Work Text:
It was a rare occurrence whenever Penelope decided to take a day off, even more rare when she ventured out of the house on those occasions but she hadn't been to a bookshop in what felt like ages and had a nice enough morning that going out didn’t seem to monumentous a task so off she went.
The particular shop she found herself in was one of her favorites, it was massive with a wide variety of genres allowing Penelope to wander the stacks for hours, a pass time she dearly loved. She’d only just begun making her way through the aisles when she noticed she was being followed.
Now, Penelope stood still pretending to examine the spines lining the shelves in front of her, waiting for her little shadow to peek out at her again. Her patience was rewarded when out of the corner of her eye she saw a head of brown hair move to peer at her from behind the shelf. Smiling Penelope waited a beat then quickly turned, catching a glimpse of eyes widened in shock before the little girl ducked away once more, giggling all the while.
Pursing her lips attempting to contain her laughter Penelope once again began to slowly make her way through the stacks. While she didn’t anticipate spending her outing playing a game of cat and mouse with a random child in between bookshelves she surely didn't mind, it had been so long since she saw her own nieces and, well, it seemed the little girl was here alone as she’d been following her for quite time now without the worried shouting of a parent and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of empathy for her.
Penelope recalled the days her mother would drop her off at the nearest bookstore while she and her older sisters went shopping for hours. While she didn’t mind an awful lot (her mother insisted on dressing her in the most ill-fitting awful shades of yellow, shopping trips ended in tears more often than not) she did remember how lonely it used to be.
Perhaps her empathy was misguided but it truly didn’t matter seeing as she was having just as much fun playing their game as her tiny playmate.
As she made her way through the store Penelope couldn’t help but make her way over to the romance section. Ever since she published her first novel whenever she was out book shopping she’d always made a point to track down her work, forever amazed at the physical proof of her accomplishments. Quite a few novels joined her first since then but nearly all of them could be found under romance to no one's great surprise.
A pleased smile settled on her face once she spotted them, only growing once she reached for her third novel; it certainly never hurt to see best selling author printed right beside her name and Wallflower had always been Penelope’s favorite. Certainly not the most popular, it was hard to compete with the trilogy (which she’d actually paused in order to write the book in her hand) that jump started her career as a romance author but it is one of her most highly praised.
And certainly the prettiest Penelope thought, petting the cover gently. She’d been hesitant to reach out and commission art from Benedict as she hadn’t spoken to a Bridgerton in years at that point, even longer now, but she’d always loved the way he painted flowers and couldn’t imagine anyone else doing the cover for this particular book. It was all really professional in the end, a series of emails, a bit of negotiation and all he’d asked for was a signed copy of the book which she sent through the post because yes, Penelope is a coward and that was that.
Vaguely, she wondered if he’d read it, wondered if any one of them read it, if Eloise had even thought to buy a copy, if Colin-
No. Penelope shook her head, she had to stop, stop thinking about them all as if she had the right because she most certainly did not even if it felt like she did. It was just difficult, in the nearly ten years since her break up with Colin and falling out with Eloise she thought about them, all of them, almost daily. They’d all been a family to her for so many years, making room for her as their ninth without any qualms and she’d-
To put it plainly and simply because thinking about all the misdeeds she’d committed against the people she’d held most dear made her quite ill, she messed up.
If she could take it all back she would- though she wouldn’t have a nearly as successful career as she had now if it weren’t for that damned gossip blog, that damned wonderful gossip blog that even now Penelope loves to death despite the fact it took so much away from her. Still, the identity reveal that followed the two most painful break ups of her entire life was the most brilliant thing she could’ve done career wise, it seemed her previous work as Lady Whistledown was impressive enough that when she finally finished her first novel people actually wanted to read it, publishing houses wanted to publish her and editors wanted to read her transcript. It was something she’d done herself, something she could hold and look upon with pride and it was all so wonderful, it was, it was, it was and yet…
Penelope couldn’t help but think it was possibly the worst trade off in the entire world.
“My daddy likes those books.”
Penelope yelped, nearly jumping out her skin looking down to see the little girl who had been following her around was now standing next to her.
