Chapter Text
Winter 1825
Penelope looked out the window watching the four most important people in her life. Her children on one side – Thomas (9), Agatha (8), Jane (4), and George (2). On the other side her husband Colin. Forts had been built, and the fight was soon to commence. She considered joining and at least leveling the playing field on Colin side but decided it was best to watch from the comfort of the drawing room and to have hot cider at the ready.
Colin ducked just barely missing a snowball to the face. He was balling his own when over the igloo wall across the garden came the sweet sounds of his eldest daughter “Oh Col, do come out from behind the wall. We promise we will be ever so good and not attack your face again. It was a grave error on our part.” Colin smiled, he knew when he was being charmed. He hid three snowballs behind his back and crouched. Crouching allowed more than half his body to be a target “Are we going for a parlay then my sweet Aggie?”
No sooner had the words escaped his mouth little George made a direct hit to his midsection “Et tu, George Bridgerton?” A wide grin and affirmative nod the only response. George had not spoken a word yet and the family had found ways to engage him and ensure he was included as they patiently waited. It was not without fret. Colin and Penelope had even sought advice from Simon and were assured it would happen in due course. Thomas boldly stepped around their igloo for “Do you surrender Mr. Bridgerton?” “Never!” and a swift succession of snowballs met Thomas on the leg, torso, and head.
Penelope ordered hot cider and two trays of sandwiches and biscuits at the ready. One tray for Colin, the other for the children, although Thomas was quickly getting to an age where he rivaled his father’s appetite. Before she was able to think much more, they were all before her covered in various amounts of melting snow onto the floor and laughing. Janie exclaiming “Mama, we won! Our husband has forfeited the match.”
Penelope smiled at Colin, knowing he had let the children win the day. She knew how competitive he and all the Bridgerton’s were but also how he was teaching his children when it was appropriate and when it was not through sportsmanship. Colin smiled, their silent exchange said the same to each other – how blessed we are and to not take a moment for granted. Soon Rae had ushered all, including Colin, upstairs to change and warm themselves with assurances snacks would be served if they hurried. Penelope laughed as they all raced to the stairs. The remaining afternoon spent in company by the fire with good food, stories, and a round of goodnights “Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton, Goodnight Col, Goodnight Husband.” As the children reached the landing heading to their beds “Goodnight Mama.” George waving and blowing kisses holding hands with Jane.
Penelope snuggled into Colin “So who is the wave and who is the kisses?” Colin hummed “I am most definitely the kisses. You my dear wife may be the wave. I am convinced even without a word I am at least one of my children’s favorites.” Penelope sighed contentedly.
Summer 1827
Colin sat with George at his writing desk in the upstairs school room. George, now four, had still not spoken a word and Colin was determined to support his development. He spent an hour each day with George in, sounding out letters and words to model the sounds hoping for a spark. Penelope on the other hand was sure to make George front and center during play dates and family gatherings. She remembered all too well how someone with a small or no voice could be lost to the shadows.
Penelope stood in the doorway of the room listening “F – fa, th -er, all together now Father. You try George.” George looked at Colin with understanding, yet nothing came out of his mouth. Colin took a deep breath, “Ok, let’s try something shorter, Pa-pa. It’s just two syllables repeated. You can do it George.” George opened his mouth and frowned in his effort with nothing to show for it. Penelope seeing both of their frustration moved further into the room “how about a break. I have some lemonade waiting for you in the kitchen with fresh biscuits.” Colin turned “We have not finished our lessons for the day. Penelope he must practice.” Penelope leaned in for Colin ears only “Colin, do you not see how he tries and strains. Give me a reprieve. Remember Simon said he shall speak when he is ready.” Colin turned to look at George. George who excelled in sport, his numbers and letters in writing, his compassion in the best hugs and was overcome. Colin stood and picked George up in his arms “My boy, your Mama is right. Let us break and snack.” George smiled a relieved smile.
Fall 1835
Colin is straightening George’s cravat. Penelope is looking at them wondering where the time has gone, her youngest is off to Eton. Colin leans in “You are strong, resilient, compassionate, smart, and enough. You are enough and you make us proud. We shall miss you, but we are ready and you are ready for the world to meet you and become the man you are meant to be.” George desperately wishes he could respond in kind, but words still escape him. He is normal in every other way to his siblings, cousins, and others except his lack of speech. Within the confines of his Bridgerton – Featherington world he has been sheltered and supported to believe in himself and his father’s words but as he makes his way to places unknown, he has doubts. Penelope joins them “You have grown up much too soon, but I cannot contain you any longer. The world awaits but we shall be here always with open arms and hearts. My dear George.” With that both of his parents wrap their arms around him. His siblings on the periphery in various states of pride, nervousness for him and mockery at all the hugging.
