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It is only proper to begin this story with two crucial truths. One, it is a story often told from one sailor to another, from one traveller to another, from one miserable man leaving the shore for something greater… to another. Two, Penelope Bridgerton is dead.
Leaving his dearest wife was never easy. Every time a friend would ask him if he wished to head for another travel, he had just looked at the love of his life and refused to depart from her.
Never before had he so much to lose. He had pledged both to her and to himself on the very night of their wedding, he would never do that. Alas, he had let his thoughts of long travels to drown in the back of his troubled mind.
He had never been good at hiding secrets from Penelope, so she quickly discovered that his longing for voyages faded, but not disappeared.
He loved her madly. Other men left their homes to escape the reality in which they were married to someone they did not even want to know better, getting lost somewhere between alcohol and women who were not their wives. Not Colin. He had his own friends, but he never felt the need to escape Penelope. In fact, the pure thought had frightened him.
They were reasonable enough to understand, no matter how strong their devotion was, they could not abandon their own needs for the sake of always being for each others. Penelope had Lady Whistledown. Did it mean she didn’t love Colin? Of course not, but she still wanted something of her own. It was a privilege to have that choice as a lady.
He felt he needed to create something on his own too. Not because he was unhappy. Quite the contrary, all the joy, the affection he felt every day allowed him to feel the energy and curiosity he had felt as a young boy.
Eventually Colin started to examine his old maps again, he toyed with his compass more, and he was inadvertently wearing his old, heavy coat again. Those changes were subtle, but his marvellous wife noticed, of course.
One evening, when Colin was resting on his chair by a fireplace, lost in his thoughts, Penelope would approach him, worried about her husband’s needs. “You must go” she would tell him, while her pale hands started stroking his chestnut hair. “I do not wish to withhold you from exploring the world, Colin.”
She could see him crumbling a bit, but he still kept refusing. That is when Penelope decided to be entirely honest.
“My sweetest, if you long for travels, it is best to consider it now. As our family will start to get bigger, I will not let you go anywhere but to fetch some tea.”
It did not convince him forthwith. He was too stubborn to admit how reasonable his wife’s offer had been.
Finally, after several weeks had passed, he was ready to announce his departure. It was his dear friend Philip, who had offered him a tiny cabin on the ship to Lisboa, where a group of naturalists would examine local wildlife. Colin felt a pleasing rush in his veins. He had a chance to go for one more trip, with a friend he treated like a brother to observe, to learn and to come back to his Penelope with pages of flower specimens he would compare her to.
While his mother was quite uneasy about the whole notion, Penelope seemed proud of him and that was enough.
The evening prior to his departure, they made love. They had always done it when periods of separation were to come. It was their sweetest, truest way of telling, “we shall be together again very soon”. They both understood.
Before leaving, he promised her three things. To ensure his own safety, to send her letters from every harbour, and to come back to her with at least four baby names.
Before leaving, she promised him just one thing. To keep him in mind at all times.
The first part of his journey went exceptionally well. He felt the rush he hadn’t known he still had in himself. It was almost the rush, the excitement he so often felt with Penelope, but not quite. On the back of his head, he missed her, but they had survived days without seeing each other before, so it was hardly surprising and hardly new. Besides, he was occupied most of the time.
While a bachelor he had been enjoying the views from the ships, occasionally helping with barrels, ropes, and steering. This time, he decided to engage fully. He wanted to help in every possible way, no matter if it was preparing meals for the crew or manhandling the always-drunk captain. While it was not much to do, he would write in his journal, he would write everything, because letters would not suffice to tell his dear wife about everything.
During their first stop in one of the French harbours, he sent the first letter to her. He had decided to write to her from every stop of their journey to let her know he was safe.
Others would laugh at him. They had left home not more than a week ago, and he was already so eager to write to her. He could not care less. At least Philip did not laugh, just smiled in a way only men in love could.
Colin did not expect an answer from Penelope. They were moving from one country to another too fast for letters to catch him. They had agreed Penelope would send her letters only to Lisboa, where they had been expected to stay for a while.
Portugal was breathtaking. Colin had been to Spain before, so he was astounded to discover it was not the same at all. Perhaps because his memories had faded over time and perhaps because Philip had such a different optic on the world, it made him change his own perspective too. He would notice the tiniest insects, most delicate kinds of leafs, faintest scents.
