Chapter Text
It took Penelope Featherington ten long years—or only ten years, depending on how she chose to look at it—to reach the moment that changed her life forever.
Only a few minutes beforehand, she wouldn’t have believed it…not as she tried to navigate through a dense crowd of people she had never seen before, tugging her lip between her teeth nervously as she loosened the bright yellow scarf around her neck that felt far too tight. The Featheringtons had never attended a Bonfire Night celebration before, her family never traveling much—and her mother never seeing much use for activities that she considered to be only for fun. This year, however, she had decided that she and her children needed to make their presence known at the annual festivities in an attempt to shove her way into the right social circles to prepare for their upcoming move to Mayfair.
Their family’s country home had been their primary residence for all of Penelope’s childhood, and while it was beautiful, it was also lonely without other children nearby for most of the year. Aubrey Hall, where she now stood, had belonged to the Bridgertons for generations. The family was well known for their status and social standing—all that her parents could be bothered to concern themselves with. Penelope’s sisters, though, could not stop themselves from talking about how they were also known for throwing the best Bonfire Night celebrations anywhere in the area. The two young teens were desperate to attend, and had been thrilled when their mother’s clout-chasing ways finally matched with their own desires.
Penelope didn’t have anything else to compare it to, of course, but she could not help but agree that it was quite the spectacle as she took in the crowd full of people of all ages enjoying food and drink. The sun had already set, and a few young men were working on getting the large bonfire lit. Children laughed and ran in all different directions as adult conversation bloomed around them.
Tugging at her scarf again—it always felt suffocating when she was nervous—she yelped when the autumn breeze lifted it up and out of her hands. Muttering profanities her mother would not be pleased with under her breath, she chased it until it flew directly into the face of a boy, causing him to lose his footing on the log he had been standing on near the fire. Her heart might as well have stopped when he crashed to the ground with a thud.
“I’m so sorry!” Penelope yelped as she raced over, dropping to her knees on the ground beside him. She tried as hard as she could to help him, but struggled when he unwound her scarf from where it had wrapped itself around his head, covering his face. The force of them tugging together sent it sailing directly into the bonfire beside them, the small sparks that were already present catching on it immediately and engulfing it in flames before she could even understand what had happened. The boy’s big, beautiful navy eyes went wide, and she was sure her own expression matched as she took in the sight of the yellow fabric burning brightly, serving as unintended kindling for tonight’s main attraction.
“Well that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?” the young boy asked, cringing as he looked at the fire for a moment before turning back to her, swallowing hard while genuine remorse filled his features. His fingers tangled in his chestnut waves, and she was sure he must make a mess of his hair whenever he was nervous. It did not do anything but endear him to her while he uttered his entirely unnecessary apology. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? I hurt you,” she reminded him, waving her hand over him where he sat on the ground.
“I’m fine,” he said, rotating his arms and legs in what was clearly his best attempt to show her he wasn’t too much worse for wear after his fall before pointing back at the fire beside them. “And I destroyed your scarf.”
“It’s okay,” she promised, chewing on her lip as she smoothed her jumper, picking at the threads of the embroidered flowers she found along the hem. “I don’t really like yellow anyway.”
The boy smiled softly at her, then looked over his shoulder before moving up onto his knees, the kindness in his eyes putting her at ease when she would normally have been a bundle of nerves for having made a fool of herself in front of someone new.
“Could I make it up to you? I know where the best treats are,” he offered, and she nodded, taking his outstretched hand and standing up with him. Her heart warmed when he gave her fingers a comforting squeeze and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Come with me.”
Now no longer on her own to navigate this place, she walked with the nicest person she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Her hand stayed tucked safely inside his own as he pulled her through the crowd, peeking over his shoulder every so often to be sure he still had her. When they finally reached the table, he gasped before quickly grabbing the last two toffee apples from their place on the serving tray—it seemed they had made it just in time—and turned to hand one to her before linking their free hands again.
“Want to go watch the fire?” the boy asked, and she worried her lip between her teeth as she glanced back in the direction from which they’d come. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m a little bit…afraid of the fire getting too big,” Penelope admitted, shocking herself with how quickly she had become comfortable with a stranger, willing to confide fears in him that she would never have told her own sisters. “It’s all very loud with all the people, and the fire must be so hot, and-”
“Have you never been to a bonfire before?” he asked, cocking his head curiously.
She shook her head quickly in response.“No, this is my first one,”
His smile grew as he tugged her gently by their joined hands. Running toward the fire, he stopped just short of it to sit on the log he had fallen from just a few minutes ago, patting the space beside him until she joined him.
“I promise we’re safe,” he said, and she could do nothing but believe him. “I’ve watched the bonfire every year and I always sit right here.”
“You’re a Bridgerton,” Penelope whispered, unable to keep her thoughts to herself as she realized that the boy who had so quickly made her feel safe belonged to the very family her mother had intended to impress. She giggled to herself, knowing Portia Featherington would never have believed it would be her youngest daughter to connect with the family whose friendship and social standing she so desperately yearned for.
Penelope wouldn’t tell her, either—she didn’t care what his last name was.
