Chapter Text
And he gave more. In fact, he gave so much, over and over again, that he had long forgotten where he ended and she began. Everything Colin Bridgerton knew of passion and revelry was seldom present in this moment. Their kisses were clumsy - quite reminiscent of two children exploring the woods, for example - yet the intention did not wane. Their lips were joined wholly, due to the efforts of both participants. Penelope was hoisted up on the window`s sill, with his help. Her feet, one missing a slipper, were not touching the floor. Instead, they were supported by the back of Colin`s thighs, as he stood between her legs, knees bent and hands never leaving her waist.
In these few moments, she had been given the most succinct of lessons on the art of kissing. Still, she reckoned, I must be doing something right. The man in front of her was unraveling much like she was. The room had been filled with heavy breathing, occasional moaning and several pats against the window. As it turns out, one does not have to possess experience in order to enjoy a person. Especially if a person one is enjoying in the utmost measure is Colin Bridgerton. The same man she had always loved. He was holding all of her, squeezing the flesh around her hips. As if he needed grounding. The yelp she let out was tinged with utmost pleasure, as her shape all but pressed itself into his being. He was molded just for her, she decided.
“Pen, oh Penelope…”
“Colin- Ach!” Unfortunately, their ministrations had to be cut short hastily, since Penelope had hit her head against the wall. Not particularly hard, but enough to worry Colin. His hand flew to her head, smoothing her hair, which had now turned into a right mess.
“My Pen, are you quite alright?” Colin had paid no attention to the weight of those words, helping her down. She had not uttered a word. He was shaking with the might of a thousand suns after their shared transformative experience, and the woman he had known his whole life, could not partake in this change. Instead, after recovering that stray slipper, she let out a sigh and…left. Left him all alone with the remnants of utter ecstasy decidedly in the air.
Penelope rushed down corridors, past people whose secrets she used to soak up like wine did with white linen. She wished she could single out a feeling of freedom. Or frustration perhaps. The spectrum simply kept multiplying and changing shape entirely. She was elated. And she was petrified.
…
“And that one?” Queen Charlotte inquired, pointing down from her seat towards a disheveled Penelope Featherington. Her gloved finger felt like an accusation. Lady`s demeanor seemed disturbed in a way she recognized well. From her miniature, one would have come to the conclusion that this youngish wallflower cared about her appearance. Despite constant rejections. Hence, her disheveled appearance and curt disposition invited interest.
“Yes, that is Penelope Featherington, Your Majesty. Looking quite…unwell, if I may add.” Brimsley answered quizzically, stretching out his neck. Alas, the person in question had entirely disappeared.
“That is not the descriptor I would use for her state.” Because the Queen herself recognized it as the aftermath of some heated exchange. And not of the vexing kind. Very interesting.
“What about our Lord Debling? I did admit he was rather a bore, but-“ and in the middle of her question, Queen Charlotte spotted Colin Bridgerton. Appearing disheveled, perhaps drunk, he kept looking behind, no doubt heading to call on a carriage. The Queen had started putting the pieces together rapidly, coming to an obvious conclusion that should have not been so perilous to come to. A rapid smirk graced Her Majesty`s features, and she turned her head slightly, signaling to Brimsley he should approach at once.
“Brimsley, I would like you to have a talk with that family.”
“The Bridgertons, Your Majesty?” The man asked, somewhat confused by the goal the Queen had in mind at present.
“Exactly.” Yet, Her Majesty was not to talk to the Bridgertons directly. And, given a certain prudence with which she was wielding this intention, it became quite clear to Brimsley that it was he who would be speaking to them. After all, one should never discount a servant in the house of lords.
“Shall I give them a direct cut, Your Majesty?” Both figures exchanged a pointed look between them, hinting at a matter an average subject would not be privy to. And the rest of the festivities continued forth, with Bridgerton siblings in attendance having a grand time, with Colin`s absence long forgotten.
