Chapter Text

Sunshine was a rarity any time of the year in London, but particularly so in the spring. Clouds and rain seemed to be as ever present as the gossip that floated about Grosvenor Square, but not on that day. As long as he lived Colin would never forget a single detail about that sunny day in March. He remembered the sunshine in particular because that was what had prompted Anthony to suggest a ride through the park with him and Benedict. Colin accepted, always eager to be included with his elder brothers. 

In his haste to accept Anthony’s invitation, however, Colin had quite forgotten that he was still a rather unsteady rider. While his riding had improved dramatically from whence he started, he still lacked the confidence necessary to control the large beast. His father continued giving him lessons every week, assuring him that all it would take for him to gain the confidence he needed was practice. So Colin decided to use this opportunity to gain some additional experience as his father had suggested. 

Their ride through the park was quite pleasant, but Colin quickly began to fall behind Anthony and Benedict's pace. It wasn’t as though they left him behind on purpose, it was just that they were so caught up in a conversation between themselves that they simply failed to notice when Colin’s horse was no longer in step with theirs. Normally this would have bothered Colin, and indeed he was becoming frustrated, but he quickly became quite grateful for their absence. It meant they were too far away to witness his humiliation when a gust of wind blew a small yellow bonnet right into his face. He was so startled by the appearance of the garment that he, quite ungracefully, fell off his horse and directly into a puddle of mud. Colin shook his head and chuckled at his folly.

A shadow fell across him, shielding him from the dazzling sun. The soft, delicate voice of the shadow's owner caught his attention. “Well that wasn’t very well done of me.”

Colin glanced up from his position, turning his head toward the sound of the high, feminine voice. A voice he could tell was trying very hard not to laugh at his current predicament. When his eyes fell upon the the young lady standing before him, his eyes widened, his breath quickened, and he felt a delicate flush bloom upon his cheeks.

Before him stood a girl who was only a few years his junior, most likely near Eloise’s age, however she looked nothing like Eloise. Colin supposed Eloise was pretty, but her abrasive character always made her seem much rougher and harder than she actually was. This girl, on the other hand, radiated nothing but softness and warmth. She was all curves and roundness, and immediately brought to mind images of cherubs that he’d seen in church. The sun glowing behind her flaming red hair even gave the appearance of a halo. She truly was an angel on earth, Colin thought to himself, and then she spoke again.

“I’m terribly sorry. The wind caught my bonnet and blew it into you before I could catch it. Are you injured at all?”

Her voice was warm and soothing, like honey, and Colin paused to absorb the sound and commit everything from the words, the timbre, and the catches in her breath to memory. He hesitated for only a moment before shaking himself free of her spell to respond to her inquiry.

“I’m unharmed, do not worry. Though perhaps my pride is a bit wounded.” He shrugged his shoulders in self-deprecation.

She held her gloved hands out toward him, offering her assistance in pulling him out of the mud. He clasped them with his own, and with her help he was finally free from his embarrassing position—though he was still covered in mud. Now that he was standing properly and the sun wasn’t shining in his eyes quite so directly he was able to get a much better look at the girl.

She was quite tiny. Perhaps she was younger than he initially thought, though she spoke with such intelligence he was certain he must be close in his estimation. She was wearing a rather ostentatious yellow gown that washed out her already pale features, though Colin didn’t mind in the slightest. He was too busy looking into her eyes (which were the most remarkable shade of blue he'd ever seen) to pay much attention to her dress. They reminded him of the crystalline ice and snow that surrounded the grounds of Aubrey Hall every winter. Christmas at Aubrey Hall was always his favorite time of the year. He loved the festivities, the glow of the Christmas tree, and playing in the snow with his siblings. Despite their chilling shade, her eyes reminded him of those warm feelings of home, family, and love. They were certainly the most beautiful eyes he’d seen in his young life, and he would have remained lost in them for hours if she had not spoken again to regain his attention.

“I really am very sorry. Will your mother be cross with you for soiling your garments?” she asked, biting her lower lip in worry.

“No, not at all, and the fault was entirely my own, do not fret. I’m an unsteady rider at the best of times, and a truly abysmal rider when blinded, it appears.” 

She giggled and the sound brought a huge grin to Colin’s face, unbidden. Her laugh was like the sun shining above them, immediately enveloping him in warmth and Colin vowed, right then and there, to try and hear as much of that sound as he possibly could in the future. 

“My name is Colin, by the way, Colin Bridgerton. And you are?”

“Penelope Featherington,” she said demurely, giving a small curtsy. 

He reached out and grabbed her gloved hand and brought it up to meet his lips, before releasing it again. His skin tingled where her hand had been held in his, despite the two layers of fabric between their skin. 

“A pleasure to meet you Miss Featherington.” Then he reached down into the mud puddle and retrieved her soiled bonnet. He held it out to her. “I believe this belongs to you.”

“PENELOPE!”

They both jumped at the sound and turned to see a redheaded woman rushing toward them, angry red splotches coloring her face most unflatteringly. Two more red-haired girls were following behind her. They were older than Penelope and appeared to be twins.

“What have you done, Penelope? Your new bonnet is ruined, as well as your gloves!” 

Colin glanced at the gloves in question and winced. It was true. The palms were covered in mud from when she had helped him out of the puddle. Her worry over his own mother’s reaction made more sense now, because this could only be Penelope’s mother, and she clearly was not taking Penelope’s soiled clothing well. Colin wanted to try and redirect her ire away from the sweet girl, so he spoke up.

“The fault is mine, ma’am,” Colin said with a bow toward the woman. “You see I fell into that mud puddle there and your daughter helped pull me out. It was a very kind gesture on her part. I would have been quite stuck without her assistance.”

“Yes, well, that does not change the fact that her clothes are ruined, young man. Kindness is not currency and it will not get you far in life.”

Colin disagreed, but he knew better than to say as much. “You are quite right of course. I will speak to my mother when I return home and we shall make sure you are given the funds to replace the soiled items. Would that be all right…” Colin deliberately left the end of his sentence hanging so that the woman could introduce herself.