The little girl looked up at her, eyes a rather lovely shade of blue, dressed sweetly in overalls and a yellow jumper covered in flowers, up close her hair was a pretty chestnut brown settling back in an intricate braid, little wisps hanging around her face. She couldn’t be much older than six or seven and reminded her just a bit of Hyacinth when she’d been that age.
Okay! Enough! Penelope scolded herself. Enough thinking of the Bridgertons and mistakes she can’t take back.
“What was that, love?” Penelope turned to face her, forcing all other worries to the back of her mind. “You startled me a bit, sorry if I frightened you.”
Shaking her head she pointed to the book in Penelope’s hand. “My daddy reads those books, they’re really good.”
Penelope’s lips quirked up at that. “That so?”
Nodding happily she flashed a smile, slightly crooked and missing a couple teeth. Penelope found herself wanting to coo, she was adorable.
“Yeah, she's his favorite author,” She informed the redhead, a little frown on her face as she continued. “But he says I'm too little to read her books, even if I'm levels above the rest of my class.”
It tickled Penelope, both her companions' cute little pout and the image of a grown man curled up flipping through her gushy novels. Gushy in both the romantic and sexual context of course but her writing was so heavily targeted towards women that she wonders what any man would get out of picking up one of her books. Still, it made her think a bit better of him, not very much though as his daughter was comfortably in the company of a stranger and he was currently nowhere to be seen.
“I hate to agree with him but he's right.” Penelope gave her an apologetic shrug, then trying to make her feel better she said. “Besides grown up books are a bit boring, aren't they?”
“Not the ones my daddy reads, he’s a writer so he knows what's good.” The tiny brunette made the statement with her chest puffed out slightly, it made Penelope’s heart squeeze a little, she doesn’t think she’d ever taken pride in anyone enough to brag about them to strangers, even as a child.
“Really, what kind of stories does he write?” Penelope asked, tilting her head at the young girl assuring her she was interested.
“Adventures he used to go on,” She said. “I’m not really supposed to read his books either, but he tells me the Penelope proof kind sometimes.”
Penelope blinked at that, taken aback. “Penelope proof?”
“The kid version,” She explained as though it was obvious. “Cause my daddy said his books aren’t meant for little ears and granny thinks so too.”
“Yes but why Penelope proof?”
The little girl's big blue eyes looked up at her curiously before her mouth opened in a little oh. “Sorry for my bad manners.” She quickly apologized, though it sounded slightly robotic, before sticking her hand out for Penelope to shake. “I’m Penelope ma’am.”
Penelope placed her book back on the shelf before reaching out and taking the little girl's hand because it was the polite thing to do, but in reality all she wanted to do was scream.
Surely this man hadn’t named his daughter after her, right? Though doing some quick mental math her first novel was definitely published before this girl's birth and she’d recognized one of her novels simply from the cover, something most children didn’t make a habit of remembering. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities and that alone made her head spin.
“That's pretty,” Penelope offered weakly, letting go of her hand. “Did your mummy pick it out?”
Maybe she was mistaken, Penelope wasn’t an uncommon name by any means. Perhaps it was familial, or her parents had just liked the name or-
“No, I don’t have one,” The little girl- Penelope, informed her. “I think I’m named after her.”
The sentence would’ve been assuring if she hadn’t pointed at the book in Penelope’s hand when she said it, confirming her suspicions and really all she could think was a very loud and pronounced what the fuck. Then she recalled how she always wanted to name her daughter after Jane Austen, if she’d ever had one, and while it was still very, extremely, incredibly weird that someone had liked her writing enough to name their child after her it was also sort of flattering.
Sort of.
“Ah, well,” Penelope cleared her throat. “I’m…sorry?” Because really what else was one meant to say to a wandering motherless child whose father had named her after his favorite novelist and was still nowhere near.
“It’s okay, one day I’ll be older and can read whatever I want.” She smiled up at Penelope happily, seemingly not understanding that she was apologizing for being unintentionally insensitive and instead thought she was sorry about the fact she couldn’t read neither her nor her fathers writing. “I wish she made books for kids, then I could know her stories too.”
Now Penelope had never once wanted to be a children's book writer, she actually doesn’t think she has it in her to write something adorable and fluffy, but in that moment staring down at her tiny bookstore companion's big blue puppy-dog eyes she had the thought that it couldn’t be that difficult.
