Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Colin had never felt old before. He knew he was aging. The sprinkle of grey now around his temple, the creases on his face that now seem to be a permanent fixture were signs that time was passing, some years feel as though they slipped away from him entirely, but he does not truly feel any different to the twenty year old boy he once was, heading off on his first grand tour.

In many ways he feels frozen in place while the world moves around him.

Colin doesn’t like to dwell on it too much. Prefers to not think and just simply exist instead.

A typical Thursday evening for him is drinking at the club with his friends. He drowns their chatter of running after children, or the impending costs of having a daughter in society out with whisky and often pays the consequences the following day.

Another sign of time passing is the way the consequences feel steadily worse and worse. His body has never been kind to him after a night of drinking liquor, but as the years pass by he envies the twenty two year old version of himself who thought an aching head was the worst it could get.

Now he spends his Friday mornings in his bed, aching from head to toe, vowing to not repeat his drinking again the following week. Luckily his townhouse, just outside of Mayfair is silent.

The next social season was about to start. Colin rarely cared for it, often preferring to travel elsewhere, but this year Daphne’s daughter was making her debut. Family was family and this was the first of his nieces to enter society and it is a very strange thought. He could still remember his sisters season so vividly.

He remembers it was also…

No.

All of those thoughts, and musings were vaulted shut with an iron door. Locked tight. Never to be opened. A place he cannot go, cannot open, refused to for the wounds still run far too deep.

His mother long ago gave up on trying to convince him to marry. She had spent a few years attempting to get him to believe that love was still a possibility.

Two broken engagements was enough. He could not survive a third.

Judging by the way the sun was starting to peek through his curtains, Colin assumed it must be nearing midday. He should get up, should do something. Instead he lays there, staring at the ceiling bemoaning the pain he has inflicted on himself.

He could quite happily lay here for the rest of the day, and let the next evening pass.

No one would know.

He doesn’t get that opportunity.

There was knocking on his front door. From his bedroom it was a faint sound, but enough to rattle his brain and make it hurt even more. For a moment he frowned, why was no one answering? Then he remembered he gave his staff the day off, already anticipating he wouldn’t need them.

Maybe he did need them, so they could tell his visitor he was unwell and not fit for seeing guests.

Colin waited for five minutes, hoping his visitor would catch on and leave.

They knock again. 

Colin would have to tell them to leave him alone himself.

As he sat up, the world around him spun. His headache hit him again and he groaned. He lazily grabbed at a shirt, a coat, pulls on breeches and a belt. He doesn’t bother with shoes. He also doesn’t need to look in a mirror to know he is entirely dishevelled.

It doesn’t matter to him. There isn’t anyone he cares to impress.

Hasn’t been for a long time.

He treads through his house and to the front door.

‘What?’ He asked gruffly as he swung the door open, before his eyes have a chance to take in the sight before him.

His heart drops into his stomach when he finally does because there is a girl standing before him.

She stood on the top step but she was considerably shorter than him and he needed to tilt his head down to look at her. Her red hair was immaculately curled and flowed around her shoulders improperly let down, her face round, and startling blue eyes looked up at him.

For the shortest of moments Colin believed he’d been transported. Back in time to… before.

But then with a blink and the brain fog clearing from his head the girl in front of him was not… her.

But she was real. His headache alone was enough to confirm this was not another one of his dreams.

The girl's red hair was a darker hue, the curls looser, she appeared to be taller, though perhaps not by much, her face round but, there were sharper lines there too, the bridge of her nose, the point of her chin. And her eyes, not the soft isle ocean blue he could swim in, but a darker stormy colour. Currently looking at him with pure determination.

She was also young. Very young. Possibly not even quite yet a debutante, he could not quite tell.

‘Are you Mr Colin Bridgerton?’ The girl asked, she was polite, but her eyes started to show a nervousness she couldn’t quite hide.

Colin nodded without a sound. Words were not coming to him as he tried to catch up to what was happening.

‘Oh, I’m pleased to have found you,’ she said, her mouth hinted at a smile.

‘Sorry, who are you?’ he asked, part desperate to know, part hoping she wasn't about to say what he suspected she might.

‘My name is Agatha,’ she said. ‘Featherington. I have reason to believe you are my father.’

Chapter Text

For her entire life, it had just be her, and Mama. Agatha loved her Mama dearly. She was gentle, kind and the smartest, prettiest person she knew. She had taught Agatha everything she knew about the world and made sure that every single day Agatha knew she was loved and wanted. 

They lived on the outskirts of Bath, in a small two bedroom cottage with just enough land to occasionally keep chickens for eggs and meat. It was just the two of them and Agatha usually liked it that way.

She did however, enjoy when they would have visitors from time to time. There was Mrs Hindley, their neighbour who would come by for tea every few weeks and Miss Bannerman who would join her sometimes.

Twice in her life, her Grandmama had visited, making the journey from London to Bath to see them. She was a stoic woman, all fancy dresses and elaborate hairstyles. She stood tall and straight and judged everything in her path. Agatha had at first found it inconceivable that this was the woman who raised Mama. After observing the way they spoke to each other though, with familiarity and a shared wit, her doubt was eventually alleviated.

A few years ago, a loud, opinionated woman, Lady Crane she was called, visited for a few days. She had been Mama's best friend as a child and they had recently reconnected. She was tall (though everyone was tall compared to Agatha and Mama), and very pretty. Her presence took up the entire house. It was startling to Agatha to begin with, she was so unlike anyone she’d met before, but once she got used to it, she enjoyed Lady Crane’s presence a lot. She had been sad to see her leave. As had Mama.

Agatha did not know much about Mama's life from before Bath, before her.

She knew Mama's father (her grandfather) was a baron, that he died a long, long time ago. The title had eventually gone to her cousin, August. She knew she had two aunts, and a few cousins in London, none of which she’d ever met. She knew that growing up, her mother spent time in the ton, she was part of London society, that she had a debut in front of the then Queen of England and went to fancy balls and parties.

Most importantly, she knew her Mama did not like talking about London. That bringing it up made her eyes go distant and sad.

It was the exact same look she got on the very few occasions Agatha had asked about her father.

Agatha knew she had a father. Everyone did. It was a requirement to existence. She knew that much.

Agatha did not know who her father was. Or where he was.

She suspected some of her traits, the ones she did not share with her Mama came from him. The deep blue of her eyes, her nose. Her short tempter. She knew for certain that her desire to see more of the world came from him.

When Lady Crane visited, she had come from a place called Gloucestershire. Having never been anywhere other than Bath, Agatha had asked many questions about it. She was so curious to know what other county’s were like. Was every place like Bath? Or did they differ? Mid-conversation Lady Crane looked at Mama and said 'She really is so much like him'.

Agatha could remember turning to look at her Mama. That sad, distant look was back. She nodded. Lady Crane had a sad smile and Agatha just knew… Lady Crane knew who her father was.

Her mother knew.

Lady Crane knew.

Her grandmother knew.

Agatha did not.

It felt unfair that she had no idea. That this piece of her was kept a secret. She didn’t even have a starting point for how she might be able to find out who he was. She could, possibly, find a way to travel all of England and ask everyone she could if they had ever met anyone with eyes her particular shade of blue. But that felt exhaustive, and any true results improbable. She would have to be cleverer.

More revealing information came to her one unexpected evening. She was supposed to be asleep. Instead, she had cracked her bedroom door open, ever so slightly, so she could hear the conversation Mama was having with Mrs Hindley.

'Mr Northcott was asking about you the other day,' Mrs Hindley said.

'Did he?' Mama did not seem phased by the news.

Agatha scowled. Mr Northcott was a loud busy-body who had no right wanting to know anything about her Mama.

'It would do no harm to come to a dinner party and speak with him,' Mrs Hindley continued. 'It is hardly a marriage proposal.'

'I do not want him, or any other gentlemen, having misguided expectations.'

There was a sigh. 'Penelope, it would be much safer for you, and for Agatha if you married.'

'We are safe,' Penelope said. 'I have lived here eighteen years and no harm has come.'

'Not from harm. A husband can provide you with security. Money.'

'I do not need it,' Mama said. 'You are starting to sound like my mother.'

Agatha found herself agreeing silently. They seemed to do just fine. Were they rich? Of course not. Her mother was careful with every pence they spent. Agatha, however, had never lacked a thing. She had never missed a meal and always had clothes on her back.

'What about Agatha?' Mrs Hindley pressed. 'You having a husband will increase her prospects for finding one herself.'

'Agatha will be fine.'

There was a pause. Then,

'People talk, you realise that, don’t you Penelope?'

Agatha felt her heart thudding in her chest.

'I know.'

'They question what happened. How you came to be in Bath, alone and pregnant. The father not in sight.'

'The father,' Mama said, her voice sounded tight. 'Did not want me.'

'He might have wanted her?'

There was a short, bitter laugh. 'A child born out of wedlock? He is from a very prestigious family. It would have ruined their reputation. I could not do that to him. He deserved so much better.'

Perhaps the thought should have stung. It did not. Agatha had long ago realised that her Father’s lack of presence in her life would be because he was either dead, or not wanting her. So had thought about it so often the pain did not register anymore. It was simply a fact. Agatha had blue eyes. Agatha had a round face. Agatha had a father out in the world somewhere who did not want her. She was ok with that. She simply wanted to know who he was. What he looked like, his name, what she had inherited specifically from him. She wanted just one conversation. Nothing more and nothing less.

'You loved him.'

'I…' she sighed. 'I thought I did.'

'What happened?'

The silence was long. Agatha's heart was in her throat. She had never been able to get so much information about her father. Yet, here it was suddenly, on a regular Tuesday evening, when she was supposed to be asleep. Pieces of a puzzle she'd long given up on were falling right into her lap. 

'It is complicated. Too complicated for this time of night.'

'A long story then?'

'A very long story. One you may not even believe.’

'Perhaps another time then.'

'Perhaps.'

They had started moving, Mama was seeing Mrs Hindley out and Agatha threw herself back into her bed. Her mind was racing. She thought over the conversation again and again. There might have been clues that she missed. Hints that she could latch on to and use to figure out who he was.

Surprisingly enough, Mama did not invite Mrs Hindley around again for several weeks.

It was a Saturday, when Agatha found the biggest clues and could finally put a plan in action. Saturday was the day they went into Bath and shopped. Usually picking up some things to eat, take anything they needed mended to the seamstress, and before they went home Mama would also make sure they treated themselves to some pastries. Usually, Agatha loved Saturdays.

But this Saturday she pretended to have taken ill. A headache, a sore throat. Mama agreed to let her stay home alone and once Agatha was sure she was long gone she sprung out of bed.

Mama kept a small study in their house. It was only just big enough for a bookshelf, and a desk, but Agatha liked the room. Enjoyed spending time in it when she could. However, it was first and foremost Mama's space. If there would be any evidence of who her father might be, it would be in there.

Agatha spent at least an hour searching the place high and low. She opened every book, looked for false bottoms of every drawer. Nothing. Everything was in order. No hidden anything.

She had only one more shelf to check. Agatha stepped forward to reach for the next book when the floorboard under her creaked.

It had probably creaked every time she’d stepped on it. It wasn't unusual for a floorboard to creak.

It made Agatha pause though. She couldn't quite place why. She wasn't sure what it was about that exact moment that had her stopping in place (later she would say it was fate calling out to her).

Agatha crouched down and tested the floorboard, unsure of what exactly she was looking for, when she suddenly realised this one in particular was loose. She pried at it and suddenly it lifted up. With her heart racing, she peered into the hole now in the floor.

Letters, upon letters, upon letters. All stacked up, tied with string into bundles.

They were all address to Penelope Featherington. They were all the same handwriting. 

With shaky hands Agatha pulled one from the first bundle she picked up. It had once been opened, the wax seal long broken.

Dear Pen,

I visited an olive grove today. Before my trip, I did not think I enjoyed olives all that much. I have since realised that the occasional olives that make their way to London do not compare to those here, when they are freshly brined and ready to eat. The taste of them is a unique burst of flavour I do not know what I could compare it to. It is jarring at first, and something you must get used to. An acquired taste, they call it. Once you do adjust to the taste they are a delight and I mourn that they are not readily available in London.

The olive grove, and seeing the process of picking to preparing was insightful. I believe we sometimes do not quite appreciate how much work goes into getting a meal onto our tables and into our bellies. I shall endeavour to be more appreciative of the hard work that goes into feeding us.

Forgive me for prattling on about food so much. After having consumed to many olives, and my entire weights worth of fresh bread, food is heavily on my mind.

I enjoyed your story about Phillipa's parasol getting caught in a tree. It much have truly been a sight to see Mr Finch climb the tree to get it for her.

What else is happening back home? Your letters really help me to feel as though I am there.

Please tell my family I miss them when you next visit for afternoon tea, I would so delight in hearing from them.

Sincerely yours,

Colin Bridgerton

Agatha opened another, and another, and another. All of them similar. A tale about his day, something he saw, something he ate. A response to what must have been her last letter. A request to tell his family something, or to ask them to write back to him. Sincerely yours.

Sincerely yours.

Sincerely yours. 

He signed every single one that she read the same way.

These letters in particular were from nearly two years before she was born.

Agatha kept going through the pile, until she found a stack of unopened ones. With a pounding heart she quickly pulled one out and opened the seal.

Dearest Pen,

I wonder if you are receiving my letters? It feels most unusual to not have received any back. Though I am on the move a lot more this tour compared to my last so I wonder if they are just not quite getting to me.

I shall have to wait to hear of your adventures until I return I suppose. I am attempting to anticipate what questions you might ask, what you might want to know. When I am back in London you must tell me if I did a good job at it or not.

Tomorrow I leave Paris and continue towards Spain.

Paris has been enlightening. It is clear that these are troubled times for the entire country of France, and within Paris in particular. However, it has still been marvellous to see the grand Notre Dame cathedral and the Arc de Triomphe among many other galleries and museums. You and Eloise would greatly enjoy walking the city and exploring the sights.

The people are also

I have roughly a month left of my travels at this point. I will be returning to Mayfair in time for my sister Francesca's debut. I cannot believe that now three of my sisters are in society (I will still count Daphne though she is now happily married).

I am looking forward to being home.

I miss you

Sincerely yours,

Colin

This one was a year before she was born. Not quite to the day, but also not far off.