…
A fortnight. It has been a full fortnight. And this man has not stopped throwing pebbles at her window. Colin Bridgerton has been keeping all of Penelope Featherington`s staff awake for the simple pleasure of disturbing her sleep. Just hers, specifically. It felt as appropriate to him, as it was inappropriate to others, that he shall get revenge on the maiden who has been tormenting him so. Though his form of torture proved rather tedious if anything. Whilst hers had been all-encompassing, anguishing and most delectable. He needed more of her. Her essence, plush skin, the drag of her nails, and small hands across his face… Gods, he wanted anything she would be willing to give. He was terrified of the being borne out of the chaste tryst they shared. He expected change, in more ways than one he wished for it - wished to be free of this constant speculation, of what he should and should not adhere to - yet, this degree of complete madness was entirely out of his grasp. This action of his was desperation personified.
Penelope knew Colin to be quite a rambunctious urchin, but a respectable young man out of Eton. He only ever committed these jests when they were so very young. She shifted her weight from one hip to another, putting her hand under her head. Fooling herself, perhaps. There was no sleep to come. She experienced this before. A long time ago, there was a particular day in October when she had been particularly slighted. By her audacious mama and sisters. Colin was there too. A sight escaped her lips as she took heed and fell down memory lane. Meanwhile, the thumping of weakly thrown rocks showed no signs of stopping.
…
“Was it not Black Monday today, Colin?” a plump girl, head full of auburn curls, the unruly bunch, shouted from the balcony of the Featherington Estate. Her father, Baron Featherington, sat quite uninterested in the corner, reading one of his numerous pamphlets. He had been as stern as ever, save for fewer wrinkles and an oddly satisfying glow in his eyes. The man spared one glance to his third daughter, clicking his tongue.
“Penelope. Children are to be seen, not heard.” Her little feet planted themselves onto the floor at once, every glimmer of excitement dying down just as swiftly. Penelope abhorred displeasing her papa, even more so than her mama, who had just gotten done with new objections regarding her disposition. At least papa paid no mind to her. That lack of care proved comforting to her, if nothing else. After all, she only craved the attention of one bright-eyed boy. A boy who was growing exponentially, making their difference in age all the more obvious. Colin has, by this point, been drawing his first year at Eton to a close. Still lost as ever, he stood there, at the side of the pavement, eyes trained on that same balcony.
“No, Pen, it is this coming sennight, I reckon. Please do step away from the railing, for God`s sake.” Colin was not fond of Penelope`s mother or her father, for that matter. They took well enough care of their children financially, but any more support was a mere fantasy. He, at times, thought Penelope in particular, could have been downright mistreated, yet he had no solid evidence to pursue that claim in earnest. And with how lively she always appeared to him, all giggles and jests, those doubts dispersed over time. They would only resurface from time to time. Penelope deserved a great life, indeed.
“Halt! I am coming to you!” she screamed at the top of her small lungs, gathering her skirts, which had already been raised for she was not to debut any time soon, and unceremoniously toppled down the stairs. Penelope had always been full of life. She appeared not a moment later, with two maids following suit. Her petite frame proved a hindrance.
She wished to get to Colin quickly. Just a few steps now.
“Penelope Featherington! Why are you scampering about?” Her mama. Portia Featherington had never been the homely, warm presence in the same manner Violet had been for Colin. She demanded authority instead, only standing there, hands on her hips. At that age, even Colin had been humbled by seeming ubiquity. Thus, both he and his excited friend stopped in their tracks.
“Well? Go in, child. Whatever got you so near hysterical in the first place? Oh, Mr Bridgerton!” He knew Portia had already noticed him beforehand, yet she was just now acknowledging his existence.
“Lady Featherington.” He nodded curtly and turned around, heading for his family`s residence. Before that, however, he tapped a finger to his mouth, signaling to Penelope that she should pay attention.
Tonight
Penelope was well aware of what that implication carried. She shall see Colin tonight. Tonight. Tonight seemed so far away. So within her grasp all the same.
During this time, Penelope was becoming acutely mindful of her attachment to Colin and by extension, the Bridgertons. Whenever she would visit, giving respite to Eloise and Francesca, Lady Violet would never let her go starved or parched. Both Edmund and her would, at times, pay utmost attention to Penelope`s storytelling, infantile as it might have appeared to them. It gifted more support than they could have ever deduced. This made her conflicting feelings regarding her family all the more discernible. She wanted warm nights by the fire surrounded by the deafening laughter of her siblings. Of people. In Colin, she had a piece of that. Thus, by the time the clock hands sounded off in the night, and the first taps of pebbles greeted the glass of her windows, Penelope had been awake. She could not wait.