He would write about it all in his letters. What he decided to omit was the interactions with women of the city. Firstly because there was nothing worth mentioning — he could not stop comparing everyone to Penelope. Secondly because he and Philip had not even thought of indulging themselves with incredibly friendly women on the streets of Lisboa. Indulging was not a proper word at all. Colin had thought, and as he later found out, Philip thought too, that lying with anyone other than your chosen one was a disgrace, a betrayal. Their approach to the matter was astoundingly alike, even if Colin had no idea in whom his dear friend had put his feelings.
Colin did not receive any letters during their stay in Portugal. He had not assumed his family would be willing to write to him — they had never been. He was displeased with Penelope’s silence. She had always been writing to him, no matter how far he had been but now… nothing. He was Colin Bridgerton, and that meant he could not be crossed with his beloved wife for more than a mere moment. Perhaps she had been busy. Perhaps she needed her time in solitude.
It did not matter as they finally entered the ship again, heading home. Pen. Home.
Soon he would have been able to see her, to embrace her, to exchange blue, sea waves for his favourite ginger ones.
Colin valued his time with Philip. He could talk to him about Penelope for as long as he wished for, always listening and commenting in the most kind manner. The first night of their way to London, they sat together on the damp wooden floor of the upper deck to talk about their lives some more. It was Philip’s turn to start.
“It has been exhausting, has it not?”
“I truly do not know what I would do without you here.” Colin answered with honesty.
“You would not go, Bridgerton!” Philip laughed. “Oh, I would forget. I have got something for you.”
He reached to a pocket of his coat and retrieved two letters. One landed on Colin’s eager hand, the other was for Philip’s eyes only.
Colin could not hide his excitement. He did not want to hide it. It was a letter from Eloise, of course, but she must have known how was Penelope feeling, what was she doing.
He took a quick glance at Philip, to see if he shared his joy, but his friend was reading his letter already, mouth agape. His face was white and if Colin did not know better, he would have assumed scorbutus.
“Philip, are you-”
Philip took Colin’s letter without asking and rose from the floor. He approached the bow of the ship slowly. Colin had no other choice but to follow him, unsettled. Philip kept walking, he was similar to monsters he had read about in Marry Shelley's books. Numb, bewitched. Cursed?
They both stopped when all they could see was the sea and nothing else. Dark waves hitting the ship, soothing the sky with their calm movement. If God existed, he was there and nowhere else.
“Philip…” he almost asked. It made him sick to know something was wrong, very wrong, and he did not know what it was. “Philip…” He tried once again. The sea kept humming.
His companion finally looked at him, but quickly focused on the water again.
“My dear friend” Philip said with a voice of a hopeless man, “are you happy?”
“At this moment I am rather worried, tell me-”
“In general, are you happy, Colin?”
He felt as if he was playing against the devil, or as if he was a little child lost in the middle of a forest.
“Philip, tell me immediately!”
Colin tried to be demanding, but his friend did not even blink. Did not move his head.
“Try to be happy for one more moment, can you do that, my friend?”
He could not. It was not a warning, it was a verdict. He did not know what had happened, but he could imagine everything at once. It paralysed him.
The sky was just as dark as the water. The stars were shining over their heads and under his feet. The world seemed to be one huge mirror, one pattern suffocating him, strangling him, drowning him. He felt as if he did not possess his own body. As if his body disappeared, and he was only his heart and his burning, burning eyes.
“Until we are here, Colin, she is with you.”
He heard and his eyes disappeared as well, making him just a small, bleeding heart. Just an echo of despair.
“I am so sorry.” Philip whispered.
Colin grabbed the letter again and opened it, almost tearing in half.
Dear brother,
He unfolded the paper.
I must tell you it happened so unexpectedly
He looked at Eloise’s haste penmanship.
She passed away peacefully
The paper was stained with dried tears.
She loved you so much
It could not be happening.
She kept saying your name
He was numb.
Mama and I were with her till the end
And he was not.
Mama and I made sure to bring her peace
His dear Penelope.
I apologise but as you probably do realise we cannot wait with the ceremony, brother. The doctor said so himself. We shall find the most respectful way to honour her, as she wished to be buried in her wedding dress. I do hope you agree to this decision, but I know you well enough to know you do, even if you would like to keep it for yourself.