Agatha had not exchanged too many letters with friends over the years. She especially had not exchanged letters with any boys. She did, however, know enough to know that this many letters, all from the one man was highly unusual. Even for courting.

She could not be certain, however it seemed as though her mother had some sort of courtship with this Colin Bridgerton. Not long before she would have been conceived.

She may have finally found her answer.

She just needed to get herself to London to find out for herself.

Agatha spent three days preparing her speech. She knew a simple ‘I want to go to London’ would be met with an eye-roll and a no. She needed to be more convincing than that.

Finally, she thought she had it perfected. They had just had their tea and Agatha cleared her throat.

‘Mama, there is something I wish to discuss,’ she started.

Penelope’s eyebrows rose a little, but she gave a nod.

‘I am about to turn eighteen,’ she said. ‘As I have been getting older, I have realised that I have a strong desire for there to be love in my life.’

Agatha knew she was playing dirty. She didn’t care.

‘Real, romantic love,’ she clarified. ‘I truly believe my best shot of that will be in London.’

‘London.’ Mama repeated.

‘Yes. There are so many more gentlemen there. Titled gentlemen. It’s where they go when they are seeking a wife. I should like to go, experience the ton and all it has to offer.’

‘Agatha, dearest, I don’t think-‘

‘But I do, Mama,’ she pleaded. ‘Just one season and if I don’t meet anybody, I’ll be back, and I’ll try and find someone here in Bath, it’s just that I won’t have too many more opportunities to experience a proper debut in London and I would so love to.’

‘I… I’ll have to think about it,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Agatha’s eyes lit up.

‘Yes really.’

It wasn’t a no. Agatha went to bed that night beaming.

Mama hadn’t said no.

Three weeks later, Agatha was climbing into a carriage, with Mrs Hindley (who had apparently mentioned she needed to go to London) as her chaperone for the trip. She had a small trunk with a few day dresses and essentials. Mama had apparently written to Grandmama and appointments at the modiste would be arranged for her. Also buried deep in her trunk, tucked away in a pocket Mama wouldn’t find were several of the letters Colin Bridgerton had sent to her.

Agatha had the name memorised, but in case she needed evidence, she had taken them with her.

How she would find him she didn’t know yet. The conversation she had overheard had mentioned he was from a prestigious family. So if Colin Bridgerton was indeed her father, he surely couldn’t be so difficult to find.

It was going to take them around three days to get to London. Agatha was going to use that time to devise her plan.

She already had a clear idea of what she wanted. It was simple really. She wanted to know him. Know what he looked like. What he sounded like. How tall was he? What colour was his hair? Did his eyes crinkle in the corner when he smiled like hers did? It was simple really. She had no desire to bring ruin on her family. She was far too aware of how being born out of wedlock was a controversy. It had been so devastating for her mother she’d left the Ton entirely.

Agatha only needed to know. Needed to know if it was him. Wanted just one conversation with him and then she would leave him be.

Unless he did not want her to.

Agatha could not think of that. Could not dream or hope for him wanting anything to do with her. He probably had his own family right now. A pretty wife, and lovely children (her half siblings). She would not ruin his life.

She just needed to know who he was.

The trip was unremarkable. Long and tiring. Mrs Hindley asked too many questions, but Agatha gave her answers anyway, too polite to ask her to stop.

Finally, they rolled into London.

Agatha had thought Bath was large. It was practically a village in comparison to London. Building after building seemed to span as far as her eyes could see. St Paul’s cathedral stood loud and proud and she admired it as they crossed London bridge and took a turn towards Mayfair.

They pulled up to a large estate. Much bigger than Agatha had been expecting.

‘This is you,’ Mrs Hindley said.

Agatha nodded. She blinked and suddenly there was a maid at the door, quickly followed by her Grandmama, and two other women. Both with vibrant red hair.

Her aunts.

She had never met them. Only heard about them from Mama. She felt a little intimidated to be meeting them.

As she climbed out several others joined the stairs. A girl, tall and thin and about her age. A boy, with dark hair and eyes, almost a spitting image of the man now standing next to him. Two young girls who were all blonde curls and round faces.

Her cousins.

‘Hello,’ she said, putting on a wide smile, trying to hide her nerves.

They were all looking at her curiously.

‘Agatha, we are so pleased you made it,’ her Grandmama came down the stairs to greet her. ‘Varley will get your things. Come inside, there is much to discuss.’

Agatha nodded and followed her Grandmama and the rest of her family inside, up the stairs and to the drawing room.

‘You look exactly like Penelope,’ one of her aunts said.

Agatha gave a soft smile. ‘That’s what I hear.’

‘No really, I thought it was her getting out of the carriage at first.’ The other followed up.

‘I am sorry, I know you’re both Phillipa and Prudence, but I am unsure which is which,’ Agatha said finally, once it became apparent her aunts were not going to introduce themselves to her.

‘I’m Phillipa,’ the one who spoke first said.

Agatha nodded. She tried to memorise that Phillipa was smaller, with softer features. Which meant the taller one, with slightly sharper features must be Prudence.

‘It is nice to meet you both.’

‘You’ll be debuting with my Philomena,’ Phillipa continued.

‘Oh yes, that’s right,’ Agatha turned her head to where her cousins sat side by side on the settee, watching her. ‘I cannot wait.’

It was partially true.

‘Speaking of which, we have much to do,’ Grandmama chimed in. ‘Agatha, you will get changed out of your travelling clothes. We have an appointment at the modiste this afternoon, followed by dance lessons. I hope you pick things up quickly as we only have two weeks until the first ball.’

Agatha nodded. ‘Alright,’ she stood up and followed one of the maids through to the room she’d be staying in.

‘I’m Rae. I’ll be your ladies maid for the season.’

Agatha nodded.

‘You really are just like her.’

‘You knew my Mama?’

‘I was her maid for a season.’

‘Really?’ Agatha asked. This was an unexpected delight.

‘Yes. She was lovely. I miss her, so it is nice to have you here. This was her room actually.’

Agatha looked around the room with new curiosity. The room her mother grew up in. Her ladies maid. Perhaps the pieces of the puzzle would fall together much more quickly than she said.

‘Rae,’ Agatha started. ‘I have never had a ladies maid before. But… I assume I can trust you?’

‘Of course, miss.’

‘Are you good at keeping secrets?’ She asked.

Rae looked a little nervous. But eventually nodded. ‘I’ve kept many over the years.’

‘Good, that’s good. Because I am here in London on a mission.’

Rae nodded again. Agatha took it as a sign to continue.

‘I want to find my father,’ she continued. ‘Can you tell me if you might happen to know where Colin Bridgerton resides?’

Rae’s eyes went wide with surprise. Agatha wasn’t phased by that. She was much more curious about the fact that Rae did not look confused. Simply… shocked.

‘I… I do not know if I… if you… you see, we do not… Lady Featherington does not like the Bridgerton’s.’

‘Why?’

‘It is not my place to say,’ Rae lowered her head.

Agatha sighed. ‘I do not mean to get you involved. Or into trouble. I simply… suspect he is my father. I wish to have just one conversation with him. That is all. Do you know where I can find him?’

Rae bit her lip. Then, finally, nodded.

Agatha grinned. She had never expected it to be so easy.

That afternoon she suffered through a dress fitting, and dance lessons.

That night she slept fitfully, full of anticipation that tomorrow would be the day.

She made some rushed excuse as to why she needed to be out that morning. She parroted what Rae told her to say and suddenly, before she knew it she was at the front door of a townhouse, just outside of Mayfair.

She knocked on the door.

Then knocked again.

And again.

And finally, the door swung open.

Chapter Text

I have reason to believe you are my father.

Colin stumbled back, as though her words were a physical blow to his body.

Featherington. Father.

He both understood them completely, and yet he felt as though he'd never heard those words in his life. His brain refused to digest them. To understand what she meant.

It was impossible.

The girl must have mistaken him for another. 

He was not a father. He did not have a child. He had been very careful over the years to ensure he did not have a child.

She was lying and he could not think of a reason as to why.

The longer he stood in his doorway, looking at the girl before him, Agatha, she had said her name was, the more he could see it. Upon his first glance she was spitting image of… her… it was undeniable, but as he looked closer he could see parts of her that appeared to be so distinctly… him. Distinctly Bridgerton.

Still, despite her looks, she surely was lying. Mistaken at best, perhaps. Or worse, embroiled in some kind of scheme. Time and time again it was the signature of the Featherington’s. They were relentless in their pursuits. He was the only unmarried Bridgerton man that would be old enough to have a daughter her age. That must be why they had picked him to be the brunt of yet another scheme. How cruel of them to once again attempt to make a mockery of him. Had they not had enough?

What was there to gain with such a lie? Money? Was the girl in need of a dowery?

They would not find it from him. He would not hand so much as a pence to them. Especially not on word alone from a girl not yet even twenty. 

'I do not know what kind of scheme you are involved with, but I do not have a daughter. You are mistaken.'

The girl shook her head firmly, 'There is no scheme.'

'I know the Featherington's well. There is always a scheme,' he thought about Miss Thompson, Jack Featherington, Portia… he thought about… her, and the lies she told when he believed she loved him back. There was always a scheme with that family. Always a lie. It was always he who was the target, the victim. What had he ever done to them, aside from attempt to love?

'My mother is Penelope Featherington,' Agatha said, her voice pleading, her eyes just as desperate.

Colin's heart lurched into his throat at hearing her name. He had not heard it in so long. He did not even allow himself to think it. His family had learnt long ago to not so much as whisper it when they were in the same room as him. He could not say when the last time he heard her name aloud was. It felt almost foreign to his ears. Yet somehow still achingly familiar.

Agatha's face turned into one of fierce determination at the reaction he had to hearing her name. 'I know that means something to you,' she said. 'Please, could we speak?'

Colin swallowed thickly. He should not. Could not. They would not have him bend so willingly into their plot. Yet, as he looked at the girl in front of him, the echo of a woman he once loved, he found himself saying otherwise. 'I will give you fifteen minutes to speak your piece. And then you must leave.'

She nodded, and granted him a soft smile. 'That will be all I need.'

He let her into his house and into the small drawing room he rarely hosted guests in. When was the last time someone other than his mother or brother's visited him? He could not remember.

'I do not have any tea or biscuits to offer you,' he apologised.

'That is alright,' she smiled softly at him. ‘You were not expecting a guest today, I imagine.’

Colin shook his head in response. He offered her a seat, but she did not accept it, choosing to stand instead.

She stood in the centre of the room. Her hands firmly clasped in front of her, but he could see the way her knuckles were white for how tightly she held her hands together. A small sign that she was actually nervous, despite her otherwise calm appearance. She took a deep breath and launched into what was clearly a prepared speech.

'My mother believes I am here for the social season, to be presented into society and find a husband. I travelled from our home in Bath and am staying with my aunts and Grandmother in Featherington House, as my cousin is also debuting,' she smiled to herself. 'It was a convenient excuse to make my way to London, to Mayfair actually. To… find you.'

Colin gave a nod, encouraging her to continue. He wondered how she would feel, knowing her daughter had put together such an elaborate lie. He wondered if she had suspected a thing when she asked to come to London. Agatha had not mentioned her coming to London as well, it sounded as though she was still in Bath. Colin could not decide how he felt about that.

'I have asked my Mama many times about my father.  She would never say much. I had come to realise I may not ever know who he was. That is until I overheard a conversation one day. About how my father remained in Mayfair, about how he did not even know he had a daughter. From then, any time my Mama was out of the house and I was alone, I would search for anything that might provide me with an indication of who he was, for surely I deserved to at least know his name. And then I found them,' she paused and looked at him.

'Found what?' Colin found himself asking, lured in completely to the story she was telling him. Almost eager to know exactly what happened next. How it came to be that she had decided he might be her father.

'Letters,' she said. 'Many of them, all stacked in a neat pile, hidden under a floorboard in Mama’s study of all places. I spent hours there, reading them. Every single letter was from the same person. You.'

She kept them? Colin's heart skipped a beat at the thought that after all these years she had held on to his letters. To the words he had carefully written her. Even when she was not writing back.

He had kept hers as well. The ones from his first tour. Locked away, hidden from his own sight so we was never tempted, even at his lowest, to look through them. But he kept them, as way to ensure to himself he didn't imagine her up. That at one point in time it had been real. That she had been real. His broken heart was not conjured from nothing.

'Mama still does not know I found them. Does not know I read them every day for two weeks. I know she used to reside in Mayfair, and so I had hoped that… maybe that was where I could find you.'

Colin took a deep, steadying breath. It was a lot to take in, a lot to think about and try and come to terms with. 'How old are you Agatha?'

'I am about to turn eighteen.'

He let out a loud exhale. It was possible then. Colin didn't know if he was relieved at the thought that she was the right age, or distressed that she wasn't younger, and therefore the entire thing impossible. He didn't know what to feel in this very moment. A daughter. Him. A father.

'I don't know if I am your father,' he said, surprised at how steady his voice was given the turmoil running through him. 'But I cannot confidently tell you I am not.'

'Oh,' Agatha seemed to let out a breath at his words. Her body relaxed.

'Your mother never… she never told me. Though it would not be the first time she kept a secret from me.' He tried his best to keep his bitterness out of his tone. It was not the girls fault.

'She is very good at keeping things to herself,' Agatha agreed. Colin supposed her own daughter would be aware of her habits.

'Yes that is… one way to put it,' Colin said, once more attempting to keep his tone neutral for the girl.

Agatha glanced at the clock and her eyes widened. 'Oh, I must be on my way. I have completely overstayed,' she said. Colin was about to protest that she hadn't and only barely managed to stop himself. 'They will eventually notice my absence.’

Colin nodded, he supposed she must be on borrowed time to have come to him in the first place. 'I shall see you out.'

He walked with her to the front door and opened it for her. Agatha turned to him, her face suddenly unsure, and hesitant. Different from the bold confidence she had come in with.

'I hadn't thought about what happens now,' she said, a worried expression in her eyes. 'I spent so long practicing that speech, working out how I might tell you why my suspicions are what they are and worrying about your response, that I did not think about what comes next.'

'We will figure that part out together,' Colin said with a confidence he definitely did not feel.

