Work Text:
1846
Penelope jerked awake to a loud bang that echoed through the room. Disoriented, she turned to find the side of her bed empty. A low throb of panic shot through her as she struggled to get out of bed. Colin rarely got out of bed in the middle of the night, and judging by the blinding darkness they were hours away from sunrise. And then she remembered, she’d gone to bed early and he’d still been in his study, nursing a glass of scotch mumbling that he’d join her soon.
It was obvious he’d never made it to bed that night. Her panic increased ten fold as she hastily pulled her robe over her, intent on seeking him out. As soon as she was out of their chambers her ears picked up on hushed whispers and an angered shout from Colin. Hurrying, she raced down the stairs and moved towards his study, noticing the faint light of a candle and recognized the second voice that loudly shouted.
“Father!”
Thomas, it was Thomas. And as Penelope inched closer and caught sight of Colin through the small crack in the massive door, she almost gasped out loud. His shoulders tense, his hair in disarray and his face etched in controlled rage, Colin looked nothing like the man she’d known for three decades at this moment. He was angry, and an angry Colin was a rarity indeed.
The first time she remembered seeing him angry was the day of their engagement, and the other, only a few years ago when Agatha, Georgina, Penelope (Eloise’s daughter) and Charlotte had decided to escape from Aubrey Hall and visit the town fair on its outskirts that they had been explicitly forbidden from attending. Despite Aggie and Lottie’s vehement demands and suggestions to have Miles or Charles or god forbid even Edmund chaperone them. Anthony had put his foot down, and that was that. Of course, the girls hadn’t cared one bit for Anthony’s monarchy and ran away in the middle of tea time.
It had taken Anthony, Colin, Benedict and Sir Phillip five hours to find the girls in the massive town fair. That was the last time Penelope had seen Colin this angry - terribly, furiously angry at his first born. When they’d finally arrived back late at night with the girls in tow, Penelope was certain his precious Aggie had taken years off his life with her little escapade. Thankfully, the usually cheeky girl had the sense to simply lower her eyes and nod at her feet in the hour long lecture that followed.
And now, Colin seemed angrier than she’d ever seen before. She couldn’t for the life of her think what Thomas had done to earn such ire. Deciding that interrupting them would do no good, she simply leaned against the heavy wood door and listened in.
Colin shook his head and grunted heavily. He could feel Thomas’ stare on his back as he walked to the fireplace and poured himself another glass of Scotch. He ignored the shocked “Father” from Thomas as he downed the liquid in one go and poured himself another.
At five and fifty Colin rarely had more than one drink a night, he was well aware of the effects it had on him as he got older. Even in his youth he’d rarely over-indulged, that was always Anthony’s style. But today, Thomas had seen him gulp down two large glasses of Kilmartin Scotch, unaware of the two his father had already drank while waiting for Thomas to come home.
“Father, you're being unreasonable.” Thomas scoffed, walking towards him and pouring himself a glass as well. “I was barely out that late, and truly…”
Colin let out an angered huff and moved towards his desk again, standing behind it and ignoring the bewildered look on his son’s face.
Thomas, twenty, was the spitting image of his father. Colin would admit being vain enough to know that in his youth he’d been pleasing to look at, enough women had told him that. Penelope still told him how handsome he was, but he knew she was biased - she’d always been biased when it came to him. And sometimes when the light hit his hair just right, when Thomas said something cheeky and grinned, and his green-eyes sparkled with mirth Penelope would be struck anew, unable to find words for a few seconds, at just how remarkably similar Thomas was to a young Colin.
And Colin knew that was probably one of the reasons she’d let the boy get away with blue murder. But, this, this he couldn’t tolerate.
Even more so because Thomas was so like him.
“Father, I do not understand why you’re so angry.” Thomas said again, softly this time and taking a tentative sip of his drink. And Colin sighed, he knew that he was not behaving the way he was expected to. Colin had never been the tough disciplinarian, his children probably could count on their fingers the times he’d had to discipline or chastise them. He left that to Penelope, even though he knew it was unfair, but he could never truly bring himself to scold them unless they’d put themselves or anyone else in danger.
