Chapter Text
“Mama?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Why does Colin keep staring at the Featherington tent?”
Colin snapped out of his trance, glaring at his youngest sister who simply grinned up at him innocently. Too innocently, in his opinion. He wasn’t sure if it was the question itself or the sun beating down on him in the middle of a crowded park, but he was particularly irritable today.
“Ah, yes,” Benedict chimed in, looking far too smug for his own good. “What an excellent question, Hyacinth. Why are you staring at the Featheringtons, brother?”
Colin’s scowl deepened. “I wasn’t staring! My mind was simply elsewhere.”
“Your mind has been ‘elsewhere’ for nearly a year,” Benedict said pointedly. “You and Eloise are quite the despondent duo as of late.”
Colin felt another stab of annoyance at the mention of his sister. Eloise had excused herself from the family promenade of Hyde Park today, insisting that she wasn’t feeling well. Colin, however, knew better than to believe that. He had seen the ink all over her hands, the way she had hurried to hide the papers that undoubtedly contained another round of vicious gossip for the masses to eat up. Worst of all, it was partially Eloise’s fault that he was in this mess with Penelope in the first place.
He remembered that morning like it was yesterday. The new Lady Whistledown had just been released after a brief but blessed period of silence, the horrible drunken comments he had made about his dearest friend printed for the world to see. It took everything in his power to not call out Eloise in front of the whole family right then and there. How could she humiliate her friend in such a way? He deserved every ounce of disdain directed towards him, he wouldn’t deny that, but Penelope certainly didn’t.
He wondered if Pen had known all along that Eloise was Lady Whistledown, or if she found out after that particularly dreadful column. Nonetheless, he couldn’t deny the timing of it all. Penelope was done with the Bridgerton family. And after everything that had transpired, he couldn’t blame her.
Again, he chose not to mention his suspicions. “I’m not despondent or depressed or whatever other negative emotion you want to attach to me,” he said with an eye roll. “Why must everything be so dramatic with you, Ben?”
Benedict held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just an observation. And in that same spirit, would you mind if I imparted a little bit of advice?”
Colin sighed, already dreading what was to come. “God knows I haven't been able to stop you before.”
Benedict’s face softened, his voice lowering when he said, “Go talk to her.”
If only it were that simple.
Colin had tried and tried endlessly to get Penelope Featherington to speak to him. Or better yet, speak to him in some way other than cold formalities:
“Good day, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“Yes, my evening has been pleasant, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“There's no need to apologize further. All is forgiven and forgotten. I’m afraid I must be going now, Mr. Bridgerton. ”
He had never hated polite pleasantries quite so much.
It would be different if Penelope actually expressed her anger towards him. At least then they could talk it through and eventually go back to normal. But so far, no such luck.
Despite the hopelessness of the situation, he found his gaze wandering off to the Featherington tent once more. Pen was lounging in the shade, enraptured by the book in front of her. He couldn’t help but admire how adorable she looked when she was in deep concentration, her pink lips slightly parted as her eyes never left the text. The bottle green dress she was wearing nearly left him breathless, only serving to highlight her brilliant flaming locks. He had always known that she was pretty, but had she always been so utterly captivating? He never noticed…
“Hopeless,” Benedict sighed beside him. “You are truly hopeless.”
___
Colin had no idea what miracle had occurred, but two weeks later Penelope was at Number Five for tea.
To say he was surprised would be an understatement, even more so because Eloise greeted her with a tight embrace that Penelope quickly reciprocated. What a kind and loving soul Pen was, he mused to himself. The fact that she was able to find it in her heart to forgive Eloise after such an ordeal surely meant that there was hope for him yet.
Except there wasn’t.
Penelope acknowledged him, of course. She was too polite not to. She dutifully asked him about his upcoming travels and inquired about his general wellbeing, but it was obvious to anyone that her heart wasn’t really in it. He didn’t really have it in him to give the perfunctory answers she was so clearly aiming for, but he managed anyway.
After that, she became a regular presence in the house again, much to his relief. Seeing her on a weekly basis was much preferable to catching occasional small glimpses from afar.
He had taken to spending most of his time in the library as of late, pouring over his journals and hoping that he could find something interesting enough or witty enough or anything of substance to describe to Pen. She had been interested in his travels at some point. Maybe if he found a story that he had not yet told then she would -
He closed his eyes midpage, stopping that ridiculous line of thinking while he still could. What on earth was happening to him? When did his every waking (and dreaming, he thought sheepishly) thought become about Penelope Featherington? He left the journal on the table, deciding to stretch his legs for a bit and clear his mind. Penelope would be over for tea any minute now and he thought that maybe if they ran into each other they could -
No, he admonished himself. Stop that.
He paced around the gardens for a while, choosing to think about what destination he should travel off to next. But even then, he couldn't find it in him to muster up any kind of excitement at the prospect. His family had teased him in the past that he had a tendency to run away: from society, from his mother's not-so-subtle hints at marriage, from responsibility in general. It was easier to laugh off before, but the thought of leaving London again left him feeling empty. It really would be a self-imposed exile instead of an adventure, just some way to escape the stifling loneliness he had come to know so deeply.