“What would you like the story to be about?” Penelope asked. “If she did write a kids book?”
“It should be about a princess!” The little brunette exclaimed quickly. “But she's a secret knight, and she should have a pet lizard that turns into a dragon but a baby dragon so she can carry him like a cat.”
Penelope grinned down at her, feeling quite silly at the fondness that grew in her chest but it couldn’t be helped, she remembered being small with her head full of stories and no one to share them with. She imagined if someone had cared enough to listen she’d be buzzing with the very same excitement.
“You must take after your dad,” She told her. “That sounds like quite the story.”
She seemed to like that response, smiling prettily at Penelope looking quite a bit bashful. “Yeah, everyone says we’re just the same.”
Refraining from asking where exactly this father she seemed to be enamored with was, Penelope simply nodded, content to listen to her ideas letting her mind wander, surely her publisher wouldn’t be opposed to her writing one measly kid’s book. It might even be fun.
“And who is our princess?” She asked. “A pretty little girl with blue eyes and brown hair perhaps?”
“Or red,” Little Penelope offered, eyeing her fiery locks. “In all the stories my daddy tells, the princess always had red hair.”
Before she had the chance to think too deeply on that bit of information (was the red hair also because of her? Or was her head getting a bit too big for its own good?) there was a shout from somewhere else in the store that had both Penelope’s jolting.
“Penelope!”
The older woman looked down at the little girl, there was no fear in her eyes, just a tad bit of alarm. Her eyes were wide, her lips pursed together and she diddled with her fingers a bit, it seemed as though her dad had finally come looking for her.
“Will you be in an awful lot of trouble?” Penelope thought to ask, she didn’t very much like the idea of a grown man coming to yell at her little friend, even if he was her father.
“Penelope!” The shouting got closer, sounding startlingly familiar though she had no idea why.
“No tv for a week.” Little Penelope bemoaned. “But he’ll say yes if I ask to watch Bluey together, he really likes it.”
With everything she knew about this little girl's father she actually couldn’t wait to get a look at the man, a seemingly single father who liked romance novels enough to name his daughter after his favorite novelist who also enjoyed Bluey, told stories of red haired princesses and was a published author himself.
Who had also lost track of his young daughter for close to an hour. Perhaps she shouldn’t judge, the little girl loved him dearly it seemed and really, what did she know about parenting anyway?
“Penelope!”
The shout was now behind the two, Penelope turned to see the man only to see a figure dash quickly past the aisle they were in, missing them completely much to his daughter's delight, who giggled into the palm of her hand. It really was rather funny but she didn’t want to cause the man any more grief so she gave the little girl a reprimanding look (though a smile was plastered on her face) and with a little huff she opened her own mouth to shout.
“I’m over here dad!”
Loud footsteps could be heard coming near them, it had Penelope turning again facing the other end of the aisle waiting for the man to reveal himself.
When he did, appearing disheveled and out of breath, Penelope felt herself feeling the very same.
There, walking toward her his dark blue eyes steady on the little girl standing in front of her, was Colin Bridgerton.
And now he was kneeling in front of her, in front of his daughter , enveloping her into a quick hug before pulling back and grabbing her gently by the shoulder. “Penelope Bridgerton, what were you thinking wandering off on your aunt like that? I said we could come here after I’d finished my meeting, you scared us half to death.”
“But daddy-” Penelope could see the way her little lip quivered, her big blue eyes pooling with tears.
“No buts, no tv for a week and I do mean it this time darling.” Colin gave her a hard look, one she recognized from years of knowing him, one that hadn't changed in all the time they’d been apart, one that used to make Penelope weak in the knees and bend to his will no matter how stubborn she seemed to be.
Even at her shock upon seeing him one thing kept running through her mind, so quickly it made her dizzy, she really felt as though she was going to faint and it was quite the feat she hadn’t already.
Penelope. Penelope. He’d named her Penelope. Why had he named her Penelope?
Colin stood, he towered over her as he always did, more broad now with a light beard on his face and much longer curls, enough to be pulled back in a ponytail, his hand was atop the little girl's head musing her hair before wrapping his arms around her shoulder and nestling her up against his side.