“Lady Featherington,” she said flatly.

“Lady Featherington,” he repeated. “And who are these charming young ladies?” The twin girls had stayed behind their mother’s skirts throughout the exchange, looking nervous. Colin gave them one of his most charming smiles to try and set them at ease.

“This is Prudence and Philippa,” Lady Featherington responded, shortly. “We must be going.”

Colin gave her a bow. “Very well. It was very nice to meet you and your daughters, Lady Featherington. I’ll speak to my mother today about those funds, and you shall have them before the week is through, I swear it.”

“Very well,” she said haughtily. She grabbed Penelope by the shoulder and spun her away from Colin, Prudence and Philippa following in their wake. It wasn’t lost on him that she never bothered to ask his name. Before they were too far away Penelope turned her head and mouthed, “Thank you.” Colin smiled and nodded his head in understanding. She smiled at him in return.

And that was the moment that he was lost. Colin’s hand unconsciously reached for his heart thumping wildly in his chest. His knees suddenly felt quite weak and he practically fell to the grass as he watched the four redheads walking away. He stared at the place where he'd lost sight of the group long after they were gone while he sorted through the scramble of thoughts and emotions warring within his body. He’d heard his parents' love story a thousand times over, and the things they had described certainly seemed to apply to what was happening to him now. 

His heart was hammering at a rapid pace. His palms were clammy and his cheeks were flushed. There was a feeling of tightness around his heart and a stirring deep in his belly. Was this what love felt like? Colin had turned eleven years old just two days ago. There was no way this could be love. Eleven-year-old boys were much too young to fall in love. In fact, based on the examples of his older brothers, even fifteen and seventeen year old boys were too young to fall in love. 

But Colin had always been different from his older brothers. He was more sensitive, and felt things more deeply. His siblings often teased him about his sensitivities, particularly his brothers. They made him feel like he was less of a man because he was more prone to expressing his emotions like his sisters, rather than bottling them up like his brothers. Because of this, Colin often had a difficult time understanding his own emotions, as well as whether or not he should be showing them in front of his family. He didn’t know if this was love or what this feeling was precisely, but he knew he was going to do everything in his power to find out. He also knew that, for now, he had to keep this to himself. At least until he had more time to process what exactly this was.

Eventually Colin was able to shake his mind out of the daze Penelope had put him in, and that was when he noticed the dandelions surrounding him in the patch of grass he’d landed in. A memory came to mind of his father telling him a story once that if you blew on the seeds of a dandelion and made a wish, that your wish would come true. Colin, who had been a rather skeptical child, had asked his father if he was telling the truth. Edmund had leaned toward his son’s ear, conspiratorially, and said, “I know for a fact it works, because when I was a young lad like you, I blew on one and I wished for your mother.” 

Remembering that story led to Colin reaching out for the plant nearest to him and plucking the stem from the ground. Imagining his father doing the very same thing, Colin held the pod of seeds close to his lips, closed his eyes, and blew on it in a long, drawn-out breath, all while wishing for Penelope. When he opened his eyes he saw the seeds floating away on the wind, carrying his wish on their delicate white tufts. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the gust of wind that had brought Penelope into his life today as he watched the wind now carrying his wishes that she would stay in his life forever. It was all rather poetic, Colin thought appreciatively, before he placed the empty stem in his pocket.

Shortly after making his wish, his brothers returned to find him still sitting in the grass, a bemused smile on his face, and covered in mud. Anthony rode off to grab Colin’s horse who had wandered off to a nearby pond, while Benedict teased him mercilessly for the state of his clothing. Colin didn’t care though, because today he had met Penelope Featherington, and while he didn’t understand what precisely that meant yet, he could feel the profundity of it. He was certain that meeting Penelope Featherington that day was the greatest birthday gift he would ever receive in his whole life. 

There were twelve people in the Bridgerton drawing room that afternoon, but if anyone had happened to walk past the door, they would have thought the room was empty. The silence was palpable. Every Bridgerton and staff member lost in their own thoughts. Violet stared straight ahead, unblinking, as silent tears streamed consistently down her face. Lady Danbury sat beside her gently rubbing comforting circles on Violet’s back. Anthony gazed out the window, his face set in a mask of solemnity. Benedict sat on a chair with a sketchbook clutched in one hand and a pencil in the other, yet the page before him remained as blank as when he’d opened the book half an hour ago. Daphne sat on one end of the sofa with little Gregory asleep in her arms, her face buried in her baby brother's chestnut hair. Eloise and Francesca sat on the other end of the sofa holding tightly to each other as if the other’s arms were the only things keeping them rooted to the earth. Mrs. Wilson, John, and Andrew all stood stoically in their positions ready to jump should any of the Bridgertons need something.

Colin sat in his chair looking at the plate of food in his lap which he hadn’t touched. For the first time in his life, he had no appetite. The roiling of his mind matched the roiling of his stomach and he feared if he swallowed a single bite, it would immediately be expelled. He quietly set his full plate on the table beside him and let out a soft sigh. Colin had cried yesterday at hearing the news, and last night alone in his bedchamber, and he desperately wanted to cry now. He could feel the tears screaming to be let out, but he didn’t want to cry in front of his mother, or worse, Anthony. The silence in the room was doing nothing to help his nerves.

Other than the occasional sniffle, the room had remained silent and still for nearing an hour, and Colin couldn’t take it any longer. He stood up, causing everyone to jump at the sudden noise and movement. Every eye turned to him as he said, “I’m going for a walk.” His voice sounded croaky, from lack of use or held back emotion, Colin couldn’t guess. Anthony opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but quickly closed it again and turned back toward the window. 

As Colin was about to step out of the drawing room, Mrs. Wilson leaned down to ask, “Is there anything I can get you Mr. Bridgerton? Anything at all?” She looked at him with such sincerity, trying to mask her own grief for his sake, that Colin almost started crying again right then and there.