And, as she had all but perfected her walking tactic by that time, something she would employ for years past this, Penelope had no hindrances in reaching her friend in the gardens of the Featherington estate. He was standing by a rose shrub, shifting weight from one foot to another. It seemed a particular aspect of the moon had quite taken his interest. That was remedied instantly, for her presence was recognized at once.
“Pen!” Both fell into a quick embrace, something they paid no mind to. Physical touch formed part of their relationship, end of. Penelope loved being enveloped by his scent. And Colin found it amusing how squishy and blushed she was each time she came into his view.
Penelope could breathe again. She found her freedom in this boy numerous times, and tonight had been no different. Their small figures, epitomized by the same moonlight, animatedly moved about. Though their voices were hushed in fear of imminent discovery, both children understood each other perfectly. After exhausting nearly every topic - from Penelope`s obsession with great, albeit forbidden love stories and Colin`s rather lengthy odyssey of pirates and adventures again - a certain comfortable silence befell them. Penelope was twiddling her small fingers and Colin found it endearing how she would create patterns. In turn, Penelope would notice how his hair, once again overgrown, stuck to his forehead. He was looking up at the moon.
“I am not doing your head in, am I?” Colin asked after a few moments, plastering on a smile Penelope could immediately deduce was entirely fake.
“What are you referring to?” she retorted, confused. Colin appeared somewhat shaken, taking a few breaths before continuing.
“When I begin recounting in this manner, I can feel… fellow students or friends, perhaps even my family, become disinterested in due time. They would utter a bouncer. I knew it and I accepted it all the same. So, with you, well… I would hate to understand if you were…”
“Do you perceive me as a simpleton who would shirk my countenance? Especially when it came to you?”
“NO. I would never do that to you in turn. I must reiterate.” He turned to face her. She had been looking at him. Penelope understood the sentiment and was now pondering whether she should declare something of substance. Just as she was about to falter, the specks in Colin`s eyes proved particularly persuasive.
“I am similar. In a sense.” His gaze turned inquisitive.
“I do not have adventures aplenty to recount. Save for our first meeting.” That drew a relatively undetectable chuckle. “My anecdotes are severely limited to the boundaries of my room. And mind.” The little redhead had it clear immediately how sad that string of words sounded. She could do little to remedy the inevitable wince her friend let out as a reaction. It was masked by a provocative question.
“And what does your mind produce, then? Mermaids and murderers?” Penelope clicked her tongue, feeling as if her vulnerability was instead met with a wall of his facade.
“Should you ever learn to be serious in earnest, I shall relay then what my mind conjured up.”
“I am sorry. Pen. Would you please continue?” He corrected the lackadaisical attitude he took, as he often did. Colin hated being a burden to anyone and, at the first sight of displeasure, he would be quick to drop his pretenses. He did it in such a huge measure, however, that it proved detrimental. She knew that. Alas, she continued in spite of this knowledge. She wanted him to know of her in this sense.
“It is often regarding the Ton, actually. Or, well, rather the people within it.” As silence followed her proclamation, she decided to expand upon her thinking:
“They are people, like you and me. And yet… They feel distant. I gaze upon mama and papa and I wonder… Is that all?” The manner in which Colin gifted her his undivided attention made what she was saying appear all the more cerebral.
“If I was to be something more, would it fulfill me, bring me peace? I am fascinated by them, Colin. Yet, it is like the cake my mama never allows me to have. Always guarded under glass, never within my reach.” Colin was aghast. This little girl, no older than his sister Eloise, had eloquently conveyed his troubles. When Penelope finally looked up from her pale knees, she found a boy with his eyes wide open, mouth slightly ajar. Quite rude in every measure.
“Have I said-“
“You are in the right Pen. A person without a purpose is a leaf drifting on the autumn wind. I… truly, truly love my family. And even I cannot help but feel distant from them on more than one occasion.” Penelope could feel them getting closer, strengthening their bond, which has been nurtured for years. “It is like everyone is living their lives, without the need for me in them. Like…”
“…like if you disappeared, no one would take notice. At least, not at first.” She promptly added the last sentence upon noting a hint of inexplicable terror in Colin. Those words were regarding her own family in exception, perhaps. But they were felt deeply, as Colin scooted over, closer to her. He took her hands in his, warming them up. That gesture might not have seemed like much to both of them, but it was. A fresh beginning with a different perspective.