“Thank you for keeping an eye on her,” His eyes were still trained on the upset little miss now clinging to his thigh. “She can be quite the handful but I…”
And then he’d stopped, his eyes now meeting her own and as much as she wanted to Penelope couldn’t tear her gaze away, she missed those eyes. Those dark blue eyes, always shining with kindness and sincerity, though now all they held was shock and she really couldn’t blame him. They weren’t even in London, she’s lived here for years and had never so much as caught a glimpse of any Bridgerton around and now here they were, two right in front of her.
“Pen.” He spoke, licking his lips in that nervous way he did, though he had told her years ago it was a habit he’d picked up from her.
“I-” Penelope tried but the words got caught in her throat, what was one meant to say to their ex of nearly ten years after stumbling across their daughter (who he apparently named after said ex)
They stayed that way, staring at one another for what seemed like ages before another loud shout could be heard coming from the stacks.
“Colin! Collllllllin!”
Colin blinked, still looking at her he opened his mouth to shout back. “We’re here Hy! I found her!”
Then there at the end of the aisle was another Bridgerton, one she’d always been rather fond of as she dearly wanted a little sister of her own. Hyacinth Bridgerton was every bit as beautiful as her sisters and mother in adulthood, with the wide smile of her late father that was being casted upon her, Hyacinth’s eyes lit up when they fell on Penelope, her mouth opening in a shriek.
“Penelope Featherington as I live and breathe!” Hyacinth ran towards her, throwing herself at the older girl wrapping her arms around her and giving a tight squeeze.
Unable to do anything else Penelope hugged her back, she’d always loved Hyacinth's hugs, they were full of excitement and love. Even when she was just a baby she’d always squeeze onto whoever was holding her like her life depended on it. Penelope missed those hugs and the way all the Bridgerton women seemed to smell faintly of Violet's floral perfume.
“Hyacinth.” Penelope finally found her words, giving the girl one last squeeze before pulling back. “You’ve grown.”
“It happens, overtime.” Hyacinth smiled at her brightly, gripping her free hand. “But so have you, can I just say, damn Featherington.”
“Featherington?” A little voice piped up from below all the adults, their gazes quickly turning to little Penelope who was now looking more confused than upset. “Like the author?”
No one said anything for a beat, Penelope chanced a look at Colin because it seemed her habit of looking for him hasn’t weaned even after this time, only to find that his gaze was already on her. Their eyes locked and it was as though the two younger girls simply ceased, that was until Hyacinth, never one for keeping quiet, thought to speak up.
“Okay! Come on Penny, let's go ahead and get you a few books while your daddy talks to his old friend hmm?” Hyacinth was already moving to grab the little girl's hand, dragging her away from her father and down the aisle.
“Wait! I didn’t say goodbye.” Little Penelope yanked her hand away from Hyacinth running towards Penelope, wrapping her arms around her waist and nuzzling her face into the soft of her stomach before looking up at her with those same puppy-dog eyes Colin has, they looked so familiar in that moment she wondered how she didn’t piece it together earlier.
“Will you write the book?” She asked. “Please? I want to read your words too.”
Penelope’s heart melted at that, always and forever weak to the Bridgertons she dropped down to the child’s level, bringing her into a quick embrace as it seemed wrong to be embraced with such affection if she didn’t give it in turn.
“Of course I will, I want you to read my words too.”
Little Penelope smiled at her, content with her response she went back over to her aunt, shouting at her over her shoulder. “Bye Penelope!”
As she watched her little friend and Hyacinth round the corner Penelope’s nerves came back, she should’ve made a quick break for it while Colin was distracted but she hadn’t even the room to think after seeing him again after so long.
With a deep breath she turned to face him. “Hello Colin.”
A smile broke out over his face, so endearing and full of happiness she could burst. “Hey Pen, how are you?”
“Well.” Except for the fact you’ve named your daughter after me even though we hadn’t spoken in years and my heart is currently beating out my chest because you still smell the same.
“That is…good to hear.” He gulped.
Penelope nodded. “Yes um…and you? I mean, you’re a father now Colin, might be a bit late but congratulations, she's…she's beautiful.”