Agatha gave him a smile, bid him a good day and was on her way. Colin waited until she had turned a corner and disappeared out of sight before he retreated back inside. He collapsed into the armchair in his study with a heavy sigh. His headache suddenly back in full force, even worse than before.

A daughter. She had a daughter.

He might have a daughter.

She was nearly eighteen. It had been just shy of eighteen years since…

It couldn't be. Surely she would not keep this from him too. Not something of this magnitude. After all of the betrayal and destruction she had caused, surely she would not do more harm by hiding the fact that their intimacy had resulted in a child. A child she had hidden away in Bath so he might never find out.

It was as though running off before he had the chance to heal, to work through everything he found out, had not been enough for her. She had decided she needed to cut him with a knife one last time.

The thought that for the past eighteen years, there was a child out there in the world that was part him, part her filled him with almost unbearable grief.

Yet… the mere possibility, the slightest of chances, the hint of a thought, that she had a child and that child belonged to another also brought terrible pain. Pain he had no rights to for he had long ago relinquished them. A jealousy he could not make a claim on.

He did not know, did not want to know, which scenario was worse to him.

If she was… if Agatha's suspicions were correct… he had lost out on so much. It was too much to think about. He could not truly dwell on it yet. Not without knowing the truth first.

He needed an answer. He needed to know for sure and so, for the first time in a very long time Colin sat at his desk. He pulled out an old, empty journal and tore out a fresh page. He started writing. Bath… she lived in Bath. So much closer than he ever truly realised.

To Penelope Miss Featherington

You may be surprised to hear from me. Be assured I am just as surprised to be writing to you. I wish very much I did not have to.

Today is a Friday, and it started as any other Friday usually would. Until there was a knock on my door and the most curious guest was on my doorstep.

I believe you know this guest very well. Her name was Agatha.

Tell me, are her suspicions correct? Is she mine? Am I hers? Both of us deserve to hear the truth from you.

I await your response.

Regards,

Colin Bridgerton

He hoped it would reach her. A reply came five anxious days later. When the letter arrived his heart hammered in his chest at seeing his name in the cursive writing he had long ago memorised. Her handwriting had not changed a bit, it was exactly as he remembered. With shaky hands he opened the letting, knowing that the truth was about to be revealed to him.

Dear Mr Bridgerton,

I am making my way to Mayfair and should arrive two days after this letter reaches you.

We shall speak then.

Regards,

Penelope Featherington

Colin read the words over and over. Though she said nothing, with every read he came to the same conclusion.

The girl, Agatha, was in fact his daughter, and her mother was returning to Mayfair.

Chapter Text

Penelope could not believe she was in Mayfair again. The streets the carriage trundled down were achingly familiar, and yet now felt so foreign.

She did not belong anymore.

In truth, she often wondered if she ever really did.

Bath had immediately felt like more of a home than Mayfair ever had. Without the stuffy air of everyone trying to outdo each other all the time, she felt more relaxed. Particularly given the circumstances of her arrival to the town. Bath was not entirely removed from the rules of society, nor had she expected it to be. But in Bath she had no social standing, and was not expected to have it. She flew under the radar by her own choice and for the first time, in a long time, she could breathe.

A single woman, with a child was not easy, no matter where in England you were. But the people of Bath had been able to turn a blind eye to it (and those that had turned their nose up, she had been able to ignore), she had enough money to pay for what she needed and that appeared to be enough.

Penelope had not been back to London in eighteen years.

Her memory of fleeing was still fresh in her mind. The letters she wrote, stained with the tears that fell uncontrollably. The cover of night, as not to cause more of a scene than she had to. Penelope still had the dress she wore for that journey tucked away in her closet. The words that had been spoken still stung.

She did not like thinking about it. In truth, it had been a long time since she'd let herself think about it.

Yet, seeing the familiar sights of Mayfair had her unable to stop the barrage of memories from accosting her.

The carriage pulled up to Featherington House. From the outside it hadn’t changed a bit.

She was helped out of the carriage by a footman and walked up the front steps. She kept her eyes deliberately on the house in front of her. She did not dare turn around.

She could not, even if she had wanted to.

Penelope was let into the house and from there she walked familiar steps up to the drawing room.

It had changed, a little, Prudence had even more of a flair for the overtop and gaudy than her mother. It was still mostly reminiscent of the room she had spent hours in growing up.

‘Penelope!’ Her mother was the first to spot her. She swanned over in a way only Portia Featherington could and gave her a brief, loose armed hug, and Penelope returned.

Suddenly all eyes in the room where on her.

Portia, Prudence, Phillipa. Her brother in laws. Her nieces and nephew.

Her daughter.

Penelope spotted Agatha straight away. She was by the windowsill Penelope had always favoured growing up. Staring out the window, deliberately avoiding her gaze. The conversation she needed to have with her was going to be a tough one and so, she would let Agatha have her space for now.

‘Penny!’ It as Phillipa who let out a squeal. Who had suddenly bounded over and embraced her in a way she never had when they were growing up, in fact, Penelope was not sure Phillipa had ever called her 'Penny' before either. ‘You made it!’

‘I did,’ Penelope hugged her back.

‘It’s so exciting isn’t it? Having the girls debut this year?’ She was grinning madly, full of life and enthusiasm Penelope struggled to match.

‘Very exciting.’

‘Speaking of, we need to come up with a story for Agatha.’ Portia chimed in.

‘Why?’ Penelope asked.

‘Penelope, I know you’ve been away for a long time, but you should know that the ton won’t take to kindly to an illegitimate child being amongst them. She will have no hope securing a husband.’

Penelope could only nod. She hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t thought to think about it.

Especially now that she knew Agatha did not care for finding a husband this season at all. It was not why she was here. There was still a part of Penelope that could not quite believe she had fell for the ruse. Agatha had asked so earnestly to come to London. She should have picked up on it being a lie.

Agatha still had not looked at her. 

‘I am glad we agree. Let’s discuss more at family dinner tonight,’ Portia said. ‘Until then, why don’t you freshen up Penelope. I am sure it’s been a long journey.’

Penelope nodded again.

She was shown to her room. She would be sharing with Agatha, in her childhood bedroom. It felt strange to be back. It was a little like stepping into the past. In many, many ways she no longer recognised who she was back then. The scared, shy, wallflower who hid behind a pen name. In many others, she suddenly felt sixteen again.

She could not though. She had to be the woman she was now if she had any chance of getting through the next few days. There was a lot to deal with, and dwelling on the past was not going to help her.

There was a knock on the door. ‘Mama?’

Penelope snapped her head to the door as it was slowly pushed open.

‘Come in. This is your room too.’

Agatha stepped in. She avoided meeting Penelope’s eyes.

‘I did not think you wanted to come to London,’ Agatha said.

‘I did not,’ Penelope replied. ‘You gave me no choice.’

It felt odd to speak to her daughter this way. She had vowed, from the moment she found out she was with child, that she would raise them with love and kindness. Agatha had turned out to be such a good kid, she had never had to raise her voice. Never had to get angry.

Now though? She found herself furious. She barely knew where to begin.

‘I…I did not ask you to come.’

‘Agatha,’ Penelope said pointedly.

Agatha sighed. ‘How did you know? Did Rae-‘

‘Rae?’ Penelope interrupted, deep down pleased to hear the name and to know Rae was still around. ‘No, Rae did not tell me anything.’

‘Then how did you know?’

‘Because he wrote to me,’ she revealed. ‘He told me you went to visit him. Agatha, I cannot believe how-‘

‘I deserve to know the truth!’ Agatha shouted.

Penelope felt her heart crack. They did not yell at each other. Not her and Aggie. Not ever. She would break down about it later.

‘It is so unbelievably dangerous to come to London and go to strangers house, a strange man’s house nonetheless, the way you did. I cannot believe you were so foolish. He could have been anybody.’

‘But he is not anybody,’ Agatha said, tears started spilling from her eyes and Penelope’s heart ached. ‘He is my father, Mama. He should not be a stranger to me.’

‘No,’ Penelope shook her head. ‘He should not be.’

‘Then why,’ she stepped towards her. ‘Why is he?’

Penelope felt short of breath. The truth was too much to take. Too much to confront right now. In this house. In this room. After being buried deep for so long. She had been stupid to believe she could keep this truth buried forever.

‘I cannot do this right now Agatha.’

‘I will not accept that.’

‘You must.’

‘No!’ The look in her eyes was all Bridgerton’s stubbornness. Penelope had seen in far too many times. In Eloise, in Colin. Hell, even in Francesca in her season when she determined John was the man for her.

‘You will,’ Penelope said. It may have been years. But she was more well practiced in Bridgerton stubbornness than Agatha would ever realise. ‘I am sorry. Sorry like you would not believe. I have lot to beg your forgiveness for. I know. But I cannot give you every answer right now and you have to accept that. We are going to get ready for dinner. We will eat with our family. It will be polite and hopefully at least mildly pleasant. Tomorrow morning, while you are off in preparations I will speak with him, after which, you and I can have a discussion. Is that clear?'

Agatha nodded silently.

‘Alright then?’ Penelope asked.

‘Alright.’

Dinner was, as Penelope had described, polite and mildly pleasant. Portia had insisted on coming up with a story for Agatha and while Penelope did not want to have it in front of her, the damage was already done. They would say Agatha was a distant cousin ('similar to Miss Thompson, if you recall' Portia had said) joining them for the season. There was no reason for anyone to suspect (which Penelope decidedly disagreed with, but chose not to argue).

Going to bed that night was strange. Agatha was quiet. Much more than usual and Penelope did not feel much like pressuring her to talk. She knew there was hurt, and anger and Agatha had every right to feel that way. Penelope only hope that they would recover from it.

She slept fitfully. Her dreams full of imagined conversations blending into real ones from the past. Conversations she’d spent close to decades trying to forget and others she imagined having over and over again.

By the time dawn broke she gave up on getting more sleep. Her heart raced and she felt nothing but dread and anticipation over what she had to do next.

See him.

Try and reason with him.

Do her best to have him not break Agatha’s heart.

It felt big. The thought of seeing him again. She had long ago come to terms with the thought that she would not. That she had laid her eyes on him for the last time all those years ago. The last image she had of him was tears slipping down his face. She had seen the way his heart fractured into two in his eyes and had known he was seeing the same in hers.

It had been yelling, fighting, begging, kissing.

A blend of I cannot look at you, and please never leave me.

It had been pain. The worst kind of heartbreak.

She had never healed from it. Not really. Simply learned to live with it.

His address had been on his letter. A street she was not familiar with. She wondered what it looked like. She wondered, not for the first time, if he was the only one who lived there. Her heart pounded in her ears the entire carriage ride.

She took deep breaths in a pathetic excuse to steady herself before she walked up to the door, and knocked.

A footman answered.

'Hello, I am, uh, here to visit on Mr Bridgerton,' she said, tripping over the words as she tried desperately to ground herself.

The footman nodded and let her in. She followed him through the house to the drawing room. There was not enough time to take everything in.

'I shall fetch him.'

Penelope nodded.

She could not sit. Instead she paced, back and forth wringing her hands in nervous anticipation. She could not predict what he was going to say, how he was going to be. Angry, she was sure. Upset at her, naturally. How this conversation was going to go though, she didn't know.

'You are going to wear a hole into the rug.'

Her heart lurched. His voice sounded exactly as she remembered.

Penelope stopped her steps and turned to the entrance of the room where he stood. Just as tall as she remembered. Just as put together as she remembered. His hair was longer, but just as charmingly curly. She could see flecks of grey within it. He was not as tanned as she remembered, he must spend more time in London than on the continent these days, she supposed. Did he have a family then? His eyes still as blue as she recalled, but there was no spark in them. Just hollowness.

He was still handsome. Moreso, if that was even possible. It hurt to look at him.

She wanted so badly to reach out to him. To touch him in some way. The tips of her fingers tingled in anticipation at the thought.

She could not. She had no right to touch him.

'Col- Mr Bridgerton,' she said, keeping her tone polite and somehow doing a far better job than she thought herself capable of.

'Miss Featherington,' he responded. His eyes flickered down to her hand. 'I assume, anyway.'

She nodded quickly. 'Yes.'

He nodded back.

A long silence passed between them. They looked at each other. Drinking in the sight for far too long. Until Colin took a step further into the room, and away from the entrance where he hovered. The move made Penelope aware of how much she was staring and she looked down at the ground.

'I would prefer to keep this meeting brief,' Colin started.

'Of course,' she agreed.

'I only have one question for you, and it should be simple enough to answer.' His tone was gruff, straight forward and to the point. There was no emotion and Penelope, of course, could not blame him for that.

She nodded.

'Is what she said true?' Colin asked.

'Depends on what she said,' Penelope answered truthfully.

Colin let out a frustrated sigh. 'Is she my daughter?'

Penelope could only nod. Her throat was stuck and she could not say the words aloud even if she wanted to.

'I see,' Colin sighed again, this time much heavier, as though the weight of the world was on him. Penelope supposed in many ways it now was, and it was entirely her fault.

Penelope finally raised her head to look at him. He was staring at her and she met his gaze head on. For her, for Agatha, she had to be brave.

'The choice of what happens with this information is up to you,' she said. 'But I only request one thing.'

'Are you really in a position to be making requests right now?' Colin asked.

'You cannot break her heart,' Penelope ploughed ahead, ignoring him, the request was for the sake of her… their, daughter. 'Whatever it is you decide, you must stick by it. I will not have you hurt her. None of this is her fault.'

'No, it is entirely yours,' Colin said, the words biting.

She knew he was right.

'I have however, been spending a lot of time thinking about what I would like,' he said.

Penelope nodded, letting him know she wanted him to continue.

'I would like to get to know her.'

'Alright,' she said.

'And I would like my family to know her too.'

This had Penelope squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine. 'I don't think-'

'It is important to me.'

'She was born out of wedlock. Ant - Lord Bridgerton would surely never accept-'

'Do not speak of my brother as though you know him,' Colin demanded.

'She is debuting this season, the Ton-'

'I said my family. Not the Ton,' Colin interrupted.

'People talk.'

'I cannot lie to them. Not again.'

She let out a reluctant sigh. 'Fine. Alright. We can do that.'

Colin nodded.

'I expect you to protect her though.'

Colin frowned at her, and it was a look that pierced through her so severely she did not know what to do with it.