Like that time with Agatha running away. Colin shivered unwittingly, suddenly feeling the same sense of dread that had gripped him that day. He’d never known himself to be a lecturing sort of father, but when he’d finally found her, alive and safe he’d lost all sense of logic and simply roared in anger when they’d arrived back at Aubrey Hall.
And here he was now, literally quacking in rage, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. And he knew, he knew not all of it was directed at Thomas, some of it, most of it was his anger at himself. But he couldn’t turn back the clock, he could simply ensure what Thomas did today never happened again.
The entire Bridgerton clan plus their assorted spouses and children (at least those old enough to attend balls) had gathered at Bridgerton House, along with half the ton, to celebrate and toast Alexander’s engagement. Sophie and Benedict had despaired of anyone ever being gullible enough - Benedict’s words not Colin’s - to agree to marry their reckless, mayhem-inducing second son. But against all odds, Alex as he was fondly called, had fallen in love with his little sister’s best friend friend, Isabella, a year ago - much to Violet’s chagrin - and had then spent much of 1846 convincing Isabella that he wasn’t a good for nothing vagabond and might miraculously make a good husband. Somehow - the how of it escaping most of the people in their family - she had agreed, and as Colin observed the young couple accepting everyone’s thanks and well wishes he realized that Isabella had a calming influence on Alex, something he terribly needed, and he seemed to bring her out of her shell. They were perfect truly, and Colin had been miffed that unlike many other marriage’s in the family he hadn’t had a hand in orchestrating this one.
Colin was fairly certain that Miles, Edmund and Charles would give him due credit for their happy marriages.
Colin had spent most of the night with his eye on Agatha, twenty and one and the absolute belle of the ball. Somehow, she’d ended up with his ability to charm anyone and Penelope’s wit and intellect. The lethal combination made her the most sought after debutante and unmarried woman of the ton for three years now, and Colin had daily despaired over the male attention she received. Even now, he observed with a groan as she stood at one end of the ballroom with four strapping, young men hanging on to her every word. Even a Duke for heaven's sake. Colin was thankful when Edmund made his way into the gaggle of men around Aggie and positioned himself quite threateningly next to his pouting cousin sister.
Thank the lord that his elder brothers and sister had seen fit to have so many strong intimidating boys at the early stages of their marriage; Aggie and soon Jane would have six elder Bridgerton brothers to glower at potential suitors.
Bless the men attempting to court any of the Bridgerton girls.
It was when Penelope spoke from next to him that Colin finally turned his eye away from his daughter.
“The poor thing.”
Sophie, standing next to Penelope murmured in agreement.
Colin frowned, no one in their right mind could call Agatha that. She had everyone eating out of her palms. He followed their gazes until he noticed the poor thing in question. Lily Ramsey, eighteen and in her first season, and clearly uncomfortable. Currently, Lily was doing her best at camouflaging herself against the deep burgundy drapes of Bridgerton Hall, but considering that she was decked head to toe in white frill and lace, and had hair as dark as the night, it was an uphill task to make herself invisible.
Colin smiled in fondness. Leave it to his wife to find the shrinking wallflowers and leap to their aid. As expected, Penelope was looking around, undoubtedly for Thomas. But Colin had trained an eye on him from the start of the ball, and gently elbowed her in the ribs and nudged towards the open terrace on their right.
And Colin frowned again, when he noticed that Thomas had found his Oxford friends; the Faraday twins - the eldest heir to Duke of Clarence, born just a few seconds before Robert Faraday, and Jeffrey, Baron Livingston’s firstborn. Colin wasn’t particularly fond of Thomas’ university chums; the twins were famously rich in the pocket and arrogant, and if Jeffrey ended up anything like his father - cruel, womanising and a gambler- then Colin wanted Thomas nowhere near them. He’d much rather the boy spent time with his brothers, but Thomas was twenty and not inclined to listen to his Father as he once had been.
“I always ask Thomas to dance with her,” Penelope mused, disappointed that he was currently out of access for her schemes.
