Chapter Text
Benedict Bridgerton did not expect to see a ghost from the past at the Featherington’s doorstep.
It had been three years since the broken engagement between the third Bridgerton brother and Penelope Featherington, but much had happened since. Colin had immediately left the country on another one of his grand tours following the scandal, and returned a year later with an Italian wife in tow. They left shortly to travel again, but came back when they learnt Maria was with child. George Bridgerton was a handsome child with chestnut curls, emerald eyes, and sun-kissed olive skin, and was the perfect combination of his mother and father. Nevertheless, the happiness of the brusque marriage sizzled out just as fast, with Maria returning to Italy by herself after years of terrible rows. George was Colin’s responsibility now, but had the support of Violet and the rest of the Bridgertons.
Benedict had gone on to fall in love with a lady in silver at the Bridgerton Masquerade ball, never to find her again. A search would have been possible if there had been the aid of a certain Lady Whistledown, but the column had bid a hasty farewell at the end of the season in 1815, never to return.
Francesca had managed to soothe the injury of Colin’s broken engagement with her quiet marriage to John Sterling, Earl of Kilmartin. The relief did not last long, for alas, a year after their marriage John had passed in his sleep, leaving Fran a widow. Following a miscarriage and a tumultuous season courting, Francesca remarried John’s cousin Michael, the new Earl.
Eloise had formed a tight friendship with Cressida Cowper, which sizzled out just as fast. Cressida managed to marry Lord Twombley, a slightly older gentleman in desperate need of company and an heir. With the lack of a companion for the season, Eloise had no choice but to alternate her time with the family at No.5, Aubrey hall or in Scotland with Fran.
The rest of his family remained scattered in Mayfair or at No.5.
Therefore, the reappearance of Penelope Featherington after all these years, certainly gave Benedict a surprise.
“Miss Featherington!” He greeted, hoping his expression was friendly.
“Mr. Bridgerton.” She replied with a smile.
As she turned towards him, Benedict was taken back by the change she had undergone during these years. Her auburn hair was in a long braid cascading over her shoulder with errant escaped curls framing her face. She was dressed in an airy blue day dress, giving her a relaxed appearance. Her overall look made her look like a woodland nymph from a fairy tale, making his fingers itch for a brush to immortalize her appearance. The transformation from the childish little friend of Eloise, in violently citrus dresses and tight curls, to the relaxed embodiment of a woman, was striking.
“You look well Miss. Featherington,” he started. “Where have you been all this time? I certainly missed dancing with you at balls.”
“We’ve been at Cornwall, with my Aunt Petunia,” she gave a little sigh and continued. “After what happened I didn’t want to be in Mayfair, and begged mama to leave. She finally relented, since Prudence and Philippa are already married, and it’s just me and her. Aunt Petunia was glad for some company.”
“I’m sorry for what happened with Colin.” Benedict winced, regretting bringing him up immediately. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
“It’s fine Mr. Bridgerton. A long time has passed since then. I think we have all moved on,” Penelope replied looking down and twisted a ring on her finger. Benedict noticed she didn’t seem that upset, and was relieved not to have brought up unpleasant memories.
“As for what brought us back,” she started again. “Lady Danbury sent me a strongly worded invite declaring my presence as compulsory at her ball.” With a little laugh, she tucked a curl behind her ear. “She’s a formidable lady, that one. Sometimes I wonder if she really is the queen, using Queen Charlotte as a guise.”
“ I would believe that,” Benedict laughed. “She always makes me look twice over my shoulder at balls. It seems this season won’t be an exception.”
“Well Mr.Bridgerton,” Penelope said looking distractedly over her shoulder. “I have some errands to run in preparation for the ball tonight. I shall see you then?”
“Ofcourse,” he waved his hand. “I’ll let you get to your work. I bid you a good evening.”
“Until we meet again, Mr.Bridgerton,” she replied, starting off to the markets.
Benedict walked back to No.5 and promptly forgot the whole interaction. Until he saw her again at Lady Danbury’s ball that night.