelope's eyes then, and she was struck by the despair rippling through them. "If you knew what was good for you, you did not object Duke Outterridge."

Just like with Mama, Penelope's smile was one honed on deep sympathy and understanding.

"That was until you set eyes on Maximillian Crokebane, anyhow." Mrs Lennox then added with a sly smirk.

"Oh!" Eara sat up, her face now brightening up. "I do not think I've heard the story of how you two met."

"Neither have I." Penelope agreed, just as eager.

Lady Crokebane let out a dramatic sigh as she returned to comfortability on her seat and gestured to Mrs Lennox. "You go on Beverly, you tell the story much more joyfully than I do."

Mrs Lennox cleared her throat loudly. "Well, myself and Cecilia went to a ball hosted in Norwich that our fathers had been invited to. It was quite a usual social ball, with many dances and conversations, along with your grandmother's wandering eye." She shot a teasing look to Lady Crokebane who rolled her eyes fondly in return. "Max, your grandfather, had been forced to attend the ball by his father in order to build up his social connections in regard to his medical practice. Obviously, because of that, he was much more grumpy than usual at being there. Though he was quite handsome in his youth, so his grumpy demeanour gave him a more… Mysterious aura."

Penelope smirked behind her teacup at that.

"So, naturally, your grandmother was quite drawn to him and wanted to, and this is a quote, 'wanted to snog the living daylights out of him'."

Eara laughed out loud at that whereas Penelope's mouth dropped to the ground.

"I did not say it exactly like that," Lady Crokebane lightly protested, her face redder than Penelope had ever seen it before.

"Ah, yes, not exactly. I believe there was a swear in there." Mrs Lennox grinned as Eara and Penelope laughed further at this added detail. "Anyway, she tried several times to indicate a dance from the young grumpy man, but Max, ever the stubborn Crokebane man, would not budge. It was only when she learned of his medical trade that she devised a plan to get him alone." The two women who did not know what was coming briefly glanced towards Lady Crokebane, who refused to meet their gazes. "She 'slipped' on the dancefloor, and 'injured' her ankle, and luckily for her and her plan, Max was the first medically trained to volunteer his services."

"Grandmama!" Penelope gushed out with a small giggle.

"I was nine and ten," Lady Crokebane waved her hand. "Leave me be."

Mrs Lennox carried on with the tale. "When she was aided into a room away from the ball, she was finally alone with the man she'd been wanting to snog all night. However, he apparently caught on rather quickly that she had no injury." Lady Crokebane and Penelope shared a sneaky look with one another. "But still treated her as though she did. Which caused the two to talk… A talk that spanned over three hours. Taking over the rest of the ball."

"Whatever did you talk about that lasted three hours?" Eara questioned Lady Crokebane, her tone holding deep curiosity.

Lady Crokebane shrugged as she lifted her teacup to her lips. "This and that."

Penelope tilted her head, "No snogging?"

"Not if you count a kiss on the wrist as a snog." Lady Crokebane chuckled softly, "No. Your grandfather was, and still is, the most grumpy gentleman I have ever come across."

"And as you can imagine," Mrs Lennox jumped back in then, leaned back into her seat with a fresh cup of tea. "Your grandmother was quite enamoured. Enough to correspond secretly with your grandfather, and then ended up running away in the darkest of nights to meet up with him and race to Gretna Green before Outterridge could stop them."

"That is such a beautiful love story, Cecilia." Eara complimented sweetly. "I bet you thanked all that is good that you met Maximillian before your dreaded marriage to that French lord. Especially with the current situation in France."

Suddenly, the expressions of both Lady Crokebane and Mrs Lennox darkened at that, with the latter sparing a nervous glance to the former. "Not exactly. Lord Babineaux… He was not pleased with my outright refusal to marry him and, if rumours are to be believed, had… Had Outterridge killed."

A heavy silence then pressed down on the group, and from the corner of Penelope's eye, she saw Eara look taken aback by this dark information, her mouth opening and closing several times. Lost in what to say in response.

Heaving in a deep breath, Penelope forced a smile to her lips as she forced a cheery tone. "Eara, Fraser is the most fine dancer. You must tell us about his dancing lessons and how he got to be so good."

Eara lit up at this compliment and quickly delved into the years of lessons that her son had performed, much to the relief of the two older women at the table.