Sophie, always quick on her feet, neatly nabbed William - who had been trying to escape from her side - and dragged him closer to them.
“William, my dear,” Sophie said sweetly, still holding him by the collar, uncaring that he was four and twenty. “Go dance with Miss Ramsey. The younger one.” She added when William cocked a brow in question, there were two Miss Ramsey’s afterall. And the older one was on her way to marrying a Marquess, or something, Colin hadn’t really paid attention. William grumbled and groaned, but one pointed look from his mother, he rolled his eyes, put on his best Benedict-esque grin and made his way to Miss Ramsey.
And suddenly Colin was taken back by Sophie’s acute glare, so reminiscent of his own mother that he couldn’t help but chuckle. The number of times Violet had grasped his elbow and not so gently nudged him to dance with someone. Actually not someone, it was always just one person.
Penelope.
Colin gulped, not liking where his train of thought was taking him. So instead, he grabbed his wife and pulled her onto the dance floor. She let out an adorable squeak of surprise, but followed along, wrapping her arm around his and assuming that he’d yanked her to the floor to keep a closer eye on Agatha. The truth, of course, was that even after twenty years he didn’t like the reminder that he’d once had to be forced to dance with his own wife, bemoaning and grumbling like it had been a chore. So instead, he chose to simply enjoy the feel of her in his arms and watch as a terribly nervous Lily Ramsey danced with William.
Something forced him to keep his eye on the young girl, the same age as his little Janey, and that was when he noticed it. Thomas and the boys stood by the terrace doors, sniggering and guffawing while looking at Miss Ramsey as she ended her dance with William - who, always the gentleman, politely walked her back to original place - and then bowed low and disappeared.
Julian, the eldest Faraday twin, said something to his friends smugly, his mouth forming a crude arrogant smirk as he walked up to Miss Ramsey. The lady in question seemed to shrink in his presence, almost as if she was scared, and swallowed tightly. The man that would one day be a duke, bent low and whispered something in her ear and deliberately ran his fingers over her arm. And when she turned beet red and shirked away, mumbling something incoherently and colliding into a vase, Colin cursed internally. And that was when he heard the sound he dreaded.
Laughter , mocking and vile.
He didn’t even have to look, he could hear it. One of the people laughing was Thomas.
And now, Thomas stood in front of him asking why he was angry.
“You really have to ask me that Thomas Bridgerton?” Colin demanded, his hand almost trembling as he took a sip from his glass. They’d left the party soon after, and Penelope, blessedly, hadn't seen the little prank the boys pulled on Miss Ramsey. She would be distraught to see that.
Thomas opened his mouth a few times and then sighed, “I really don’t understand. We went to Robert’s house, had a few drinks, played cards and then I dropped Jeff at Mrs.. I mean… his father’s house and then I came here.”
“ Home .” Thomas repeated, because it needed repeating. At least he wasn’t making a cuckold of an Earl, unlike Jeffrey who was bound to find himself in an open field at dawn with a gun pointed at him by a very angry Earl. Really , Thomas thought irately, compared to the lot in the ton he was a shining example of gentlemanly manners and restraint.
Even Alex, bless his brother and his new found bliss, had had enough scandals in his life, but no one seemed to ream him on the subject. And here his father was, looking like he was going to whip him for simply drinking and playing cards with his friends.
Colin ignored the bit about Countess Rumsfeld and simply spoke two words.
“Miss Ramsey.”
Thomas looked lost, as he blinked at his father and then seemed aghast at the accusation and moved forward hurriedly, “Father no ! I have not.. I would not… what exactly are you accusing me of, How could you even…”
“Not that .” Colin said sharply, ending Thomas’ angered speech. No matter how angry he was right now, Colin knew his son would never take advantage of a young debutante, any woman really. He was a man of twenty, and he would behave like a man of twenty, but not with unmarried virgins and whores, but women who wished to spend their time with him. That much had been made clear to him when he turned fifteen. “I know you don’t go around bedding debutantes, Thomas.”
Thomas colored at that but managed to speak, “Then what father?”
“You laughed at her.” Colin said simply, as if that explained it all.