“No, Mrs. Wilson. I just need some fresh air, thank you.” He moved swiftly past her as he felt the emotion rising within him. When he finally made it out of the house he took several deep lungfuls of air to help calm himself. The noise and movement on the street helped a great deal as well. The silence in the house was too much to bear. Colin needed sound and forward motion. Once he had his emotions under control he looked to the left toward the park, then he looked to the right toward the center of town, then he looked toward the steps at his feet. He didn’t particularly feel like going anywhere, but he needed his feet to be moving as swiftly as his mind, so he began a steady pace back and forth in front of the steps of Bridgerton House. 

His father was gone. The truth of that fact lay heavy on his heart. Colin would never hear his laugh again. He’d never see his smile or hold his hand. He’d never feel his arms wrap around him in an embrace or smell his cologne or feel the stubble of his beard. He would never again be able to turn to his father for advice. Edmund would not be present when Colin grew from a boy into a man, nor when he began his studies at Eton. His steps faltered when he realized his father would not be there to see him married or meet his future children. The emotion was becoming unbearable, but Colin had to learn to remain strong, like his brothers were, like his father had been. He only let a single tear escape, which he quickly wiped away before resuming his pacing.

Moments later his thoughts were interrupted by a small figure in a pink dress standing directly in his path.

“Colin?” Penelope asked tentatively. He realized she must have said his name several times already, but his mind was too preoccupied to notice until her presence stopped both his physical movements and his thoughts.

“Pen? What are you doing here?” It came out more harshly than he’d meant it to. Not that Colin wasn’t pleased to see her. His best friend’s presence was always a balm to his heart and soul, but he was trying so hard to be strong and Penelope had a way of breaking down his walls. He didn’t want to have an emotional breakdown in front of the girl he loved. It would make her think less of him, and Colin couldn’t bear the thought.

She reached out her gloved hand for his and brought him over to sit on the steps. Her hand rested on his knee while she spoke and the warmth of that touch brought Colin the first true comfort he’d had in the last twenty-four hours. 

“I heard the news this morning and I’ve been watching out the window ever since. I knew it would be improper to call on the house, but I hoped I’d be able to catch you or Eloise at some point to offer my condolences and comfort. When I saw you pacing, I rushed over. Colin, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

For the first time since her appearance in front of him, he looked into her pale blue eyes. They were wet with unshed tears of her own. He saw her sympathy for him, her own sadness, and her love for him and all the Bridgertons reflected in those beautiful eyes that he loved. He knew the love she felt for him was different from the love he felt for her, but in that moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his friend was there and she loved him, but even more importantly, she’d loved Edmund. Colin knew any hope of stoicism would be lost the moment he looked into her eyes, and he was right. As soon as their eyes locked, the tears Colin had been holding in all day began to spill down his cheeks. 

Pen immediately disregarded all propriety, which was a fairly common occurrence between the two of them, and wrapped her arms around him while he sobbed. Despite her much smaller stature, he managed to curl into her as though he wasn’t already a head taller than she was. His weeping eyes and running nose were staining the shoulder of her pretty pink dress, but she didn’t seem to mind. Colin’s arms were wrapped around her waist pulling her as close to him as humanly possible, as if she was his anchor keeping him from drifting away to the throes of his grief. She pulled him closer too, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. She made soothing, nonsense sounds while he keened, her own silent tears leaving tracks on her cheeks.

Colin wasn’t sure how long they remained like that. It could have been hours for all he knew, but Penelope’s hold on him never wavered. Eventually, when the last of his tears were spent, Colin pulled away from her embrace. He wiped at his face, before an embarrassed flush crept into his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Penelope. I-I should’ve handled my emotions better. I didn’t mean to-to come undone like that. Especially not in front of you.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a telltale sign of his embarrassment. 

Penelope tilted her head and furrowed her brows in confusion as she looked at him. “Don’t apologize,” she said as she wiped her own tears away, “Grief is nothing to be ashamed of, Colin. And despite what Anthony may tell you, shedding tears does not make you any less of a man. You’re twelve years old and you just lost your father,” her voice cracked on the word “father.” “You should be breaking down. You all should. It’s completely natural.”

Her hand had found his own during her speech, and Colin stared at the pale pink gloved hand that held his own. He felt one final tear fall from the corner of his eye. Penelope lifted her hand to his face to wipe it away, and he leaned into the comfort of her touch. He opened his eyes and noticed, for the first time, the state of her dress after his episode, and winced. 

“I think I’m going to have to give your mother money for new garments, yet again, Pen.”

She looked to her shoulder and gave the smallest of chuckles.

“Well when you do, see if you can convince her to buy something in purple or blue next time. I’m so tired of looking like an overripe citrus fruit.”

Colin frowned. “Don’t say such things, Pen. You are beautiful.”

She gave him a placating smile and a pat on the hand before standing up. “It doesn’t matter,” she said dismissively. “I should be getting home. Will you be alright?” She bit her lower lip in worry, uncertain as to whether or not he should be left alone at a time like this. 

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Penelope, for your comfort. I’m very fortunate to have you as a friend.”

She reached into her reticule and pulled out a small square of fabric. “Here, take this.” She handed over a handkerchief that had been embroidered with small purple flowers along the edge. Peonies, if Colin was not mistaken.

“Did you make this, Pen?”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, your needlework is certainly better than El’s.”

She ignored his last comment, instead repeating, “I should be going. You keep that though, in case you need it in the coming days.” She gave him a small, sad smile and a final squeeze of his knee before saying, “Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all. I’ll always be here for you, Eloise, and your family.” Then she turned and headed back to her home across the street. 

Colin let out a huge sigh after she was gone. He felt much better after his breakdown. Of course, the grief still weighed on him, but letting out his emotions was a necessary step in his healing process. Penelope’s words and presence also contributed to his healing, certainly more than she probably realized.

