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Penelope’s mother hadn’t wanted to let her go to the first ever Bridgerton game night. She was barely ten years old and it was a school night. Despite the fact that Penelope loved school and was already reading far above her class level, Portia Featherington seemed adamant that spending a Sunday evening at their neighbors’ home would somehow bring her to ruin.
At least, that was the impression Penelope had as she knelt with Eloise outside of Archibald Featherington’s study as Eloise’s second-oldest brother tried to convince her parents to let her come back with them across the street.
Penelope didn’t really understand why Benedict was willing to plead with her parents over this one little thing. He had never paid her much attention aside from the occasional pat on the head and she certainly didn’t think that her presence at the game night would be much noted. She was meek and softspoken where the Bridgertons were competitive and loud. Most of the time Penelope spent with them since her family moved across the street consisted of her sitting back and watching them bicker and rough house and play around in ways that were totally foreign compared to how her own family interacted. When her older sisters taunted her, it hurt in a way Eloise’s teasing never had. The only reprieve in her own house was when little Felicity fussed in the middle of the night and Penelope was able to sneak in and read her bedtime stories until she settled.
But that wasn’t enough to make a happy home, not really. Not in the sunshine and laughter way Bridgerton House always felt whenever Penelope was allowed over.
At least, that was the way it was until Mr. Bridgerton died.
A few months had passed since the day Penelope answered the phone to Eloise sobbing on the other end. She was crying herself by the time Anthony took the phone back from his sister and asked Penelope to hand the phone over to one of her parents. Portia and Anthony hadn’t talked long before she pulled Penelope aside and explained that Mr. Bridgerton had had an incident while the family was on vacation and that he had moved on to a better place. Penelope had wanted to ask what better place could there be than with the Bridgertons but then Prudence spoke up from across the room and explained that he died. Penelope had read enough sad books to know by then what death meant—in the abstract, at least—and she’d cried in earnest then for her friends and the father they’d lost.
Eventually, though, life moved on. The Bridgertons came back to London and, though Penelope never really saw Anthony or Mrs. Bridgerton around much, the younger siblings came back to school, Benedict using his parents’ minivan to drive them all rather than letting them walk.
They were all a little different than she remembered. Eloise seemed angrier, picking fights with the boys in their class. Daphne started wearing makeup and signing up for every extracurricular she could. Colin was still funny and sweet and charming, but he only seemed to smile when someone was watching; Penelope only noticed because he never seemed to notice she was always watching.
Her sisters teased her for it, of course, her “baby crush” on Colin Bridgerton, but he had been the first person who had ever been truly kind to her. He was like the sun, lighting up her life and introducing her to his family, taking her under his wing. It wasn’t her fault that she wanted him to be happy. That she wanted them all to be happy like they made her happy.
At ten years old, she wasn’t really sure how to make that happen yet, but if Benedict thought bringing her to game night would make his family happy, then she’d gladly hold Eloise’s hand and press her ear to the door and hope and hope and hope and—
Eventually, her parents relented.
Penelope heard Benedict on the other side of the door offering his thanks just in time for her to drag Eloise up from the floor so that they were standing there clutching each other tight rather than falling into the room when he came out into the hall.
“So?” Eloise asked, her eyes wide, her hands achingly tight around Penelope’s.
“Just this once.” Portia Featherington sighed, putting her hands on her hips and directing a pointed look towards Benedict.
“Of course, ma’am,” Benedict replied with far more formality than Penelope had ever seen him use. His expression broke into a grin when he turned to Penelope and Eloise. “Come on, you two.”
“Yes!” Eloise practically jumped up and down with excitement, throwing her arms around Penelope’s neck and holding tight as Benedict tried to usher them both forward. “Oh we’ll have the best time, Pen, you have to be my partner in charades, we’ll kick all of their butts.”
Penelope just nodded, letting her friend’s enthusiasm sweep over her. She hadn’t seen Eloise excited about anything in months, hadn’t seen one of Benedict’s playful winks, or really had any reason to go over to her friends’ house that wasn’t bringing over homework when one of the younger siblings was too sad to go to class.
