Chapter Text
The house across the street remained unyielding. Oh, many people bustled in and out. Lady Mary and Miss Sharma spent plenty of time coming and going, no doubt planning Miss Sharma’s wedding to the Viscount. Lady Bridgerton and the Viscount himself were also frequently seen exiting the front door and entering a waiting carriage, often accompanied by the second eldest son, Benedict, or the younger three children, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth. Servants hurried to and fro, carrying bags and flowers and letters.
The house itself, and the majority of its occupants were in a constant state of flux, but the one person Penelope watched and waited for never appeared.
Her mother spent the first three days after their grand ball constantly scolding her youngest daughter to stop her staring. “It’s unladylike and you will develop even more nasty freckles.” But for once, Penelope ignored her. She did not care if her mother disliked it, she would not give up her post. Eventually, Lady Featherington seemed to realize no lecture could be stern enough to break Penelope of the habit.
When a visit from the third Bridgerton brother, Colin, took place on the fourth day, Penelope could see the hope in her mother’s eyes. Clearly, she thought Mr. Bridgerton announcing his departure for the continent and checking on the family after the exposure of Lord Featherington’s scheme, would put an end to Penelope’s vigil, but if anything, it only increased the young lady’s fervor.
That visit had been uncomfortable, with Lady Featherington obsequious in her gratitude and Prudence grating in her attempts to flirt. Penelope tried to appear her natural, cheerful self, but it was too difficult to look at Colin, to converse with him, without hearing his laughter when he boldly proclaimed he was not courting Penelope Featherington. “Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife.”
It had been a sucker punch to her heart. She never truly believed he would return her affections, but to hear it spoken, so assuredly, so fervently, so loudly, and in the company of men who would no doubt spread the word when they had their fill of laughing at her, had shattered any remaining feelings of joy and happiness she possessed.
Thankfully, there weren’t many of those positive feelings left to lose, as Colin chose his moment to humiliate her quite perfectly, when she thought she could fall no lower. Moments before, Eloise, her best friend, discovered Penelope’s biggest secret and they had the nastiest fight in the history of their friendship, with Eloise declaring she never wished to see or speak with Penelope ever again.
They said hurtful things to each other before, but none felt as final as Eloise’s parting words that night. Yet, still Penelope clung to the hope they could fix things. She would apologize and explain. She would listen as Eloise described the hurt and betrayal she felt. And they would slowly find their way back to each other. They had to.
They just had to.
Because without the joy of her interactions with Colin and without Eloise’s friendship, Penelope was just Lady Whistledown, a petty gossip who wrote pretty words and spread juicy stories, and who was only respected because she was feared. It was not who Penelope wanted to be. Not anymore.
And so she sat at the window and she watched and waited. Eloise never once appeared.
“Go and see her,” Lady Featherington said on the fifth day. “Whatever this quarrel is about, it will not be resolved by you burning your skin sitting in that window.”
Penelope glanced at her arms. They had grown slightly pinker, but the difference was negligible and the sky was filled with grey clouds in that moment. “She will not see me if I go, Mama.”
“You cannot exactly speak with her through the glass.”
“No, but I can run out as soon as I see her and she will not be able to feign illness on the street.”
Lady Featherington threw her hands up and left her daughter alone for another two days. And so it was, a week after the eventful Featherington Ball that changed the course of Penelope’s life, that fate came knocking.
She sat at her post, dutifully watching Bridgerton House, hoping and praying today was the day Eloise showed herself. Colin planned to depart for his trip to Italy, and surely Eloise would step out of doors to see him off.
As she thought of her former friends, the door to Bridgerton House opened and Colin exited, leading what appeared to be the entire family. Penelope sat up straighter and eagerly searched for the face she was desperate to finally see as Colin hugged each of his brothers, his mother, and finally, three of his sisters. But not Eloise. She managed to get out of the send-off somehow, and Penelope slumped against the wall in disappointment.
Colin hugged his mother again and after several moments of conversation with her, she nodded, patted his hand, and kissed his cheek. He turned then, and looked to the Featherington house, smiling when he saw Penelope watching from the window. He raised his hand and took a step closer to her, but was paused by Anthony’s hand on his shoulder. Penelope pulled the curtain in front of her, leaving enough of the window clear so she could continue to see out, but covering her from his gaze should he turn her way again. Colin Bridgerton was nothing but a distraction, one she needed to learn to get past.
She would force herself to control the beating of her heart when he met her eye or smiled at her. She would temper her knees’ propensity to wobble when he entered a room unexpectedly. And, under no circumstances would she ever let him know how much he hurt her.