The afternoon slowly drifted into the early evening, and Penelope could not tear her eyes away from the sight from her guest room window. Frost was gathering at the edges of the window, indicating the cold weather outside and the possibility of snow once more. The sky was alight by the sunset of colours of orange, red and yellow, and its beam gently touched the surrounding, almost empty, gardens and lands of Wayner White. It was a perfect view to lose one's mind too.

"Pen?"

Penelope jolted herself away from the view, blinking several times to adjust to the dim lighting of her guest room and to where Matilda stood. "I-I'm sorry, Matilda. Wh-what is it?"

Matilda flashed a tiny smile at her lady. "I was asking if you wanted to pack the champagne dress at the bottom of the trunk, so we do not need to unpack it until we return to Silver Birch Manor?"

Eyes pulling towards the said dress that was laid across her bed, Penelope nodded. "Y-yes. That is probably the most ideal plan, though I do not think I could wear it again."

With a deep frown, Matilda approached Penelope's bed to retrieve the dress. "Whyever not?"

"A high-born lady wearing a dress to an event she has worn once before?" Penelope gave a mocking laugh. "Consider the scandal!"

Matilda rolled her eyes fondly. "I wouldn't suggest wearing it again so soon but that does not mean you can wear it again in a few years. People's memories are fickle, and while they may recall the colour, they would not match it to the same dress as before."

Penelope shrugged. "I suppose you are right. Let's hope it still fits me in a few years."

"I'm sure it will." Matilda then begins to fold up the dress ready for the trunk. "Is there something troubling you, Pen?"

Eyes back out of the window, Penelope shrugged once more. "I'm just tired." At Matilda's hum that conveyed she was not buying the excuse, the redhead sighed. "I am just thinking…"

"About?" Matilda encouraged as she finished up her fold of the dress and carefully picked it up.

"About how complicated families are." Penelope mumbled, "Just when you feel like you've understood everything, something crops up to disturb it."

"Oh I know all about that." Penelope shoots Matilda, who now stands over one of her trunks, a questioning gaze. "Another day." Despite wanting to push, Penelope was too mentally exhausted to do so and merely nodded. "And what has cropped up for you that makes you see the complications of family?"

"I think the question is more what hasn't cropped up."

Matilda snorted as she tucked the champagne dress into the bottom of the trunk. "With no offence to your lord and lady grandparents, I do feel the hidden meaning of the surname Crokebane is Complicated."

A gush of laughter came from Penelope at that. "Do you think it would be more appropriate to change it to Complicated? Save time?"

"Lord and Lady Complicated of Silver Birch Manor." Matilda summarised with a light tone. "The Complicated Family that has served the crown, country and its people for many generations."

"And was founded by the Complicated siblings," Penelope added with an airy flare. "The Healer of Complicated and the Sword of Complicated."

It was fair to say the next hour of what should've been packing was entirely filled with laughter.

'Dearest Colin,

We have returned to Nettles Cottage and I should feel relaxed. I should be basking in the last few days with joy and contentment. Reading, journaling, and maybe seeing if I can find some herbs and plants around the area that I read about in some of the medical journals Grandpapa got me to read that grow through the seasons. However, I feel…

I feel misplaced.

The conversation that I shared with the ladies before we left, about Grandmama's past betrothal and her marriage to Grandpapa… It opened something within my mind, remembering every story, every haunting tragedy that circulates the Crokebane name. Replaying meeting Mister Edgar Hogbourne over and over again. Trying to see. Trying to understand. Trying… The emotions I feel are as tangled and tight as the curls Mama forced me to have back in Mayfair. The words are lost to the ache in my misplaced mind.

Oh how I wish you or Eloise were here. Possibly to discuss this more fully so I can understand my own feelings regarding the matter. Or possibly to distract me. Eloise tells me about a recent book she has read or telling me about the antics she and the rest of the Bridgertons found themselves in. Or you… I wish you could tell me of your tales in Greece. Eloise has not said much but… I fervently miss your letters of travel. They always transported me away from the cages of my mind.

I do hope you are well and are finding what you are looking for.

Love and loyal as always,

Penelope'

The next day the Crokebanes left Wayner White and made the few hour's journey back to Nettles Cottage. It was a chilly morning, and even though riding Adaline should've kept him warm, Thomas could feel the chill run down his spine. This could've been not thought of as much if the ride back to Nettles Cottage was filled with much conversation and laughter from the place. However, Thomas was stunned by how quiet his cousin was, her eyes always drawing out into the distance as if she had something heavy on her mind. She wasn't impolite, and she would try her best to converse with Thomas whenever he started a conversation, but there was a distance to it.