She was a little hesitant that the house would be different inside like it had been on those homework trips. She knew that Mrs. Bridgerton had had her baby and that the older siblings were often taking care of little Hyacinth, though Anthony seemed to always be locked away in Mr. Bridgerton’s study. They’d all been busy, they’d all been sad, so Penelope couldn’t blame them for the way their house felt too quiet, too hollow on those quick trips she made across the street.
But she’d hated it, nonetheless. The Bridgertons were warmth and joy and laughter. That kind of tension and silence only made sense in her own house, not theirs.
The moment Benedict opened the door for her and Eloise, however, all of Penelope’s worries were swept away.
“Pen’s here!” Eloise shouted, dragging her inside and straight towards the main room of the house where Daphne, Francesca, and even little Gregory were gathered.
“Pen!” Daphne jumped up, handing Gregory off to Benedict. “We’re so glad you could make it.”
“Thanks,” Penelope squeaked, caught completely off guard by the way Daphne pulled her into a tight hug.
“We were worried you wouldn’t come,” Francesca added. She stood off to the side, a variety of unopened board games scattered around her feet, but her eyes were wide and shining.
“My mum didn’t want me to,” Penelope admitted, crossing the room and offering Francesca a quick hug when Daphne and Eloise both let her go.
“Why not?” Daphne put her hands on her hips and glared across the street, looking very nearly like Eloise.
Penelope shrugged, wandering over to where Benedict had put Greg in the baby bouncer chair he was nearly too big for. She leaned over and waved to the little boy, giggling when he pulled on a curl of her hair.
“Is it because of Mum?” Francesca asked softly. “Ant says she’s getting better.”
“I think she’s just worried because it’s a school night,” Penelope answered quickly, tugging her hair free from Gregory’s grasp so she could sit back on the floor between Francesca and Eloise. Penelope didn’t know exactly what Mrs. Bridgerton was going through, but she did know that it had to be hard to lose someone who was like the sun, like Mr. Bridgerton had been to his entire family. But there was nothing to be ashamed of in that.
“Mr. and Mrs. Featherington just needed a bit of persuading, isn’t that right, Penelope?” Benedict ruffled her hair as he passed by on his way to a chair just outside of their informal game circle. When Penelope looked up, he had a warm smile on his face, as if she’d said just the right thing.
“That’s right.” Penelope grinned, glad to have done something to help, even if she wasn’t quite sure what or how. “I’m really glad she let me.”
“We’re glad, too.” Benedict nodded and looked around at his sisters. It was like a little bit of warmth came back into the room. “So, what are we starting with?”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” Penelope asked. She wasn’t surprised she hadn’t seen Anthony yet, he always seemed too busy for games anymore, but surely Colin would want to play. He was the one always teasing and making up silly games that no one really knew the rules to.
“Anthony’s too boring,” Eloise groaned as she dumped all of the letters from the Scrabble box onto the floor.
“He’s just busy,” Daphne corrected with a huff, trying futilely to put everything back in order.
Benedict’s smile faltered, but he met Penelope’s gaze and answered the question she’d really wanted to ask. “Colin should be down later. Anthony had something he wanted to talk with him about first.”
“Okay.” Penelope nodded, feeling equal parts silly and grateful for the reassuring look Benedict sent her way.
“There aren’t enough letters for the five of us to play, El,” Daphne complained loudly, drawing all of their attention back to the Scrabble-induced argument in front of them.
“Pen and I can be partners.” Eloise grinned triumphantly.
“That’s not fair,” Francesca murmured, worrying her hands in her lap.
“I’ll pair with Franny, you two go solo,” Benedict suggested, sliding out of the chair to sit next to her. “That way you can’t pull your little power duo on us.”
Penelope giggled as Benedict pointed from her to Eloise who simply stuck out her tongue.