Do not ask about her mother. Do not ask why her name is Penelope. Stop looking at him like that. Finish this and go start writing up a pitch for that damn children's book you just promised to write for his daughter.
“She is.” Colin smiled fondly. “I hope she didn’t say anything…I hope she was polite, I’m sorry if she wasn’t, she’s kind of going through a whole attempt at maturity phase right now, she’s stopped calling me daddy can you believe it?”
Penelope smiled at that. “When she spoke about you she called you daddy, I wouldn’t worry too much.”
A little huff of breath left him, a grateful grin stretched across his face, one so pretty it made her heart hurt. If one thing is for certain it's that she’d never stop aching for Colin Bridgerton.
And when he looked her up and down seemingly stuck in place she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d never stopped aching for her too.
When the silence stretched on for far too long he eyed her wearily, clearing his throat he spoke softly. “You’re not going to…ask or even say anything?”
Penelope considered him back, looking from the deep blue of his eyes to the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips, he was broader, a bit heavier than he’d been when they were younger but he carried it well and that temping head of hair he’d always had was finally kept long, pulled back into a little ponytail.
“You read my books.” Was all she could think to say.
Colin beamed at her, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve always been my favorite writer.”
“So I've been told.” She tilted her head at him teasingly, something that would once cause him to groan in frustration before devouring her lips with his.
He did groan then, though it wasn’t that sexy growl from a twenty-something but an annoyed one of a father. “What did she say exactly? Do I even want to know?”
She grinned. “Nothing much, just that you like my work, Bluey, and telling stories about redheaded princesses.”
She should've stopped there but Penelope couldn’t help herself, as much as she would’ve liked to have bit her tongue she has a rather bad habit of blurting out the wrong things. “And that she hasn’t got a mother.”
Colin did a sharp intake of breath at that but didn’t seem shocked that she’d brought it up. “No, we um…well we were both really young and rather lost, we tried to make it work after Penelope was born but she, well she never really stopped being lost and I got full custody when she was about one, haven’t seen her since but we’re better off, trust me.”
Penelope nodded. “Good, that's…that's good to hear Colin.”
Well that was that then. They spoke, she got her answer and now she could go and try to live with the knowledge that there was a Penelope Bridgerton after all that very much wasn’t her. A goodbye was on the tip of her tongue when she remembered something important Penelope had told her.
“You got your journals published!” Penelope exclaimed.
Colin turned a bit pink, looking up at her a tad surprised. “You’ve…read them?”
“Um, no sorry, I didn’t know until she told me.” She shrugged. “I’m a busy woman, Bridgerton, I don’t remember the last time I had free time to pick up a book that wasn’t my own.”
“Me either really- oh, no I remember, it was your last book,” He gave her a smile, his voice had an obvious air to it. “And if I recall it ended on a bit of a cliffhanger-”
“Open ending.”
“A cliffhanger, and you refuse to write a sequel!” Colin crossed his arms, shaking his head at her. “Unaccecptable, you must have an idea of what would come after, after all they went through they didn’t get the famous Penelope Featherington happy ending? Come on.”
“Not everyone get a happily ever after Colin.” Penelope murmured.
“No, no not everyone,” He spoke just as softly, rocking back a bit on his heels. “But I think they should’ve and I think you think that too.”
Penelope stumbled back a bit as though he had shoved her, swallowing her intake of air. “I um, well yes I…I do have some sort of an idea of what might come after, but that wasn’t the purpose of the book, I wanted to showcase that sometimes not everything is black and white and that as much as people may love each other that doesn’t-”
“So you do know,” Colin cut her off, stepping in closer and taking one of her hands, her knees nearly buckled. “What comes after?”
Unable to speak, she simply nodded.
Colin grinned at her, swaying their hands together gently. “Tell me about it then, if you won’t publish it, we can do it over coffee or dinner, but I think I’d prefer dinner.”
There were very few times in her life that Penelope had been truly brave, so brave that she hadn’t even needed to think twice about it and through nearly every single one of those times Colin had always been there, holding her hands or otherwise. If there was any part of her that wanted to say no and save herself the heartbreak and insecurity it was washed away simply by Colin’s presence. No one made her braver, which is why she was able to beam up at him with no qualms, squeezing his hand she told him.
“Dinner sounds perfect.”