Thomas frowned, and then made the mistake of laughing at the accusation that he had laughed. It did not help one bit. As Colin’s nostrils flared and he banged the Scotch glass on the table, it’s contents spilling on the mahogany desk, and all but vibrated with unbridled fury.
“Goddammit Thomas. You and those unruly friends of yours, you did something. The poor girl, she could barely breathe with whatever..”
“Father, I didn’t do anything.” Thomas defended, taking a step back as Colin moved around the desk and walked towards him, “We were just talking, and Jeff asked me why Will was dancing with her and I said it was because Aunt Sophie must have asked him to. I mean, no one else dances with her unless they’re forced to..” He added with a small shrug as if it was perfectly okay to say that.
“Thomas Bridgerton!”
“ Father , she barely talks. Mother’s goaded me into dancing with her far too many times. She’s sweet and kind, but she’s spoken all of ten words to me in all those dances, simply turns a violent shade of red and just nods to everything I say. And she doesn’t say a word!”
“Why do you think that is?” Colin asked raggedly.
“I don’t know… she’s just odd. Always has been.”
“And that makes it okay I suppose to make fun of her. To ridicule her, to tease her like your friend did tonight?” Colin all but spat the words, and laughed in triumph when the color seemed to leave his son at those words.
He could see as Thomas registered the words, and gulped nervously, shaking his head and moving back another step. His face white and his eyes conflicted, Thomas tightly shook his head.
“I didn’t…,” Thomas swallowed again, finding himself to be terribly parched despite the glass in his hands, “Julian started it. He just told us to watch and walked over to her, I don’t even know what he said to her. I don’t want to know either.” Thomas said meekly.
“And what did you do son?” Colin knew the question wasn’t necessary, but the anger he was feeling had only begun to subside at the realization on his son’s face, and he needed to get rid of the suffocating feeling.
That history was repeating itself.
Because if his wife was to be believed - and he believed his wife a hundred percent of the time - then little Miss Ramsey considered herself very much in love with his idiotic son.
Thomas simply sighed and nodded again, knowing his father wasn’t going to let it go until he apologized, properly and truly, “I laughed. I’m sorry, that was wrong of me.”
“I don’t like those friends of your Thomas.” Colin said tiredly, running a hand down his face and shaking his head. “What if it had been Jane?”
Thomas jerked up at that, “No one in their right bloody mind would even think of being disrespectful to Janey. I’d kill them.” And when Colin cocked a brow, “With help from William and Alex. Hell, even Aggie would throw in a punch.”
Yes, Colin was secure knowing Jane, or truly, any other Bridgerton girl would never have to worry about being troubled by the likes of Julian Faraday.
“So just because Miss Ramsey isn’t afforded the protection of a large family name, or powerful cousins or brothers, she deserves to be treated like a toy for one’s amusement?” Colin knew he was digging the knife deeper without reason, and it was evident in the way Thomas paled, finally throwing his hands up in the air and groaning.
“Father, I apologized. I know it was wrong, truly. And I’ll not let it happen again, but why in the world are you so mad?”
“Because…”
“Because what?” Thomas challenged.
And Colin knew, he knew why it had troubled him so much.
And as he spoke, he heard the soft sigh from outside the door and he knew she was listening too.
“Because Thomas, Miss Ramsey reminds me of your mother.”
Thomas snorted, “Ha! Mother is nothing like that. I’ve never known Mother to be at a loss for words.”
Colin smiled, the memory of a young Penelope was always bitter-sweet. He loved remembering how she’d smile at him, and her whispered barbs about the ton when they were dancing but knowing that the import those dances had to her made his memories bitter. He had walked away, thinking their interaction a polite, kind dance between acquaintances and later, friends, but to her, to his wife, they’d been more. So much more.
And he hated that he’d walked away so easily. He hated that he hadn’t seen before, known before.
Twelve fucking years to realize that the love of his life had been standing so close to him.
“Not the Penelope you know, the one I knew. When we were younger, when we weren’t… well us. She was considered to be odd as well.” He used the same words Thomas had a few minutes back.
