Chapter Text
Colin Bridgerton had been travelling by sea for the past few weeks. This last voyage was to see him back home, in time for the debut of his sister, Francesca Bridgerton.
He was a seasoned traveler by now, having journeyed from Athens in Greece to Paris in France. However, the past few nights had been rough. Poseidon had other plans; This particular night was especially frightening. a storm had hit the coastline, preventing the ship from reaching its destination and docking.
Colin, in the middle of penning a letter to his friend Pen, found himself growing uneasy. Although he was accustomed to the constant rocking of the ship, the relentless shaking this night was different.
“I do not feel well,” he murmured weakly to his cabinmate. The man nodded, glancing at him. “Your countenance is very drawn.”
Colin felt trapped, stuck. The truth was, while the storm outside raged and held the ship hostage, what equally distressed him was the lack of letters from his family. Their letters had always kept him grounded, tethering him to reality, no matter where in the world he travelled.
“I am going up to the deck,” Colin said, pressing a handkerchief to his mouth. He bid his cabin mate farewell and headed out.
The deck was as stormy as expected, drenched in darkness and rain. No passengers were to be seen, only sailors wrestling with the sails. Colin perched himself on the railing. The sky was blanketed in a thick layer of dark clouds, and the rain lashed at his face, the stings were refreshing against his flushed skin. He gripped the wooden railing firmly, aware of its slickness. He did not want to be the fool who fell overboard because of weak sea legs. His sister, Eloise Bridgerton, a true bluestocking, often responded to his letters. Lately, however, she had not. Nor had Pen -Penelope Featherington, his friend and just as much of a bluestocking as Eloise.
In fact, Penelope had not responded to a single letter since his departure, even though the season had ended months ago. The season had concluded on a high note between them though. Lord Jack Featherington had been exposed as a swindler, attempting to dupe the Ton with tales of a mythical ruby mine in the Americas. Colin’s proudest moment had been leading Penelope into the room at the Featherington estate and revealing the ruse. By showing her the necklace filled with fake rubies.
He had smashed them, revealing the scam and running the conman out of polite society. It had been one of his finest moments—how dare that scoundrel try to take advantage of the Featherington ladies with no father or husband to protect them!
Now, as Colin leaned further over the railing, staring sickly at the murky waters below, something caught his eye. Amidst the dark navy sea, a contrasting colour emerged—red, auburn.
“Penelope,” an ethereal voice called out through the salty air. Colin blinked rapidly, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. It couldn’t be real. Her hair, long and floating, spread out across the surface of the water like a fiery halo.
“Don’t you miss me?” Penelope asked, her voice rang clear in his ears despite the storm. "More than you know,” Colin huffed, sounding more like a puppy than a man. This had to be an apparition, a trick of the sea.
He had heard stories of sailors seeing beautiful women in the water after too long at sea. Half of his mind knew this wasn’t real, but the other half wanted to indulge in the fantasy.
“Then jump in the water and kiss me,” she said, her large eyes like pools of calm water.
“Penelope,” Colin sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You know I’m afraid of the water—”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe,” she interrupted, her tone playful.
Colin raised an eyebrow, incredulous. The waves below were vicious, crashing against each other with force. “Oh, I would, but I’d be suffering the whole time, trying to float,” he teased her.
“I would take the suffering from you,” she replied sweetly.
“Suffering?” Colin frowned.
“I will take the suffering from you,” she repeated, her voice melodic.
“As good as that sounds, I’m just fine up here,” Colin said, trying to remain in control of the situation. “You know I prefer my feet on solid ground.”
“I will take the suffering from you,” she insisted, her voice becoming eerily repetitive.
Colin swallowed hard. “Fine, but only if you answer a question or two.”
“Of course!” she agreed, her expression eager.
“Okay, let’s say I haven’t received any letters from home or friends,” Colin began. “What should I do when I get home? What am I supposed to make of it?”
“If you seek your compass north, it will take you home,” she answered in a sing-songy tone.
“I am already going home,” Colin said, his voice heavy with frustration.
“Are you?” she questioned, bobbing in the water, her scarlet hair swirling around her. The swell of the waves rose and fell around her, briefly exposing her bare breasts.
Colin sucked in a gasp of air.
“Why aren’t you answering any of my letters!?” he yelled across the waves, his voice raw with exasperation. The siren Penelope dipped beneath the water, disappearing from view. Colin stared at the spot she had left.
“Oh, for you I would die, but can’t you let me stay dry?” he muttered bitterly.