The first time Colin had met Penelope he’d thought she looked like an angel. That was certainly true, but over the last year as she got closer to Eloise, himself, and his whole family he had discovered that she was just as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. She was unfailingly kind, alarmingly quick-witted, and decidedly charming. It seemed rather unfair to Colin that one person could be blessed with so many wonderful qualities, but he was certainly grateful that God had seen fit to place this lovely guardian angel in his path a year ago, for he felt sure that he would be utterly lost without her.

Colin was headed toward the library in the hopes of finding Penelope there. He desperately needed to speak with her before he left for Eton and this might be his last chance. He was still coming up with excuses to get rid of Eloise when he arrived, only to find he didn't need any. Penelope was alone, sitting in the window seat, and reading a book. There was another book abandoned on the settee, presumably his sister’s. Colin paused in the doorway and just smiled looking at her. That seat was Penelope's favorite place in all of Bridgerton House and quite possibly in all of the world. He couldn't count the number of times he'd seen her sitting in that very spot. The dresses, the hairstyles, and the books may have changed, but the way she sat with her feet tucked under her and the deep look of concentration on her face always remained the same. 

“And where, precisely, has your other half wandered off to?” 

Penelope gave a small start at the sound of his voice, but smiled when her eyes met his. “Your mother needed her for something or other. I wasn’t paying much attention, but I expect she’ll be back soon.”

Colin entered the room then, aware that his time alone with Penelope was short. He joined her in the window seat, his knees bumping against hers. “I'm glad to have caught you alone. There’s…um…well, there’s something I wanted to speak to you about,” he said nervously as he wrung his hands.

Penelope tilted her head, confused, before she reached out and stilled his hands. The skin on skin contact sent an electrifying current through Colin, just like it always did. It didn’t happen very often as they stayed within the confines of propriety for the most part, but in the comfort and privacy of Bridgerton House they felt more at ease with small, meaningless touches. Well, they were meaningless to Penelope, but Colin treasured each one of them as if they were precious, because to him, they were.

“What is it, Colin? Is something the matter?”

That was a difficult question to answer. He was to begin his studies at Eton in a week’s time and it would be the first time in two years that he’d spent any significant time away from Penelope. She wasn’t at Bridgerton House every day, but she did come over at least once a week for tea, and usually she was over three or four times a week. Yes, she spent most of her time with Eloise, but Colin was a close second when it came to who could claim the most time spent with her. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive without her while he was away at school which was what prompted his need to speak with her before he left.

“All is well, I promise. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Very well. I’m listening.”

“Well, you know I leave for Eton in a few days time?”

“Yes. I’m aware.”

“I’m pretty nervous,” he admitted, shyly. “Not about school, but about being away from home, and my family, and…you.” 

“I think it’s natural to be nervous with a big change such as this,” she assured him, patting his hand.

“I know, it’s just that…” he let out a deep breath, “I’m going to miss you, Pen.”

“Oh, Colin, I’ll miss you too,” she echoed, pulling him in for a hug.

Colin melted into her warmth and it gave him the courage to ask the question he'd been building up to. He reluctantly pulled out of her embrace so he could look into her eyes. “I know it is technically considered improper, but I wanted to ask if you would permit me to write to you, and if you would be willing to write to me in return.”

Penelope didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Colin. I would love to correspond with you. You can tell me all about your studies at Eton. I must admit, I’m rather jealous of the education you are about to receive.”

“Well I shall do my best to transfer as much knowledge as possible to you through our letters, and you must send me all the gossip from around the ton. Surely I can’t be expected to go on without discussing the latest fashion faux-pas or salacious slander with my favorite conspirator.”

She giggled, which was Colin’s favorite sound in the whole world. “I assure you, I will keep you abreast of all the scandals you miss out on.”

“I thank you most sincerely,” he said in mock seriousness before his face fell. “I really am going to miss you, Pen. You’re my best friend, and I haven’t spent more than a few days without seeing you since the day we first met,” he said, speaking to the hands in his lap.

She reached out and tilted his chin upwards so he was forced to meet her eyes. “I shall miss you too. It will be a challenge, certainly, for us to navigate these changes, but I’m confident our friendship can survive any hardship. You will be home for the Christmas holidays before you know it, and until then we will have our letters.”

“We will have our letters,” he repeated, giving her a soft smile. He opened his mouth to say something else, only to be interrupted by the return of Eloise barreling into the room. Penelope swiftly dropped her hand from his face and he felt the loss of her touch immediately. 

“Colin, what are you doing here?” Eloise asked, her hands on her hips.

“I was just conversing with Penelope. Do you take issue with that?”

“I take issue with you being improper with my best friend.”

Colin rolled his eyes and stood up. “She is my best friend too, El. I'm allowed to speak with her, and I would never allow anything improper to occur between us. Do you really think me so dishonorable?”

“It is improper for you to be alone with her, as you well know.” She was only a few centimeters from his face as she delivered her final message, “and a person can't have more than one best friend.”

“Enough!” Penelope stood from the window seat and walked to the pair in the middle of the room. She inserted herself between them, placed a hand on each of their chests, and pushed them away from each other, firmly, before turning towards Eloise.

“El, of course it is possible to have more than one best friend, and I am very grateful that both you and Colin are mine. And do not fret about any improper behavior from Colin. He is a gentleman and would never behave dishonorably. Besides, Colin and I do not feel that way about each other. He is like a brother to me.”

Colin's heart fell and he worked extremely hard to make sure his face didn't do the same. He knew Penelope felt this way already, of course, but that didn't mean it hurt any less to hear her confirm it out loud. 

Eloise didn't respond to Penelope’s words; merely cast a glare in Colin's direction, stomped over to the settee, sat with a “Humph,” opened her book, and pointedly ignored the two of them. She was clearly waiting for Colin to leave so she could monopolize their best friend once more.

Colin and Penelope glanced at each other and rolled their eyes before silently hiding their smirks from Eloise. “Goodbye, Pen…for now,” he said with a wink. 

