Chapter Text
Chapter One: A Promenade in the Park
The season of 1816 began on an overcast day. As Penelope Featherington looked out the window of her bedchamber, she felt the grey clouds a sad omen, or perhaps just an accurate representation of the current state of her life.
Her best friend, Eloise Bridgerton, uncovered Penelope’s secret at the end of the previous season, and she had been angry. Angrier than Penelope had ever seen her, and Eloise’s emotions tended to be more heightened than other people’s. Penelope couldn’t blame Eloise for feeling betrayed, but she could blame her for refusing to let Penelope explain or to see things from Penelope’s point-of-view.
The last thing Penelope wanted to do was hurt Eloise. Or anyone good and kind. As Lady Whistledown, the ton’s most successful gossip columnist, Penelope had certainly hurt people with her words, but she tried to only place sharpened swords in the necks of those members of the ton who made life unbearable for others. The two times she’d printed anything really harmful about the people she loved and respected was when she was trying her best to prevent even worse harm.
Still, she acknowledged to herself, she had done lasting damage. She would probably never be able to completely atone for the pain Eloise or Marina felt on having their secrets exposed.
Rain dripped from those grey clouds. Slowly at first, then in sheets heavy enough to postpone the debutante presentations to the Queen. Penelope wished the heavenly waters could cleanse her of her sins, but she knew only one person could fix the mess she’d made. Herself.
***
The bouquet hung limply in Colin Bridgerton’s hand. He had just stepped out the front door of his mother’s new residence at Number Five Bruton Street when the downpour increased. When it had only drizzled, he could have - and would have - continued with his plan to call on his friend Penelope. She only lived around the corner, and they hadn’t seen each other in several months, and he did not mind a misting of rain on his face.
Penelope was his most faithful correspondent while he traveled. He looked forward to her letters in much the same way he anticipated Cook bringing him a tray of biscuits straight from the oven before anyone else in the household knew they were ready. Her letters over the winter struck him as odd, though. The regularity with which she replied was the same, but something was missing in the spirit, the tone of the letters. On his previous travels, she eagerly asked questions and offered information about her own daily life, but the latest letters merely responded to his own words, without invitation for greater conversation.
He knew the end of the previous social season had not been easy on her. Her cousin, and the new head of her family, had turned out to be a crook. A swindler. Colin managed to expose the scheme and protect Penelope (and her mother and sisters) from the full force of his deceit, but Colin knew he couldn’t protect them from the bitter and hateful gossip of the ton.
Colin also discovered just before he left for his tour of Italy that Penelope and Eloise had quarreled. It was unlike the two of them to be at odds and Eloise refused to give him the reason for the rupture. He had to attribute Penelope’s cool letters to a mind occupied with harsher realities.
Blast the damn rain! He wanted to see her today. Wanted to see how she managed with the knowledge of her cousin’s character, how she coped with the rift between her and Eloise, and if he could assist in a reconciliation. It would have to wait until tomorrow.
“Are you going out now, brother?” Benedict’s voice boomed from behind him.
“I had planned to, but alas…”
His elder brother slapped a hand on his back, then raised an eyebrow. He gestured to the flowers. “And whom were you going to see?”
“Oh, just Penelope.”
“Just Penelope? With a bouquet of roses and lilies?”
“As a thank you for her letters.”
“Colin, is that wise?”
“Wise? I’m not sure what you mean.”
Benedict cleared his throat and steered his brother away from the front door, into the small parlor off the breakfast room. “I heard some whispers last season.”
Colin watched his brother’s face, unsure where the conversation was heading. “Of?”
“Your closeness with Miss Featherington and um-“
“We are friends.”
“Yes,” Benedict spoke slowly. “And I heard you declared, quite loudly, at the Featherington Ball, no less, that it would be mad for one to assume you were courting her.”
“What are you-“ Collin stopped. Snapped his mouth shut. He had said something of the sort, while with a group of men whom he didn’t care much for, and who he knew wouldn’t understand a friendship like his and Penelope’s. “What is your point, Benedict?”
“People watch. They listen. You declared last season you had no intention toward Miss Featherington, but the moment you return to London, you call upon her with flowers. Whispers will start again, and they may not be kind.”