“I can take the suffering from you,” her voice echoed from beneath the water.
“You should come onto the ship,” Colin called, his voice softer now. “We’ll jump at the same time.” He sighed. “Ah, the things I do for you.”
With a final deep breath, he flung one leg over the railing, preparing himself for the plunge. Just then, a pair of rough hands grabbed him, yanking him back onto the ship.
“Have you gone mad, Mr. Bridgerton!?” a gruff voice shouted.
Colin, now lying on the cold, slimy deck, stared up at the sailor who had pulled him back from the brink.
“I believe so,” Colin whispered, still shaken, as the storm raged on around them.
~*~
Everyday was the same. The humdrum days rolled into each other. Her Mother, Lady Featherington would have all those who responded to her invitations around to tea.
The sweets and savories were sliced thin. Penelope had heard the other ladies whisper how stingy her Mama was. If one were to hold a slice up against the light coming through the window, one could see right through it.
So, Penelope, her youngest daughter, had subtly suggested to a passing maid that a more generous proportion would be beneficial. But alas, when the second portion had come up from the kitchens her Mama had not been pleased. When Penelope reached for a thicker sandwich, her Mama’s watchful glare silently scorned her in front of the guests. Penelope excused herself politely and made her leave.
The Featherington off season residence was not as grand as their on season home in London. Penelope had spent weeks taking in the solitude that the grand estate brought her. It was a welcome peace after the storm that was her second season out. However this peace and quiet did not last as long as she would have liked.
The Featherington estate had had more callers as of late. Her Mama had successfully procured a marriage between her sister Prudence, and one Harry Dankworth. Harry was as handsome as he was witless; very . Prudence, however, who was as similarly witless as Dankworth. Was very happy with her match and would often walk with him around the village and popular walkways. Harry Dankworth was even more pleased with the match and treated Prudence like a precious flower.
It was sweet, Penelope could recognize that, even if her mother had given Prudence a none too gentle push into the bushes where Mr Dankworth was standing near that fateful night.
The first signs of the season changing were making themselves evident. More flowers bloomed and filled the country air with their sweet scents. Penelope settled herself underneath a large flowering shrub surrounded by a canopy of wildflowers. It was her favorite spot for reading in the country. Her Mama did not venture out this far and could never complain about newly formed freckles as it was sheltered enough. Though, her most favorite spot to read and day dream was a large window back at their London residence that just so happened to face the street with Bridgerton House in full view.
Well, she thought wistfully. It was her favorite place. She tried reading her book for a while but her thoughts were becoming distracted and disjointed. Any day now they would be heading back to the Ton. On one hand she was excited, she was, in secret; a prolific and infamous writer who went by the pseudonym; Lady Whistledown. On the other hand, it was that very role that had caused her dearest friend to detest her. Eloise Bridgerton had not responded to a single letter of apology.
Penelope gave a loud huff of exasperation, letting her book drop to the grassy ground. She did it for her! It was something that she had
thought
Eloise would be proud of her for.
She picked up her book, and dusted it off. “Are you alright Miss?” Rae, her handmaid, asked her. Rae was standing patiently under a piece of shrubbery, not far from where Penelope was sitting.
“Quite right, thank you.” she replied. She wasn’t being entirely fair. Penelope had taken things too far with her column, she knew that. However, there was a small part of her that was not sorry. Penelope, truthfully, was proud of her works as Lady Whistledown.
In this world she lived in, she was a perpetual wallflower - Overlook at best and at worst; mocked and laughed at. One Miss Cressida Cowper was particularly awful to her. Penelope knew that in their society that debutantes were put up against each other. But Penelope was no threat to Miss Cowper, just an easy target. Cressida was tall, slim and blonde. Penelope was the opposite of her in every regard. She used to tell herself that she may not be beautiful on the outside, at least she was beautiful on the inside. Though, after her strife with Eloise. Penelope was beginning to believe she was just as ugly on the outside as she was within.
Nothing, however, had made her feel as ugly as Eloise’s brother, Colin Bridgerton did. Once she had thought of him as her friend as well. Then he had declared to eligible bachelors of the Ton that they were mad if they thought he would ever dream of courting her. Who knew a heart could break twice in one night? Penelope did.
Eloise threw verbal venom at her upon her discovery that Penelope was in fact, Lady Whistledown. Of course, Penelope had thrown the verbal venom right back at her. Then she made her way down to her family’s gardens just to hear him laugh at the notion of courting. “Are you mad?” he had said. The men’s laughter echoed and reverberated in her mind.