'Of course,' his tone implied that anything else would be absurd. It settled her nerves. The Bridgerton's had always been welcoming. Kind. Warm. But they also held a highly valued place in society. Status was important and an illegitimate child would be enough to ruin the lot of them.

'Ok then,' Penelope agreed. 'Thank you.'

Colin nodded again.

'Colin she-' Penelope stopped for a moment, his name sounded so foreign in her lips after almost two decades of refusing to say it. 'She is… clever, clearly. Brave. Incredibly strong willed. But, she is also sensitive, and soft hearted. She opens up freely, and with that can come great hurt for her. If you are going to get to know her and get your family to know her it must be with the intent of it being permanent. Do not let her in, only to quickly shut her out if you change your mind. Please do not… I fear it will break her.'

'I think you need to have more confidence in her strength,' Colin countered. 'If she-' he stopped his sentence abruptly. 

'What?'

He shook his head. 'Never mind. I do not intent to hurt her and I do not intend to let my family either,' he said. 'But it is truly not fair that you know her so well, so deeply and I… only learnt of her existence a week ago. That my own… daughter… is a stranger to me.'

'I never meant-'

'For me to find out?' Colin finished her sentence for her, spitting the words out.

Penelope straightened her spine and met his eyes. 'You did not want to be trapped in a marriage with Lady Whistledown,' she reminded him. 'A child would have landed you in that position. I believed I was sparing you from the pain of being stuck with me.'

'No,' Colin shook his head. 'You were sparing yourself from pain.'

'I-'

'I think it's time you took your leave,' he cut her off. 'I shall be in touch to arrange a meeting with Agatha.'

Chapter Text

The last time Colin had felt this uneasy in Bridgerton House was eighteen years ago.

It was after the fighting. His eyes had felt raw and dry. Every last teardrop already long spent. His voice had felt hoarse for how long they had talked. He had not quite yelled at her. Had not been able to bring himself to. He had been emotional though, hurt, angry, upset, the words did not seem to even cover how he felt.

He had been about to tell his mother. Tell Anthony. The truth.

All of it.

For the second time he had messed up.

For the second time, he had been engaged far too quickly, and in the aftermath discovered that he was engaged to someone he did not truly know as well as he thought he had.

He remembered that he’d ached to have her there. Beside him. Holding his hand. Assuring him it would be ok. They would understand.

It was conflicting as she was the very reason he was there to begin with. He should not want her comfort. Yet it was all he had craved.

He remembered that he had not known what to say then.

He felt even more unsure now.

If only he could glide back to the past and tell the lost, young boy he was back then that what he was about to do was easy in comparison to what he would face.

This time, it was just Anthony. His mother still at Number Five. Probably sitting by the fire enjoying some embroidery. Entirely unknowing of the turmoil her third son was in.

She had been to his house. Had stood in his drawing room as though she were a stranger there (she was). She had looked at him. Really, truly looked at him. He felt seen in a way he hadn't in eighteen years. She had not changed much. It was as though she’d almost been frozen in time, stuck as the young girl he’d considered his dearest friend, his love. Her blue eyes still captured him and had his heart racing. Her lips, just as soft and plush as they were in his deepest, most secret dreams.

He had itched to touch her. To know if she was just as soft as he remembered.

He could not.

He had managed to compartmentalise for the most part. The topic at hand had been clear. Agatha. Their daughter. The pain he felt at having missed so much. The secret that had been kept from him for so long.

Even thinking it still sounded strange to his ears. He had a daughter.

They had a daughter.

He refused to miss out on more of her life than he already had. He would make sure of it. 

With a grimace, Colin pushed the door to Anthony’s study open. His older brother sat behind his desk, clear of everything save a half empty bottle of brandy and two glasses.

Colin raised his eyebrows.

‘It’s rare you ask to talk like this. I assumed we might need it.’

Colin nodded. He took the seat opposite and watched silently as Anthony poured out two glasses and handed one over to him. Colin picked his glass up and raised it in a toast before taking a sip.

The bitter tang of the alcohol felt achingly familiar. It warmed his throat to his belly and he relaxed. Slightly.

‘Are we engaging in small talk first or are you going to cut to the chase?’

Colin stared into his drink for a moment before finally meeting his brothers eyes. ‘I suppose I should get to it.’

‘Alright then. Floor is yours.’

Colin nodded.

A moment passed.

‘This, brother, is the moment where you talk,’ Anthony encouraged.

‘I… well ok,’ Colin said. He knew he could no long avoid it. He had to do it. ‘It is difficult to know where to start. But I suppose I should start with what happened a little more than a week ago.’

‘Alright,’ Anthony nodded.

‘It was a regular Friday. There was nothing unusual about it until there was a knock on my door,’ Colin paused, attempting to gather his wits. ‘I hoped whoever was there would go away. My head was sore from the evening before and I didn’t much feel like speaking to anyone.’

‘You rarely do these days,’ Anthony said, his voice under his breath. Colin pretended not to hear him.

‘So, I answered the door and, well, there was a girl there.’

‘A girl?’ Anthony repeated.

‘Yes,’ Colin nodded. ‘Young.’

‘Colin if you have somehow compromised this girl I swear-‘

‘No,’ he interrupted quickly. ‘That is not where this is going,’ though as Colin thought on it… he supposed that it was, in technicality, how it had started. ‘I suppose I should just get straight to the point. The girl came to me with claims of being my daughter.’

Anthony had chosen the wrong time to take a sip of his drink and he choked on it.

‘Sorry. What?’

Colin nodded. ‘I felt the same way, but she…’ he paused and braced himself. ‘She looks just like her. Except the parts that don’t. She’s the right age and… I… got confirmation.’

Anthony was silent. He did not say a word. His eyes were set, and jaw was tense. Colin had forgotten how to breathe as he waited for what Anthony would say.

‘She is a Featherington?’ He asked slowly, taking careful note of Colin’s words.

‘Yes.’

‘And you took her claim at face value.’

‘No,’ Colin shook his head. ‘I have learnt my lesson there. Many times.’

‘Too many,’ Anthony muttered. Once again, Colin pretended not to hear him. ‘What is the evidence you believe then?’

‘She is the right age. Based on her year of birth. The date of her birth too.’ he explained. ‘And you should see her, Ant. She might look Featherington at first glance, but when you take a closer look she… she’s all Bridgerton.’ He finished. He could not help the small smile on his face over the thought. It had been there. He had seen it. There was Bridgerton in the girl through and through. Undeniably.

Anthony gave a sigh. ‘Colin, you cannot just accept this based off of believing the girl perhaps, on third or fourth glance has some traits that vaguely resemble our family.’

Colin shook his head. ‘It’s more than that. I promise you. You will see when you-‘

‘Meet her?’ Anthony finished. ‘You have not promised her anything have you?’

‘She is debuting this year. You will see her at society events.’

Anthony downed the rest of the his drink and quickly poured himself another. Once he rested the bottle back on the table he rubbed at his temples and gave a sigh. ‘So she will be out.’

‘Yes.’

‘The ton will know her.’

‘Yes.’

‘For heavens sake Colin.’

‘The ton will not know she is mine.’

‘I beg you, stop saying that as though it is true.’

‘It is true!’ Colin exclaimed. ‘It has to be.’

‘And why does it have to be?’

‘Because…’ he trailed off. He could not say that part out loud.

It had to be true. Because if it was not it meant she had engaged in relations, been intimate, with someone else. As soon as their engagement was done.

He could not have that be true instead.

It had taken him years to be able to be intimate again. After knowing and understanding the difference of making love and having sex, he struggled with the mere thought of the latter. Eventually instincts and primal need got the better of him, but it had taken so long.

He could not cope with the thought that she had been able to so easily fall in bed with another.

The girl had to be his.

‘Colin,’ Anthony gained his attention again, waiting for an answer.

‘It just has to be,’ Colin finished with a sigh.

Anthony eyed him carefully, then nodded. ‘So you truly believe she is yours.’

‘Yes.’

‘Who else knows?’ Anthony asked.

‘I… I am not sure,’ he admitted.

‘Any guesses?’

‘Myself. Agatha-‘

‘Danbury? She is-‘

‘That’s her name,’ Colin interrupted. ‘I thought I had said, apologies. Her name is Agatha. Miss Featherington.’

‘If she is your daughter you do not need to call her Miss Featherington.’

‘No. Miss Featherington is aware, naturally,’ Colin repeated. Almost pleading at Anthony to not make him say her name.

‘Oh. I see.’

‘Possibly Portia Featherington. Though I am not certain. I have not asked.’

‘The sisters?’

Colin could only offer a shrug.

‘Right.’

Another long silence lulled between them. Colin took the moment to finish his drink and take several deep breaths while Anthony mulled over the information given to him.

‘I want a record of birth,’ Anthony said.

‘Why?’

‘You said you believe she is yours due to the dates. I want to see the record that the dates you have been given are true.’

‘Anthony-‘

‘If it is true, then I will accept that she is your daughter. Despite being illegitimate.’

‘I will request it,’ Colin reluctantly agreed. He had wanted to avoid speaking with her again. It looked as though he would have to.

‘We will ensure the girl is taken care of. Dowery, small, but, enough to secure a good match. She will have the backing of the Bridgerton’s but the ton cannot know who she is. At least, not for now, if she wants to remain in society it is for her benefit as much as ours. As I assume Portia will not be readily admitting the girl was born out of wedlock.’

Colin shrugged. 'I had not asked,' he admitted.

‘Do you intend to have a relationship with the girl? To act as her father?’

‘The best that I can,’ Colin said solemnly. He meant it. He had already lost eighteen years. He was not about to loose more.

‘In that case she should visit for tea one afternoon. The adults should be aware of who she is. The children need not know.’

‘Thank you, Anthony. I appreciate this,’ Colin was being earnest. He had expected to have to beg, to plead. Was ready to go behind his back and to their mother if he had to.

‘If she is yours then… regardless of how it came to be she is family. We will accept her just as we accept Eloise’s step-children.’

Colin nodded, trying very much to not think about how he was nearly a father to those twins.

‘Thank you.’

Anthony gave him a smile and a rough pat on the back. He walked Colin out to the front door.

‘One final thing, brother,’ Anthony said.

‘Yes?’

‘I… am sorry,’ he said. ‘If all of this is true then… you’ve missed a lot and I am sure that will be difficult to deal with. Please make sure you reach out to us if anything does become too much. You know there is always space for you in our home, right?’

‘I know,’ Colin barely got the words out, a lump lodged solidly in his throat. It was one thing to think it himself, but be aware of it. It felt another entirely to have his brother say it out loud.

He chose to walk home, instead of taking the carriage. The night air was crisp, and felt good on his face as he let his brain go into overdrive. Something he’d been holding back from.

He had missed out on a lot. Everything, really. All of Agatha’s childhood. He did not know what she looked like as a newborn. Did not see her first steps, or hear her first word. He did not get to teach her to read and write. He did not get to see her grow from a young child into the young woman she was now. He had no clue what her interests were. What foods she liked, the ones she didn’t. Did she enjoy writing like both of them did? All of those years were lost, along with everything that came with them and he was never going to get them back.

What was the reason? Because he had been angry about Whistledown? Had he truly been that upset about it?

It felt so distant these days. So… trivial in hindsight. It was not. He had to remind himself. At the time the Queen had been pursuing the gossip columnist and who knows where that could have lead. It was not only an endeavour that had hurt so many, but was dangerous too.  

However, Colin knew that if he had known Penelope was with child he would have made different decisions. Was sure of it.

A child was not trivial. A child was… everything his heart constantly hurt for, but the one thing he could not have unless he married.

He could not marry. Not anyone that was not her.

In the aftermath of everything that happened, once she had gone and he was left with nothing, his anger had eventually dissipated and all he had was his sorrow and his grief.

They do not tell you that it is possible for grieve for someone still living.

Had she known then? Had she kept her from him even through the fighting?

Based on what he knew from his sisters it may have been too early for her to know.

He hoped. For both of their sake that she did not know then. That she did not let him walk away from their engagement knowing his child was growing inside her.

He finally reached his house. It was dark, and empty. His staff long gone to bed themselves. They knew to not wait up for him past a certain hour.

He wondered if he should ready a room for her. For Agatha. In case she ever wanted to stay with him. Would she be allowed to? Would she even want that? He would let her pick the colours and the decorations if that would sway her.

He could worry about it later. The following day was presentation day. He had not planned to go, but now he needed to. The event was usually reserved for close family but, he could pretend he was there to support his niece, Belinda, Daphne’s daughter was also debuting this season. He could be there for her.

But mostly for Agatha. To see her enter London society.

And after? He would have to attempt to talk to her mother to get the record Anthony wanted so he could accept her as a Bridgerton.

Colin fell down on to his bed, not bothering to change. He let out a long sigh.

There was a long journey ahead. But he was not missing out on any more of his daughters life.

Chapter Text

Presentation day.

Agatha had conflicting feelings when she was awoken, early. The sun had barely risen and she was being ushered out of bed to 'prep' for the big moment.

To begin with, she wanted more sleep. The presentation wasn't for hours and there was surely no need for her to be awake so early.

Then, there was the fact that she did not actually care all that much about the presentation. Or debuting into society. She had hoped she would be able to get out of it. Hoped she might find some excuse, or reason that she did not have to. Or, perhaps, deep down she hoped that her Grandmama would say she could not. That she was unfit to be part of London society. Agatha had always been aware of her status. Mama had tried to shield her, but Agatha knew. It felt even more glaring in Mayfair. Her mere existence went against all propriety Mayfair stood for.

Grandmama instead had a dress tailored for her, and when Agatha had asked Mama if she 'had' to go through with it, Mama had simply given her a look and said 'If you are going to lie you have to be prepared to deal with the consequences'.

Agatha had later wondered if Mama was dealing with the consequences of her own lies at all. She knew Mama had been to see Colin Bridgerton. She did not know what they had spoken about. Only that he would arrange for them to spend some time together and get to know one another properly. Agatha looked forward to that and supposed it was worth suffering through presentation day for. 

However, despite her not wanting to go through with the presentation, to not wanting to be a debutante, she was a little thrilled over the idea of getting to experience some of the big balls that were put on in Mayfair. To wear pretty dresses, and have her hair done all lovely. Agatha had never thought it was something she would be able to experience. She had firmly resigned herself to experiencing only the smaller dances held in Bath.

So, it was not going to be all bad.