She smiled and nodded in understanding before he exited the library to make his way toward his bedchamber. He closed the door behind him and let out a deep sigh before making his way over to his writing desk and pulling out his journal.

Colin had been keeping a journal for two years now. He'd asked his mother to purchase one for him shortly after he'd first met Penelope. He could feel specific details of their initial meeting starting to slip away, and Colin wouldn't allow that to happen. That was one of the most important days of his life, and he wanted to remember that moment in its entirety. So he began to journal—to document every precious moment with Penelope in a way they could never be lost. 

This was his second diary—his previous one that was filled with his memories and most intimate thoughts was nestled safely in his desk drawer beside his most prized possession: a third journal which currently remained blank. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about this specific journal, in fact it was remarkably similar to the others he owned. It was a bit more decorative and beautiful than his others, but the biggest difference was that this one was given to him by his father shortly before his death. Colin could still remember it like it was yesterday.

He was sitting at his desk writing in his diary about the events of the day. He smiled to himself as he remembered making Penelope giggle with a particularly witty plant pun when they had picniced in the garden with Eloise that afternoon. A knock on the door startled him and a few ink splotches stained his most recent entry. He hastily shoved his journal, ink, and quill into his desk drawer as he called out for the person at the door to enter.

His father entered the room with a broad grin on his face before plopping down on the end of Colin's bed. “What are you up to this evening, Colin? You didn't join us in the drawing room after dinner.”

“Oh, nothing important. I've just been reading,” said Colin, pointing to the novel on the corner of his desk. Noticing the ink stains on his fingers he hastily shoved his hands into his pockets and out of view.

Edmund cocked his head to the side and smiled knowingly at his son, a twinkle in his dark blue eyes. “Really? I'd have guessed you were in here writing in your journal.”

Colin's mouth fell open comically and his eyes widened. “What!?” he asked with a squeak.

Edmund barked out a laugh at the look on his son's face. “Did you really think I didn't know? Colin, you've been writing in that journal for over a year.”

Colin crossed his arms and jutted out his lips in a pout. “I asked Mama not to tell you.”

His father patted the empty space next to him on the bed, indicating that Colin should join him there. Deflated, he walked over to join his father. “You must know your mother and I have no secrets between us, Son. And why would you want to hide it from me in the first place?”

“Because it's embarrassing!” Colin said, burying his face in his hands.

“And why would you think that?”

“Anthony teased me about it when he saw me writing in it once. He said 'Only ladies write in diaries.'”

“Ah, I see,” said Edmund, understanding. “Unfortunately, it is a sibling's job to tease, though they should never tease about the things that are most important. Perhaps Anthony didn't realize how important your journaling was to you, just like his riding is important to him. I will speak to him about it, but you should know that writing can be for everyone, not just ladies. I kept a journal once when I was younger, you know?”

“You did!?” Colin brightened with this new information. 

“I did. After I left Eton, I did some traveling and kept a record of all my experiences. I've still got it if you'd like to read it sometime.” Edmund smiled at his son and nudged his shoulder.

“I would!” said Colin enthusiastically.

“Wonderful! I'll find it for you, but in the meantime I have a gift for you.”

“Really? But it's not my birthday.”

“No, it is not, but one does not need a special occasion to give a loved one a gift. It is important to show our loved ones that we care about them and that we are thinking about them all year round, and not just for holidays or birthdays. Remember that, Colin.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Is that why you give Mama flowers and she gives you candy and small gifts sometimes?”

Edmund’s whole face brightened at the mention of his wife. “That's exactly right! It's also why I got Anthony his new riding gloves, and Benedict his sketchbook, and it's why I got you this.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful leather bound journal in a surprising shade of blue. Colin had never seen blue leather before and knew it must be very rare and probably very expensive. The shade was remarkably similar to his and his father’s matching eyes. As he took the gift in his hands he saw the Bridgerton emblem embossed on the cover as well as gold leaf gilding on both the cover and the paper's edges.

Colin felt tears prick the corners of his eyes at not only the beauty of the gift, but the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “Thank you, Papa. It's wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like it. I'm sure you've just about filled up your current diary, so you can use this as your next one.”

Colin immediately shook his head. “No. I don't think so. This is too special to use for common everyday journaling. I'm going to save it for something else.”

“Very well,” said Edmund. He stood and said with a knowing smile, “Perhaps one day you'll use it to write about your wedding to a certain red-haired girl who frequents our drawing room and library.”

Colin's head snapped up from the journal in his lap to meet his father's eyes before he exited the room. Colin's jaw was slack and his eyes were wide. He was so caught off guard that he couldn't even form a response while his father guffawed jovially at his son’s astonished face. 

When he had finished laughing he said, “I can't wait to read whatever it is you end up writing in it, if you are willing to share it with me.” Edmund gave his son a wink before closing the door behind him.

Unfortunately Edmund passed away only a month later, so he would never get to read what his son would end up writing in that special journal. 

Colin knew exactly what he was saving it for and he very much hoped that his father had guessed its future use correctly.

Colin - 13
Penelope - 10

26th September 1807

My dearest Pen,

I have only been in Windsor for a fortnight and already I find myself dreading spending the next five years of my life here. I will admit that the changing of the leaves is much more dramatic in the countryside than it is back in London, simply because there are more trees. The effect is quite astonishing. The yellows, oranges, and reds paint the landscape in an imitation of fire to help soften the blow of the forthcoming chill. While the land surrounding Windsor Castle is picturesque and aesthetically pleasing, I find there is little to hold my attention, outside of my studies, of course.

Having spent so much of my youth in the company of my sisters, and you, of course, has made it quite difficult for me to engage with my schoolmates. I fear that I have inherited too many feminine qualities in my upbringing and therefore struggle with relating to boys my own age. I should have foreseen this issue, as I have also struggled with relating to Anthony and Benedict for most of my life. Perhaps the problem is me. It doesn’t appear that any of the other lads are straining to make friends, as I am. 