At seven when it became apparent his words would not form special tutors were hired. They taught him a language with his hands that he understood those without hearing used to communicate. It was challenging and the entire family learned along with him. Now proficient he makes his final goodbye in the only words he can express as his hands talk for him (much faster than writing ever could) “You have prepared me. I step outside today ready to join the world as a Bridgerton – Featherington not quite a man but on the steppingstones of it. I shall miss each of you in your own way. Thomas, you for our duels growing my bones strong. Aggie, for being a master dance instructor and forgiving of my transgressions to your toes. Jane for your whimsy and taking many adventures with me. Mama for your guidance and counsel when I didn’t even know I needed it. “
George turned to Colin. He had more words than his hands could manage. He removed a letter from his coat pocket and laid it into his hands holding them for a moment in silence. Colin was not sure what to do with the letter, but he held it firmly in his grasp and patted George confidently on the back. The carriage to take George Bridgerton arrived all too soon amongst hugs and tears and before they were ready, he was gone.
Penelope shepherded the family back into the drawing room for tea and knowing they all needed the comfort of each other but also their own solace in the new order of the house. Jane, now 16, picked up her book and found comfort in a corner. Her dance and piano forte lessons were forgotten for the time being. Agatha, now 20, sipped her tea alongside her Mama looking at dress samples for her upcoming wedding to Sir. Alistair Cook. Thomas, at 21, graduated from Oxford this past summer, looked beyond the window as the carriage rolled away.
Colin looked around him as Penelope leaned against his shoulder “Time it waits for none of us, the clock of life as it were to quote Eloise.” Colin smiled at the now distant memory of those words from an engagement party long past to the now a life that has been truly well lived. He flipped the letter in his hands “I think I shall repair to my study.” Penelope squeezed his arm, his signal leaning down and receiving her kiss upon his cheek. Inside his study he closed the door, gathered a snifter of his favorite brandy, and sat in his favorite chair. He remembered the first time he had held George singing to him as he fussed mere hours old. Colin lifted the letter curious about its contents and why George would write to him when he could use his hands better than most to communicate with him. There was nothing to it. Colin broke the seal and began to read:
“I give you no salutations as that seems too formal and stuffy for what I must nay need to convey. In all my years my words have been lost and not even to the wind but my own inability to procure the sounds. I saw the sadness, the strain, the defeat in your eyes reflected in mine.
Know I was similarly afflicted; however, I have seen the other side and must lift this weight from my chest, and I hope yours as well. In my earliest years it was your smile that told me I was wanted, in my youth it was your steadfastness that gave me the courage to move forward and excel, in my childhood you have stood up and against any who would see me as less than exceptional. Your words each night as I lay may head on the pillow crawled across my mind – from stories of adventure, to sounding out new words that I may hear the rightness of them to be applied on pen to paper.
The love of my siblings and extended family gave me light out of shadow, kinship, and love. Mama enveloped me in understanding and a knowledge that one’s worth is not measured by word alone but in thought and deed. All of these I carry with me as I make my way to the halls of Eton.
You, however, have been the guidepost of my ship, the mast in my sail. I was built plank by plank in words applied like a salve. Every new letter I learned, every time I formed a letter, I thought my fingers to foreign to master it was because you have given me the words. Those words now flow in my veins like the tides of the sea – excitable, turbulent, and calm. It is your guidepost of words that leaves me ready more than anything else to face this world. No matter what may come to pass I am enough. Being me is enough and I would share the same with you today of all days.
I have seen the light that dims in the affectations from my siblings. You are more than Mr. Bridgerton, Col, Husband – you are my world, and I am forever grateful in the sturdy ship you have made for me to sail forth Father. “
Penelope came into the study “It has been several hours, Colin. The children are all in bed and you have missed supper. What is the matter?” Colin turned and only then did Penelope see the tears in his eyes threatening to fall once more. Penelope rushed to his side and Colin handed her the letter. Penelope read the contents, her own eyes misting by the end “Oh Colin.” Colin placed her on his lap and curled his head into her shoulder “It would seem he has had the words all along.” Penelope stroked his hair “You are a very good man, and this family is blessed to have you by any name. It would also seem our George is destined to follow in the family business.” “He is his Father’s son.” Colin smiled.
EPILOGUE 1845
Christmas lights twinkle against the garland wrapped around the hearth. A soft fire glows in the grate as Colin sits in his favorite chair – removed from the study into the large drawing room. All around him is love. His family, his wife, his children and now his grandchildren. There is nothing better than this. All the presents opened, the dinner eaten and carols sung. Penelope and Colin share a glance of contentment “Storytime.” Penelope holds up one of the many children’s books Colin has authored over the years. A collection of his bedtime story adventures of days past.
Thomas twins Jeremy and Jason, Agatha’s three children – Margaret, Joshua and Philip, Jane’s girls Penelope and Priscilla all clamor around their uncle George as he takes the book from his mother and ventures forth. George holds the book and the newest addition to the family Colin Elliot Bridgerton. They all amass in front of Colin “Father, would you do us the honor?” The children jump excitedly “Oh Yes, Papa.” “Papa, don’t forget the voices.” “Papa read the pirate one.” Colin holds up his hand reaching for the book from his son and fellow author.
In the end Colin realized it did not matter what name he was given but that he was seen and loved and loved back in return. He winked at Penelope and so began the tale of how a man came to be called Papa.