“I never asked you to court me!” Penelope cried out at her memory. Rae gave a squeak of surprise. Penelope’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She had said that aloud hadn’t she?
“I wish to rest in my room for a while.” Rae nodded, made her way over to the tree, helped Penelope up and led her back to the house.
The upside to having so many guests over near the end of the offseason was that Penelope was able to collect information about debutantes and gentlemen alike, ahead of the season. She sent her first issue of the season that very night. During one of those brief windows afar from her watchful Mama.
If Penelope played her cards right then the pamphlet would be published the day of or just around when she and the others arrived for the new season. Her room at her country estate was more suitably set up for writing letters than it was for her Whistledown column. And yet she had hardly sent any for weeks. Once she gave up writing to Eloise (whose country residence was painfully not far from the Featherington country residence.) with no letters returned. She had decided to let Eloise have her space and let her writing desk gather dust.
A bundle of letters were jammed in the drawer of that writing desk. They were all from just this off season. And they were all from just one man: Colin Bridgerton. He wrote to her like he always did. Penelope loved his letters. She always did. He had such a way with words. And his letters were descriptive and long, they made for good reading. Penelope could picture herself walking along the foreign streets alongside him, her hand brushing against his.
She would blush at the imagery. The two would never find themselves unchaperoned in such a way. No, Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington’s relationship was strictly of a platonic nature. Not on her part of course, she had loved him in secret for years. It wasn’t until that night of the Featherington ball where her heart was lit aflame with the most cruelest thing of all; hope.
Colin had taken her by the hand and led her to a secluded room. She was embarrassed to admit, but improper thoughts had flooded her mind. But before she could fully voice her concerns Colin had swept in and revealed to her a scheme (that she admittedly knew nothing about) that cousin Jack was orchestrating.
The rubies that Cousin Jack was distributing were false. And all the attention Colin doted upon Cressida Cowper was a ruse to get her necklace. Pride, pride and adoration had swelled up within her. That was Colin, sweet, gentle and kind. He had taken up the role as a protector, as her and her family's protector as there were no male relatives in the household since the death of her father, the late Lord Featherington.
Then they danced, oh, how they danced. Penelope’s mind still drifted to that memory, painful and bittersweet. Their steps perfectly in sync and his eyes, his blue eyes that were shining even brighter with kindness.
“You are special to me.” He had said, his eyes were so blue.
“As you are, to me.” Penelope said. It was a fact. He, Eloise and all of the Bridgerton family were very dear to her. Her mind played the part when the dance ended and they broke apart. He bowed and she curtsied. He bid adieu and made his way off the dance floor to catch up with his ‘gentlemen’ friends. In Penelope’s opinion the men were nothing more than rakes. Colin wasn’t like them. Well she thought he wasn’t.
She had not read any of the letters he had sent her these past weeks, but they were persistent and she hadn’t had the heart to throw them away. Instead, they were tightly bundled with string and jammed inside the darkness of the drawer. She reached for the handle now, almost unthinkingly her fingertips brushing against the wood. Penelope did not receive a letter this past fortnight, perhaps Colin had given up. Good, she thought bitterly. That made it easier to forget about him. She withdrew her hand and made her way to her bed. Penelope was just about to call for Rae when her reflection caught her eye.
She scrutinized her reflection; A pudgy, pale young woman glared back at her. Ribbons and curls poured from her red hair. Her dress was high cut, frilly and a lemony yellow. Now, just like many times before, Penelope felt very much like an overripe citrus fruit.
Her cheeks were flaming. Maybe the hot air was beginning to get to her and her temperament certainly was not helping. Penelope reached up to the top of her head and yanked the golden bow out of her hair. She felt like she looked like a big baby. Penelope wanted to look like a debutante, womanly, like a lady .
Not like her Mother still had her in her leading strings. Her sisters were both married now. Eloise was gone and did she ever truly have Colin? Her life in the ton was already forever changed.
No more hiding away sharing giggles with him over lemonade, soothing Eloise’s panic at balls. Never again would she and Eloise sit in the Bridgerton House gardens and watch her brothers fence, Hyacinth and Gregory squabble. No more tea with Lady Bridgerton and wistfully waiting among wisterias waiting for the moment one of the Bridgerton brothers would offer a pity dance.
With a newfound sense of determination clear in her reflected eyes Penelope knew it was time for her to put the past behind her, and finally, grow up.