With both Daphne and, eventually, Eloise agreeing to the fairness of the deal, they began to play. Eloise won two out of three rounds of Scrabble—Penelope may have let her win the second time simply because she’d missed her friend’s smile—before Daphne insisted they switch to something more entertaining like Twister.
Penelope lost miserably, her arms and legs were far too short, but she’d fallen in a heap of laughter each time. She was pretty sure Daphne only won the tie-breaker round because Francesca started practicing on her little electric keyboard in between calling colors—not very well—partway through Benedict’s turn, but she had no idea whether it was intentional or not. Once the game was decided, Eloise ran to gather snacks while Daphne began to sing along with Francesca’s playing. Everything was loud and chaotic and oh so familiar that Penelope simply sat on the sofa across the room and watched them with a smile on her face.
Benedict was playfully begging Francesca to stop when Penelope glanced over her shoulder and saw Anthony standing in the doorway watching them. She sat up a little straighter, turning to see if Colin was going to follow in after him.
The hallway was empty.
“Penelope.” Anthony noticed her watching him and walked over to lean on the back of the sofa. “I was wondering what had this bunch so wound up.”
“I’m sorry,” Penelope apologized immediately, though she wasn’t quite sure why she would be the cause for winding anyone up. She’d hardly said a word the past five minutes. “Are we being too loud?”
Anthony just shook his head, his expression softening. “Not at all. It’s just…been a while.”
Penelope nodded, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She hadn’t been over much lately, but it had been a while since she’d seen any of the siblings having so much fun. She didn’t want them to go back to being so quiet and sad after that night. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Anthony blinked down at her as if surprised by the offer. After a moment, his shoulders relaxed and he shook his head. “You’ve already done so much, Penelope. Just stick around, okay?”
She furrowed her brow but nodded. Penelope didn’t really feel like she’d done much of anything except for those times she stopped little Gregory from eating the Scrabble tiles, but if Anthony wanted her to ‘stick around,’ then she would. She always wanted to be with the Bridgertons, anyway, so that sounded fine by her.
Before Anthony could say anything else, Eloise appeared from the doorway behind him, arms full of bags of candy and crisps. “Are you going to stand there, or are you going to play, too?”
“I have to get Greg down for bed,” Anthony replied shaking his head. He gestured pointedly between Benedict and the pile of snacks Eloise had dropped in the middle of the floor. “Make sure they don’t eat all of that.”
“It’s in case Colin comes down.” Eloise rolled her eyes. “He eats everything.”
“I don’t think Colin’s joining tonight.” Anthony’s expression turned frustrated as he bent over to gather Gregory from the bouncer chair. “Daph, there should be some fresh fruit in the fridge.”
Daphne left her post by the piano to scurry off to the kitchen while Benedict grabbed some of the bags Eloise had brought down and tossed them up on the highest shelf of one of the built-in bookshelves. Meanwhile, Eloise looked up from where she’d started scribbling clues onto pieces of paper with a deep frown.
“But if you’re not playing and he’s not playing,” Eloise pointed first to Anthony then up in the vague direction of the family’s bedrooms, “then how are we going to play charades? There’s an odd number of people!”
“You’re smart, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Anthony smirked down at his sister as he took Gregory from the room.
Eloise groaned in response, but Penelope caught Benedict’s smile from across the mess of games. She wondered if that had been the first time he’d seen Anthony almost smile, too.
“Oh, I don’t mind watching,” Penelope offered. She truly didn’t. As much as she loved Eloise, her best friend got a bit overzealous with games that all but required shouting. Penelope was also pretty sure that it was late enough she’d have to go home soon; she’d hate to make them all stop mid-game just for her.
“Absolutely not.” Eloise dumped her finished clues into an empty bowl and crossed her arms. “Pen, you promised we’d be teammates.”
“Then I can sit out,” Francesca suggested. Penelope was fairly sure the yawn that followed was fake, but she couldn’t blame her. Francesca was one of the quieter siblings—something she and Penelope bonded over—so it was no surprise she might want to sit out.