When Anthony finished whatever instructions he had for him, Colin looked back at her window. His smile faltered on not finding her again, and he waited several seconds to see if she would reappear before deciding he could waste no more time on goodbyes and mounted his horse.
Penelope let out a sigh of relief once he was out of sight. It would be easier to heal her hurt once an ocean separated him from her. Loving him when he was right next door had been as natural as breathing. The pain of knowing he would never love her was acute and sharp when she saw him at every social event throughout the season. But everything dulled when he was gone. The only sparks in her life when he was away were the letters he sent, and she could easily avoid those this time, and slowly he would fade out of her life and out of her heart.
She almost gave up her post once he was gone. Eloise not appearing to send him off could only mean one thing: she was doing everything in her power to avoid meeting Penelope. What was the point in keeping watch for someone who so clearly did not want to be seen?
Something in her gut, though, told Penelope to remain where she was. Perhaps the last vestige of hope inside her heart, or just years of practiced intuition from her Whistledown habit, but she knew not to leave the window yet.
A half-hour later, she knew why.
“Mama! Prudence!” she yelled, taking one last peek out the window and verifying the dark carriage was heading toward their house before darting up to her room. She flung the rug aside and tore up the floorboard, dragging out her Whistledown stash and shouting again for her mother and sister. They met her at the top of the stairs, curious and annoyed.
“Good heavens, Penelope-”
“There is no time to explain. You and Prudence need to leave. Go out the servants’ entrance. Take this.” Penelope thrust the box with her savings into her mother’s hand. “Collect Phillipa and Albion and head to our relatives in Ireland. I am sorry.” She attempted to push her mother and sister down the stairs, but their height gave them the advantage of better centers of gravity, and they held their spots.
“What in the world?”
“Mama, I left a letter in the box. I will send Varley after you, but there is no time. You have to go. Now.”
“Not until you-”
“Mama! I am Lady Whistledown and the Queen’s men are coming for me. Go!” Penelope had not wanted it to come to this. She did not start her enterprise with thought of what it would do to her family if she were found out. In truth, she had not thought of the consequences at all when she first began. She was young and flattered her father’s solicitor found her musings on society worth reading, and he promised protection. At seventeen, it is easy to think oneself invincible, but she knew better now. No one was safe from the consequences of Lady Whistledown’s words, not even the author herself.
Things happened quickly after her declaration – something about the desperation in her voice expressed the truth and severity of the situation to her mother, who no longer protested, but followed her instructions to leave, dragging Prudence behind her. Lady Featherington spared one last look and a few tears for her youngest daughter as she left the house, but Portia Featherington was no martyr. She would always accept the exit provided for her in times of trouble.
Penelope hustled to the drawing room and picked up an embroidery hoop. She forced her breath to slow into even inhales and exhales, and patted her forehead with a handkerchief to rid it of any moisture or shine before the door opened and Mrs. Varley entered, eyebrows raised. The housekeeper’s eyes darted around the room, but not seeing the mistress of the house or the eldest daughter, she wisely kept her thoughts on the earlier commotion to herself.
“Miss Penelope,” Varley said with a nod of her head, “a messenger from the Queen.”
Penelope did her best to appear surprised. “I beg your pardon?”
Varley stepped aside and a servant wearing the Queen’s livery jerked forward. “Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte, requests your presence at the palace immediately, Miss Featherington.”
“Me?” Penelope said, setting the hoop down and standing. “Whatever for? I have never even met the Queen.”
The messenger did not answer, but gestured past him, indicating they were leaving immediately. Penelope nodded her understanding, while keeping a bewildered expression on her face. It would do her no good to act as if she knew exactly why she was being summoned so unceremoniously.
“Varley, while I attend the Queen, will you please pack up my blue muslin to send to Mrs. Finch? I promised it days ago and I’m sure she’s anxious for it.”
“Your blue muslin, Miss Penelope?”
“Yes. It is at the very back of the wardrobe. The only blue one in there. You should be able to find it easily.” Penelope squeezed Varley’s hand as she passed her, and then followed the Queen’s man outside and into the unmarked carriage where two additional servants waited to ensure her compliance.
As they drove away, a figure appeared on the front steps of Bridgerton House. Penelope smiled at her former friend, in what she hoped appeared a light and conciliatory manner, as both an apology and an act of forgiveness. She did not want Eloise feeling guilty for turning her in.
The carriage moved too swiftly down the road, though, for Penelope to see if Eloise smiled back.