Philomena's room had been turned into a dressing room. Their white, long dresses already hung up on display, Rae and Philomena’s ladies maid were ready to go and start getting them dressed.

Agatha decided she hated fancy dresses. They were somehow more complicated than the day dresses she was used to wearing. They were tighter, the fabric stiffer, there was more lacing and buttoning. Agatha had been pushed and pulled in every direction, until finally, she was in her dress. Trapped, was a better term for it, for there was no chance she could get out of the damn thing on her own.

White and floor length. Adorned with embroidered flowers, beads and sequins felt as though they were everywhere. It was lower in the neckline than she was used to and a much tighter fit than she was use to, she struggled to breathe until Mama guided her through how to best breathe in the dress.

'You look lovely dear,' Mama had said softly to her. 'You are sure to capture the Ton's attention.'

That made Agatha grimace. She did not want the Ton's attention.

Philomena was finally also dressed and bounded over to Agatha. 'Look at us!' she squealed. 'We look so pretty!'

'The dress suits you,' Agatha said to her cousin. And she meant it. Philomena was tall, and all arms and legs. The dress seemed to drape over her flawlessly. Agatha tried not to compare herself. She was much shorter than her cousin, and God had been generous to her in the hips and bosom. The style of dress they were wearing just did not fit her the same way.

'I'll take you to the modiste and we'll get some dresses for you,' Mama said quietly in her ear. ‘The ones you’ve been given are not the best style for you.’

Agatha nodded gratefully.

She was forced to sit through all sorts of creams and powders being put on her face and by the time Rae was done, when she looked in the mirror Agatha barely recognised herself. Her skin looked like porcelain, whatever had been put on her eyes made them seem bluer, and brighter.

Her cheeks and lips had been rouged and for the first time, in a long time, she felt pretty.

'You look so grown up,' Mama said. Agatha met her eyes, and she noticed that Mama's were glossy, like she was teary and trying to hold back.

Agatha gave her a smile and hugged her. 'I am glad you're here for this,' she said honestly.

'I am too,' Mama said.

Shortly after they climbed into the Featherington carriage. It was a tight squeeze with Mama, Grandmama, Phillipa, Philomena and herself. Her uncles, and Philomena’s sisters would follow behind them in a second carriage.

The backstage of the presentation hall was a flurry with Mama’s and debutantes all around. Maids were rushing back and forth and never before had so much white silk been seen in one place.

Agatha felt incredibly out of her depth. The girls around her had been raised for this. From the time they were children they had been taught what to do. How to stand, where to stand, what to say, when to move. She had not. The two weeks of cramming knowledge into her had been a valiant attempt by Grandmama and her aunts, but it could not make up for a lifetime of preparation.

She could feel eyes on her. A stranger. A newcomer. Girls wondering who she was and why she was there. She had not considered the fact that she was in every sense of it, an outsider.

‘Relax Agatha,’ Mama said firmly. ‘You will be fine.’

‘I cannot do this,’ Agatha said, her chest tight.

‘You can, and you will. You belong here just as much as any of the other girls.’

‘The other girls don’t have to lie about who they are,’ Agatha pointed out.

Mama sighed. ‘I am sorry dear. I really am. I would prefer you could walk out there proudly as my daughter, but… London society is still… stuck in its way. Think of it like this, the whole process will be done in about five minutes. It is simply five minutes of your life that you need to endure this and then it will be over.’ 

‘I can do five minutes,’ Agatha said.

‘You can. And from someone who has been through this before, at an even younger age than you… it is survivable.’

‘That is helpful, actually. Thank you Mama.’

Mama nodded and gave her smile. ‘I will be out watching, ok? Good luck.’

Mama gave her a hug and disappeared into the chaos, leaving Agatha alone with Philomena, her Aunt Phillipa, and Grandmama. 

Philomena caught her eye and gave her an excited smile. ‘Ready Aggie?’ She asked.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ Agatha responded.

Philomena went first, presented by her mother. Suddenly, it was Agatha’s turn.

‘Miss Agatha Featherington. Presented by dowager Lady Featherington.’

She stepped out into the hall. There was a long aisle, that seemed to get longer the more she stared at it. She gripped her Grandmama’s arm and slowly walked down.

Agatha looked around, hoping for a sign of Mama, but she seemed hidden. Likely blending in too much for Agatha to spot, even with her bright red hair. She did however, instead spot her father and  her heart leapt. She had not expected him to be at the presentation.

She met his eyes. He gave her a small smile and a nod of encouragement and it made her feel at ease. She gave him a small nod back and carried on with her walk.

They reached the queen, who gave an air of being too important for the event and looked bored.

Agatha curtsied deeply, as she’d been shown then moved on.

It was done. She could breathe a sigh of relief. 

After presentation was a garden event. It was supposed to be an opportunity for the debutantes to mingle and get to know one another.

‘Make some friends,’ Mama had encouraged.

‘Get to know the competition,’ Grandmama has phrased it.

Agatha had decided her Mama’s approach was far  better. She did not care to truly find a husband, not this season at least. However if she were to attend balls and soirées, she preferred to have some friendly faces she could talk with.

She and Philomena stood by each other, looking out of the crowd. Agatha got the sense that Philomena desperately wanted an excuse to get away from her. Just as she was about to say something a girl appeared in front of them.

‘Hello,’

Agatha tried desperately to recall her name from the long list of other debutantes Grandmama had taken them through, but she could not.

‘You are Miss Finch and Miss Featherington, correct?’ The girl asked.

Agatha nodded. ‘Agatha though, is suitable for me.’

The girl smiled. ‘You can call me Belinda then.’

‘Pleased to meet you Belinda,’ Agatha said.

‘Oh, my Mama needs me’ Philomena said, dismissively as though she had not heard them. She walked off.

‘Is she usually like that?’ Belinda asked.

‘Yes,’ Agatha said. ‘She is lovely and kind, truly. Just a little… vacant.’

‘I see,’ Belinda nodded. ‘I must admit, I was after you actually.’

‘Why?’

‘I had heard that you do not actually reside in Mayfair often either. I do not know too many of the girls. Some from being here time to time, but they all seem to have formed friendships already and I would like to start fresh.’

‘I would like that too,’ Agatha nodded. ‘I do not know anyone aside from my cousin.’

‘Then we shall stick together,’ Belinda said, she looped her arm through Agatha’s and they began to walk around the garden. Belinda already talking about the some of the events she was most excited for. Agatha was happy to just listen.

They eventually stopped at the refreshments table. Each girl helped themselves to a lemonade and took to observing the part.

‘Interesting…’ Belinda mused.

‘What is?’ Agatha asked.

‘My uncle is still here and is talking to someone. I wonder who she is?’ Belinda said with a frown on her face.

Agatha turned in the direction Belinda was looking and her heart skipped several beats. She saw her father talking to her mother.

‘Mr Bridgerton is your uncle?’ Agatha asked, trying to keep her tone as neutral as she could.

‘They all are,’ Belinda responded.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I have four uncles, on my mothers side, the Bridgerton side. They are all Mr Bridgerton. Well, I suppose except for Uncle Anthony who is technically Lord Bridgerton.’

‘Lord?’ Agatha asked.

‘Yes,’ Belinda nodded. ‘He is a viscount.’

A viscount? She had an uncle who was a viscount? Mama had not mentioned that.

‘You mother comes from a large family then? Four siblings is a lot.’ Agatha was desperate to get any information she could. She did not know her father had so many siblings. A couple based on the letters she’d read. But Belinda alluded to far more than she’d realised.

Belinda laughed, not at her, just with humour. ‘Oh, no, my mother was one of eight.’

‘Eight!’ Agatha exclaimed.

Eight. That was more than she could fathom. Her father had seven siblings? One of which was Belinda’s mother. That made Belinda… her cousin.

She looked at the girl in a new light. Her tan skin and dark hair, combined with bright blue eyes made her striking. But she seemed to be kind, and gentle. Agatha appreciated that.

She could not believe, that of all the girls to seek out a conversation with her, her cousin had. With out even knowing their relation.

She wondered how many more cousins she had. How much family was currently a stranger to her.

‘Yes, eight,’ Belinda responded. ‘I believe my parents made a good go of matching the number, but there are only five of us Bassets.’

‘Oh, wow,’ Agatha breathed.

‘How about yourself?’ Belinda asked. ‘Any siblings?’

Not that she knew of. Surely her father would have mentioned it? Or her mother after visiting him. Instead, she shook her head.

‘Just myself,’ she admitted. ‘I think I would have loved to have siblings growing up. Although my Mama always said her own sisters were a pain.’

‘Sisters can be tiresome. I only have the one and that was more than enough. I love her dearly, so not get me wrong, but she can be a menace. Mama always says Caroline reminds her of my Aunt Eloise.’

Eloise… Agatha filed the name away for later. Another aunt. More family to keep track of. Eloise was easy enough, after all, Mama’s friend Lady Crane’s name had also been Eloise.

Speaking of, Agatha turned back to Mama, who was still conversing with her father.

Agatha did not believe she would be so fortunate as to see a day where she would witness her parents in the same room, let alone see them talking. That it had happened already had her heart leaping and a smile appearing across her face.

They stood close to each other. Very close. Their bodies were tense, she could see with the way they each held their shoulders tight and their spines straight. Yet, they seemed to be pulled in to one another. Mama would lean back, her father would pitch forward. Then he would taken a step back and Mama would move as well. It was the strangest sight to witness. Like a pull between them they were not consciously aware of.

The conversation looked tense. The way her Mama’s brow was tight was a clear sign to Agatha that she was upset.

‘Uncle Colin never comes to social events,’ Belinda mused.

‘Does he not?’ Agatha asked, desperate for any information about her father.

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘He will come to family dinners, but often arrives late and leaves early, so I suspect he is only there under threat. I wonder why he has chosen to be here today?’

Agatha bit her lip. She knew of course. Knew he was here because of her. She could not say so though.

‘I wonder who he is talking to,’ Belinda pondered again. ‘Most unusual for him to speak with someone he does not know.’

Agatha nodded along. Again, unable to say anything. It had been made clear to her that they had to hide the fact she was her mothers daughter. Agatha understood. London was different to Bath. The rules of propriety were far stricter here than what she was used to. She watched them converse a little longer. They were too far away for her to hear anything, but eventually the conversation drew to a close. They nodded at each other then went their separate ways.

‘Perhaps I could have another aunt after all,’ Belinda mused.

‘Pardon?’ Agatha asked, blinking rapidly. 

‘Oh, I just… have not seen Uncle Colin speak with a woman for a very long time. I cannot help but wonder if he is interested in her,’ Belinda explained. ‘Apparently he has been engaged before but, well, my Mama would not tell me anything else. Only that they had all been quite sad. My theory is that she perhaps died. Why else would it bring such sadness?’

More information that was new to her. Agatha had not known they had been engaged. Courting, she was sure, based solely on the letters upon letters they had shared. Engaged? That was news to her. She wondered how it could have possibly gone so wrong and would endeavoured to ask. As she looked over to Mama, standing with her aunts and uncles, looking distant and pensive, Agatha had a spark of an idea. ‘What if we attempted some match making of our own then?’

Belinda looked at her, her eyes wide with scandal at the idea. ‘Surely we could not.’

‘Why not?’ Agatha shrugged. ‘The season does not just have to be for debutantes. What would be the harm in trying? You want to see your uncle happy and I…’ she stopped short of saying want to see my parents together and instead pivoted. ‘Like the idea of doing a bit of match making. Helping a love story unfold before our eyes.’

‘You want us to match make my uncle Colin with her?’

Agatha nodded. ‘The woman he was speaking with is part of my family,’ Agatha said, unsure of whether it would be safe yet to admit to Belinda that was her mother, so she did not. ‘Colin, I mean, Mr Bridgerton sorry, is part of yours. We could easily work together, get them to the same parties, find ways to have the talk to each other.’

A smile spread across Belinda’s face. ‘Ok, let’s do it then. Tell me everything you know about…’ she trialed off, searching for her name.

‘Penelope,’ Agatha offered. 

‘Penelope. Tell me everything you know about her and we can start from there.’

Chapter Text

Colin had received many questions from his sisters about why he was coming to the presentation. Truthfully, the last time he had been to one was Francesca’s, all those years ago.

He regretted missing Hyacinth’s. He’d been in Bavaria at the time. Drowning his sorrows in beer halls and strudels.

By the time he’d made it back to Mayfair, she was married.

That was the last time he’d travelled. It did not give him any fulfillment. It was childish of him, to believe he could run away from his problems. They instead started to follow him. It did not seem to matter where he went, he remained just as empty as he was in London. At least in London he had comforts.

He leaned into this heavily as his excuse. Belinda was the first of his nieces old enough to debut and he insisted it was to support her, and to make up for his past sins.

It was partly the truth. He was looking forward to seeing Belinda debut. However, he was also going to see Agatha. His daughter.

When her name was finally announced at the ceremony he could not breathe. He was almost expecting everyone to turn his way, to instinctively realise that she was his child. Of course, they did not. No one knew about the girls parentage. She was being presented to society as a distant cousin. If anyone suspected otherwise, they kept it to themselves.

She looked beautiful. Truly like a young lady and despite having only recently learned of her existence he had never been prouder of anything in his life. As she walked towards the queen, he could not help but marvel at how she was his flesh and blood. She was part of him in a way. This was one milestone he was not missing. His heart ached that he could not publicly declare it.

Somehow, her eyes found his. He gave a small smile and a nod to her. Acknowledging her. He swore she beamed, and glowed even brighter when he did.

Colin could not remember the rest of the presentation. He supposed it did not matter much. His focus was elsewhere. Primarily on the fact that he once again had to speak with her. Had to tell her Anthony was unconvinced and needed more tangible evidence.

He ignored the questioning looks from his siblings. Daphne remained particularly suspicious of him and he did not have the time for it. His eyes were busy scanning the crowd of the garden party, searching for her. He had always been able to spot her at a party. Not just because he knew she stuck to walls, but because finding her amongst a crowd remained as natural as breathing.

His heart registered her first. A skip of a beat and then a loud hammering in his ears as his eyes fell on red curls, followed by curves wrapped in green fabric. She was alone. Observing.

He knew eyes would be on them, but speaking to her in public felt safer than in private.

He was not sure if he trusted himself in private.