Here Colin laughed. As if he cared what any silly busybodies of the ton had to say about him. He told Benedict as such and made to leave, but his brother grabbed his arm.
“You may not care what they say, but have you thought how she will feel? She does not have the protections you do, Colin. Be careful, is all I’m saying.”
“I don’t like you when you are so serious,” was Colin’s only reply before shrugging out of his hold and leaving the room. He tried to look and sound casual, but Benedict’s caution made him extremely uncomfortable. Penelope was his friend. He did not want to expose her to ridicule. He only wanted good things for her. The best things.
Hyacinth and Eloise strolled down the staircase as Colin reached the foot. He thrust the bouquet into his youngest sister’s arms and didn’t wait for her exclamation of surprise before heading up to spend the rest of the rainy day in his room.
***
The second day of the season of 1816 opened with a brilliant sunrise, painting the entire ton in pink and red and orange. Penelope once again watched from her window. New debutantes would finally be presented to the Queen and Penelope’s fingers were itching to pick up her quill once again. Part of her feared Eloise would expose her if she continued her double life, but another, better part knew deep down how kind, loyal, and steadfast Eloise was for those she loved. Penelope had to believe her dearest friend held her dear still, as well, even if she hated her now.
Movement below caught her attention and she glanced down into the street. Colin stood on the pavement, watching as the fire colors in the sky dulled and found their natural shade of blue once again. It was quite early for him to be out walking, and she hadn’t even known he had returned from his travels yet. She watched his progress as he moved away, though learning nothing. That did seem to be her pattern with Colin Bridgerton. She was always watching him, and he always seemed to be walking away from her, even when he was standing right beside her. Maybe especially then.
***
Colin had not slept. His mind was a tumultuous mix of thoughts and feelings colliding upon each other, jumbling together, and springing apart in ways that made no sense. He still wanted to call on Penelope and inquire after her welfare, but Benedict’s words would not allow him to do so. Instead, he rose with the first rays of the sun, dressed, and left the house. A morning walk would be just the thing to help him clear his head. Idleness never suited him. He liked to be up and moving, and rather thought the need to sleep for eight to ten hours a night a design flaw of humanity.
Though he had not planned a specific route, he found himself on Mount Street, heading toward the Featherington House. He would not call upon the ladies, he told himself. For one thing, it was too early, and for another, it was not a good idea. Benedict was right. He hated that. He stopped for a moment, though, in the stillness of the street, and watched the colors of the sky evolve. The oranges and yellows brought Penelope forcefully to his mind. He could see her quite clearly, as if she stood in front of him. No, as if they were dancing together – the yellow of her dress twirling, the orange-red of her hair always standing out in the crowd, though no one else seemed to notice it.
The sky was fully blue when he finally put one foot in front of the other again and continued down the street.
***
Fair skies blessed the ton again on the third morning of the 1816 season. Debutantes debuted, a new diamond of the season selected (though sadly for the Bridgerton family, not sixth-born Francesca), and invitations went around for Lady Danbury’s opening ball. Everyone planned to attend, even the luckless Featheringtons.
Lady Featherington felt their good fortune and took the invite to mean the exposure of Jack’s deception hadn’t ruined them. Penelope thought it more likely that Lady Danbury wanted to help them save face. She couldn’t explain why, but she’d always felt Lady Danbury liked her. It was uncharacteristic for almost everyone not named Bridgerton to notice Penelope in a room, but Lady Danbury often said hello to her, or praised her dancing when one of the Bridgerton brothers had been persuaded to dance with her.
Before the evening’s ball, however, the ton must promenade. When the Featherington ladies arrived at the park, it took their footmen nearly a half-hour to find an open spot to erect their tent, leaving Portia, Prudence, and Penelope to wander up and down the banks of the river, pretending not to notice as lords and ladies turned their heads rather than greet them. The tent was finally ready, but they had only made the most meager step in its direction when a voice called out, “Lady Featherington!”
It was the dowager Viscountess, Violet Bridgerton, hastening toward them, a gaggle of her adult and teenage children with her. Anthony, Kate, Benedict, Colin, Francesca, and Gregory all followed in her wake, and nodded or bowed to the Featherington women.
“Lady Bridgerton! Viscount Bridgerton! Lady Bridgerton!” Portia exclaimed, a bit too loudly in Penelope’s opinion. She could understand her mother’s desire to show the ton that a powerful and influential family remained on speaking terms with them, but she also wished she displayed a bit more humility.