Thankfully I have my studies to occupy my time. I’m grateful to my mother for her diligence in hiring the best tutors for us as children, for I have come to school thoroughly prepared, while many of my classmates are starting already behind. My favorite subjects thus far are geography, literature, and music. I was rather pleased when my music Master complimented me on my singing voice. 

I could never say this to anyone on campus, for fear of being ostracized, but I see absolutely no reason why ladies shouldn’t be allowed to attend university. You and Eloise are certainly as intelligent as any of my male classmates, and rather more intelligent than a few of them. I sincerely hope that one day, clever young ladies, such as yourself, will be able to attend college and gain the same education as the young men. It is only a shame you cannot be here with me now, for I know your presence would improve every aspect of campus life. 

I have included some of the more lovely red and orange leaves I’ve discovered while exploring the grounds, though none of them can compare to the striking shade of your fiery hair. I hope that you are well and I’m already looking forward to your forthcoming letter.

Yours truly,
Colin

13th October 1807

Dear Colin,

It sounds to me as though you are making a great deal of assumptions based on a relatively short amount of time. A fortnight is hardly enough time to gather your bearings, let alone make new friends or find activities to participate in outside the schoolroom. I urge you to give your time at Eton a chance. I am certain that in addition to gaining a fine education, you will find new friends and make cherished memories together. 

I believe you are being entirely too hard on yourself when it comes to your character. Having grown up with sisters doesn’t intrinsically make you feminine. I certainly hope I have not inherited any of Prudence or Philippa’s less charming qualities simply because I grew up with them. The way you are saying "feminine" denotes a negative connotation and I don’t know why you would catalog it as such. I’m not certain of which specific "feminine" qualities you are alluding to, but if it is in regards to your kindness, then I can assure you that you are worrying for nothing. Kindness is not a quality inherent only in ladies, for your father was an extraordinarily kind man, and you take after him in every way.

When it comes to your classmates, I think time will be your biggest asset. You simply need a chance to gain a sense of comfort in your new surroundings, as well as in your dealings with your new schoolmates. Just give them a chance to see what a kind, clever, good-hearted, and charming person you are, and in time you won’t even need your old friend, Penelope. 

Of course your music Master complimented you! That should come as no surprise. You have a beautiful voice, Colin. I am interested to hear more about your studies, particularly on the subject of literature. You know how much I enjoy reading. In point of fact, I recently read a publication by one Mary Wollstonecraft which discusses the very topic of women being allowed an education. I found it quite insightful and inspirational. I have sent my copy along with this letter for your perusal, if you are interested. Just be grateful you aren’t around, because Eloise has not spoken of anything else since reading it. The subject has become quite tiresome to your siblings and your poor mother. 

I do wish I could join you in your studies as well, but someone must remain behind to keep Eloise out of trouble. So whilst you are gone, I shall take up the mantle in your stead.

Yours sincerely,
Penelope

Colin - 16
Penelope - 12 (nearly 13)

8th March 1810

Dear Colin,

The weather here, as of late, has been truly abysmal. I feel as though I haven’t seen the sun shining in weeks. The other day El and I were reading in the library when the rain appeared to be letting up. We quickly made our way outside to enjoy the respite which lasted a mere ten minutes before the heavens opened up again in a deluge. Despite not traveling beyond the Bridgerton House gardens, we were soaked to the bone by the time we’d made it back inside. 

Mrs. Wilson quickly found some dry clothing for us and had a maid tend to the fire in the library. We were no worse for wear, but the same could not be said for our dresses. Mama was livid when I returned home with the remains of my orange silk gown. When the garment dried it had shrunk so much that it could more easily fit one of little Hyacinth’s dolls than it could fit me. I myself wasn't all that miffed about it. The color was truly ghastly, especially when placed next to my hair.

Your dear mother had foreseen my mother’s wrath and sent a letter along with me to assure my mama that she would replace the gown. She got the most curious look on her face, one I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my mama make before. I believe she was embarrassed, and I’m still not quite sure what to make of seeing my steadfastly stoic mother displaying an emotion that was so utterly human.

I hope your studies are still going well. I enjoyed reading about the Greek Isles in your last letter so much that I picked up a book about them myself. Hopefully we’ll be able to discuss the subject at length when you return for the summer holidays. 

Before I end this missive, I wanted to wish you a belated happy birthday! Did you do any rabble-rousing with your friends on your big day? I hope so. You work so hard on your schoolwork and you deserve to have some fun, especially on your birthday. Even though you weren’t here to celebrate, I still had some cake in your honor. I have attached your birthday gift with this letter, and I apologize for its banality, but I thought it would be a good practical gift, if not a particularly exciting one.

Yours sincerely,
Penelope

31st March 1810

My dearest Pen,

Thank you so much for your thoughtful gift. The rate at which I go through quills and ink between my studies and my journaling is truly astonishing, so there is nothing at all banal about your gift. Your birthday gift however could not be shipped via post. I have written a letter to my mother who will be seeing out the execution of your gift. She will accompany you to the modiste where you can pick out any fabric in any color or style you desire, all funded by yours truly. You deserve at least one gown you don’t despise wearing, and I look forward to seeing what you’ve chosen when I’m back in Mayfair for the summer.

I did enjoy my birthday, though I don’t know if I would describe the events as rabble-rousing. My friends and I played a round of cricket that afternoon, and in the evening they snuck me some cake from the kitchens and some whisky from God only knows where. You are bound to secrecy, Pen. You cannot tell my mother about the whisky. We talked and laughed and drank, and in the morning I awoke to the most awful headache of my life. I hope your own birthday celebrations have a much happier ending.

Our weather has been fairly similar to what you have described, though with a few brief glimpses of sunshine. I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your gown, though, much like yourself, I’m curious about the expression you saw on your mother’s face. It sounds completely out of character for her. I wish I could have witnessed it. You shall have to keep me informed on whether any other glimpses of humanity make an appearance from her. 

