Chapter Text
The weight of the envelopes, heavy with finality, felt like a physical anchor dragging Colin down as he tore through the park. His breath was ragged, he hardly registered the surprised faces turning to follow his desperate sprint. Legs burning and lungs screaming, he propelled himself forward, driven by a raw, primal urge to escape. Hyde Park's vibrant tapestry of green and blue bled into a watercolour wash of despair, the world losing its focus and colour with each frantic stride. He was a puppet on invisible strings, the relentless tide of grief pulling him on an unknown course. When his trembling hands finally fumbled for his key, unlocking the door to his bachelor lodgings, it was a mystery to him how he'd even made it back. The silence that greeted him was deafening, a stark echo of the gaping hole left in his heart. Collapsing onto the worn armchair in front of his desk, he buried his face in his hands, the crimson stain on his fingers a chilling reminder of the loss that had shattered him.
He sobbed. His cries filled the entire room. He cried for a good half hour. Screaming at every god he could think of. “Why did you take her away from me?” Over and over again. Soon the cries dimed down and Colin noticed the envelopes in his hand. There were two buddles and one envelope addressed to him on top. He placed the two buddles wrapped in Bridgerton Blue ribbons on the table in front of him.
With a trembling hand, he opened the envelope. First came the ring. The blue sapphire ring was picked out by him with Penelope in mind at a local jeweller in Athens. The sapphire was surrounded by a halo of sparkly diamonds. He placed the ring on the small tray next to his whisky. “I will give it back to Penelope when I see her. Why would she take off her betrothal ring?” He took out the papers. There were three sets. Two looked like contracts and the other was a message in Penelope’s handwriting. Taking a deep breath he opened the letter and began to read the letter.
To my love, Colin,
When you receive this letter, I will have parted from this world. Please don’t cry or feel sorry for me. I made my choice. I would never have raised the gun at Miss Eloise Bridgerton. I knew you would have taken my place if I told you about my plan. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Please don’t be angry at Eloise. She is only trying to protect her family from the likes of me, an insipid wallflower. Who just spreads darkness wherever I go.
I would never have forgiven myself for breaking up the Bridgerton House. The last ten years I have spent with your family were and have been the best moments of my life. My heart was yours from the first time we met, but it took you ten years to recognise it. I don’t blame you, my love. The last two weeks of courting have allowed me to take a lifetime's worth of joy and happiness with me. I am grateful for everything and for showing me love.
I knew the risks I was taking by being Lady Whistledown. During our many arguments, last week you found out, you asked me why I had started the sheet. I have always ignored your questions. Even your family said I should never have written the scandal sheet. But today I will tell you why I wrote what I wrote.
From the day I began my debut, no one in the ton saw me as a potential match. I knew The dowager had asked you to dance with me. I watched from the corners and the shadows of the ballrooms. Whilst the couples danced, I listened to all the gossip around me. It wasn’t difficult. Once the ladies drank, their sharp tongues loosened. The words I heard would make any naive debutant blush in shame. Some of the gossip was information everyone knew but sometimes the gossip could break someone’s heart. The 1813 season was a fight of the suitors between Your sister, Duchess of Hastings and Lady Marina Crane. With the viscount set on getting your sister married off to Baron Berbrooke. I would never wish him for my sister so how could I allow your sister to marry him? As for Lady Crane I did try to explain to you she loved someone else but due to my status as a wallflower, you ignored me. I am also sorry for writing about the viscount but if the ton was gossiping and the information was true, I had to publish it. But I have to say, taking on the role of the viscount from such a young age, he deserved a lady like the Viscountess. She is an asset to the Bridgerton Household.
I have enclosed the ring given to me. I am so sorry I could never become your wife as we had wished for. In my heart, I will always be fortunate to be your dearest friend. I love you, Mr Colin Bridgerton.
My only wish for you is to be happy. To do this you need to forget me. Erase me from your heart, mind and life. I would recommend you destroy all the correspondence between us both. I have given Mr B Bridgerton the letters I have received during our time together. I tried to destroy them but something kept stopping me tonight. Even as I write this letter to you, Colin, I have your latest letter from your trip to Scotland last week. Your description and words have always transported me across the world. Each time, you’ve travelled, I have been lucky to travel with you through your letters.
You need to settle down and marry a lady worthy of being Mrs Colin Bridgerton. Here is what you need to do. Forget there was ever a Penelope Featherington in your life. At first, it may be difficult but I know you can do it. One day when you look back, you won’t even remember me. I will allow you to visit my grave, once a year for the next two years but no more. After that time, I would love to see you as a father. Have at least four kids. Don’t name any of your daughters Penelope. For they will be fated to live the life of a wallflower which I would never wish upon anyone.