He pondered this as he made his way back to the library. What was he, if not an empty-headed charmer? Would he always be searching for a purpose, or did he even have one at all? Before he could spiral, however, he saw her.
Penelope was in the library, her eyes scanning over an all-too-familiar journal.
He stood there frozen for a moment, once again transfixed by how she looked when reading. A small smile graced her features as she continued to absorb the words and for a moment he thought -
Then, the mortification set in.
"What are you doing?"
She yelped, jumping back as if scalded. He really didn't mean to sound so harsh. It was more out of embarrassment than anything else. He scrambled to grab the journals off of the table, along with his other belongings.
"Colin, I -"
"OW!"
As if this situation couldn't get any more embarrassing, he seemed to have managed to stab himself with a nearby letter opener.
"Oh my!" Penelope rushed to his side, gingerly taking his injured hand into her own. "We need to wrap this, we need -"
"I have a handkerchief in my pocket," he said, feeling a little dizzy as Penelope's fingertips brushed his breast pocket before dipping in to grab the cloth. He hoped that she didn't notice the way his heartbeat sped up at her touch or the way the tips of his ears were surely turning bright red. She carefully wrapped up the injury on his palm, seemingly even more flushed than he was.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "I'm sorry for my outburst. You must think me an immature child."
To his surprise, she shook her head in disagreement. "Not at all. I apologize for invading your privacy. If it's any consolation, I didn't mean to. I didn't know what I was reading until I was too absorbed by it to stop."
It was the most she had said to him in almost a year, and he was sure he had never felt such relief in his life. All embarrassment forgotten, he implored her for more. "'Absorbed?' As in...you liked it?"
He didn't want to seem too eager for her answer, but he found himself holding his breath as he waited for her to respond. She paused as if considering her words carefully. "You've always been a talented writer. But something about your journals...the way you're able to describe everything in such detail, it just felt very...well, you."
"I hope that's a compliment," he laughed sheepishly.
"Your penmanship's not so bad, either."
"I'm eternally grateful."
He could see her fighting a smile before her face went carefully blank again. "I should be going. Your sister's expecting me."
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. He immediately missed the contact, instinctively reaching out again before thinking better of it.
"Pen, wait," he called out before she exited to the hallway. She turned to look at him, her eyes rounded in surprise. "Could I...Would you let me escort you home today after tea? Please?"
He wasn't sure if it was because of her guilt about his injury or her guilt from reading his journals, but he was immensely relieved by the curt little nod she gave in response.
___
They walked down to the corner of Mount and Davies street in complete silence. By the time they were on the edge of Berkely Square, he couldn't take it anymore.
"What do I need to do for your forgiveness?" he asked, his voice pleading and earnest.
"There's nothing to forgive," she insisted. "But I don't want to carry on with a friendship with you if you harbor feelings of shame towards me."
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even and patient. How on earth could she think that? Did she not know the anguish he was in? How miserable he was without her? “I understand that what I said was terrible, but how could you possibly come to that conclusion?”
“Clearly, you are,” she huffed. “Or else you never would have said such a thing. It’s all for the best, I suppose. Now you don’t have to be coerced into dancing with me and I can-”
“You think I was forced to?” he cut her off, lowering his voice as he leaned in. “All I’ve wanted since this season started is to be around you. I thought I knew what it was like to be lost last year, but it’s nothing compared to the complete and utter hell a life without you is. I seek you out because I want to, I spend time with you because you mean everything to me. And I know I took that for granted, and I will forever be sorry for that, but I will not allow you to accept such a ridiculous thought as the truth when it is quite the opposite. I miss you, Penelope.”
She finally met his gaze, her eyes shining. "I miss you too, Colin. But I don't know how we can go back to the way we were. Too much has happened in the past year. I've changed too much, you've changed as well I'm sure."
"And is that truly such a bad thing?" he asked, a hesitant bit of hope ignited in his chest. "Maybe that's exactly what we need: a fresh start."
She looked at him dubiously. "'A fresh start?' We've known each other for twelve years, it's a little late for that."
Before he could overthink his next move, Colin assumed himself in a perfect waltz position.
"Colin," she let out a disbelieving giggle. God, how he had missed her laugh. "What're you doing?"
He shrugged with feigned casualness. "I'm not ashamed of you," he repeated. "And I'm determined to prove that to you right here and now."
"We're in the middle of Berkely Square!" she exclaimed.
"I'm aware."
"And it's about to rain!"
"So?"
"What would people think of us, Colin?" she asked solemnly. "If people thought we were courting before, then what would they think now?"
"They would think," he said, taking her hands in his, "that I have the loveliest dance partner in all of London. And they would be right."
He could see the last bit of her resolve melt as she gave him a beaming grin. "Lead the way then, Mr. Bridgerton."
And on a rainy day in Mayfair, Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington waltzed in the middle of the square. There would be talk, for sure. The ton could still be merciless and cruel and would never be able to understand the bond they have. To them, however, it didn't matter what gossip would come of this or who was watching. This moment was just too glorious.