Chapter Text
“And you, Bridgerton?” Fife enquired.
“And me … what?” Colin asked. He could admit he was not paying attention. The worst part of attending balls was interacting with the other so-called gentlemen of the ton.
Their conversation bored him. All they ever wished to discuss was gambling, terrible business decisions and disrespecting women. If he were not indebted to Mondrich for tipping him off about Jack Featherington, he would beg off this conversation, perhaps find Penelope again and request a second dance of the evening. Instead, he forced himself to participate if only to invite these men to Mondrich's new club to help boost patronage.
Thinking back over the course of the season, he felt something within him shift when thinking of his dearest friend, Penelope. Even thinking her name gave a tingling feeling in his stomach. He sought her out at every event in the ton, wanting only to hear her opinions, her wit, her angelic laugh and entice that adorable pink tinge of a blush on her apple cheeks when he said something complimentary.
She was no ordinary woman. Although he had sworn off women after the disgrace of the previous season, he could never swear off her. A sentiment he shared with her at Lady Danbury's soirée for the young Miss Sharma, although she did not seem too pleased about that which confused him as he watched her make her quick exit.
“Ah, come now. We all saw your dance with the youngest Featherington. She is not exactly my cup of tea, but I can appreciate her … assets, as it were.” Wilding laughed.
“Now, those I would happily appreciate up close.” Stanton mimicked squeezing a pair of large breasts in his hands, causing the other gentleman to guffaw.
Colin found him disgusting. How he had the gall to speak of his dearest friend in such a fashion infuriated him, but he did not dare to call him out on his behaviour for fear of ridicule. Penelope was not some object for these men to leer over. She was a good girl. His good girl, he thought with a swooping sensation in his lower abdomen.
“So come now, Bridgerton. Are you ‘courting’ the girl?” Fife asked with a wiggle in his brow. He knew the real question. Have you taken liberties?
“Penelope Featherington?” He chuckled uncomfortably. “Are you mad?”
He could not allow this group of gentlemen to suspect his friendship with Penelope was anything further than it was. Although he could confess after the dance they just shared, where she called him astonishing for saving her and her family from her awful cousin, he knew for definite he was feeling more than mere friendship for her. But he did not want Fife and his band of bumbling idiots to think she was an easy skirt.
“I would never dream of ‘courting’ Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife.”
“Oh.”
Colin whipped around, eyes wide.
“Pen!”
He watched as she stood her ground, hands shaking. The sudden realisation that she must have heard what he had said made him reel with guilt and worry.
“Oh, Pen … I…”
“When have I ever asked you to court me, Colin?” She snapped. Never has he felt the brunt of her ire before. He felt his back straighten and his cheeks burn.
“Pen … I am … I apologise for causing offence …”
“Offence?” She scoffed. “Oh, no. Not at all, Mr Bridgerton. Why should I be offended? I would never dream of courting you, either.”
“Pen …” he whispered, dejectedly.
“You were simply stating a fact.”
“Pen, listen …”
“Lord Fife,” she barked, causing the rest of the men in the group to snap their heads in his direction.
“Erm .. yes, Miss Featherington?” Lord Fife cringed, reluctant to be a part of this awkward dressing down.
“I’m sure you would not take offence if I were to say I would never court you, would you?” Although her tone was sweet, her eyes were full of venom.
“Erm … I … no, Miss Featherington, I would not be offended.” Fidgeting with his glass of brandy, he risked a look at Stanton and Wilding, who both stood as bewildered at the situation in front of them as he was.
“Exactly. So why should I be offended by your statement, Mr Bridgerton? The sky is blue, and Colin Bridgerton would never court Penelope Featherington.”
“Wait a minute, Pen, that’s not what I meant …”
“What I am confused about, however,” she interrupted, holding her hand in the air to stop his excuses, “is the fact that I believed we were friends. Not a quarter of an hour has passed since our dance, during which you confessed that you would always protect me as I am special to you.”
