Work Text:
At the center of the vast land was Featherington House.
On a late autumn morning, the house was surrounded by still small hills of lush green. Revived by the dew of dusk, rows of flowers rose with the Sun and bloomed vibrantly and without wilting. With the gracious season’s rare temperate weather, a bright Sun, and a light breeze, it was the perfect time to host visitors outside.
“Penelope, I do not think it is merely my imagination when I say that finding a moment to ourselves has become difficult,” Eloise remarked.
Her teacup paused. She pulled it away and licked her lips. “And for that, I do apologize.”
“What has so consumed my dear friend that she cannot spare an afternoon every other seven-day for tea and gossip?” She eyed her friend. “Are you to be married?”
Immediately, the complexion of her face matched that of her hair. “No, not at all!”
Eloise frowned. “You are not a convincingly dishonest woman,” she remarked.
Penelope fanned her face. “I could not say that I am to be married…!”
“And yet…?”
She hesitated. “It is true that I have a suitor,” she whispered. “I have for some time.”
“Oh, dear.” Eloise leaned forward on her hand. “I cannot imagine Lady Featherington is satisfied in her patience.”
Vaguely, Penelope smiled. “She has been understanding, as has my suitor.”
“And, pray tell, who is this gentleman who makes Penelope Featherington fan the blush off her face?” Eloise’s smile stretched wide, and her eyes narrowed.
She looked away. “I do not wish to tell you.”
“Pardon? Is your suitor a state secret or an international criminal?”
Penelope sighed. “I do not wish for your scrutiny.”
“Why ever would I scrutinize? Whether a practical or love match, I would respect your choice of man. Of course, unless it is Colin once more.” She wrinkled her nose.
A small laugh bubbled out of Penelope’s chest. “Worry not. I have no intention of becoming a Bridgerton.”
Her frown changed. “Saying it in such a manner fails to quell my dissatisfaction. Whether by name, law, or action, know that you will always have a place in our family, Penelope.”
Her smile was small. Her heart fluttered. Her hands twisted in her lap, yet she forced her gaze steady and true to meet her friend’s. “Thank you, Eloise. You do not know what it has meant to me to have your family’s support all these many years. It is why I hesitate to tell you of my suitor.”
“So long as this man is not a rake, nor has hurt you in any manner, I should not be judgmental! Come! Out with it!”
“Have your views of marriage changed?” Penelope asked directly. “If you still believe marriage a useless institution unbefitting for women of our age, I do not wish to inform you of my suitor. Though no official agreement for marriage has been established, I do not desire to hear your judgments of a person I value.”
Eloise paused, fingers gliding away from the cucumber sandwiches before them. “I intend no malice and no harm. It is true that my thoughts of marriage remain unfavorable, but, as you have said, if this is a person you value, I wish to know of him.”
“Truly.”
“Most truly.”
“He is Lord Alfred Debling.”
Her eyebrows twisted. “Had you not—?”
“I had.”
“And had he not—?”
“He had.”
“Only for him to—?”
“Indeed.”
“And for you to—?”
“You are correct.”
She closed her eyes, face contorted in thought.
Inwardly, Penelope sighed. “Speak freely, my dear friend.”
“Now,” Eloise began heatedly, “I know Lord Debling is a good man. A fascinating one, too, although not my sort of man. However, are you certain that you desire such a history?”
“As you say—“ Penelope smiled, rolling a macron between her fingers, “—it is merely history.”
“That is his opinion as well?” She narrowed her gaze. “Once, you had rejected him; do not give him a reason to be unkind.”
She frowned. “Eloise, do not make assumptions. You said it yourself that he is a good man. He has been nothing but understanding and patient. Our intentions are mutual this time.”
“What has changed? You had not looked at him so favorably before.”
Her smile reappeared. “I was immature. I was blinded by what I thought might be. I had always considered Lord Debling an appropriate suitor. Now, I do not hesitate to see him as a worthy husband.”
Eloise intertwined her fingers and leaned back. “You said you have no intention of being wed.”
“I have the intention,” Penelope corrected. “We do not have a date, much less an engagement.”
“Are you truly the Penelope Featherington I know? The one I grew up alongside? The little girl who dreamed of a radiant wedding and a perfect marriage? I had seen your diaries, do not forget.”
Penelope bristled. “Yes, yes…! I still desire such things, and my plans for a wedding remain intact, but I do not wish to be careless. I understand that I do not have the blessing of time, yet I want to do what is within my power to ensure a stable beginning to the marriage.”