He approached her slowly. Cautiously. Waited for her to turn to him before he said anything.

‘Should you be speaking with me?’ She asked, not looking at him. ‘People will stare.’

‘They can stare,’ Colin said. It was too important to worry about judgemental eyes. ‘I spoke with my brother.’

She nodded, finally turning to him. ‘What did he say?’

‘He… wants to validate the claims.’

‘Is it not enough to-‘

‘Just the birth notice,’ he interrupted. ‘Nothing more.’

‘Oh,’ she visibly relaxed. ‘Is that all?’

He nodded.

‘Very well then. I have a copy. I will have it sent to him this afternoon.’

‘Thank you,' he murmured.

‘You did not want it?’ She questioned. ‘I assumed that-‘

‘I do not need it,’ Colin interrupted her again. ‘I was there.’

His face heated up at the memory. Still as vivid as the day it had happened. It had been burned into him. It plagued his deepest dreams. He could not escape it no matter how he tried, or how much time passed.

‘I see,’ she said. Her face was also flushed and she was looking anywhere else but at him and he wondered, only briefly for it was dangerous territory, if similar memories crossed her path too.

‘Thank you,’ he followed up. ‘For accommodating the request.’

She met his eyes, her expression imploring. ‘I… of course. You are welcome.’

'She looks beautiful today,' he told her honestly.

She smiled. It was bright, and genuine and everything he had longed to see again for years. 'She does,' she agreed. 'You could tell her yourself.'

He shook his head. 'I do not believe that would be wise. Not with the prying eyes of the Ton around. But please, pass it on for me?'

'I will.'

He believed her.  'I have… one final request,' he said.

She nodded and waited for him to continue.

'I should like for her to visit me at Bridgerton House, two days from now.'

'And the rest of your family?' she asked.

'They will meet her too.' He kept his tone firm. There was no room for negotiation. His family would learn of her. Meet her. Accept her just as he already had.

'Very well,' she gave a short nod. 'I will see that she is around in time for afternoon tea.'

'I look forward to having her over.'

They parted ways, and with his mission accomplished Colin did not have it in him to stay for any more of the party. He said quick goodbyes, only narrowly dodging Daphne's questions before heading home.

A copy of the birth notice was shared. Anthony gave his approval and acceptance and Colin let out a sigh of relief. It felt more real now than ever.

She would be visiting Bridgerton House, and meeting his family.

The day came by far too quickly. Colin was grateful, however, that he was able to gather a number of his siblings. Anthony and Kate, of course. It also went without question that his mother was there, her curiosity well and truly piqued at the summons. Daphne arrived with Belinda, it had been some debate, but with Belinda also being out in society, Colin had argued that it was too big of a secret for Agatha to hold on to, when already so much about who she really was, was kept shrouded in darkness. Hyacinth and Gareth were also in London. A notice had been sent to his siblings outside of Mayfair, Eloise sent back that she would be on her way, but would miss the initial meeting, whilst Benedict, Francesca and Gregory all had yet to respond.

Colin paced the drawing room, his body jittery with nerves over what needed to happened.

'Alright, why are we here?' Daphne asked. 'I have been dying of curiosity for too long.'

Colin stopped his pacing and looked at his family, then glanced to Anthony who nodded.

'I… suppose I will just come out and say it,' he said. 'I have thought long and hard on the best way to frame this and the words continue to evade me. So… without having a better way to tell you all, you are all about to meet my daughter.'

There was silence. Dead, ear ringing, silence.

'I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood. What?' Daphne asked.

'My daughter. Will be arriving here in about thirty minutes, to have afternoon tea with us all.'

'Colin are you feeling well?' Hyacinth asked. 'You do not have a daughter.'

'I do. You are all about to meet her.'

'Anthony, what…' Violet did not need to finish her question.

'What our dear brother says is true,' Anthony confirmed. 'He has recently learned of a daughter of his. I have confirmed it myself and am happy to welcome her into the family.'

‘Oh my…’ Daphne’s words covered all of their feelings.

‘Her name is Agatha,’ he said. ‘She was at the presentation yesterday.’

‘Agatha Featherington?’ Belinda spoke up. ‘I talked to her yesterday.’

Colin’s eyes shot over to her, wondering how he had missed his niece talking to her. ‘You did?’

‘Yes, she was very kind. I… am pleased to learn she is my cousin. I was excited to be her friend.’

‘Agatha Featherington is your daughter?’ Hyacinth asked. ‘Does that mean her mother is-‘

‘Yes,’ Colin cut in before her name was spoken aloud. His tone conveyed how little he wanted to speak about it.

‘Oh dear,’ Violet sobbed out. Colin turned his attention to his mother. She held her hand to her mouth. Her eyes welled up with tears.

‘Mother?’ Anthony asked.

‘I just… another grandbaby. Oh! And she’s already all grown up.’

Colin could not look at her. Could not cope with his mothers upset. It would only make his own reasons to be upset all the more highlighted. He could not do it.

‘Yes, another grandbaby,’ Daphne was the one to rush to their mothers side. ‘Is that not exciting? And we are about to meet her and get to know her.’

Violet nodded.

‘It is emotional for all of us, Colin especially I imagine. But we should show her a true Bridgerton welcome and make sure this is a joyous reunion.’

Colin could hug his sister. She remained ever reliable to salvage a crises.

Violet nodded again and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.  ‘Yes. It shall be a happy reunion indeed.’

Daphne turned to back to Colin, questions in her eyes. ‘I have to ask Colin, how did you find out?’

‘She came to me,’ Colin said, a smile unwittingly creeping across his face. ‘She told her mother she wanted to debut into London society as a rouse to come to Mayfair and track me down.’

‘Crafty of the girl.’

‘Yes, it was.’

Daphne grinned. ‘She truly is Bridgerton then.’

Colin almost told Daphne to not forget the craftiness of Agatha’s mother, but stopped himself just in time. He was not ready to talk about her yet. Instead he nodded, agreeing with his sister.

Somehow the room devolved into chatter around him after that. The cakes and sandwiches the kitchen had prepared were brought in and suddenly a footman was in the entry of the drawing room.

‘A Miss Featherington is here for Mr Bridgerton,’ he announced.

The room fell silent. Colin felt breathless. He nodded to the footman and Agatha appeared.

Colin had not truly realised until this moment exactly how important it was to him. He needed his family to like her… and even more, he needed her to like them. He could not stand it any other way.

‘Agatha,’ he stepped forward and her eyes zeroed in on him. She looked just as nervous as he felt.

‘Hello,’ she said.‘I am-‘

‘Cousin!’

Colin watched as Belinda suddenly leapt forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Agatha, nearly knocking the girl over.

‘Belinda’ Daphne scolded. ‘Manners.’

Belinda pulled away from Agatha and gave Daphne a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry Mama, I just got excited,’ she turned back to Agatha. ‘I cannot believe we are cousins. Did you know? When we spoke the other day? Oh, it doesn’t really matter. I am so happy about it!’

Colin could feel himself relaxing, and could see the visible relief on Agatha’s face. She started to look around the room, taking in everyone there as they watched the scene play out between the cousins.

‘Family,’ Colin spoke up. ‘I should like you all to meet Agatha. My daughter.’

The words still felt a little foreign on his lips.

One by one, his brothers, sisters and their spouses introduced themselves to Agatha.

Colin had to roll his eyes at Anthony. ‘Good afternoon Miss Featherington, I am Lord Bridgerton, Viscount. This is my wife Lady Bridgerton.’

‘Anthony…’ Kate, fortunately stepped in on Colin’s behalf, her hand firmly on Anthony's arm. ‘He is your uncle Anthony, ignore him you may call him his given name. And I’m Kate.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you both,’ Agatha said. ‘Truly.’

‘We are thrilled to have you in our home,’ Kate said. ‘You are welcome any time, just as anyone else in our family is.’

Colin watched as Agatha flushed red then smiled gratefully.

Then finally it was his mothers turn to greet her. Colin held his breath.

‘Hello dear,’ she said.

‘It is lovely to meet you,’ Agatha said.

Violet let out a quiet sob then embraced Agatha in a tight hug. ‘Oh dearest, better late than never. We are so happy to have you here.’

The hug lasted for a long time before Violet finally let go. Colin himself felt a little choked up and tried desperately to focus on the fact that he at least had this moment and this was something he could savour, despite all the missed moments left in the past.

‘Come and have some cake,’ Hyacinth stepped in. ‘I will tell you everything you need to know about this lot, and the ones that aren’t here. First thing being you cannot trust any of them.’

Colin chuckled at Agatha’s bewildered face as Hyacinth dragged her to the table where afternoon tea had been set up for them.

‘I was not sure what you liked so I had the cooks make a bit of everything,’ Colin said.

Agatha’s eyes were wide at the opulent display in front of her.

‘It all looks lovely. Thank you.’

Somehow Agatha’s attention was entirely demanded by both Hyacinth and Belinda. The two of them started to explain who was who in the family and what they were like. Colin could not be too upset by it. He had wanted this. Wanted everyone to meet her, to accept her. Wanted her to feel as much Bridgerton than she was Featherington.

Perhaps, selfishly, even more so.

‘She already seems delightful,’ Violet appeared by his side.

‘She is.’

‘Have you spent much time with her yet?’

Colin shook his head. ‘Not a lot. But I will get to know her.’

‘She looks…’ Violet trailed off, the words left unspoken.

‘I know,’ Colin agreed. ‘It is startling.’

‘She is in town then?’

Colin gave a short nod.

‘Are you ok?’

He gave a short shake of his head. ‘Not right now. But I will be. In time. Right now, however, this is about Agatha. Not me.’

‘I am here if you ever need anything.’

‘So, then there are those who aren’t here,’

Colin tuned back into what Hyacinth was saying.

‘There are more?’ Agatha asked.

‘Oh yes. Benedict, who is the fun uncle is-‘

‘Hey!’ Colin interjected. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Oh come off it, you surely did not think you were the fun uncle?’ Hyacinth asked.

Colin did not have an appropriate retort for that. ‘What of Gregory? He would be upset by the delcaration.’

Hyacinth merely shrugged and turned back to Agatha. ‘Benedict is the fun uncle, he has that whole ‘spare to the heir’ energy, and he is in the countryside. Though I am sure once he gets a letter with this update they will be back in London in no time.’

Agatha was frowning.

‘Is something wrong?’ Colin asked her.

She looked around the room again, her eyes flicking between her aunts and uncles. ‘Are you… were you… forgive me if I’m wrong but, are you all named alphabetically?’

Colin let out a laugh. He could not help it. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We are.’ 

Agatha nodded, looking pensive for a moment, she then blinked and seemed to push aside whatever thought she was having. 'I think it's charming.'

'With eight of us, there have been times when it's convenient,' Hyacinth said. 'Anyway, others not in attendance at the moment are Gregory, Francesca and Eloise. Though I would not be surprised if they are all already on their way. It is big news that you are here and us Bridgerton's take family very seriously.'

Agatha seemed to process the information quietly before she smiled. 'I really appreciate this. Thank you.'

Colin remained an observer. Between his mother, Daphne, Hyacinth and Belinda, Agatha was completely occupied. He did not mind it. He enjoyed watching her converse with them, watching as they laughed at things she said, as she smiled in response. It felt like parts of his heart were being stitched back together.

'I understand now,' Anthony said, by his side, low in his ear. Kate just beside him.

'What do you mean?' Colin asked.

'The way you did not doubt.'

Colin nodded, unsure of what to say in response to that.

'I am glad we can welcome her in.'

'So am I,' he said.

The afternoon passed quickly until it was time for Agatha to leave. Each of his family members hugged her tightly. Belinda especially.

'I will see you at the Danbury ball,' Belinda said. 'Remember what we said?'

Agatha gave a smirk and nodded. 'I am looking forward to it.'

Colin would escort her across the square and back to Featherington House. It was a path he was once very familiar with.

'Your family are very kind,' Agatha remarked on their way.

'They are. They are your family now too. Do not forget that.'

'Could you please tell them I appreciated their hospitality?'

'I will. It seems as though you and Belinda are becoming fast friends?' he asked.

'Oh… yes. She is a lovely and kind girl. I like her a lot. It will be nice to know someone other than my cousin - my other cousin I mean,' Agatha said. 'Will uh, will you be at the Danbury ball?'

Colin stopped short suddenly. He had not considered it. Had not thought about the social events that came after the presentation. When it was just his niece in society there had been no expectation for him to be at any events (outside of his mother's masquerade ball). Now though… despite the fact that the Ton were none of the wiser to her parentage… Colin wondered if he should be at events. He should be vetting suitors.

Suitors.

A shiver ran through him.

She was eighteen, yes. But that was still young. So young.

Colin was still getting used to the idea of having a daughter. Let alone one that may very well be courted.

He was not ready to loose her so quickly to a husband.

With a sigh he realised he would have to be at balls and soirees. He would have to be making sure no one unsuitable approached her.

And… he would have to make sure Agatha's mother was on the same page about what constituted as a suitable match. He could not have her approving men who were not right for Agatha.

'Uh, C-Colin?' Agatha asked.

'Sorry, yes. I will be in attendance.'

Agatha nodded. Then bit her lip. 'What should I call you?' she asked.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, in public, I suppose I should call you your proper title, Mr Bridgerton. But in private, is it Colin? Would I… call you… father?'

Oh…

Something he had not considered. Suddenly Colin did not know how he had not considered it. What was she to call him?

'What are you comfortable with?' he finally settled on.

Agatha looked thoughtful for a moment. 'If it is ok with you, I should like to call you father. I have waited all my life to have someone to call father and I… would be honoured if you allowed me.'

Colin could not help the beam that spread across his face. 'Then father it is.'

'Ok, father,' Agatha said with a delighted giggled.

They continued their walk across the square. Colin stopped short of the stairs that lead up to the door to the Featherington house. He did not want to encounter them.

'I shall see you soon,' he promised to her.

Agatha gave a nod. 'Yes, soon.'

Chapter Text

Dear Pen,

I am surprised to hear, from my brother (The Viscount), of all people that you have made a grand return to Mayfair. Though I suppose, from what I hear, grand return is an overstatement. Most f the Ton have not realised you are back yet. However, I am still surprised to hear you have been drawn away from Bath and are in London again.