“You are …” he whinged like a hurt puppy.
“Yet you have already diminished my reputation in front of multiple eligible gentlemen for what, a prime laugh?”
“No, I did not mean …”
“So, which is it? Am I your friend? Or am I just a joke for your amusement?”
Colin stood red-faced, ashamed of himself. Why had he worded his retort so carelessly? He couldn’t find the words to explain what he had truly meant by that comment. He heard Stanton and Wilding chuckling uncomfortably behind him, yet he remained silent.
“Oh,” she faltered, blinking rapidly. “I see.”
“No, wait, Pen …” he panicked.
“Good luck on your tour, Mr Bridgerton.” With a stiff curtsy, she turned her back to him and walked away from the group with her head held high. Do not cry, she begged herself. Do not give them the satisfaction.
“Pen, wait!” Her footsteps hurried as she exited the ballroom in her attempt to find refuge.
“Penelope!” Colin cried, causing multiple attendees to turn and watch the spectacle as he gave chase.
Fife, Wilding and Stanton stood rigid as they watched Bridgerton run towards the hallway she had exited from before they all turned to look perplexed at each other.
“Well,” Fife began, swirling his glass in hand, “I always thought she was a meek little thing, but after that display …”
“She is rather spirited, is she not?” Wilding marvelled.
“It’s no wonder Bridgerton has a thing for her,” Cho stated, joining the group of gentlemen.
“Eh? But he just said he’d never court her?” Stanton furrowed his brow. Cho chuckled, sipping at his loosely held drink.
“The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks,” he retorted, taking another sip.
“She is quite the firecracker. I like that in a woman,” Fife smirked, turning his head to where Penelope was last seen. The men laughed.
“But, did you not hear, Fife? The lady just stated she would never court you!” Wilding laughed.
“Perhaps the lady doth protest too much, too?” Fife shrugged, earning a hard laugh from the men.
“Not when it comes to you, Fife.”
Just get to your room, just get to your room, Penelope chanted in her head like a mantra.
“Penelope! Please, wait!” Colin cried, running after her down the hall. “I can explain, it’s not what you think!”
She turned sharply at the last corner, her bedroom door now in sight. She went to fling it open and slam it shut behind her when she stopped in her tracks, noticing the door was already partially open.
Cautiously opening the door, she gasped. Her room was in disarray, papers of Whistledown scattered across the floor, with Eloise standing pale in the middle of the chaos, panting heavily as if she had just run a great distance.
“El .. Eloise…”
“Tell me it isn’t true,” Eloise demanded. “Tell me I am mistaken, Penelope.”
Penelope stared at her, unable to speak.
“Tell me!” Eloise screamed, throwing the copy of Whistledown in her hand across the room. Penelope flinched, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I …”
“Penelope, please listen to… ” Colin asked from behind her, pushing his way into the room. He paused, taking in the scene around him. “What is going on here? Eloise?”
“Tell him.” She commanded.
“El…”
“No, better yet, I will.” Breathing deeply, she continued. “It seems, brother of mine, that our friend - if one could call her that - is actually…”
“Eloise, please …” Penelope pleaded, her tears running hot and fast down her cheeks.
“...Lady Whistledown herself.”
Colin paled.
“What did you just say?” He whispered, shaking his head. “No. No, she … she can’t be.”
He turned to stare at Penelope, her eyes squeezed closed and face wet. He knew it was the truth the moment Eloise said it. He thought back to their years of friendship, their years of letters exchanged from his time at Eton to his previous tour. He struggled with the idea that his lovely, perfect Penelope could possibly be one in the same as that fear-monger Whilstedown.
“You can’t be her.”
“Oh, but she is," Eloise confirmed. "She has lied to us, probably laughed at us behind our backs. Cressida was correct, you are an insipid wallflower, indeed.”
“Eloise!” Colin chided as Penelope gasped.
“Insipid?!” She yelled, her face burning with rage. Damn these Bridgertons!
