Chapter Text
“Our coming-of-age has come and gone
Suddenly the summer, it's clear
I never had the courage of my convictions”
How does the saying go? When all else fails, smile.
Colin had now officially exhausted all his other options. He counted himself lucky to still have a beaming smile to try and fend off his Mother’s attempts to convince him of the joys of holy matrimony. One would think that after all these years Violet Bridgerton would have grown tired of this exact conversation.
Clearly, that was not the case.
The problem at hand was not even that he didn’t feel ready to settle down and abandon his freedom to do as he wishes at all times (even though that contributed heavily to his reasoning) it was just …
After the spectacularly humiliating engagement to Marina a few years ago, Colin had dedicated some of his time abroad to do some soul searching.
You see, being away from home for so long had allowed him the pleasure to partake in moments so disruptive that his paradigms had shifted. Early on, during his travels (not soon enough though) Eloise’s nagging arguments about women’s rights had made a scary amount of sense.
He had always prided himself to say he was a gentleman. Rescuing a young maid, no older than Franny really, from an abusive husband in Italy had made him question his perspectives. Had he really regarded all women as women worthy of respect before this moment?
If she were to divorce she would have nothing, no reputation, no material possessions, no support and no options. Everything would still belong to that bastard even when the poor girl was working away her days and nights.
Even after rescuing her, she had seemed frightened as if he would ask for something in return for being a basic human being. Showing her a drawing of his sisters that Ben had beautifully crafted, and he made a point of carrying as a reminder of home, appeased her enough to stop the trembling. Gianna, as was her birth name, had refused his money and explained resolutely that she had a job. Awed by the strength she carried in her heart, Colin had made sure to use his connections in high society to have that disgusting man posted in a very distant part of the country and his charm to guarantee everyone believed Miss Gianna had become a widow.
Being a Bridgerton with a flair for the dramatics may serve you well sometimes.
Bearing witness to the way she had taken the reins of her life and made it flourish had emboldened him to keep acquiring more and more skill and knowledge in every area he could. All of his time gallivanting around the globe had compelled him to realize that every woman was a lady, no matter the crib they were born into. All equally deserving of the same respect. There was no such ridiculous notion as women of first and second class.
The urge to hug his dear little sister and beg for her forgiveness for all the times he had mocked her struggles or invalidated her pursuits had been almost unbearable. Instead, upon his return, he gifted her a book entitled The Rights of Women by Olympe de Gouges to aid her in her pursuits and show his support. He had made it a point to give her something that a fellow female had written.
Coincidently, this particular journey of reflection happened while Benedict had shown doubts about marrying the love of his life because she was a servant. His answer had been swift and to the point, any doubts he might have harboured about the subject prior to their conversation, dissipating. None of that mattered; they loved one another. Sophie was as much of a dame as any other women of their inner circle.
Coexisting (however briefly) with societies where men and women alike shared loving long-lasting relationships with someone of the same gender had opened his eyes in a way that he never thought possible.
Families in need unlocked in his heart the importance of not owing anything to realize what one truly has. Penelope’s unrelenting and fierce determination to remain pure and kind-hearted in the face of mistreatment had invaded his mind every time he was confronted with such situations.
Seeing the joy in the faces of people that had nothing to celebrate, made him feel small and privileged and spoiled. The uncomfortable feeling that brought him had forced him to grow out of his bubble and experience the world with renewed passion. All of these experiences had made him realize that Anthony had a point when he had expressed some trepidation regarding his inexperience.
Not the one tied to carnal pleasures mind you, he had made peace long ago with his secret romantic nature in that department. Anything that went past the societal expectations of a gentleman of his class was something he did not partake in. That meant to say that he drew no pleasure from faceless strangers and hollow interactions.
This wasn’t new information to him either, after the customary introduction to brothels all young aristocrats had at a certain age, he had found himself feeling disgusted and used.
That very night, he had promised himself to figure out what the bloody hell was wrong with him. As fate would have it, he would find his answer in Thailand when he got involved in an enticing conversation with an old Buddhist man. His beliefs of connected souls and strings of fate and the transference of energy through touch had decoded every tangled emotion and dispelled any ounce of shame he had carried. It had been a vital moment of self-healing that had made him promise himself he would take his future wife there someday.