It reminded Thomas an awful lot of when she first arrived at Silver Birch, and he wondered what had triggered it.

Once returned to Nettles Cottage, everyone had retreated for the rest of the day to their rooms. The effects of Lennox's New Year's Celebrations still loom over them.

The next morning, newfound rested energy finding him, Thomas quickly ate his breakfast before marching across the corridor of his room to Penelope's. After a few steady but loud knocks, without an answer, Thomas slowly opened the door to her room to find it empty. Going over the possible places where she could be, Thomas began his journey down to the dining room, thankfully bumping into Matilda on the way.

"She's gone to see Blackburn," Matilda said in a hurry before disappearing down the corridor in the direction of the kitchen.

Due to the cold weather, Thomas had to pull on a thick overcoat before venturing out to the stables of Nettles Cottage. However, when he got there, he grew concerned when both his cousin and her horse were nowhere to be found.

"Miss Penelope has taken her horse out for a stroll," one of the stablemen had told him.

Thomas' frown deepened. "Do you know which direction they went?"

When the stableman told him, Thomas found himself unsurprised.

After nearly twenty minutes of walking, Thomas approached a familiar lake clearing that he held many fond memories of. The chance discovery by him and a few of the staff members' children he found a friendship with. The days of fishing in the spring with the lake's many families hidden within. Or performing a bomb jump into the lake as a dare from one of the children.

However, as Thomas looked upon it now, all he saw was Penelope crashing into its icy belly and her screams crashing against his ears.

He'd hoped he would find some love for it again but understood it would take some time.

It didn't take long to find his cousin. Perched on the other side of the edge of the lake with Blackburn standing not too far behind her, Penelope's sky-blue eyes stared out onto the icy lake, that had reformed ice over where she fell through.

Rounding the lake, Thomas gave a nod of acknowledgement to the dark horse before sitting beside Penelope. At first, they both just basked in the silence of the woodland and lake area, their foggy breaths mingling with the frosty air. Thomas wanted to speak, to try and inquire what was troubling her, but felt it was best to wait it out. Let Penelope start talking first when she was ready too.

Eventually, his decision turned out to be correct.

"It's melting," Penelope breathed out, the tip of her foot tapping against the edge of the lake that was clearly decreasing in ice. "Slightly."

Thomas hummed. "Not for long, I would say. I think the snow will hit again sometime after we've left for Silver Birch."

"So if I wanted another icy dive, I should do it now?" Penelope then shared a side look with Thomas. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," Thomas confirmed with a bemused huff.

Penelope gave a small smile at that before she looked back out onto the lake. "Why did you never tell me?"

A knee raised, Thomas leaned forward to try and catch Penelope's eye. "Never tell you what?"

"About our cousin. Edgar."

All the air left Thomas' body and his back straightened up. "It… It never came up."

Absorbing this information, Penelope gave a small nod. "Why is not recorded then?"

"What?"

Penelope sighed, arms crossing over her legs. "The second volume of our family's history is written up to our grandfather's father's time, which would mean Hamish Crokebane should've been documented but he isn't. Why is that?"

Closing his eyes, Thomas now felt the weight of what was possibly clouding Penelope's mind. "Pen–"

"Not only is he not documented with his own profile, he's not even mentioned to be born to his parents. It's just Cedric Crokebane, our great-grandfather, and Irene Crokebane, our great-aunt. There is no mention of Hamish Crokebane at all." Penelope whipped her head to Thomas, fury firing up her eyes. "Why is that?"

Shoulders slumped, Thomas let out a defeated sigh. "You know why."

"I have a guess but I need it confirmed."

Unsure of what he could lose, Thomas cleared his throat. "I do not know the full details of what occurred, our grandfather hadn't been born at that point. But Hamish… He saw our family legacy differently. He did not see why we continued to serve and honour the crown, the country and its people when they have not done as much as to return the favour. Something happened that sparked his decision to estrange from the family, again the details are not known to me, but those beliefs were with him even before that spark. Afterwards, he married and took on his wife's name, and had limited or, most of the time, no contact with anyone holding the name Crokebane. And when it came time to write about the latest generation of Crokebanes, our great-grandfather felt it best to… Keep Hamish out of it."