“How dare you? You speak of change you want to see, of women being liberated, writing and being published authors in their own merit, but you did nothing, Eloise! I did!” Eloise huffed, barking an offended laugh.
“Oh, and what a marvellous use of your time, Penelope”, she sarcastically said, “writing gossip, judging society as if you are a jury and executioner.”
“You are just jealous!” Penelope snapped.
“Jealous?! Ha! Of what? Of you?!” She scoffed.
“You hate the fact that your little friend who follows you around actually did something with her life instead of sitting and moaning about the cards she was dealt. You hate that I did something without you, that I am not just an audience member to your life, but actually have one of my own!”
“You were never my friend. You sold our secrets like they were nothing, like they affected nothing. You ruined Daphne, you ruined Colin, … You ruined me!”
“Yet you are all still standing!” Penelope stormed across the room, eying Eloise with fury. “None of you have been shunned by society! If you have forgotten, I saved Daphne from marrying Berbrooke, and she is now married to the man she loves. And as for you, you and your family are safe from the Queen thanks to my article!”
“Oh, did you want me to thank you? For lying to me? For watching me for the past two years worship Whistledown whilst knowing that you are her?”
“I had to do something! The Queen threatened you! She threatened the whole Bridgerton Family if you did not confess! I love all of you too much to allow that to happen. I have time and time again thrown over my own family for yours, because all I’ve ever wanted was to protect you. I did not write of what truly happened, Eloise, nor would I! I wrote enough so the Queen would realise you were not Whistledown and not demand satisfaction!”
“I would not have been accused by the Queen if you had never started Whistledown in the first place! I lost everything, Penelope! I have lost my freedom! I have lost Theo! Everything is your fault!”
“I told you, begged you, not to go chasing after Whistledown! I told you how dangerous it was to go to the printers, to socialise with that boy! You did nothing to protect yourself, Eloise! No disguise, you did not hide in the shadows! You went in broad daylight, dressed in your Sunday best! It is no wonder you were caught so easily! My goodness, it was a miracle you were not hurt or … or … mugged!”
“Oh, you are so dramatic! I was fine!”
“But you were not, Eloise! If you were fine, you would not have been caught! And as for that boy …”
“Do not dare speak of Theo! It was not your decision to make to end my relationship with him! You knew how I felt!”
The girls stood face to face, glaring at each other, refusing to be the first to look away.
“And of Marina?” Colin questioned quietly, making Penelope's face fall. “Why did you ruin her?” She huffed, throwing a glare at him over her shoulder.
“It’s always about Marina with you, isn’t it?” She sniped. “You did not know her, Colin. You did not know how she spoke of you.”
“She was scared …” he defended.
“She was conniving!” She snapped, throwing her arms out in exaggeration. “She called you a fool! A gullible, naive man who was easy to control! Did you know, she targeted you?”
“I don’t believe she targeted me…”
“She wanted your family name! Your money; connections. She and my sisters laughed at the idea that her bastard child could possibly be the next heir to the Bridgerton Viscountcy if Anthony or Benedict chose not to marry!” Colin shook his head vehemently.
“I told her you were smart. That you were good with numbers and how, even if you weren’t, you were still able to count! That when a baby was born perfectly healthy, as if they were carried to full term, only five months into your marriage, that you would know you had been duped. And do you know what she said to me?”
Colin stared at her, unblinking.
“She told me that I was ridiculous for defending you. That I was insignificant to you. That all I ever would be to you was Eloise’s little friend. That you had personally told her that you felt sorry for me, and how you and your brothers referred to me as ‘Pathetic Penelope’.”
“I have never…!” he protested.
“I did not believe her, not until tonight.” She delivered her final statement with a blow.
“Penelope …” he hung his head in shame. Penelope breathed hard through her nose.
“Did you enjoy mocking me?” Eloise seethed. Penelope turned back to her friend and sighed sadly.
“I have never mocked you, Eloise. You are my dearest friend…”
“Liar!” Eloise roared, smacking Penelope across the face.