It had made him see he was a flirter not a rake, even if he carried a rakish reputation.
He drew pleasure from the blush rising on women’s cheeks and the smiles gracing their lips when he was charming and eloquent. Nothing but a performer who liked to elicit reactions, preferably positive ones was what he was; he felt validated with their attention. Intercourse was a completely different story. Even though he was a very tactile man, he didn't take kindly to people he didn’t share a close relationship with, touching him. The third Bridgerton was fine with kissing gloved hands and formal dances with boring debutants but he could not fathom sharing a bed with anyone he didn’t share a deep connection with. Nonetheless, as a performer, he was good at hiding that from all the other gentlemen, his own honour code allowing him to escape having to share any tales of forged sordid affairs. Being his funny and silver-tongued self allowed him to listen to everything without having to share a thing.
Oh no, the experience he felt lacking back then, was more practical than passionate.
The broken compromise had made him understand he was dangerously misguided when it came to the traits a future wife ought to have. Nowadays he was perfectly conscious of the importance of a reliable foundation, seamless communication, unconditional trust and alignment of goals for the success of an eternally happy union.
Passion was important no doubt, but it was fleeting on its own, besides if their souls connected he was certain their bodies would follow. Speaking of souls, after that disaster, he had come to treasure kindness, generosity and loyalty more than ever before and those were unfortunately hard to come by, especially in money-hungry debutants.
The fact of the matter was, between his global tours and familial obligations he had no time to build such a thing. Most people outside of his familiar group were terribly uninteresting and absolutely unsuited for his family anyways. Therein lies the second problem, never again was he going to choose someone his family did not approve of.
Call him a coward or a traditionalist but the truth of the matter was, he was very close to his boisterous lot and he would never be truly happy without their acceptance.
Seeing as he was completely unwilling to make do with anything less, the brunette considered this to be a doomed search, abandoning it completely. Contemplating the sheer possibility of elucidating his dear Mother on his particular reasons to deny her requests, made him look forward to stabbing himself with a fork instead.
And so, Colin smiled.
“Do not try to charm me into abandoning this topic, dearest. You are not getting any younger”
Wouldn’t it be delightful if that had been enough?
“Are you calling me ancient Mother dearest?” Colin exclaimed in mock offence making sure to sound as dramatic as possible.
The glare the matriarch threw his way, made him remember why his mother was always the one to come up with the punishments when they misbehaved. Perhaps part of the truth would appease her enough to leave him be for a few months at least.
“Mother I appreciate your concern and efforts for I know they carry the most loving of intentions but I simply have not been fortunate enough to find what I seek.”
“So you are seeking!” the dowager viscountess exclaimed excitedly.
Oh no, this had been a truly terrible idea.
“Well go on then, tell me what it is that you seek?” The gleam in her indigo eyes was unmistakable, he could almost see the cogs moving in her head. No doubt coming up with yet another list of eligible unmarried ladies that could fit into his criteria.
Good lord, she would never quit her scheming now.
Well, there was no escaping it, he had walked straight into that one. The young man sighed in annoyance, allowing himself a moment to accept that he, Colin Bridgerton charming extraordinaire, had indeed fallen prey to his mother’s carefully crafty ways.
“A friend, a companion, someone I can trust.“ he added purposefully.
Sorrow flashed in his mother’s eyes and he felt like the worst of monsters for reminding her of those times. No one had suffered more than her, for only a mother could ever truly comprehend and take part in the pain of her children.
“Someone that would fit right in with us.” He said cheerfully while gesturing around the drawing-room.
No lies were told and he had successfully got rid of the tension previously created. That counted as a win in his book. Now, that should be quite enough to show his favourite female she could not pick those traits out of a never-ending catalogue of pretty faces and futile accomplishments. If that was the case, why did a satisfied beam draw itself into her lips?
“Very well that seems quite reasonable sweetheart. Is there anything else ?”
More? As if that wasn’t arduous enough to find!
He was most definitely being mocked, by his own mother no less! Had she been drinking?
If he wasn’t absolutely sure her biggest priority was getting all of them into happy, long-lasting unions he would have no doubts he was being mercilessly teased. But could it be? Could his wise and loving mother have a viable solution?
Hope was blossoming on his chest now, fragile and vulnerable but alive nonetheless.
