Work Text:
Penelope can vividly recall her mother's not-so-subtle complaints from her childhood about never being able to provide her father with an heir. Even as a young girl, she understood that she and her sisters were considered disappointments simply because they were girls. Her mother had long given up hope of bearing a son for Archie Featherington.
There were jokes among other family members that the Featherington lineage seemed incapable of producing boys. Apart from a few distant cousins, she could only remember meeting direct female relatives. Over time, especially after her father's unfortunate demise and Jack's disappearance, it became almost a family joke that they were cursed—women thrived while men seemed to vanish.
Of course, there were exceptions to this "curse." Penelope could vividly recall all the redheaded Featheringtons she hastily saw at her own wedding (which now felt like a distant dream, thanks to her distraction with chestnut curls and deep blue eyes that day). The family name was ruled by matriarchs. Even her sisters, while she loved their husbands, clearly ran the show.
In short, Featherington men weren’t destined for greatness in life.
Which was why she found herself intrigued by Jack Featherington's supposed new rule: the estate would pass to her or one of her sisters as soon as one provided a son. If he truly understood their family, he knew the chances of that happening were slim.
---
Penelope never expected to find herself pursued for marriage this season.
When she initially plotted her course, and even during her serious contemplation of Debling, she had never imagined herself vying for the family estate.
During her brief courtship with Debling, they did discuss children, and how he didn’t want to leave her with any before embarking on his three-year Arctic expedition.
So, against all odds, when Colin Bridgerton proposed to her (rather swiftly, in the confines of her family’s carriage), she never anticipated still being in the race for the heirship. After all, while she had been compromised by the love of her life, she knew enough about courtship to understand it didn’t typically work this way. Colin was far too much of a gentleman to attempt anything before they were truly committed to each other.
How amusing it all seemed in hindsight.
---
Both her sisters were pregnant at the same time.
She couldn’t help but be aware of it, given that it was all they seemed to talk about whenever she saw them (and, she suspected, at all hours with anyone who would listen).
She listened to them longingly discussing the long-awaited "heir" and how they would soon become the new Lady Featherington, managing their family estate until their sons came of age.
(But she knew better—she had seen enough cousins and close relatives make similar boasts only to end up with daughters, much to their chagrin.)
Prudence and Philippa were busy testing old wives’ tales to determine which of them would be the chosen one. Prudence was convinced she carried a boy because she didn’t look fatigued at all—everyone knew baby girls supposedly drained their mothers’ beauty in the womb.
Philippa, meanwhile, was equally certain she was having a boy because she craved only dried herring, dry crackers, and cheese. It was widely believed that salty cravings increased the likelihood of carrying a boy.
Portia, on her part, was guided by her eldest daughter’s intuition and was already rearranging the estate, convinced they would definitely produce the long-awaited boy for the Featherington household.
---
Of course, they both ended up having girls.
Philomena Finch and Polly Dankworth arrived within days of each other.
Both had wispy red hair, strong lungs, and disappointed mothers (and grandmothers).
Penelope had been a Bridgerton for just over five months and was already feeling her mother’s pressure to provide another grandchild.
“How wonderful it would be to give the estate to a Bridgerton,” her mother exclaimed a bit too loudly one evening while dining with them.
Colin tensed beside her. They had discussed their future and what they wanted for their family.
---
“Colin?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s on your mind? Something’s been bothering you,” she asked one night as they lounged in bed.
“Have you ever thought about children?” he asked late one evening, absentmindedly tracing constellations on the freckles of her skin.
“Of course I have,” she responded. "It’s almost impossible for a woman not to think about this," she wanted to add but held her tongue.
“What do you think about them?” he pressed.
“For myself or in general?”
“Both, I suppose.”
“Well, I’m a woman, so I’ve been thinking about them for as long as I can remember. I adore our nieces and nephews and would be delighted to raise our own brood, showing them the world together,” she smiled, gently caressing his hair.
“Do you…” he began, catching himself and trailing off, his fingers continuing to map her skin.
“What?” she retorted.
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
“Colin,” she said with a tone she knew could make him confess to murder if she wanted.
It was strange. She would have liked to tell her sixteen-year-old self that she had such power over him.
“It’s just…” He stopped caressing her collarbone with his finger for a moment. “I had a dream last night,” he began, still not quite meeting her eyes.
She kept looking at him, urging him to continue without pushing him.
“I’ve actually been having the same dream for some time now,” he finally admitted.
“And what happens in this dream? You’re not still dreaming about me in that garden, are you?” she joked.
“God, I shouldn’t have told you about that,” he said, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.
She chuckled, feeling her heart warm. It was one of the things he had told her when he finally confessed his love.
“I’ve been dreaming about us. Specifically, our future,” he concluded, still not quite meeting her eyes.
She smiled. Oh, how she loved that she had married such a thoughtful man.
“What exactly about our future have you been dreaming about?” she continued, already having an idea.
His smile widened as his gaze wandered. Surely, he was picturing it right now.
“I…I know your family is eager for an heir to reclaim the estate. And even though I know it’s not your fault, and we’re on the same page, I can’t help but feel pressure to deliver,” he stated, gazing up at the ceiling.
“Well, it’s not like you’ve ever had trouble delivering before,” she finished, giving him a playful wink.
He chuckled, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
“Sorry, go on.”