“You are not so old that a marriage is an impossibility!” Eloise clicked her tongue.
She smiled slightly. “It was never my plan to be unmarried at this age,” she whispered. “Only in my nightmares would I have spent such time unwed.”
Hastily, her friend reached out, resting her hand atop Penelope’s. “Do not spoil your name. Your nightmares are falsehoods. You are loved beyond comprehension. Spousehood or spinster life will never change this.”
She squeezed her friend’s hand. “I know now. I only wish not to burden a wonderful man who has chosen me—who has continued to choose me despite my complications and defects.”
“Does he speak of complications and defects?” Her grip tightened. “If so, do not listen to him.”
“Eloise, I want to marry Lord Debling,” she insisted. “He is good to me. Though I may feel I will burden him, he is effusive when he tells me of my feats and successes. He does not believe we need to delay a betrothal, but he is attentive and courteous, always careful with my needs. He has told me clearly that our courting will last as long as I desire.”
Her finger crooked against her lips, Eloise watched her friend. She observed her effortless poise and easy composure as she spoke. Penelope believed her words; she was convinced of her words. “It is unusual.”
“What is unusual?”
“When did you and Lord Debling reunite?”
“At the social season’s end.”
“Then, in truth, you have not known him again long.”
She frowned. “That is not incorrect…”
“And yet, you are fiercely protective. You also speak of him in such a peculiar manner…”
“By what do you mean peculiar?”
Eloise’s gaze drifted all over her friend’s form.
At the scrutiny, Penelope tensed, hands finding her arms to minimize the intensity of her observation.
“Ah!” she exclaimed. “You speak not unlike how my siblings spoke of their now-spouses. Oh,” she seemed to have realized. “Oh, I see.”
Her hands slowly came down from her arms. “Eloise?”
“No, there is a difference. My wedded siblings speak of their spouses as though they are the reason the Sun rises in the morning. Dissimilarly, you speak as though Lord Debling is inevitable.”
She flinched. “Inevitable?”
“Do not settle, Penelope. If you wish to marry, time is unimportant! Find a man who is proper and suits you well!”
“Eloise!” she hissed. “Lord Debling is a proper man! He suits me well! I am not settling! I have chosen him and only him!”
She paused. “Sincerely?”
“Sincerely! Oh, this is why I did not wish to tell you…!” She rested her hand on her forehead, mumbling ever so quietly but severely. “He is good! He is so sincerely good that I often question how it is that I have been blessed to receive his gaze not once, but twice! He is a gentleman in every sense of the word. He is patient and diligent. He is noble and intelligent. When he speaks, he is eager to share, and he listens, so eager to know. His passion for the world is inspiring and beautiful. He is so straightforward and upright with himself that I cannot help but confess all my weaknesses to him. And each time, he receives me with such grace. He smiles and speaks gently, and, oh, Eloise! Why should I not want to marry this man?” she exclaimed.
“Oh, you love this man, Penelope.”
Her face lit up red. “I—I do n— Do I?” Her voice became shrill.
“I could not say in what manner,” Eloise continued, “as I have no such experiences with the romance of which you have craved. But, even amongst family and friends, it is certainly unique to be offered such support. It is as though Lord Debling’s unwavering character explains why trees stand upright and why apples fall. Is that so, Penelope, that he may help you understand phenomena?”
“I— Perhaps?” she stuttered.
“Then, it may be his certainty of himself and his awe of the world that is so captivating to you. Could it be that he inspires certainty and, once again, hope in you, Penelope?”
“We are courting with yet an agreement to be betrothed…!” Penelope miserably gasped.
“And yet you have every confidence that this is the man you should marry,” Eloise stated, turning the idea over in her mind.
She nodded, ignoring the hot rouge over her cheeks.
For all her fiery words against marriage and a woman being tied down to a man, perhaps Eloise was correct.
In his presence, Penelope seldom felt confused. She was not bogged down by expectation nor the luggage of past failures. Instead, Lord Debling’s eyes and words, his gestures and emotions cleared the debris from her mind.
Nothing was pressing, and everything was simple.
In the papers, there were inklings of understanding about phenomena such as gravity. It was a strange time to be alive, as these polymaths and poets and philosophers spoke verbosely and wrote eloquently. All the while, young girls becoming women pondered who their husbands might be. They would wait and worry, tremble in anticipation and anxiety. And yet, for Penelope, as gravity bound her to another body, she had every certainty that Alfred Debling would be the central warm, radiant sun to her living Earth.