I collected a lock of her hair for you, brother. I do believe it was the right thing to do. In fact, I could not help to keep one lock for myself too. Please, do forgive me. You know how important she is to me, too.
I was fighting my own thoughts, not knowing if I should inform you or not, but at the end I must have. You deserve to know, even if it would break your heart. I apologise for not giving you more days of believing Penelope was waiting for you in your big, loving house. If I could, I had never told you.
Colin could not see anything else as his vision became indistinct.
He stumbled away from the railing and almost fell to the ground. He did not realise it was Philip who saved him from hitting the floor. He felt as if he was drowning, tears he had been holding flooding his lungs, he was not able to breath.
Colin pulled himself away from his friend’s helping hands and made a poor attempt to manoeuvre. Anyone may have thought he was drunk. It was not unusual for some men to roll around the deck with no dignity, but a bottle of rum in hand. No one would know what he felt.
Suddenly he stopped trying to pace around the ship, and took a deep breath. That was when his tears started streaming, and he did not want to stop them any more. Quarters were passing, and no one had come to him to announce it was all a jest or a nightmare. Not even Philip, not even when he begged him to admit it was a ruse.
Colin sat on the damp floor, only to lie down completely just a moment later. He could not care about his friend watching him, about the rest of the crew most probably hearing him. He could not even care about God hearing his blasphemies. What God would not let his Penelope see the future? What God would not let them grow old together?!
It took him some time to fall asleep, tired and with every single tear already cried out. Philip had been there with him when he refused to move to his cabin and when he had been waking up frightened every hour.
His dreams were filled with his beloved wife. Strangely, he did not envision her in some endangerment. Quite the contrary. He could see her coming to their bedchamber in the late morning to convince him to finally greet the day. She had always woken him up gently. She would have climbed onto the bed and wake him up with soft kisses and quiet words. “Wake up my love”, she would have said, “Let me see your dazzling eyes”. The dreams were turning into a nightmare every time Colin gained at least some consciousness and his mind reminded him about the truth. That was when he had to wake up with despair. He wept, he screamed, and he could not catch his breath.
It lasted two days. For two days not one person gathered enough courage to talk to him, apart from Philip, but it was not a conversation really. It was a monologue. No one was drinking, no one dared to laugh, and those who had met Penelope before were being particularly quiet.
After two days, Colin destroyed his whole cabin. Philip was there, watching his friend carefully, not trying to stop him at all. Colin shattered his tiny desk, soaking the entire room with black ink. His blood was rushing through his veins, ready to explode. His eyes were red from constant lament, his hands wounded from punches he had thrown onto the furniture. If only God could have accepted the duel, Colin swore he would aim at his head with no hesitation.
On the fifth day, there was silence. Colin did not eat, did not talk and almost did not blink. After three hours of convincing and fighting, Philip managed to get him out of his destroyed cabin onto the upper deck.
Colin was staggered when he saw the entire crew of the ship standing there upright, ordered into two rows, creating a corridor right into the prow. He was inanimate, possessed with shock and confusion. He could barely notice, when one of the deckhands tucked a folded, white cloth into his hand.
When he finally looked down at the fabric, he saw an embroidery made with threads taken out from their garments. It was a letter P surrounded with flowers and vines. Colin felt his heart heaving with every passing second.
Philip managed to snap him out with a hand carefully placed on Colin’s shoulder.
“Come with me” Philip said, leading his friend to the prow, passing the ship’s crew.
When they reached the edge, there was silence. Even the water was peculiarly quiet, as if paying a perplexing tribute to Colin’s biggest and only love.
Philip did not have to say anything, which made him drop a tear straight into the peaceful sea. Colin knew exactly what he had to do. What he desperately needed to do.
He raised his hand and spread out the cloth. It was hanging from his fingers like a ghost. Like her wedding dress, he had carefully put away during their first night as husband and wife. He made his last goodbye, thinking about those auburn locks he loved so much splayed out on their bedsheets, and then he reached his hand and freed the material.
As if the sea wanted to give him the last chance to see his darling, it sent the wind, to lift the material above the water. The sea was merciful and cruel at the same time. The only thing Colin could see was Penelope dancing beyond the sky with her contagious giggle and gleaming eyes.
Goodbye, my love.