Colin, you need to travel again. As soon as the war is over, travel as far as you can go. Take your wife and children with you. Never be alone. Bring back stories of other countries and their beliefs to tell the Ton. There are many wallflowers and spinsters out there on the edges of the ballroom, who would love to read your stories. I have enclosed a list of publishers based in Bloomsbury who would love to publish a travel journal and guide. There is also a list of a couple of good solicitors. When you go to these publishers and the lawyers, take the viscount with you. I know you are making a face now but your brother has been writing contracts for the last 20 years. I don’t want you to be cheated out of your hard-earned income.
You once questioned your purpose in life. Here is your purpose. Publish your journals. You can also edit them but publish them. Use the letters you sent me to get the information you need before you destroy them. Be the traveller you were always destined to be. Don’t let something as small as my death stop you. I have fulfilled my purpose. To love you and to guide you on your path to happiness.
When I meet our fathers, I will tell Viscount Edmund what a great friend, son and brother you have been. Your father was right. You would make a great friend and a great husband. He told me the first time we met, we were destined to be together. He even said he would introduce me to you but that day you were travelling to Aubrey Hall. That was the first and last time I ever spoke to your father. He was a great man and so are you, Colin.
Take care, Colin. I need to go now and face my death. I can hear you calling my name. I might not say this enough before but one last time, I love you and will always love you.
From a wallflower disguised as Lady Whistledown
Ms Penelope Featherington
Colin slumped in his chair, the weight of grief pressing down on him like the walls of his bachelor lodgings. Tears streamed down his face, leaving raw, red tracks in their wake. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now bloodshot and raw from hours of unchecked weeping. His hands, usually nimble and quick, lay limp on the desk, stained a sickening crimson – a stark reminder of the love he'd so tragically lost. Penelope’s memory, vibrant and full of life, played on a loop in his mind, a cruel contrast to the chilling emptiness that now consumed him.
Every corner of his life echoed with her absence, a constant, cruel reminder carved into the very fabric of his existence. The deep blue curtains, once a source of shared comfort during cosy evenings spent reading aloud, now mocked him with their uncanny resemblance to the cerulean depths of her eyes. Those eyes, which had once sparkled with laughter and a love so fierce it took his breath away, would never again crinkle with amusement at his wit or soften with tenderness when their gazes met.
The worn armchair he had brought as a wedding gift. Ready for when they moved into the townhouse and to be used by Penelope during her writing sessions. Would now be a lonely sentinel in the centre of the room, always waiting for its true owner. Never would he allow anyone to sit on there. Even the scent of lavender, once a comforting fragrance associated with her favourite perfume, now sent his stomach churning, a potent reminder of the final embrace that had sealed their fate. Everywhere he looked, everywhere he reached, there was a phantom limb of what could have been their shared life, a constant, agonizing reminder of the love he had lost.
"Sir Colin, the Viscount is here and would like to speak with you.” Mr Pemberton, his butler announced.
“I don’t wish to speak to anyone. Tell the viscount to leave.” Colin was not in the mood to talk to anyone. He picked up his glass and filled with it the whisky. The bitter taste burned the back of his throat but did nothing to dim the ache in his heart. “How can I live without her?”
“My darling,” Colin looked up, his mother had arrived. Behind her standing at the door, he could see his brother the Viscount and his wife. “How are you feeling?”
His gaze landed on his mother, the one person in the cavernous room who might grasp the depths of his despair. Her eyes, usually sparkling with warmth, mirrored the dull ache in his own. "Mama," he choked out, his voice raw and hoarse, "Did you ever feel like this?"
He wasn't just asking about the gut-wrenching pain that clawed at his insides, the suffocating sorrow that threatened to consume him. No, the unspoken question burned on his tongue: "Does it ever truly go away? Will there ever come a day when the memory of her fiery red hair and the echo of her laughter doesn't leave me breathless when she doesn't haunt every corner of my mind?"
But he couldn't voice those deeper fears. He wasn't sure he even wanted to hear the answer. Instead, he settled for the simpler, yet infinitely heavier question, hoping desperately for a sliver of solace, a hint that time could eventually mend the shattered pieces of his heart.
The world narrowed to the single figure of his mother across the room. Her usually vibrant eyes, so much like his own, were rimmed red, mirroring the ache he felt deep within. "Mama," he rasped, his voice raw with grief. He didn't need to complete the question. She knew. He saw the understanding flicker in her gaze, a shared language of pain forged by a lifetime of navigating society's complexities.
Colin pushed himself to his feet, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He stumbled towards her, his legs feeling like lead pipes. As he reached her, she enveloped him in a fierce hug, her warmth a fragile shield against the storm raging within him.
He buried his face in her shoulder, the dam finally breaking. Sobs wracked his body, each one a guttural expulsion of the pain that had been building for what felt like an eternity. He didn't care about the tears staining his cheeks, or the sniffles echoing in the room. He didn't need words. Words were useless against the tidal wave of grief that threatened to drown him.
In the quiet embrace, surrounded by the heartbroken echo of his sobs, Colin found a semblance of comfort. Words could wait. For now, he simply needed to feel, to let the tears flow and purge the raw, visceral pain that threatened to consume him.