“Why don’t we just go see if Colin wants to join?” Benedict suggested as Daphne re-entered the room with arms full of various uncut fruit.
She set it down in a pile on the nearest table and started to turn back to the hall. “Oh, I can go—”
“Penelope, why don’t you go ask?” Benedict suggested before Daphne could even finish speaking. When both Penelope and Daphne turned to him, confused, he gestured to the bowl of papers Eloise had been working on. “Daph and I have the best handwriting if we want these clues to be legible.”
“My handwriting is fine!” Eloise held out the clue she was working on as an example.
“You don’t mind, right?” Benedict directed the question to Penelope, pointedly ignoring his sister.
“Oh, uh, I don’t mind.” Penelope shook her head, her hair bouncing with the fervor of the motion. “I’ll be back quick.”
“Thanks.” Benedict offered her that same sad smile again before jumping to his feet and stopping her as she stood. “And tell him it’s okay if he says no, alright?”
“Okay.” Penelope nodded, making sure to wait until Benedict stepped back to leave so he would know she took him seriously. She wasn’t sure why Benedict had wanted her to go instead of Daphne—Daphne and Colin were the closest, after all—but she had wanted to help so, if he asked her to check on Colin, she would.
The deeper Penelope wandered into Bridgerton House, however, the less sure of herself she felt. It had always been a massive house, but it had never felt so big. It was as if all of the life had shrunk into that one room, radiating from board game tiles and plastic mats, trying to conserve joy like heat in the winter. Penelope could still hear Daphne laughing and Eloise shouting as she headed up the stairs, but it was more muffled, more distant.
At the landing of the second floor, Penelope paused. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and tried to remind herself that it was silly to be scared. She’d been up to the second floor plenty of times and she knew Anthony was up there somewhere settling Gregory into his bed beside little Hyacinth’s crib, that Mrs. Bridgerton was probably sleeping or trying to sleep with all the noise, and that Colin was up in his room, missing out on all the fun they were having downstairs. It wasn’t as empty as it felt, Penelope reminded herself. It was just not quite as full and, as sad as that may be, that wasn’t any reason for her to be scared.
So, Penelope lifted her chin and marched on down to the third door from the end. Her resolve held as she knocked, shattering entirely when the door whipped open a moment later.
“I told you I don’t want—” Colin broke off, his gaze falling to Penelope’s anxious face.
“I’m sorry,” Penelope squeaked out, taking a step back. She’d never seen Colin look as angry as he had the moment that door opened. “I just wanted to see if you’d like to play with us, but it’s okay if you don’t! I’ll just head back. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Pen.” Colin reached out and put a hand on her shoulder as she started to turn away. When she finally looked back up at him, his expression—like his tone—had softened immensely. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
Penelope just nodded, shifting uneasily under the weight of his hand. “Ben had to argue with my parents for a while, but they let me come over so long as I’m back before midnight, I think.”
“You think?” Colin let his hand fall from her shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe.
Penelope felt her entire face go red, realizing she’d said too much. Embarrassed at having been caught, she mumbled, “It was kind of hard to hear through the door.”
To her surprise, Colin didn’t scold her or even look that surprised. Instead, he laughed, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Pen, were you eavesdropping?”
“It was El’s idea,” Penelope muttered, turning and glaring down the hallway. She wasn’t nearly as annoyed at his teasing as she made herself out to be, but she would give him the reaction he wanted if it meant he’d laugh again.
However, Colin didn’t laugh. He simply straightened up and looked her over with something almost like…fear. “You two weren’t eavesdropping here, were you?”
“We’ve been playing Twister.” Penelope shook her head, confused by the sudden severity of Colin’s demeanor. “Why? Did…is it because of what you had to talk about with Anthony?”
Colin stiffened, all traces of his usual easy-going façade vanishing. Instead, Penelope got the distinct impression he was trying not to shout. Or cry.
“Do you…want to talk about it?” Penelope asked hesitantly when he didn’t respond. “Or we could go play charades?”