"Felt it best?" Penelope repeated, "Or was following protocol?"

"Penelope–"

"Thomas, you know what I am asking here. I just want an answer."

The male Crokebane hesitated. "I do not know how many times it has occurred but… I know when a Crokebane has become estranged or disowned, it is sometimes decided to… Leave them out of the documentation."

"Right." Penelope gave a firm nod. "So anyone who possibly sees our family differently or wants to live a different life they are removed from the history books."

"It's not that simple Penelope." Thomas tried to defend meekly.

"The fact I never even heard of Hamish Crokebane and his son, Edgar Hogbourne, means it truly is that simple." Penelope sternly pointed out, frustration building in her voice.

"Why does this matter? We don't truly have any close relations with Edgar nor are we saddened by it. If it weren't for the ball also, you would've never questioned it either."

"It matters because…" Penelope trailed off, pushing her lips together as she considered her next words. "How many Crokebanes are out there that we do not know about?"

"More than what we probably could guess," Thomas admitted and rolled his shoulders back. "But it does not matter–"

"It does matter Thom!" Penelope nearly exploded then, causing even Blackburn to rear back a little in surprise before he promptly sent a glare to Thomas. "Every Crokebane, whether following the family's ways or not, matters. Just because our ancestors vowed to always serve the crown, country and its people, does not mean we all have to sign that vow also."

Thomas' eyebrows narrowed slightly. "Are you saying you do not want to follow our family's legacy?"

Penelope deflated a little then. "N-no! I… Believe me when I say I am proud of our family's legacy but you have to admit it does come with many consequences. Do you recall Darelene Crokebane's story, followed by Ethel Crokebane's? And that is not getting into the other tragedies that have occurred within the Crokebane bloodline." Penelope watched as a deep and thoughtful frown pressed across Thomas' facial expression. "As honoured as I feel in one day, hopefully, to continue on the Crokebane family legacy in constant service to the crown, country, and its people, there is something that follows us. A…" Penelope trailed off momentarily as her eyes drifted back to the icy lake with horror thumping through her. "A da-darkness… A darkness that no matter how fast we run, we cannot seem to outrun."

Eyes trailing over his cousin's appearance, Thomas once again felt like he was missing something. "Pen it's… It's all this family has ever known."

"I know," Penelope gave a small, sad nod at that. "But can you truly not understand why someone would want something different? To choose another path away from the constant tragedy?"

Following his cousin's direction, Thomas stared out to the icy lake, unable to give a firm response.

Days later it was finally time to leave Nettles Cottage and return to Silver Birch Manor, something Lord Crokebane was very eager to happen. As much as the month's rest was appreciated, he could not sit around and do nothing much longer. The healer within him was roaring to go out and work, and wandering down the corridors at night was no longer good enough for Lord Crokebane's hyperactive body.

The morning of their leaving, the corridors and rooms of Nettles Cottage were ramped with staff members of both the estate and those they brought with them from Silver Birch. Ms Jameson was leading the charge around the cottage, making sure nothing had been missed in the packing, and while Lord Crokebane appreciated the older woman's efforts, he was still puzzled over how unpacked items of theirs would end up in rooms that they had not used.

With a shake of his head, Lord Crokebane turned down the corridor to his grandchildren's rooms. Thomas was currently out front, helping the valets and other male staff members to get the trunks onto the carriages. There were a few more in Penelope's room, to his knowledge, that still needed to be collected and where the youngest grandchild was still getting ready for her journey back to Silver Birch Manor.

Which was why Lord Crokebane had a vial of medicine for Penelope to take. He knew she rode with Blackburn too and from Wayner White with only a few aches afterwards, but the ride to Silver Birch Manor was much longer and he was concerned that since Penelope was still in a condition of healing whether she could or could not handle such a long journey.

He knew there was no other option though, so he decided to get a vial of pain medicine for her to take before she set off with Thomas.

Seeing the door to Penelope's room, Lord Crokebane smiled upon entering the room, only giving a brief knock. "Granddaughter I–" He cut himself off as he caught sight of his granddaughter, his throat and mind drying instantly.

There was nothing remarkable about where and how she stood. The windowsill seats seemed to be a favourite spot for Penelope Featherington, often with a book or, nowadays, her journal, with the daylight providing the much-needed light she needed to do either task. However, she currently stood by the windowsill seat, staring out the window at the happenings outside just before she turned at her grandfather's entrance.