The room stood deafeningly silent. Penelope stared unseeing at the ground. Eloise cupped her mouth, eyes wide at the realisation of what she had just done.
"Eloise!" Colin gasped.
“Pen…” She whispered, barely audible.
“Get out.” Penelope fumed, clenching and unclenching her hands, still staring at the ground. “Both of you. Get out of my room. Get out of my home. GET OUT OF MY LIFE!” Eloise jumped, rushing towards the door with tears building behind her eyes.
“Penelope, please!" Colin begged. "Let us talk about this.”
“OUT!” She cried, pushing Colin toward the door. When he did not budge, she smacked his chest repeatedly.
“Please!” Her tears were hot on her cheeks, as were Colin’s on his.
“Leave!”
“Col, come on.” Eloise sniffed.
“Shut up, Eloise! No!" he growled, turning to face her. "I won’t leave her like this.”
“Who cares about her?” Eloise said, casting one more sad look in Penelope's direction. “I don’t. She is nothing to me.”
With Colin's back turned from her, Penelope pushed him out of the door with all her might and slammed it shut. Quickly turning the lock, she slid down the door, allowing her emotions to consume her.
“Pen!” Colin pounded on the door with desperation. “Please, open up! Pen!” He could hear her trying to muffle her wails into her hands behind the door. “Pen!”
“Mr Bridgerton! What on earth are you doing thumping on my daughter’s door?!” Portia Featherington commanded, rounding the corner with Violet Bridgerton in tow. “This is the second time this evening you have been found alone with her! Have you taken …”
“Colin has been with me the entire time!” Eloise interjected.
“Oh. Miss Bridgerton,” Portia deflated. “I did not see you there.”
“Colin, you should not be in the Featheringtons' family quarters,” Violet chastised him. “I am aware you and Penelope are friends; however, society rules…”
“She is not either of our friends, Mama. I would never be friends with that … horrible, beastly person.”
“Eloise!” Violet and Colin gasped in unison.
“And what, pray tell Miss Bridgerton, is that supposed to mean?!” Portia snapped with her hands on her hips, glowering at Eloise.
“Ask her!” She retorted, pointing at Penelope's door. Porita shook her head in disapproval.
“You know, I have allowed my daughter to continue her ridiculously unbalanced friendship with you for years despite the fact you have treated her more as a pet than a friend, …”
“How dare…” Eliose began.
“Portia, that is not …” Violet attempted to reason.
“... you have always belittled her, spoken over her, acted as if your opinions were hers also. I can see it plain as day every time she is around you, how dull she makes herself, so you look brighter. It is, in fact, you, Miss Bridgerton, who is horrible and beastly!” Eloise's mouth fell open, insulted. "You care not for my daughter and her welfare, only for someone to be beneath you to bask in your pigheaded ego!"
“And you, Mister Bridgerton!” Portia whirled to his direction, pointing a finger at him. Colin stood with shocked, wet eyes. “I don’t know what you said of my daughter to that group of unruly gentlemen, but causing the scene you just did, in my own home at that, was beyond the pale.”
“I know, Lady Featherington, and I …”
“I do not want to hear your empty apologies.” She cut him short. “Lady Bridgerton, please see to it that your children are removed from my sight this instant. And if it were not clear, none of you are welcome in my home any longer.”
“Portia, if I can interject,” Violet began, “I am unsure as to what has occurred this evening, but I can feel tensions are high. Let us reassess tomorrow, if you please …”
“Oh, I will tell you what has occurred.” Eloise snipped. Colin pinched her arm, hard.
“Don’t you dare…” Colin warned, but Eloise just pulled her arm away in defiance and continued anyway.
“Your daughter? The one you say isn’t a horrible person? She is Lady Whistledown.”