Colin huffed out a short laugh at that, his posture relaxing slightly. “I’m not sure I’d be the best company for games right now.”
“I don’t mind.” Penelope shrugged. “For games or for talking. I just want to help.”
Colin studied her face for a moment and Penelope tried not to squirm under his attention. He was only two years older than her but, ever since Mr. Bridgerton had passed, Penelope often found herself feeling especially childish around him or any of the Bridgertons. She felt just like she had with Anthony and Benedict; how could she possibly help them in the wake of something so devastating?
But, to her surprise, Colin walked back into his room and left the door open for her to follow.
“Anthony told me not to tell anyone yet,” Colin murmured as he turned and sat on the cedar chest at the foot of his bed.
Penelope hesitated a moment before joining him, her toes just skimming the floor as her legs dangled off the side. “I won’t say anything, promise.”
“I think he just meant my sisters.” Colin glanced over at her with an amused smile. “You’re Pen, you don’t count.”
Penelope couldn’t help but scrunch up her nose at that. She wasn’t quite sure if he was teasing or not, but at least he was smiling. “So, tell me.”
“Anthony, he…” Colin hesitated, clenching and unclenching his grip on the edge of the chest before abruptly flopping backwards, half onto the bed. “It’s family tradition for Bridgerton boys to go to boarding school once they turn thirteen.”
Penelope frowned at the carpet beneath her feet, his point slowly clicking into place. “You’re…leaving?”
Colin shrugged, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t want to. With Mum and Greg and my sisters—”
He took a deep, shaking breath and threw one of his arms over his face. Penelope turned slightly on top of the chest. She hadn’t seen Colin like this since his father’s funeral. It made tears prick in the corners of her eyes.
“I don’t want to go,” Colin finished after a moment, his voice muddled and thick.
“I’m sure they won’t make you.” Penelope wished she could do something to comfort him as she watched him bury his face in the crook of his elbow, his chest stuttering as it rose and fell, but she felt even more childish in the face of his grief. All she could do was try. “If you tell your Mum or Anthony…and you’ve been helping out with Greg and Hyacinth, right? I’m sure they won’t make you.”
“I know.” Colin lifted his arm only to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes as if he could shove the tears back in. “But it’s tradition. Ant and Ben both went, Dad went. I can’t just—”
Colin’s voice broke off with a gasp as he started crying in earnest.
“I can’t let him down,” Colin sobbed as Penelope sat helplessly at his side. “Ant’s right, he would have wanted me to go and I just…I can’t disappoint him. I can’t.”
“He wouldn’t be disappointed!” Penelope exclaimed far louder than she’d intended but it hurt to see Colin so broken up over something like this. Penelope wasn’t really a Bridgerton so she didn’t know Mr. Bridgerton like they did, but she did know that he would have hated seeing Colin—any of his children—like this. “He would never be disappointed with you for something like that.”
Colin shook his head but he let his hands fall back to his sides. “It’s something he did with Uncle Nick back when they were neighbors and he was so…so excited for me to go. He’d been talking about it for months, but now…now he’s not even here. I forgot about it until Ant…I thought I was being helpful. I thought I could—”
Penelope put a hand on his forearm as another wave of tears washed over him. She had a feeling she knew what he wasn’t saying. Her own parents had gifted her plenty of opportunities that were simply dressed up excuses to keep her out of their hair.
She hated that Colin—kind, compassionate, Colin—would ever feel used in that way.
“Anthony loves you,” Penelope spoke, her own voice thin and wavering. She wasn’t used to being around people when they cried. No one in her family ever did. “He’s not trying to get rid of you, Col. He just wants what’s best for you.”
“And sending me away is best?”
Penelope didn’t flinch at the anger in his tone; she knew it wasn’t really meant for her. “Making sure you don’t get stuck is.”
And as she spoke Penelope thought maybe it was true. That emptiness, that eerie stillness that filled the halls of Bridgerton House. The way Mrs. Bridgerton and Anthony shut themselves away for hours, the way Daphne and Eloise pretended everything was fine, the way Francesca seemed to grow quieter with each passing night. The reason Benedict fought so hard to organize this game night and make sure Penelope was there.