“Now, let me be your support tonight. How about weaving a tale of two adventurers deep in the countryside looking for a…a jewel of some kind?”
“They would have to be a wife and a husband, Colin.” He grimaced at that implication, dropping her hands delicately.
“You and your meddling inclusion of sodding romance into everything.” He continued, jokingly. Penelope wished to be appalled at his clumsy usage of a strange, yet purposefully dirty word. Alas, it only drew more laughter between the pair. Colin got up, pretending to dust off his clothes.
“And the jewel… how about that green jewel your mama likes to boast about, the one sticking out of her head?” Colin brought his hand up to his own head and luscious hair, trying to emphasize his point.
“Are you referring to… emerald?” His eyes lit up at that, nodding profusely. Eton boy had ways ahead of him still. She followed suit, joining him in his moon gazing, as they continued:
“Shall we make it a play, do you think?”
“Well, if we did, Eloise would find it utterly riveting, I am sure.”
“I do not give a tinker`s damn what my sister thinks of our altogether brilliant plan. Now…”
“Oh, it is already definite, is it? Our play?”
“I shall deduce it is. For you see, Penelope, we are the best writers of the Ton.”
“Who decided that?”
“Yours truly. As of this moment, in fact. Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted…”
And, as two figures of young people, entirely bathed in moonlight and doubts of purposefulness discussed their imaginary play at length, only maids and footmen knew. Someday, these two people would find their way to each other. For that night, they had hastily completed the ending. And it was a joyous one.
In the present, Penelope Featherington was under a sleepy spell, with a satisfied smile gracing her features, as a certain beau kept calling her name softly for the remainder of the night. Colin keeping his attitude of courtesy in spite of her now living alone made her body flutter with a feeling of sweetness. She withheld her answer. No one said one could not be just a touch wicked. It is seduction after all.
…
“He has not slept.”
“Are you certain he was not simply visiting the gardens?” Sophie retorted the next morn, whilst taking tea with Kate in the drawing room. No one in the family found Colin`s late appearance worrying nor scandalous - the man has had his fair share of ill-advised outings - but the in-laws agreed something was amiss.
“He was not visiting the gardens. My brother dearest was howling at the moon near Charles Street.” Benedict informed his wife and sister-in-law, walking in with an intense yawn, hair disheveled. Clearly, the loving couple had a great night, judging by Sophie`s quick smirk.
“Did your husband not advise him to sow his wild oats?” Sophie retorted, before Anthony strutted in too, sweaty, chest heaving, his person bedraggled.
“I did, just shy of a decade ago. Or was it only half? Sod it, I have no use of his pitiful adventures, the coffers need tending to.” His brows were in a knot, which unraveled expeditiously upon the sight of his beautiful Kate.
“That is where Penelope`s residence is located, is it not?” Gregory piped up, swiping another fresh macaroon off the table next to Anthony, causing his brother to take an unsuccessful swing at his head. The Bridgerton household had been as rowdy as ever. And with the news of Colin`s controversial undertaking, the family was befuddled as to what should be done.
“Penelope?” It was the voice of their mother. Dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton.
“Mother!” Both Gregory and Anthony screamed in delight, all but racing to get to the woman. Amid enthusiastic greetings, Colin finally appeared, looking worse for wear.
Upon seeing his mother, a comfortable sense of ease came over him, and he enveloped the aging woman into an embrace.
“I see you have arrived safely, Mother. How are you faring?” He asked, dancing around the obvious question. His reaction was the only one devoid of any surprise.
“Do not tell me you were the one-“ Benedict began his inquiry.
“Yes, it was I, brother. There is a dilemma I needed to be resolved at once, hence I sent word just as quickly.” If Colin was to pride himself on being anything, he would on being a man of his word. Suffice to say, a wide array of confusion and amusement befell his siblings and their wives, for this was a man just a few hours shy of stumbling across their doorstep, full of desperation.
“Shall we retreat to my bedroom, Mother?” Violet placed her warm hand on her son`s flushed cheek, recognizing a clear call for help. She responded with a slight nod of her head and a warm look in her eyes. Without a word, both retreated, leaving the rest of the family in utter, yet comical commotion.