“We would love for you to walk with us for a spell,” Violet said, kindly, seeming to specifically address Penelope. Which must mean she didn’t know Pen and Eloise were on bad terms.
The groups merged: the mothers and Anthony in front, Prudence walking just behind them with Francesca, Gregory on their heels, and Penelope found herself claimed by Kate, with Benedict and Colin bringing up the rear.
“Did you enjoy your honeymoon?” Penelope asked, trying hard not to turn and look at the brothers. Colin had seemed to open his mouth just a second after Kate invited Penelope to walk with her, and Penelope wondered if he’d been about to speak to her. He usually did, so it wasn’t unusual, but she found herself at a loss. Normally she wanted to hear everything he had to say, but after the cruel words of last season – words not meant for her ears but heard by her nonetheless – she found she could not stomach the thought of hearing his voice just yet.
Kate must have answered her question, though Penelope had not listened, for Kate had taken her arm, and asked in a soft voice, “How are you, Miss Featherington? You seem distracted.”
“Oh! Yes, I suppose I am. I have had a lot on my mind. I’m sorry for my rudeness.”
“Do not think of it. As it happens, I’m rather fatigued. I think I should prefer my husband’s arm for support.” Kate’s hand grazed her stomach, and the twinkle in her eye informed Penelope of the truth of the situation. “But here are my brothers just behind you. They will be happy to take my place, won’t you, Colin?”
“Certainly,” Colin answered. He and Benedict hastened their step. After a quick squeeze of Penelope’s arm in parting, Kate moved away, leaving the younger lady to wonder if the new Viscountess had planned this maneuver all along.
“Penelope, it is so good to see you,” Colin said, his voice low, but full of warmth. He held his arm out to her in invitation.
“Mr. Bridgerton.” She nodded to him, gave a pointed glance to his arm, then said, “Benedict, would you mind providing me the assistance of support? We’ve been walking for nearly an hour now, and I admit I am tired.”
Benedict started, but immediately offered his arm. Colin’s fell to his side as Penelope tucked her hand into the crook of Benedict’s elbow. “You know you can always count on myself or any one of my brothers to escort you, Penelope.”
“Thank you, Benedict.”
Colin’s voice, still low, showed a hint of impatience. “You call me Mr. Bridgerton, but him Benedict? You ask for his arm when mine was on offer? Should I feel offended, Miss Featherington?”
“I thought you would prefer it.” Penelope looked straight ahead, not daring to meet his gaze.
He had no response to that it seemed, so she turned to Benedict and began speaking of art. When the conversation hit a lull, she took a deep breath and asked, “Where is Eloise today?”
Benedict laughed. “She claimed illness, but I believe she wanted to avoid more matchmaking schemes from our mother.”
“Not quite as perceptive as usual, Ben,” Colin cut in. “She is not avoiding Mother, she is avoiding Penelope.”
Her ears burned and she was sure her skin flushed from her forehead to her toes, but Penelope said nothing. Colin began again. “I know you two quarreled, but she has refused to tell me why.”
Penelope remained steadfast in her silence.
“I believe I have a guess, though.”
That got her attention. What theory could Colin possibly have invented to explain the tension between the ladies? She wanted him to continue. No, she did not.
“Would you like to hear it?” he asked.
Benedict groaned a soft, “Colin,” before Penelope could answer, but the gentleman ignored it.
“I know there are many people in this society we surround ourselves with who believe me nothing but an empty-headed charmer-“
Penelope found herself objecting. “No one thinks you are empty-headed, Colin.”
“I’d like to think there is more to me than what the gossips whisper or print.” He emphasized the last word. “I’m observant, or I try to be, and I know both you and Eloise well. Should I make my guess here, in front of my brother?”
Penelope swallowed. “You may keep your theory to yourself, Mr. Bridgerton. What happened between Eloise and I is private.”
He would not be deterred. “Penelope, please look at me. You do not have to tell me about Eloise, but at least do me the kindness of telling me how I have upset you.”
“You have not.”
“I clearly have, and I do not know what I’m meant to have done.”
“I am only trying to protect you and your reputation. It would be mad for someone to see me on your arm or talking to you too familiarly, do you not agree?”