She acted how she normally would when she greeted Lord Crokebane. With a kind, gentle smile that matched her eyes and a happy "Grandpapa" muttering to go along with it.

Everything was what it was supposed to be, but there was one glaring difference.

Her appearance.

She was dressed… She was not in one of her many dresses, or the dress that Lord Crokebane first saw her in on that fateful day of his return to Silver Birch Manor. No. Instead, she was dressed in, what Lord Crokebane could recall of women's fashion, in a riding dress with pants tailored to a woman's figure. The riding dress itself was designed in a way that often was not seen on other women, as it may be considered improper for a high-born woman to wear. It was of the Crokebane colour of olive green, with the pants being the Crokebane colour of golden brown. The whole attire was new and suited Penelope quite well, as well as her hairstyle, which was mostly down into bouncy waves across her shoulders and to her back, with the top half pulled back into several tiny braids.

If it were his lady wife who stumbled upon Penelope with this appearance, she would dash a good amount of compliments the girl's way, giving more confidence to their once estranged granddaughter. However, Lord Crokebane found himself unmoving, wide sky-blue eyes taking in Penelope's look.

"Grandpapa?" Penelope then questioned, eyes narrowed with concern as she attentively stepped away from the windowsill. "Everything well? You look as though you have seen a ghost."

Ghosts, Lord Crokebane mentally corrected, his eyes continuing to trail up and down at the appearance of two ghosts wrapped into one granddaughter.

Swallowing harshly against the dryness of his throat, Lord Crokebane nodded. "Ugh… Y-yes, everything is well. I… I just came to give you this. For the ride." He then held up the vial, his ability for speech lost on him once more.

Fortunately, Penelope understood what the vial was and an appreciative smile lifted her lips as she crossed the room to where Lord Crokebane stood. "It is as though our minds are connected. I was considering to come and find you to get some pain medicine."

"Are you well?" Lord Crokebane managed to ask, his ability to breathe completely gone as his granddaughter now stood fully in front of him. The resemblances becoming too much for his heart.

"A bit achy today after all the packing last night," Penelope confessed as she retrieved the vial from her grandfather. "But I should be fine now that I have this."

"Yes, you should." Lord Crokebane cleared his throat and looked away, "I need to get back before Ms Jameson scares Charles off his butler duties." He then turned on his heel and marched over to the doorway. However, he abruptly stopped himself, feeling the weight of his unintended dark mood and forced himself to look back to his bewildered granddaughter. "You look quite beautiful, granddaughter."

Penelope gave a small smile at that. "Thank you Grandpapa. It's the riding dress that Matilda made for me to wear on our days of medical work."

Lord Crokebane's expression tightened briefly at that before he forced it away. "It's the perfect attire. Now, if you'll excuse me." He then marched off down the corridor.

When it was a safe distance to do so, and when he was sure no one was around, Lord Crokebane collapsed against one of the walls in the corridor, taking in ragged deep breaths.

He couldn't help but see the universe's twisted sense of humour. Not too long ago he and his granddaughter were talking about Irene Crokebane's days at war in these very corridors and now, at the end of their stay, the said granddaughter would unintentionally dress in a fashion similar to what his aunt wore in both her medical work and days of war.

"I like the braids." Thomas found himself stupidly saying after thirty minutes of their ride back to Silver Birch Manor. The morning was a little warmer than it had been the last few days at Nettles Cottage, something that would make their ride back home a bit more bearable. However, the most unbearable part was the distance between the two cousins.

While their last conversation hadn't been an argument as such, it had definitely left things a bit… Tense between the two. The discussion of their family history and how their family has dealt with internal conflicts wasn't easy for Thomas, mainly because he never had many opinions on it before. Most of his life it's just been him and his grandparents. He knew there were estranged family members, such as Edgar Hogbourne and his aunt Portia Featherington, but because those estrangements happened before he was born, he truly had no strong feelings about it.

Obviously, he disliked Edgar Hogbourne as the few interactions with him gave Thomas nothing to like. Even Portia Featherington, before her youngest daughter was banished to Silver Birch, did not reach the amount of dislike Thomas held for Edgar. His rudeness as well as outright hatred of anything or anyone that held the name of Crokebane put him on top of Thomas' shit list.