I’m very pleased to hear that you enjoyed hearing me prattle on about my geography studies. My family has grown rather tired of me discussing it with them. I believe Eloise’s last letter said something similar to, “My dear brother, I hope your love of geography will soon extend to a love of languages, so that when you describe the Greek Isles in the country’s native tongue, I shall have a reasonable excuse not to read it.” Thankfully, I have you to discuss this with. I fear most of my family shares El’s sentiments. 

I think I should like to travel one day. I enjoy learning about these places and their cultures which are so different from our own. I think experiencing new places and ways of life sounds endlessly fascinating. What about you, Pen? Do you have any desire to travel?

Yours truly,
Colin

Colin - 18
Penelope - 15

19th May 1812

My dearest, Pen,

It's hard to believe that my time at Eton is coming to a close. It seems like only yesterday I was petrified to leave you and my family behind, but here I am five years older and wiser and I'm astonished at how much things have changed, at how much I've changed. It's funny how seasons of life shifting can make one introspective.

I'm no longer that young boy who was so attached to his home that any thought of change scared him senseless. While I am excited to return home for a while to spend some time with you and my family, I am also eager to spend some time abroad exploring corners of the world that are completely different from my own. I have discovered that I am learning to find comfort in being uncomfortable. Does that make any sense, whatsoever?

I apologize for rambling on. These are thoughts more suitable for my journal rather than my correspondence with you. Though it does provide me with the opportunity to thank you. When I arrived in Windsor I was painfully shy and kept my distance from the other lads for fear of rejection. It was your encouragement that helped me to come out of my shell, and over the course of my years here I’ve made a number of new friends as well as enjoying several extracurricular activities outside of my studies. 

Even though I’ve gotten more comfortable with things in my life changing and evolving, I have always appreciated the familiarity of your correspondence. Your letters are a little piece of home, sealed in an envelope for me to unwrap when I’m feeling most homesick. I have treasured every letter sent between us these past five years, and I hope you will continue to correspond with me during my upcoming travels. First, however, I shall return to London to spend some much overdue time with my dearest friend. Do you think Eloise will be gracious enough to share you? I look forward to seeing you soon.

Yours truly,
Colin

29th May 1812

Dear Colin,

Eloise shall have to share me. She has had me all to herself these past five years while you’ve been away, and I’m long overdue for some quality time with my other best friend. She won’t be happy about it, but do not worry. I shall handle her. I am glad to hear our correspondence has meant so much to you. I must say I have been glad it has helped us to maintain our friendship despite the distance between us these past years. And of course I will continue to write to you while you're on your travels, provided you are not so caught up in the excitement of your adventures that you forget to write to me.

Your time at Eton is not the only season coming to an end. This year’s social season is slowly coming to a close as well and there has not been nearly enough scandal for my liking. There have been a number of engagements already, but none of them were brought about by salacious circumstances, which is quite disappointing. I know how much you enjoy the more shocking stories from the ton. Luckily Mama has Lady Cowper over for tea twice a week, and the two spend hours gossiping, otherwise I would have nothing to report to you. It will be exciting when I am out in society in a couple years and can witness these events myself, instead of relying solely on eavesdropping. Regardless, I shall give you the highlights from the season, thus far, as I have overheard them.

A debutante by the name of Miss Andrews gained the Queen’s favor this season. Apparently in addition to being a rare beauty, she also has a lovely singing voice. Her engagement to Lord Edwards, the Earl of Winchmore, was just announced last week. He was one of at least a dozen suitors who courted her this season, but Lord Edwards won her hand, and if the rumors are true, her heart as well.

Lady Hawkins and her daughter were turned away from the modiste due to some outstanding debts that have yet to be paid. Apparently a large portion of the Hawkins fortune was recently lost in a bad business dealing between Lord Hawkins and a questionable solicitor. 

I have saved the best for last. Lord Cowper, Lady Cowper, and Cressida were out boating on the lake last week when a particularly aggressive swan approached their boat. Evidently the swan took offense to Cressida’s gaudy gown, or more likely her appalling personality, and began to peck at her! It became so violent with her that she tried to get away from it by backing up, but she tripped on the skirts of her gown and fell into the lake! I would pay a Queen’s ransom to have been there to witness it, but alas, the images in my mind shall have to suffice.

Very soon you shall be home and I won’t have to relay the gossip to you via post because you will be here to witness it all yourself. I am looking forward to your arrival and am already planning the many activities the three of us shall participate in when you are back.

Yours sincerely,
Penelope

The snow was falling gently on the grounds outside of Aubrey Hall. The Bridgerton family would enjoy a lovely white Christmas come morning. Colin was tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep, not due to excitement for Christmas morning like when he was a boy, but from his frayed nerves. 

Penelope was staying with the Bridgertons for the holiday while her parents and sisters were in Ireland visiting her aunt. She had asked her mother if she could spend the holiday with the Bridgertons, not expecting her to say yes, at least not without a fight. However, Lady Featherington had agreed instantly, and Penelope was still trying to figure out why.

She, Colin, and Eloise had all been discussing what scheme Portia Featherington was planning, to no avail. Colin knew Portia well enough to know that whatever her motive, it couldn't be good. That was one of the reasons he tossed and turned, the other was far less…honorable. 

Colin was no longer a boy, but a young man who was still navigating his more…primal urges and having Penelope stay with them had him on edge nearly all of the time. When he was in the same room with her he'd find himself staring at her décolletage or her lips, his member hardening before he had a chance to redirect his thoughts. 

When he wasn't in the same room as her, he pictured her. He imagined caressing that flushed décolletage with his fingertips and slipping his tongue between those full lips. He thought about her breasts more often than he liked to admit, even to himself. He wondered what they looked like, what they felt like, what they tasted like. Every day he was taking himself in hand to thoughts of Penelope. It was a wonder he had any seed left at this point, and they still had another week left at Aubrey Hall before returning to London.