Benedict took in a sharp breath, but said nothing. Colin halted his steps, but only for a moment, and was quickly at her side again. She decided it was best to lay it all out. “The night of my mother’s ball, Eloise and I argued, you were correct about that. She fled, and I was trying to find her in the gardens. Suddenly a familiar voice said my name. An unfamiliar voice asked the familiar voice if he was courting me.”
“Pen…”
“To which, the familiar voice replied, ‘Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies.”
“Pen.”
“That is what you said, Colin, is it not? Or did I mishear you?”
“No, you didn’t, Pen, I’m-“
“Please do not apologize. You have no intention to court me. I never thought you did. I never said I wanted you to.”
“You’re hurt, and that’s the last thing-“
“I am not hurt because you said you were not courting me. I need you to understand this. You owe me nothing. I would never be upset at anyone whose heart did not incline my way, as no one can truly help the direction in which their affections lie, can they? I do not believe you to be a cruel man, Colin. You are a gentleman, for the most part.”
“For the most part?”
“A true gentleman, one of your brothers for example, would have answered with the truth, but also defended me. Those men were making a joke out of me. Not a half-hour before said conversation, we danced, you and I. You called me your friend, said I was special to you, but you could not find it in you to defend me. Benedict or Anthony would have told those men that they weren’t courting me, but they hoped I found happiness with a worthy gentleman who did wish to court me. They would not have been so embarrassed to be thought connected to me in that way. Would you, Benedict?”
The man who held her arm clearly did not wish to speak, but when it appeared Colin would instead, he cleared his throat. “No, Penelope, of course I would not have been embarrassed. All of the Bridgerton family think highly of you.”
“Penelope,” Colin pleaded, “I am sorry. I did not intend it that way.”
“I am not sure what way you could have intended it that would make it better. I wish I could explain to you the smallness that comes from being laughed at like that. I have been a joke, it seems, ever since I debuted. Less than a joke, really, as most of the time I’m invisible, even when wearing the brightest colors in the room. But I thought you saw me as me. Not as the pudgy girl in the garish yellow dresses. Me.”
“I do, Pen! I do see you.”
“Now that I’ve pointed out your mistake? Would you have felt remorse at all if I hadn’t overheard you and told you so? Please do not answer that. I wish us to be friends again one day, but I will need time. You are free of all your amiable obligations to me. Please do not acquiesce to your mother’s pleas that you dance with me when every other gentleman in the room acts as if I do not exist. Do not seek me out at social events to tell me the latest news of your travel plans. I need to focus on repairing what’s been broken with Eloise and you-“ she stopped walking, causing the gentlemen to halt as well, “-you, Colin, if you wish to be thought as more than an empty-headed charmer, then be more than that. We,” she gestured to herself and his family members, “know you are so much more. You need to believe it for yourself, though, before we can be friends again. Excuse me, gentlemen, I am rather tired and would like the shade of our tent.”
Penelope dropped Benedict’s arm and strode ahead, tapping Prudence on the shoulder, then letting their mother know they needed rest.
***
Colin Bridgerton had never received so thorough and so well-deserved a dressing down in his life. Daphne often joked when they were little that he could get away with anything, but at some point it had ceased to be a joke. He really was possessed of an amazing ability to charm his way out of any situation. It helped that his contriteness was sincere, most of the time, but it hadn’t always been the main factor in the forgiveness issued.
But Penelope. She showed him just how small and insignificant he was. His actions were unjustifiable and yes, cruel. He had acted no better than the bullies who picked on the smallest boy at school to make themselves feel bigger.
Benedict coughed beside him. “Colin, stop staring at her.”
“What? I’m not.” She was walking toward her tent, her back straight and head held high, sunlight reflecting off her red curls.
“Perhaps in addition to Miss Featherington’s advice that you believe yourself to be more than society’s perception of you, you should also ask yourself why you behaved the way you did that night, and why, even now, you are denying that you are staring at her, when you haven’t taken your eyes off her from the moment our mother called out her mother’s name.”
Benedict picked up his pace and reached their mother’s side before Colin processed his advice. He forced himself to turn his attention away from Penelope and caught up with Francesca and Greg. Although he had ceased looking at her, she remained in his thoughts for the rest of the walk.