Currently, though, Portia was at the top of the list, after all he gathered Penelope suffered throughout her childhood.

And that was possibly why Thomas was so conflicted over the conversation they had. On one hand, he understood the necessity of the Crokebane estrangement slash disownment protocol–why address the family members who did not want to be a part of the Crokebane family anymore? Who did not see the honour of being a Crokebane? However, after the conversation with Penelope, he saw how much it was a bad practice. Not only did they not lose track of the bloodline due to cutting people out of documentation, but it was also horrific to consider the fact members of the family were cut out just because they wanted to forge their own path.

Thomas never had such strong feelings about it due to how small his Crokebane bubble was, but now that Penelope pointed it out, he couldn't shake it off.

Penelope shot Thomas a smile from where she rode on Blackburn beside him. "Thank you. Me and Matilda have been trying out some new braiding styles, and this one was apparently inspired by Viking braids."

"Viking?" Thomas couldn't stop the smirk encompassing his face. "Dipping your hair into our Norwegian roots?"

"Possible Norwegian roots," Penelope corrected with a playful smirk of her own.

Thomas snorted. "While our history states we have many places of possible origin, the strongest is Norway."

Penelope hummed. "I guess that's one of the positives that has been recorded in our history books."

Head ducked down briefly, Thomas wetted his lips before he spoke. "Pen… I just wanted to say–"

"I'm sorry." Penelope cut in then, and Thomas looked at her in surprise. "I was in a dark mood that day we spoke thinking over… Everything. And I took my frustrations out onto you. I am sorry for that."

Slowing Adaline slightly, Thomas waited until Penelope met his eyes. "No apologies needed. I was going to say you were completely correct in your assessments. It's not right how our family treats those within it who do not agree with the vow our ancestors gave to William the Conqueror. They should've embraced those different paths instead of cutting them out. Maybe… Maybe that could've saved us all a lot of heartache down the road."

Penelope stared at Thomas for a long moment before she let out a long, long puff. "In all honesty though, I do not feel my outrage was entirely selfless."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Adjusting her hands momentarily around the reins she held for Blackburn, Penelope looked out to some of the nearby woods they were travelling past. "I… Because Edgar Hogbourne and his father were not mentioned in the family history due to Crokebane protocol, I understood that Mama would not have been mentioned, which meant neither would I…" Penelope ducked her own head down in shame. "Since my birth, I have been treated as though I shouldn't have been born to begin with. That my very existence did not matter. But after I was banished to Silver Birch, to you three, I finally felt I had a place. That I did matter. And then I met Edgar who I had no idea existed and possibly never would of if I never had been banished. I cannot help but think how I still wouldn't have mattered if I had not been banished. My Mama would've continued to make me believe that the air I breathed was worthless, and her unknown family would've never documented my existence." Penelope shook her head at the end, squeezing her eyes shut. "It's entirely selfish and probably does not make a lot of logical sense but that is what my mind is whirling towards."

Thomas took a few minutes to process this, the only sounds that could be heard were the winds over the trees nearby and their light breathing, as well as the moments of their horses. When he spoke next, he did so carefully. "I will not deny that the scenario you have developed is not untrue. If you had never come to Silver Birch Manor and become one of us, you probably would not have been mentioned in our history. However," He stresses that word when seeing a stroke of sadness flash across Penelope's face. "That would've been our wrongdoing, not yours. As you are correct in what you said, no Crokebane, whether they hold the name or not, should not be forgotten. They never should be cut out of history merely based on wanting a different life. Every Crokebane matters. You matter Pen. Even without us, Eloise or anyone else, you do and you always will matter."

A wonderful smile that was filled with happiness and sadness spread across Penelope's face, breathing in heavily to try and contain the strong emotions within. In further aid, she looked away and beyond their surroundings, noticing the familiarity of where they were riding through.

"If I remember correctly," Penelope began with a soft voice. "We should not be too far from Hadrian's Wall."

Thomas grinned wickedly. "I do believe you are correct there, cousin." The two shared a look. "On the count of three?"

Penelope considered it. "Three!" She yelled before tapping Blackburn into a fast run.

"Pen!" Thomas examined with astonishment before doing the same action with Adaline and racing after the two cheaters.

The two raced all the way and over Hadrian's Wall, laughing in a manner that some would attribute to two children goofing off.

Notes