I am surprised, further still, to learn that my brother (The Viscount, and the other one) knows about your darling Agatha.

Last we spoke you swore me to secrecy. Declaring it best for all parties involved that the truth remain hidden. I only agreed because you were so certain of it. So determined that be the case and after having lost so much, how could I deny you the one thing you could control? It has broken my heart to keep the secret.

I must know, what changed?

Do not bother responding. I am on my way to Mayfair and should arrive soon. I suppose we have much to discuss.

Colin too.

Oh, Pen, he is going to hate me.

Apologies, I am trying to be better at not being selfish. My own turmoil is perhaps nothing in comparison to what yours must be right now.

I shall see you soon.

Sincerely,

Eloise Crane

Penelope rarely swore. But, well, fuck. She should have expected this. It was inevitable that with Colin's determination to have his siblings meet Agatha, Eloise would find out he knows. She had avoided thinking about it and the fall out for her friend.

Penelope was avoiding thinking about a lot of things these days.

Instead she busied herself with preparations for Agatha’s social season. They visited the modiste (Genevieve, it seemed, had retired in the years past), and got her fitted in dresses she was more comfortable in. They held dance lessons in the Featherington drawing room. Penelope had even endured listening to her mother run through the eligible bachelors of the season, something that gave her horrid flashbacks and something she alone now knew Agatha was not actually interested in.

It was late, the night before the first ball of the season, the Danbury Ball. They had retired to bed. Penelope was wide awake and staring up at the ceiling, suddenly plagued with memories of the last time she had attended one of Lady Danbury’s balls.

She could hear Agatha tossing and turning, struggling to get comfortable and allow sleep to come.

‘Do you want to join me?’ Penelope offered.

When Agatha was little, she had often joined Penelope in bed. Sometimes after a nightmare. Other times because she simply could not sleep. It had been a long time since she had done such a thing, and Penelope sometimes missed the way her little girl would seek her out for comfort. As she got older, she became more and more independent. Penelope could not ever be mad at her daughter for finding her independence and her own self, but she did still sometimes miss the days when Agatha looked at her like she could solve all the world's problems.

Agatha stilled.

Then, there was rustling, and the distinct creak of the floorboards as she crossed the room. Penelope felt the mattress dip as she slipped in under the covers beside her.

‘Are you nervous?’ Penelope asked.

‘How did you do all of this Mama?’ Agatha asked.

‘I was never very good at it,’ Penelope admitted. ‘I… also was fortunate to have my close friends with me.’

Colin.

He had made the social season bearable. Knowing she would get to see his face. His smile. Exchange playful conversation with him. He was once the bright light in her otherwise painfully dull world.

There was also Whistledown. It gave her a purpose to being at events (for she certainly did not have suitors lining up). But she wasn’t going to tell Agatha about that. Not yet anyway.

‘Who were your friends?’ Agatha asked.

‘Well, there was Lady Crane, Eloise. Do you remember her?’ Penelope asked. Eloise had visited them in Bath. Just the once. In a moment of lonely desperation, Penelope had reached out to her past friend. She had been truly surprised when, in a fashion that only Eloise could, instead of responding to the letter she had simply shown up.

‘Yes,’ Agatha nodded.

‘And…’ Penelope hesitated, for just a moment. ‘Your father.’

‘My father?’ Agatha asked, equal parted surprised and curious. ‘You were friends?’

‘You’ve seen the letters,’ Penelope reminded her. The very letters that lead her to Mayfair in the first place.

‘I…’ Agatha stuttered for a moment. ‘I saw your courtship ones.’

‘Courtship?’ It was her turn to be surprised.

‘Well, yes, I… they were from courtship, were they not?’

Penelope somehow found it in herself to giggle. At the time it had felt so impossible to her that they could be anything other than friends. ‘I suppose it could seem that way. If you must know, though, your father and I never actually courted.’

‘But you were engaged!’ Agatha exclaimed.

‘Where did you hear that?’ Penelope asked. She certainly had not told Agatha about the engagement. Not yet anyway

‘Belinda said so.’

‘Belinda?’

‘Basset. My… cousin.’

‘Oh…’ Penelope felt a little stunned. ‘How does she know we were engaged?’

‘Well, she did not. I suppose. But she said her uncle Colin had been. Once. Long ago. I assumed it was you.’

‘It was.’

There was a beat of silence.

‘What happened Mama?’

Penelope gave a sigh. She had not thought about it in a long time, but the memory of events was seared into her mind. It was a permanent fixture. Always simmering under the surface. The worst heartbreak she had ever had to endure.

18 years prior

They were in the ballroom that would be the venue for the wedding breakfast, their mothers discussing where things would go, how it would look. Penelope could not take any of it in. Right now she did not care where the wedding was. It did not bother her where the band was set up, or where the cake was placed. The guest list felt so far from her mind.

The only thing Penelope could focus on was the way Colin would not even look at her. The way he kept his distance from her. The way she could not help but wonder if they were even going to have a wedding at all now.

They had not spoken in days and it physically pained her. She woke up nauseous from the thought alone.

‘Are you going to call off the wedding?’ She finally mustered up the courage to ask. Better to know now than to find out at the alter. Penelope shook as she asked him, afraid of his answer. Perhaps if she did not ask, he would not call it off.

Colin would have every right to call it off. She had lied to him. Betrayed his trust. She should have been honest from the get go. Why had she not been? She could not recall now.

This time Colin did turn to look at her.

‘I…’ he started, then stopped. He glanced to where their mothers were and Penelope gave a nod.

‘Mama, I am in need of some fresh air,’ she said.

Portia nodded. Violet looked as though she were about to say something but the two of them fled the room and went into the surrounding garden before they could be stopped.

Penelope looked around, checking for prying ears. She did not spot any.

‘Is this it then?’ She asked him.

‘I… I do not know,’ he admitted. ‘What is to become of Whistledown?’

‘Is that what it depends on?’

‘I do not know,’ Colin repeated, more frustrated this time. ‘I do not feel as if anything makes sense anymore.’

‘I love you Colin,’ she said. ‘I love you and I want to work through this.’

‘I love you too,’ Colin admitted and Penelope felt relief flood through her at hearing the words. ‘But I cannot…’

That relief disappeared as quickly as it came.

‘You cannot marry me,’ Penelope finished for him.

‘All I want is to go back in time. To before I knew,’ Colin said.

‘I want to go back in time and tell you myself,’ Penelope said. ‘I should have.’

Colin nodded in agreement. ‘I have never been so angry at someone I love so much.’

Penelope could not control the tears that fell. She did not even attempt to try. 

‘Is there anything that I can do?’ She asked. ‘Anything at all that could mend this?’

‘I need… time,’ he said.

‘How much?’

‘We get married in in a week,’ he said.

Penelope could only nod. Perhaps, even with the banns read there was a way? She did not know.

‘We will meet tomorrow night,’ Colin said decidedly.

Penelope gave him a nod. ‘Meet me at the modiste shop.’

‘The modiste?’

‘Genevieve has become a good friend. She will let us meet privately.’

‘Yet another secret,’ Colin said bitterly.

Penelope did not have a response to that. She had become so good at keeping secrets over the years, even if she tried to confess everything to Colin she would surely struggle to remember all of them. After wiping her face dry from her tears and taking a moment to compose herself, they returned to the ballroom and if their Mama's noticed their ongoing silence, they did not mention it.

The rest of the day was a blur of anticipation for that evening. When they would talk. Truly talk.

Genevieve had left a key hidden, Penelope arrived early and let herself in to the shop. She waited with jittery nerves for Colin to arrive.

He arrived with a sharp knock on the door and she let him in. He brushed past her to where there was a settee in place for Mama's to sit as their daughters were fitted. Penelope took a moment to study him. Her heart ached with how much she loved him. Tonight, he looked particularly dishevelled. His hair was unruly tousled curls, looking as though he had run his fingers through many, many times. His cravat was only loosely tied, his coat and breeches rumpled. He had gotten dressed in a hurry before arriving.

The silence that passed was long, and permeated through the modiste shop, before Penelope finally plucked the courage to ask the burning question on her mind. The one that would ultimately answer all of their questions.

‘Do you have it in yourself to forgive me?’ She asked. ‘I know you said you would not but…’

‘We were intimate,’ he said in response and Penelope felt her heart starting to sink.

‘Well… yes, but, no one knows. We were not caught.’

‘I…’ he stopped himself short. ‘I am morally bound to continue through with marrying you.’

Penelope felt her chest tighten. ‘Is that it then? I shall be forced into an unhappy marriage for the sake of your morality. How is that fair to either of us?’

He shook his head. ‘You do not understand.’

‘Then make me understand,’ she demanded. ‘Help me to understand why I should live the rest of my life as a mere obligation you have to your sense of self worth?’

Colin looked at her incredulously. ‘You are not merely an obligation.’

‘Would you still marry me if we had not been intimate?’ She asked.

Colin was silent. It was long. It filled the space, suffocating her as she waited for an answer.

‘I am unsure.’

That was as good as a no. It was a crushing blow. A harsh truth she had no choice but to face head on. She desired to run. Leave the shop now, and run until her legs could take her no further. She could not. She had to stay.

How close she had come to having everything. The man she had always loved. The family she had always adored. 

‘It hurts me, Pen,’ he said,

The use of her nickname sent a spark of hope through her.

‘The way that the sweet, kind, friend I know wrote those things. About Miss Thompson, about Eloise, about… me. The way you have all of London in the palm of your hand and yet… you try and tell me my writing is good. Was your offer to edit a way of telling me to truth? That my writing needs work?’

‘Colin…’ she did not know where to start. It was a barrage of insecurity and questioning. ‘You are a good writer. I have been nothing but sincere about that from the beginning. Your words are captivating.’

He shook his head. ‘Why… why did you write those things?’

‘Because…’ she gave a sigh. ‘I did not have the confidence I do now. I used Whistledown to do the things I was not brave enough to do myself. I have a lot of regrets.’ Penelope felt as though she had an ever-growing list of things she would have done differently if she could wind back the clock.

‘It just hurts so much,’ he met her eyes and she could see the way tears glistened. ‘Looking at you, realising it was you all along and I had no idea. It feels as though I never knew you at all.’

‘You do though,’ she pleaded. ‘You know me better than anyone.’

‘And yet, I missed this.’

‘Please, Colin. I love you.’

His eyes turned heated and he surged forward, his lips met hers so fast she could barely comprehend what was happening. His kiss was desperate and bruising. She took it. All of him. The way his hands tangled into her hair, the way his body covered over hers. His hips slotting between her legs. She gripped at his shoulders, pulling him closer and closer.  She could feel him. Between her thighs, hard and throbbing as he had been week ago. She ached. Ached for him constantly. She longed to have him again. She tightened her hold on him.

Perhaps they could have just one more time.

And then it was cold.

He was gone. Shot across to the other side of the room and she could see his hands trembling.

She sobbed before she could truly realise she was breaking down. ‘Please… do not do this.’

‘I… I cannot.’

She let it wash over her. The agonising pain swept through her, for a long second and then, she took a breath. She found all of that hurt and that pain and she squeezed it tight, pushed it down and locked it.

With a newly steely face she met his eyes. ‘Very well,’ her tone was cold, distant. ‘I will inform my Mama. You should do the same.’

‘Penelope…’ he looked wild, desperate. ‘You will be ruined.’

‘You do not need to worry about me any more. You are free of that.’

‘Pen…’ he took a step forward, and she stepped back, determined to not have to gap between them close or her resolve would break.  ‘I love you.’

‘And I love you,’ she said. ‘It does not feel like enough any more.’

He was silent.

‘You said it yourself you’re not sure if you would continue with this if it were not for our… being intimate. I love you too much to let myself be your obligation.’

‘I just… need more time.’

'What if it turns out no amount of time is enough?’ She asked.

‘I wish I could forgive you. For all of things you have done,’ he said. ‘I wish this decision was an easy one.’

It could be, she thought bitterly, but did not say the words out loud. They loved each other. They could work through it. Penelope whole-heartedly believed it was possible. This was Colin. Colin. The boy she had knocked off a horse. The boy who always made sure she got a second biscuit at tea. The man who always made sure she had someone to converse with at a social assembly. One of the very few who had always been kind to her. Who had seen her when she had barely seen herself.

How could it all be reduced to one afternoon. One time where they succumbed to their desire. One moment that solidified her as a moral obligation for him and nothing else?

She took a deep, shuddering breath. 'I will miss you.'

'I am sorry,' he responded in return.

She met his eyes. They wore twin expressions of pain and hurt. Longing for what they could no longer have. What she had ruined with her lies and deception. He blinked and tears fell down his cheeks.

She gave him a singular short nod, before she turned and walked out of Genevieve's store. Knowing, in her heart of hearts, it was over.

Penelope did not tell her Mama that night. She crept back into her room and into bed. She sobbed silently until the sun came up. When Rae came to get her out of her she could not move.

She threw up shortly after. With no warning, all over the carpet rug by her bed. Later, she would wonder if it was from the babe she was unaware of growing inside her, or the sheer grief of loosing Colin once and for all. Perhaps it was both. 

When Portia came rushing into the room after Rae had told her she would not get out of bed, she took one look at her and knew. Penelope was spared from uttering the words. Portia held her as she cried and let her stay in bed all day.

It was a week later, when Portia broke the news to her.

Penelope had not left their house. She had eventually emerged from her bedroom, first only for meals, and then for calling hour… just in case… but she had not been able to bring herself to be seen in society. To see the stares and hear the whispers. That they had all been correct. Penelope Featherington was not good enough for Colin Bridgerton and he had finally seen some sense.

Then, on a Monday morning Portia came into her room.

'Penelope,' she said. 'I need to see your sheets.'

'Pardon, Mama?' she asked, confused.

Portia stripped the bedding back. Penelope let out a squeal as the cold air hit her.

'You have not bled,' Portia said. 'Again.'

'Mama, please. Leave me alone.'

Portia shook her head and sat down on the bed. 'Penelope, you must be truthful with me.'

She didn't say anything and waited for whatever was coming from her Mama next.

'Did Mr Bridgerton compromise you?'

Her eyes widened, she shook her head.

'Penelope.'

'He did not… do anything I did not want him to,' she confessed. Her face flushing. 'We were engaged.'

Portia let out a heavy sigh. 'It has been over a month since you have bled.'