“I know, maybe one of your sisters will have one. And…” He turned to her, locking eyes as if wanting her to understand the gravity of what he was about to say. “…I would understand if you preferred to have a son first, to prove your worth to your family. Not that you need to, or that we have any say in it,” he finished, sounding nervous, almost embarrassed to have voiced the idea.
“Don’t worry. I know you don’t mean it like that.”
He resumed tracing her skin, this time focusing on her collarbones.
“I’ve just been having this dream, Pen. Call it divine intervention or wishful thinking, I don’t know. But it’s always the same baby, always our little girl,” he finally admitted, now moving his caresses to her belly.
She remained silent, not wanting to interrupt him when she knew he had more to say.
“My brother and sister both have their heirs. And while I adore my nephews, I can’t stop thinking about this little red-headed baby girl who has been haunting my dreams, Pen.”
She held her breath for a moment.
“Of course, I would love our child no matter what, Pen. If we have a boy, I’d be thrilled to raise him to be a perfect gentleman and a great Lord, with all the knowledge I have on the subject.”
Now it was her turn to touch his skin, lifting his chin so he would look at her.
“Colin, I love you. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what’s really on your mind,” she laughed.
“Right. I guess what I’ve been trying to say is…I really hope for a daughter,” he finally confessed.
God, she loved her husband.
“If you want to laugh at me for being terribly sentimental, please do it now and get it over with,” he said after a few seconds of her silence.
“Colin, look at me,” she smiled, tilting his chin back up to meet her gaze. “I love you, and I love that you’re thinking about our family.”
He grinned at her use of "our."
“I spent so long thinking I’d die an old maid. It would be dishonest to say I never gave up on the idea of having children of my own,” she said softly. He rested his hand on her cheek, offering a brief comfort.
“I spent so long convinced that this, love—especially your love—wasn’t in the cards for me, that now I’m just counting my blessings as they come.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not saying this for sympathy, though I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, touching his hand on her cheek. “All of this to say, I’ve had this dream locked inside my mind for so long that I’m now eager to accept whatever comes our way. If that means hoping for a daughter with you, then count me in.”
“I’ve spent my life feeling like a failure to my mother, and even more to my father because I wasn’t a boy. I couldn’t provide them the security and Here's the reworked version:
"All of this is to say, I’ve carried this dream in my heart for so long, and now I’m content to embrace whatever comes our way. If that means hoping for a daughter alongside you, then I’m more than happy to do so," Penelope confessed, her voice wavering with emotion. "I spent so much of my youth feeling like a disappointment to my mother, and even more so to my father because I wasn’t a son who could provide the security and legacy they sought to complete our family. I never want our children to experience that same sense of inadequacy, Colin," she said, meeting his gaze with tears in her eyes. "I feel incredibly fortunate that you share these hopes with me."
Colin responded by pressing his lips to hers, their kiss a tender affirmation of their shared dreams and feelings.
"It's more than just a dream, Pen," Colin murmured, his thumb brushing away her tears. "I’ve listened to countless peers at Eton boasting about their hypothetical sons, already envisioning their successes and the honor they’ll bring to their family name. I’m grateful that our family never imposed such expectations on us, and I’m truly sorry that hasn't been your experience. I can imagine how challenging it must have been for you and your sisters, always striving to measure up."
"Now, if we do have a son first and inherit the estate," Colin continued earnestly, "I promise to raise him to fulfill his responsibilities with integrity and consideration for others."
"But if I’m being selfish," he admitted with a small smile, "I’ll always secretly wish for our daughter—a girl who embodies strength, mindfulness, empathy, and the independence of her remarkable mother."
Penelope's affection for her husband deepened even more. "I know you do," she affirmed softly, realizing she had spoken her innermost thoughts aloud.
"Of course, it’s your body," Colin teased lightly, "so I won’t pressure you for a daughter if we only have sons and you choose not to continue."
"Oh really?" Penelope laughed, her fingers tracing through his chest hair. "And what would be the maximum number of boys I could have before you stop impregnating me? Five?"
"Five?" Colin burst into a full belly laugh, his smile wide. Penelope playfully swatted his arm.
"Colin Bridgerton, I adore you, truly I do. But please, no more than five boys. I don’t think I could handle it."
"Aye, captain," Colin replied playfully.
"Now," Penelope whispered, lowering her voice and leaning closer, "shall we begin trying for that first son of our potential five, or would you prefer to continue dreaming about our imaginary daughter?"
Colin's response was immediate—he captured her lips in a passionate kiss.
---
In the end, they didn’t need five attempts.
Agatha Eloise Bridgerton arrived on a bright May morning, following a long night of labor for her mother.
As the doctor announced her birth, both parents were overcome with tears—partly from exhaustion, but mostly from sheer wonder and joy.
Agatha was swiftly cleaned up and placed gently on Penelope’s chest.
"Colin," Penelope croaked out, overwhelmed with emotion, as if seeking reassurance from him that this moment was real.
Colin, too moved for words, focused on memorizing every detail of his precious daughter’s face through tear-filled eyes.
He kissed her forehead and gazed into her eyes reverently.
"Thank you," he managed to say hoarsely, his throat tight with emotion.
Returning his gaze to their daughter's small form, with her curious blue eyes, Colin softly spoke, "Hello, my love," as he tenderly stroked the wispy hairs on her head.
His daughter.
What a glorious day.