And now Thomas was frowning, his mind catching up to the somber mood that had dawned on his father, “Did people make fun of Mother?”
And Colin's gaze falling to the floor was enough of an answer to his question. “But,” He started to question, unable to understand how anyone, anyone could make fun of his sweet, intelligent, lovely mother.
Especially not when Father was sure to be around somewhere, ready to whack the bastards across the head.
“Your Uncles and I would always dance with her whenever we could, or…,” Colin cleared his throat strangely, “Whenever grandmother made me. And we’d defend her if someone ever dared to say something around us, but we weren’t always there. I wasn’t always there, twelve years it was just her, just her…”
And now it seemed like Colin was mostly talking to himself, but Thomas picked up something of import as he suddenly asked, “Didn’t mother tell us that she fell in love with you when she was sixteen?”
Colin nodded, still looking at the floor.
“And you were 21?”
Another nod.
“Then I don’t understand how you were not… Oh !” And suddenly, Thomas’ face tightened, all confusion and mirth leaving him as his eyes turned from green to gray and he levelled his father with a lingering glare.
And Colin laughed at the look on his son’s face. Thomas was angry, angry at his father for not loving his mother back soon enough. At least in this, father and son had similar thoughts.
“Don’t worry, I’ve beaten myself up over that fact for years.”
“We just always assumed Mother was too young to get married, followed by a dramatically long engagement.”
“I assure you, Pen had not imagined she’d be eight and twenty when we married.”
Somehow, his usually unobservant son seemed to understand the root of Colin’s thunderous rage today. As Thomas simply smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, “I was wrong, I won’t let Julian or anyone else behave untowardly towards Miss Ramsey. I promise you Father, and I am sorry, once again.”
“Good good,” Colin said roughly, and patted the hand resting on his shoulder, emotion lodged heavy in his throat.
And then, Thomas gave his father a nod and left him to his demons. Still unable to shake off the feeling that he had bungled things up, Colin picked up his glass and walked to the fireplace, as if the flames licking at his feet would calm his stormy mood.
Only one thing could bring him back now. Only one person. This had happened years ago, when he’d first understood that the characters in Penelope’s book were him and her. He’d run away in the middle of the night, unable to bear that he’d caused her pain. Unsurprisingly, only she’d been able to settle his guilt and anger at himself.
It was when Colin heard the soft squeaking of the study door that he spoke, “How much of that did you hear?”
There was a shuffle of feet, much smaller than his or Thomas’, and two lovely hands wrapped around his chest as Penelope rested her cheek on his back, and whispered, “Oh not much.” Coling felt a smile creep up on his face, his body instantly heating, not from the liquor or the fire, but her presence. Just the feel of her, warm and solid and his tempered the swirling emotions inside him.
He’d made mistakes, yes, but still, somehow, somehow , she was still his. Somehow, despite taking dramatically forever to realize he loved her desperately, she loved him still. And even now, years later she loved him still.
Like he did her.
“Do you think it’s true?” He asked softly, unsure what he wanted as an answer. Unsure really what his question was.
“About that Livingston boy and the Countess?” Penelope mused, clicking her tongue purposefully, “Oh yes, Kate heard her boasting about it at Lady Danbury’s last week. I feel bad for that poor boy. And the Earl.”
Colin hummed in response, knowing full well that wasn’t his question, she knew it too.
“And what a handsome Earl he is. Who in their right minds would step out on him?” She playfully kissed his back and smacked her lips when he growled low. Twenty years and a thrill still shot through her knowing that Colin still got jealous, forgetting that the Earl was a good ten years younger than her. “Especially with a green boy like Jeffrey, who without a doubt would have no clue what he’s doing.”
“Pen.” He said warningly, turning around and pulling her into a tight hug.
“Colin.” She winked and stood on her toes to give his cheek a sweet kiss as she said, “Yes, it’s true.”
Colin sighed and crumpled, “Then we have to do something, I have to do something.”
“Do what my love?”
“I don’t know… something, anything. Tell him, tell that dense son of ours that the girl is in love with him.”
“And what good would that do Lily?”
Colin gaped at her, aghast she was saying that.