Violet gasped, clutching her hand to her chest. Portia continued to stare down at Eloise as Eloise smirked triumphantly at her. She cast a quick look towards Colin to see his face of devastation and anger toward his younger sister, confirming that Eloise was indeed being honest. She turned her gaze towards her daughter's door, believing she heard a gasp of agony and panicked pacing. With a stony face, she turned back to Eloise, her decision made.
“I know.” Eloise’s face fell.
“You … what?” She stammered.
“I said, ‘I know.’ What, do you believe I would not know or support my daughter?” She scoffed. “Now that you are aware of my daughters'… endeavours, I will inform you that if you dare utter this to another soul, I shall ensure your previous brush with scandal will be nothing compared to what I will do to you.”
“Now, get out. All of you.”
“Eloise, Colin, come away now,” Violet commanded, holding her arm out for them to follow. “Portia, I will call on you tomorrow to discuss this matter further.”
“No need, Lady Bridgerton," Portia waved with a disinterested hand. "I have made my stance quite clear. Your family will leave my daughter alone. All of you.” Violet spun back to look at Portia with a disgruntled look.
“Portia, Penelope is like a daughter to me…” Violet hesitated.
“But she is my daughter.” Portia snapped. “And it is in her best interest to be left alone by you … Bridgertons’.”
“Lady Featherington, please. I need to speak to her, I can’t,” Colin gasped, “I can’t live without her.”
Mrs Varley walked along the hallway to see the commotion outside the young Misses' bedroom. She and Portia shared a look over the Bridgetons' shoulders, signalling for her to have the family removed. Nodding once, Mrs Varley retreated to inform Briarly of the now intruders.
“Well then, Mister Bridgerton, I guess it’s time for you to learn how. Out. Now.”
“Please …” Colin begged quietly, “I just need to speak with her.”
“No,” Portia said with finality.
“Mr Briarly,” she spoke, causing the three Bridgertons to turn to see the family butler standing menacingly behind them with Mrs Varley in tow. “Please see to it that the Bridgertons find their way out of the house.”
“Ma’am.” He nodded, ushering the guests out of the hallway.
“Colin. Come, now!” Violet commanded. “Try another day.”
With a defeated sigh, he pressed his hand and forehead to Penelope’s door. “Pen…” he whispered, “I am so sorry. I promise, what you heard was out of context. I will call on you tomorrow.”
With one last tap on the door with his palm, he turned and followed his mother and sister.
“I’ll ensure they do not return, ma’am.” Mrs Varley confirmed, following the others out of the hall.
Portia ran her hands down her face and let out the loud breath she was holding. How this day turned so catastrophic is beyond her.
“Mama?” Penelope whispered, peeking out from behind the door.
Removing her hands, she took in the sorry state her youngest daughter was in. Her makeup smeared, her hair messy, and her dress crinkled. She had not seen her daughter look so small since she was a young girl.
“Oh, my girl, what have you gotten yourself into?” She sighed heavily, crossing over to Penelope. Penelope opened her door wider, allowing her mother entrance to her room, and fell into her arms, openly bawling into her shoulder like a child.
“Mama!” She gasped, breathing becoming difficult.
“There, there. It’s alright, you’re alright. I have you.”
“Mama .. I … I am so …sorry!”
“Shush, shush,” Portia whispered. “There will be none of that. We will speak about it in length when you have calmed.”
“Did … did you know? Really?” Penelope asked between staggered breaths. Portia scoffed.
“Of course not, but I was not going to admit that to that smug little scab.”
“Mama!” Penelope huffed a laugh through tears, “You are diabolical!”
“Say you, Lady Whistledown?” She chided, pulling back from their embrace with a pointed look at her daughter. Penelope's face fell.
“Are .. are you disappointed in me?” She asked quietly, eyes staring blankly at the ground. She toyed with her fingers and continued, “I know I am not the daughter you wished me to be, I am just a pathetic girl who brings nothing but embarrassment to the Featherington name, but …”
“Penelope!”
“... “
Portia sighed, pulling Penelope into another embrace, tucking her under her chin whilst she sobbed even harder.
“What a mess we are in, hm?”