He was simply the boy with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Yeah, I am,” he replied quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. Penelope could see his cheeks turning pink, even with only the fairy lights and the beginnings of the bonfire to illuminate his sweet face. “Those are my brothers, Ant and Ben, trying to grow the fire.”
“They look like they’re doing their best,” Penelope said, trying to be as supportive as she could while the elder of the boys scowled and tried to move the process along. The other didn’t seem to be all that helpful, holding his belly and doubling over in laughter about their apparent failure.
The boy beside her chuckled before quieting quickly. He turned to study her, chewing on his lip until he apparently found something in her face that made him sure it was okay to continue. Penelope was honored by it, her breath catching when he nodded to himself, hoping he somehow knew already that she’d never break his trust.
“My dad always lit the bonfire every year and took care of it, and my brothers just helped…but he died over the summer,” he shared, swallowing down the emotions that were bubbling up as he stared at the slowly growing flames. “We weren’t going to do it this year at all, but my mom said my dad would have wanted us to keep going. That we should keep hosting the Bridgerton Bonfire in his memory, to show our little brother and sister who won’t remember him that this is part of his legacy. We had a family vote—my mom and brothers and sisters and I. Eight to one in favor of having it. Though I don’t think Hyacinth’s vote should have counted, since she’s only a baby and mom voted for her.”
“Which side were you on?” Penelope asked softly, already certain she could feel his answer, an answer quickly confirmed when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head. He hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t been ready to come back to the bonfire without his father. And yet, not only was he here, but he had been thoughtful, had cared for her and made this night something special for her. Her breath caught as she watched a single tear roll down his cheek, saying all she knew she could, knowing it wasn’t enough. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before turning to smile at her. “I’m glad I lost now. This isn’t so bad after all.”
She opened her mouth to respond—to tell him that this was her favorite night she’d ever had, that it was all because of him. Before she could, she was interrupted by her sister, running up to her and pointing at the sweet treat in Penelope’s hand.
“Where’d you get that?” Prudence yelled with a scowl on her face, closing in on her quickly and ignoring the little boy entirely.
“We got the last ones,” Penelope answered, loosening her grip ahead of time because she knew what was coming next—and sure enough, Pru ripped the toffee apple from her hand and ran off around the bonfire with it, cackling all the way.
“Hey! That’s hers!” the boy yelled, jumping up to dart after her. Penelope’s little hand caught his wrist before he could get too far, and he looked down at her, his brow furrowed as he argued. “I won’t let that girl be mean to you.”
“She’s my sister,” Penelope replied with a sigh. “My sisters are always mean to me. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I won’t let her be mean to you ever again. I don’t care that she’s your sister,” he asserted, and she bit back a giggle at the intensity of the promise she was sure he would keep, even though they had only just met. He stared at Penelope, then glanced at his apple before holding it out to her. “Take mine.”
“No,” she refused, shaking her head. “It’s yours. It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”
“Share it with me, then,” he begged, reaching his hand out and remaining perfectly still for the first time all evening as he waited, watching her lean in and take a bite. It was the most delicious thing Penelope had ever tasted, though she wasn’t sure whether the rush of sweetness came from the apple or the boy himself, who smiled broadly. “Good, right?”
“Amazing,” she agreed, taking a second bite as the fire now roared in front of them. Penelope shivered, trying to tug her jumper higher up over her neck for warmth. Colin looked down at his own scarf, a beautiful dark blue plaid that matched his eyes. Pulling it off, he wrapped it around her and smoothed it out before taking a bite of his apple—their apple—as if he hadn’t done anything unusual at all. Her small fingers found their way to the fabric, soft and warm beneath her touch. “Why did you give me this?”
“You’re cold,” he said with a shrug, as though it couldn’t have been more simple than that. Perhaps, for him, that was true. “It looks better on you anyway…I’m sorry, I forgot to even ask your name.”
“Penelope Featherington,” she whispered, and his eyes sparkled as he mouthed it silently, trying out each syllable for himself. “What’s yours?”
“Colin.”
Penelope smiled, and they both turned back to watch the crackling fire, passing their apple back and forth between them until every last bite was gone. Kids nearby began playing with sparklers, their laughter filling the air as she watched them. Colin’s eyes followed her gaze before a knowing smile grew across his face.
“Have you ever used them before?” Colin asked, nodding toward where the children gathered. “Sparklers?”
“No,” Penelope said, and not a moment later she was being pulled up from where she sat, her hand held in Colin’s once again. They sprinted toward a woman with a sleeping baby carried on her chest—Colin’s mother, she realized, who looked at their joined hands and smiled just as broadly as her son before handing them two sparklers. Colin lit them both, then handed one to Penelope, whose fingers trembled as she accepted it.
“You’re safe, I promise,” he said, and she was sure she was safe with him, watching in awe as he drew in the air. “We like to write our names with them.”
Penelope smiled as he turned away to yell something to one of his little sisters nearby, bringing her own sparkler to the night sky and scrawled the letters of the name she had just learned, but was certain she would never forget.
Colin.
She wrote his name tonight instead of her own, thanking the universe for bringing someone so kind into her life.
Even if only for a moment.