“I know you don’t like to think of those days Colin, but when I loved you… before you loved me,” And Penelope knew, she knew he’d grimace and slump his shoulders, so she caught his face in her hands and made him look at her, “The last thing I wanted was for you to know that I loved you. It would have been mortifying.”
“But then I could have…” He shook his head violently, “Thomas can…”
“Do what?” She challenged, running her thumb over his cheek, noticing new lines along the corner of his eyes. “He might choose to ignore her, which will cause her undue pain. He might feel guilty and court her, heavens forbid take it any further when he isn’t ready, when she isn’t who he truly wants, and then we’d have truly destroyed the poor girl and our darling boy in the process.”
Colin sighed in defeat and nodded, she was right, once again, she was right.
“So what do we do? What do I do?”
“Nothing, Colin, we do nothing. If it’s meant to be, it will be. If it’s not… then she’ll find her Prince Charming and he’ll find his love match, sometime somewhere.”
Colin snorted at that. He currently shared Benedict's fear that anyone would consider his son a candidate for lifelong companionship and love, witless as he was now. But he had faith in Penelope, if not anyone in this world, he could put all his faith in her.
“If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” Colin said softly resting his face on Penelope’s head and closing his eyes.
They had been meant to be, him and Pen, he knew it with every cell in his body. They were meant to be, now and forever. Twelve years apart but never apart again.
And wherever fate had in store for his kids, he was sure it would be just as wonderful.
Even if history did repeat itself, Colin thought wryly, as long as his son ended up as blissfully happy as he was now, it would be worth it.
As it turns out, history very much did repeat itself.
Thomas appointed himself protector of Lily Ramsey, much to her shock and surprise. And no one, absolutely no one dared to make fun of her, not even Julian Faraday, when Thomas employed the help of his collective group of Bridgerton Brothers to join forces with him.
And bless his nephews, for never once questioning why they were doing so.
Thomas cut all ties from Jeffrey Livingston, and even the Faraday twins managed to subdue with age, and perhaps a strong influence from Thomas. They remained steady friends for years to come, until a tragedy befallen the eldest brother.
Colin watched as Lily and Thomas became friends of sorts, Lily slowly and steadily gaining confidence with age. And when she turned three and twenty she almost seemed comfortable in society events. Everything changed of course, when Robert Faraday - newly minted and reformed Duke of Clarence, after his brother and father died in a terrible shipwreck - decided to court Lily, not as a joke, not as a game, but simply because she’d made a brilliant wife and duchess.
And when Thomas came barraging into Anthony’s office hours after Robert declared his intentions; panic stricken and mumbling about fucking up everything because there was no way in hell she was going to pick a meagre third son’s firstborn over a dukedom, and that he was going to light every church on fire so they’d have no place to marry, did Colin realize that his son was still an idiot.
Because, it had taken Thomas five years of friendship and his best friend courting Lily to realize that he loved her. And as Colin and his brothers sat his frantic son, telling him that everything was going to be okay, Colin had the urge to laugh but controlled himself at seeing the sheer grief in his son’s face.
Eventually, Colin was happy to say that he did attend Lily Ramsey’s wedding exactly six months from the day. A beautiful wedding, where his wife cried, and most of his sister-in-law’s cried, and even he’d admit to shedding a tear, especially when the groom whooped in joy and punched the air after kissing his wife quite passionately after the priest gave him leave to do so.
Colin was even happier that he had attended the wedding of Lily Ramsey to one Thomas Bridgerton.
Lord only knows how his son managed that .
Actually, Penelope did know, but he was certain he didn’t want to know what shenanigans his son had been upto.
Let’s just say that it was a few years before Thomas and Robert were friends again, and that no one, absolutely no one was surprised when Thomas and Lily’s son was born eight months after their wedding, declared an early baby. But they were in love, terribly, fiercely and hopelessly in love, even a blind man could see that.
All Colin could hope for, as he looked down at the little bundle in Penelope’s arms, was that history doesn't repeat itself with Little Julian Bridgerton.
At the end of it, it didn’t matter how they’d gotten there.