They were all stuck. It was like their lives had stopped the moment Mr. Bridgerton died. Benedict wanted Penelope around because she wasn’t trapped like they were. Anthony wanted to send Colin away not because he was unwanted but so he could be free.
“What if I don’t get better?” Colin asked. His tears had stopped but his voice still sounded so small. “What if I’m already stuck?”
Penelope wanted to shake her head, to assure him that he wasn’t, but she knew that was a childish answer. Even though they were both still children, she thought he deserved more. Instead, she squeezed his arm and asked, “Can you tell if you don’t try?”
Colin opened his eyes, his storm-blue gaze falling upon her as if he was trying to find the answer written out across her freckles.
Penelope felt her own face grow warm and she pulled her hand from his arm to twist her fingers together in her lap.
Colin sat up beside her but, before he could say anything, there was a soft knock on the open door.
“Nearly midnight,” Benedict spoke from the doorway, his expression unreadable. Penelope wondered if he had been the one eavesdropping this time. “Time for our princess to turn into a pumpkin.”
“Don’t say that around my sisters,” Penelope grumbled as she slid off of the cedar chest and headed towards the door. Between her hair and her ‘baby fat,’ as her mother called it, she wouldn’t put it past Prudence and Philippa to start calling her pumpkin in earnest.
Benedict let out a surprised laugh at her remark. “Just princess it is, then.”
Penelope rolled her eyes, pausing just before the doorway to turn back to Colin. She hated to leave him when he was upset but—
“Can I walk Pen home tonight?” Colin asked, already crossing the room as he hastily rubbed at his eyes. “It’s not far.”
Benedict looked him up and down as if sizing him up before nodding. “I’ll keep watch from the steps.”
Colin nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he and Penelope followed Benedict back downstairs. It took several minutes for Colin to escape Eloise’s shouting about ruining her charades plan—her anger only assuaged when Benedict promised to make game night a regular event—and then even longer for Penelope to wish everyone goodnight. She made sure to hug them all a little longer than usual, never being the first to let go.
Once they had finally stepped out into the night, the sudden lack of sound seemed almost deafening in comparison. Benedict waited on the top step of Bridgerton House as Colin took Penelope’s hand and walked her across the street. All of the lights in her house were off, but she tried the door and found it unlocked.
But even with the door ajar, Colin hadn’t let go of her hand.
“I’m sorry if I ruined game night,” he apologized, shuffling his feet on the steps. “I promise to be more fun next time.”
“You don’t have to be fun,” Penelope frowned, letting the door hang open as she turned back to him, “so long as you’re having fun. And if you’re not, if you don’t want to, that’s okay, too.”
Colin exhaled loudly, looking down at her with a small smile. It was the first true smile she’d seen him have in months. Before she could say goodnight, he tugged on her hand and pulled her into a tight hug.
“Thanks, Pen,” Colin murmured in her ear, holding her so tight she could only partially lift her arms to hug him back. “Can I…can I write to you? If…when I’m at school?”
Penelope nodded, a few tears spilling over onto her cheeks. She knew Anthony was probably right that Colin could use a change, an escape from the grief, but that didn’t mean she’d be happy to see him go. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Colin squeezed her closer for a moment before he pulled back, sniffling slightly. He lifted a hand from her arm and wiped a tear from her face. She reached up and brushed away the rest as he walked backwards down the steps. Right before he turned to head back across the street, he offered her a warm smile. “Goodnight, Princess.”
“Goodnight,” Penelope called back. She waved to him, then raised her hand higher to where Benedict still waited across the street before slipping inside and locking the door behind her.
Once inside, she scurried over to the window and peeked through the curtains to see Colin climbing the stairs of Bridgerton House. He and Benedict were silhouetted by the warm light spilling out from the open door, but Penelope could have sworn they were both smiling as they walked inside.
The End