“Well, I suppose I should like her to be kind and intelligent. All the better if she is graced with good humour and I wouldn’t be opposed if she was easy on the eyes .” He smirked devilishly not allowing himself to be bested by his vulnerabilities once again.
“Couldn't agree more dearest.” Violet retorted in that pleased tone that hinted at how much she had waited for him to catch on.
“I have the perfect candidate in mind.” Lady Bridgerton exclaimed, clapping her hands delightfully.
Already?
Now he was certain that his siblings were about to come out of whatever hiding this ridiculous game had led them to and make fun of him forevermore. He supposed he should allow them to have their fun. He was a very merciful brother after all, as merciful as he was vengeful really. The third-born would play along... for now. Imagining how much he would make them suffer for this, brought him an unexplainable kind of satisfaction.
“And who might that be Mother?” his smile was calculated, awaiting the end of the charade his cruel family had set up for him.
“Penelope Featherington of course.” She exclaimed as if it was rather obvious.
Colin’s forest green orbs widened and his mouth hung open, the picture-perfect image of surprise. And in that moment his world shifted on his axis once again.
Would he never stop being made a fool?
Frankly, one would think that after a decade of travelling, exploring and researching he had learned to be a bit more perceptive. Indeed he enjoyed believing he had. He was more aware than ever before of social problems he had never suspected existed when he began his tours, prided himself to be the supreme matchmaker of their family seeing feelings and potential before his idiot siblings had any clue.
And yet, regarding himself, he had been absurdly blind. Nothing but a fool.
Resigning himself to being the exciting uncle that always came bearing gifts and stories.
He adored that position of course, but he had also started to give up on ever being more...
Telling his adventures to his own children and finding that soul partner to take back to that Buddhist temple seemed more and more removed from his reality, every passing day. The Bridgerton matriarch was absolutely right as it was her custom.
His dear friend would be perfect.
Her humour and barb were unmatched. She nurtured her already brilliant mind diligently as proven by her discussions with his sister about the book he used as an apology. They had discussed it at length for days, and he happened to be present during said debates. Excusing himself with his hunger (he was also there for the food, of course, one can do two pleasurable things at the same time) and listening in to her very well fundamented points about female financial independence and education.
It had been unquestionably fascinating.
Furthermore, there was really no other way to describe Pen but an honorary Bridgerton at this point. The intimacy the redhead shared with his family was unmistakable and quite welcomed. Their dynamic would barely change if they were to wed. That simple wayward thought filled him with unbridled joy. Her virtuous and modest nature and sweet but honest temperament complemented and grounded his impulsive and mischievous tendencies.
Her beauty was timeless like a porcelain doll or a renaissance painting. She wasn’t fashionably attractive, she was everlastingly beautiful. Her heart-shaped lips, her round cheeks and her coppery curls reminded him of versions of Venus he had been introduced to in Greece. Her azure eyes held all of the crystal clear oceans he had dived into and registered in his diaries. And the woman she had grown into could tempt a saint! The way she filled the unassuming but gracefully elegant dresses of her choosing.
Temperate but tenacious, tenderhearted and trustworthy and positively tantalizing. Everything about her was just perfectly suited to his understanding of femininity.
A concept he had struggled with lately, trying to tell himself she was innocent and his younger sister’s best friend and he should NOT, under any circumstances, objectify her. Particularly when said circumstances were how spellbinding he found her unawareness regarding her unpretentious beauty. The young Featherington had once upon a time, in what felt like another lifetime, held some sort of temporary infatuation with him. However brief it might have been, perhaps it could aid him to persuade her to allow him to court her.
He was still just a third son and maybe older than what she expected in a husband.No one deserved satisfaction more than her. Even if society considered Pen firmly on the self, he saw how some gentleman looked at her. It was mostly Portia with her inconvenient comments and the shield of Bridgertons the girl found herself surrounded by, more often than not, that contributed to her unmarried state.
The third born had evidently never shared his suspicions of how intimidating their connection to Pen could be to suitors because he had always selfishly believed she belonged with them. The Gods had smiled upon him because indeed she did and he would make sure to take matters into his own hands to make that happen.
Perhaps he wasn’t the man of her dreams but he was willing to put in the effort to become the one she couldn’t live without.