Colin sighed and tossed the sheets away from himself before climbing out of bed. Maybe a late night snack or some warm milk would help set his mind at ease so he could sleep. He threw on a dressing gown, but didn't bother with a shirt. He opened his door quietly before making his way toward the kitchen as silently as possible.

A sound behind one of the closed doors caused him to pause his steps. Apparently he wasn't the only one awake this Christmas Eve. As he stepped closer to the door he heard the sounds of someone crying inside. It was only as he looked around the hallway to gather his bearings that he realized exactly who was sniffling behind this particular door.

Colin bit his lip and warred within himself about what to do. Every part of his body was urging him to rush to Penelope’s side and comfort her. However, his brain was giving him a warning. It was true that he and Penelope were much more relaxed about propriety than most, given their long friendship, but this was different. Going into Penelope's bedchamber, alone, in the middle of the night, went beyond even the loose boundaries of their decorum.

But she was crying. Penelope, the girl he loved, was upset on the other side of that door and as much as Colin fought it, he knew the battle was lost from the moment he had heard her first whimper. He knocked loudly enough so she would hear, though still soft enough to be mindful of the hour. She didn't respond immediately so Colin cracked the door open just enough to say, “Pen? May I come in?”

She hesitated a moment longer, probably going through the same thought process as he just had. “Come in,” she said softly.

He opened the door, then went to close it behind him, but thought better of it and left it open a crack. When he turned to Penelope her eyes were wide with surprise, her cheeks were wet, and she seemed to be breathing rather quickly. Her eyes dropped to his bare chest, before quickly returning to his face.

Colin blushed deeply and chided himself for not putting on a shirt underneath his dressing gown. He was fighting his own inner battle seeing Penelope in nothing but her chemise. There was so much of her ivory skin on display, and was making his brain dizzy and his member stiff. Colin became distracted cataloguing the freckles on her shoulder and startled when Penelope asked, “What is it, Colin?”

Remembering the reason he had knocked on her door in the first place, he collected himself before contemplating whether to join her on the settee or to sit further away on her bed instead. As they were already pushing the boundaries of propriety tonight he decided the bed would be the more prudent option. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said as he sat down. “I was on my way to the kitchen for a snack when I heard you crying. What's wrong, Pen? What's happened?” 

She looked toward her lap and Colin saw a letter clutched in her small hands. She held it up and said, “I’ve received a letter from my mother.”

Colin winced. They had been waiting for the more sinister aspect of Portia’s easy acceptance to show itself, and it appeared it now had in the form of a letter. “What does it say?”

Penelope let out a sigh and another tear fell down her cheek as she stared at the parchment clasped in her hands. “She has decided that I’m going to come out a year early, along with my sisters.”

Colin’s jaw dropped. He felt…conflicted. On the one hand she was clearly upset about this fact and he would need to get to the bottom of why she was unhappy about this news. On the other hand, Colin’s own heart leapt. He had known that he was in love with Penelope since he was eleven years old, and he’d known he was going to marry her since he was thirteen. If she was coming out this year that meant he’d get to court her a year earlier than he’d planned. He’d get to marry her within the year! Assuming she said yes to his proposal, of course.

“That’s rather…unexpected, but why has it got you so upset?” 

“Colin! I’m only five and ten. I'll barely be six and ten when the season begins. I’m too young! I’m not ready to be married.” Colin’s heart sank. “I’m…scared and-and…conflicted. I certainly don’t want to be married this season, but I’m also nervous about how I will be perceived. I know I don’t look like the other debutantes, and my mother refuses to dress me in anything remotely appropriate for my skin tone. I’m afraid I will become the laughingstock of the ton. I’m just…not ready for this.” She dropped her face into her hands and began to weep again.

There was nothing for it. Colin couldn't bear to see her so distressed, so he stood and went to join her on the settee. He placed his palm on her back and began to move it in comforting circles in an attempt to soothe her. “Oh Pen, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized how worried you’ve been about coming out.”

“I thought I still had a year to prepare myself. I just did not see this coming.”

“Did she say why she’s having you come out early?”

“She wants to have all three of us come out together. She didn’t really mention why, but if I had to guess, I think she’s trying to get rid of us as quickly as possible, or maybe just me. She likes Prudence and Philippa.”

Colin’s frown deepened. “I wish I could understand her reasoning.”

“As do I,” Penelope chuckled, but there was no real humor behind it. 

Colin was at a loss. He wanted to do something, say something, to ease her mind, but he wasn't sure that he could help soothe her anxieties. “Pen, I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do or something I could say to ease your worries, but I'm afraid I'm out of my depth here.” He reached out and clasped her small hands within his large ones. 

“What I can say with absolute certainty is that you could never be a laughingstock. You are much too brave, kind, clever, and wonderful to ever be considered a joke. And I know you worry about your appearance, but despite the gowns you so despise, you are as lovely as a flower in bloom, and I'm sure by next season, when you are truly ready for the marriage mart, you will have become even more beautiful than you are now.”

A blush crept into Penelope's cheeks turning them the most gorgeous shade of pink. Colin leaned in conspiratorially. “And don't tell your mother, because I'd much prefer you to wear something you are comfortable in, but I rather like your dresses," he said with a shrug, and this time she let out a genuine giggle. 

Colin exhaled in relief, grateful he was able to make her smile and laugh again. She let out a deep sigh, then leaned her head against his shoulder. His arms lifted automatically to embrace her and pull her closer toward his racing heart.

“Thank you, Colin. You have always been so sweet to me and I'm ever so grateful for your comfort.”

“All will be well, Pen, I promise you. Now you must make me a promise in return.”

“And what would that be?”

“You must promise that you will save the first dance of the season for me.”

She beamed at him. “I promise.”

“It's late. We should both be getting to bed.” He glanced toward the clock on top of the mantle. When he noted the time, he smiled and did something he definitely should not have done. He lifted Penelope's hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss against her bare, gloveless fingers before saying, “Happy Christmas, Pen.”

Just as he made his exit he heard her whisper, “Happy Christmas, Colin.”