'Mama, I do not think that-'

'The only reason for a lady as young as you are has to miss her courses is her being with child.'

Penelope felt her heart drop to her stomach. Said stomach churned and rolled inside her. Before she could stop herself, she threw up, just barely managing to at least miss herself and the bed. The floor instead becoming the victim.

'And you are plagued with morning illness,' Portia said. 'This is not the first time you have been sick is it?'

She shook her head.

'Penelope, I cannot believe you would be so reckless.'

Penelope did not have anything to say in response. It had not felt reckless at the time. It had been an act of love, of commitment. It was so much more than mere recklessness and passion.

Portia let out a sigh again. 'I shall attempt to speak to the Bridgerton's this morning. Perhaps they will be agreeable to salvage this situation and spare you from true ruination.'

'No!' Penelope exclaimed quickly, finally finding her voice. 'Do not.'

'Why not?' Portia asked.

'I… please. Do not. I might not be…'

'Penelope, the sooner we speak with them, the better. You and Colin can reconcile, you can still marry, you-'

'He does not want to marry me,' Penelope cut in.

'I am certain we can change his mind.'

'You cannot,' she said. 'He does not want me.'

'Why not?'

Penelope was silent. She did not have the words to express the reasons.

'If you are not going to tell me, I shall go to Bridgerton House as soon as I can and speak with Lady Bridgerton. That boy was careless with you and to abandon you when he put you at risk like this is-'

'Mama, please!' Penelope begged. 'Do not. His mind cannot be changed.'

Penelope could not think of anything worse. Colin had been willing to oblige himself to her merely off their intimacy alone. If he had found out that she was with child, their child, he would drag her to the church himself. Gretna Green even. She was sure of it. He would marry her, and she would be left with nothing more than a life of misery. A husband who only married her out of self-righteousness. A husband who would not look at her, would not touch her. Would likely travel a lot, just to be away from her, from them. He would bed other women.

She could not do it.

She wanted all of him. Now that she had experienced a fleeting moment of what that was like to have all of him, she could not only have a fraction of him. If Colin knew, and married her, all she would get was his name. Some of his money. Perhaps a fleeting dinner or tea when he bothered to be in town.

She loved him too much to torture herself that way.

'I will move away from Mayfair,' she said, her voice decided.

'Penelope…' Portia sounded tired. 'You are talking nonsense now.'

She shook her head firmly. Now that the thought had crossed her mind, she knew she could do it. She certainly had aquired the funds to move away and take care of herself. 'Mama, I have something to confess.'

Portia blinked and waited for her to keep talking.

Penelope took a deep shaky breath. 'I… I am lady Whistledown,' she whispered.

For an excruciatingly long moment Portia did not say a word.

'I beg your pardon?'

'I am…' Penelope started, then realised she would need more for her mother to believe the truth. She got up from her bed, carefully avoiding where she had been sick, and walked to the corner of the room. She tossed aside the corner of the carpet and started lifting the floorboards. Portia was watching her with curious eyes and Penelope started taking everything out. The old issues, her writing set, then, all the money. Thousands, upon thousands and pounds that she had earnt and hidden away. 'I am Lady Whistledown,' she repeated.

Portia stared at her shock. At everything she had just pulled out from the hidden crevice.

'You… it cannot…'

'It is true, Mama,' Penelope said. 'I have made a decent sum from publishing, I can settle somewhere in the countryside. I can raise this child there. Free from the eyes of the ton and free from my ruin.'

'Penelope we can-'

'Colin did not want to marry Lady Whistledown,' she cut in. 'That is why the engagement was called off. Child or no child, he does not want be involved with the gossip writer and I will not force him to be. I do not want to live a life as his obligation and I do not want my child to feel the same.'

'How much do you have?' Portia asked.

Penelope felt like screaming. Here she was, facing the most ruin one could face. Confessing her sins and her deepest secrets, and yet all her mother cared to ask about was the sum she had made.

'About thirteen thousand,' she admitted. 'Though I have not tallied the profits from the last issue.'

Portia's jaw dropped in a manner that would have otherwise been comical. 

'I can use this to lease a modest home elsewhere, and raise this child,' she said.

'I cannot change your mind on letting the Bridgerton's know? Getting them to change their mind on this marriage?'

Penelope shook her head. 'Mama, I have witnessed a loveless marriage and I do not want that.'

Portia nodded, slowly, a reluctant acceptance started to cross her face. 'If you are going to insist on this then I ask one thing.'

Penelope held her breath and waited for whatever her mama had to say.

'You wait at least two months until you go. It is… not entirely uncommon for something to happen, early on and I do not want you… we should just make sure you are past the first stages of your pregnancy.'

The word pregnancy sent another wave of nausea through her. She managed, barely, to not be sick again.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing his mother had always insisted upon, it was that Danbury's annual ball was to be attended by the entire family. Or at least, everyone out in society. Despite the fact that Lady Agatha Danbury was not as prominent in society these days in her age, she still held the first ball of the season and it was always a hallmark event.

Even at his very worst, Colin had not been able to get out of attending.

This year, was the first time in a very long time that Colin had looked forward to attending. That he had a reason to want to be there.

He rode in a carriage with Daphne and Simon. They had picked him up on their way from Hastings House. Belinda was with Anthony, Kate and Violet in the Bridgerton carriage.

‘How are you feeling Colin?’ Daphne asked almost immediately, and he suddenly understood the travelling arrangements better.

‘Good,’ he nodded.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him the kind of sceptical look only Daphne Basset (née Bridgerton) could give.

‘I promise. I am good.’

‘And if Penelope is at the ball tonight?’ She folded her arms across her chest and waited for him to respond. There was something jarring about the way she could so easily say her name, when Colin still struggled to so much as think it.

‘I shall be polite if our paths cross,’ he said.

‘You would not seek her out?’

‘Daphne,’ he sighed. ‘Please.’

‘Colin… she hid your daughter from you for eighteen years.’

This was not the time he wanted to be reminded of that. Not that he was able to forget, but he could suppress the thought, leave it in a dark crevasse and carry on with life as though that was not something that actually happened to him. Tonight was something he wanted to enjoy. He could not enjoy it with these reminders shoved at him.

‘And this is a public event where I refuse to cause a scene or scandal in front of said daughter.’

‘Well, I do not have to be polite to her.’

‘Daphne!’ Colin found himself scolding. ‘Please. I… please do not cause a scene.’

‘I said nothing about a scene,’ Daphne pointed out. ‘I merely feel no obligation to be kind.’

‘I might remind you that Belinda is fast becoming friends with Agatha.’

‘Something I encourage greatly. They should be friends. Should have been friends.’

Colin gave a sigh. ‘Please, Daphne. Things are difficult enough as they are. I beg you, do not make it even more so.’

‘Fine,’ Daphne pouted like a petulant child. ‘I will refrain. For now.’

‘Thank you.’ He knew his sister well enough to know it was the best he was going to get. Beside her, Simon gave him a sympathetic look and a shrug.

Colin could easily understand Daphne's position. He would not be surprised if the rest of his siblings felt the same way about the situation.

The news about Agatha was shocking, and confronting. His family was incredible, and protective of him, just as he was of them. At the time, the other afternoon, she had arrived so soon after the news there hadn’t been time for them to be angry about the situation. Now the dust had settled… Colin expected similar conversations with more of his siblings.

So much had been stolen from him and he just could not understand why.

Why had she not told him?

Why had he had to miss out on so much?

He did not know what he had done to be subject to such cruelty.

She had drawn the line in the sand on their engagement. She had walked away. She had taken their baby with her when she disappeared from Mayfair once and for all.

Colin could not remember hearing the news that she was gone. He was not sure if he was ever told, somehow it had just ended up as a fact. Penelope Featherington had left Mayfair. No one knew exactly when, and no one knew where. She had taken a page right from his own book and fled. Not to be outdone, Colin had left too. He had spent many more months on the continent, travelling to city after city. He did not remember much. Only that he could not settle. He was never in the same place longer than two nights. He drank, a lot.

But before that he had stayed in Mayfair for a while. Just in case. It had taken him a long time to truly realise it was over and she was not returning to him.

Why had she not come to him when she knew of her condition? He would have taken care of her and their child. She surely knew, that despite everything, his doubts, his fears, his feeling of betrayal, he loved her.

He had always loved her.

Would always.

He had tried for years to move on. Had tried to find that same connection elsewhere.

Nothing had compared to what he felt for her. What he had with her. It was excruciating to live with. He had everything he had longed for, and it had slipped from his fingers before he'd had a chance to hold it properly.

The carriage came to a stop outside Danbury’s house. Colin sighed and realised this was it. He had to go in. He very much wished Daphne had never brought her up. He was now agitated and upset when he wanted to be excited, for a change.

As expected, Danbury’s ball was immaculate. Swan themed this year and she had executed it stunningly.

As they walked down the familiar steps to the main ballroom, Colin could not help the way his eyes swept the place for signs of bright red hair. He did not see them and had to assume they had not arrived yet.

He took a wine as he would need something far stronger than lemonade to get through the night.

Daphne was already distracted by scouting suitors for Belinda when Colin felt, rather than saw, them enter the ballroom.

His head swivelled to the direction of the entrance just in time to see Agatha and Philomena, with their elbows linked, walk down the stairs.

Agatha wore a look that reminded Colin so much of her mother it was almost like stepping back in time. Awe, and wonder at the sight before her, dazed at the dazzling display of the ballroom. Blended with fear and trepidation, her nerves simmering under the surface.

He wished he could have chaperoned her in, could have said something reassuring to calm her as he always had with his sisters years ago.

He just hoped she… Penelope… had done so instead.

Speaking of…

She trailed behind her mother and her sisters and their husbands. Her head bowed as though she was trying to make herself invisible, but he would always be able to find her in a crowd. She wore a navy blue dress that wrapped around her sinfully. Colin swallowed thickly at the sight of the silk draped across her body, every curve, every dip was on show.

Was she doing it on purpose? He wondered. Deliberately showing off what she knew he adored so much? She would have known he would be here tonight.

Or, he thought bitterly, had she not even spared him a thought?

Somehow, inexplicably, the latter was the worse option. Why should he be plagued by constant thoughts of her if she was not going to suffer the same fate.

He had been trying not to, but it felt as though everything was a reminder of her at the moment. Agatha arriving on his doorstep had opened up a vault long bolted shut. Every night he dreamt of her. Some nights he woke up when it was still dark outside, hard and aching over the memory of her sighs, her moans, the way she had felt around him. Other times, he woke in a cold sweat, heart racing and furious from arguments that had only happened in his mind.

His mind could not decide how he felt, and even in dreams he could not escape her.

He turned his body so he would not be tempted to seek her out. To draw attention to her or to himself. Approaching her would be a terrible idea.

Somehow, the Ton had not quite registered Penelope Featherington's return to Mayfair. Though, he supposed, her talent always had been in being a wallflower. Invisible. It was precisely how she had become… Whistledown.

The name still held a bitter taste in his mouth.

He tried to firmly move on from that train of thought before he could no longer stop himself from striding across the ball room and making a public display of himself as he demanded answers from her.

Instead, he busied himself with his wine and struck up a conversation with his brother.

'Another year, another round of parties,' he said.

'Only this time we have trouble on our hands,' Anthony said.

Colin frowned. 'What do you mean?'

Anthony looked at him. 'You've met your niece haven't you? She is every bit Daphne's daughter and I would not put it past her to scheme something just as her mother did.'

'Scheme what?' Colin asked.

'That is what I aim to find out, Simon is on the case too,' Anthony said, before stalking off over to Kate to talk to her.

Colin was left alone again and he sighed into his glass taking another long sip.

He scanned the ballroom, uncertain of exactly what he was looking for (though perhaps he did and did not want to admit it), until he found his daughter, and his niece on the edge of the dancefloor. They were talking to each other, and then, Colin watched in horror as Lord Haddington approached them.

Colin did not know Lord Haddington well, but he had heard he was something of a rake. He would often be at the club on a Thursday night as well, often bragging loudly about his most recent conquest. Over Colin's dead body would his daughter or niece be the topic of conversation next Thursday night.

He did not want the man near either of them.

He waited for Anthony or Simon to swoop in and usher Lord Haddington along. They too would be aware of the man's reputation. But all that seemed to happen was Agatha giggling and blushing, while Belinda smiled at the exchange.

Who was chaperoning the girls and where were they for this?

Portia, Colin did not expect to do anything. He was certain she would be thrilled to see her granddaughter with such attention from an Earl, regardless of how rakish the man was. But surely his own brother's would not stand for this?

He looked around the room, trying to find Penelope. He spotted her across the room, by the wall, as she always was. She was staring steadily into a glass of lemonade and Colin waited, and waited for her look up at meet his eyes. He needed her to know that Lord Haddington was not a worthy suitor for Agatha.

He failed at the task.

He longed to do something. Perhaps as Belinda's uncle he could, but he was not her father, nor was he Viscount so it would look out of place if he did.

He looked back over to the girls. The man was still talking to them and he was…

Signing Agatha's dance card.

Belinda, however, was looking straight at him, watching him watch the scene. A dangerous curiosity in her eyes that rivalled what he had often seen in his siblings growing up. She tilted her head towards the pair beside her and he shook his head as subtly as he could, hoping to convey the message.

Belinda, did not do anything to try and stop what was happening, instead she simply smirked and turned away from him and back to Agatha.

Thankfully Lord Haddington was walking away, but the damage was done. His daughter had a signed dance card and a potential caller for the following day.

All to an unworthy rake who did not deserve a scrap of her attention.

He needed Penelope to know. Forget propriety and not drawing attention. Forget the fact that he really, really did not want to have to talk to her more than was necessary. If anything was necessary, it was this.

She had disappeared from where she was. Of course she had.  Just when he had mustered up the courage to talk to her, she was gone. He scanned the ballroom wall to wall and every bit in between, but did not spot her.

She must have gone outside.

With a sigh, Colin finished the wine he was holding and headed out to the courtyard.

It was quieter outside. Some men lingered, escaping Mama's and their debutantes. And there, hiding in a dark corner was the woman he was looking for.

He approached her quietly, and coughed to announce his presence. Unsure of how he was supposed to greet her.

'It is overwhelming in there,' she said, not looking at him. 'Moreso than I remember.'

'It has been a long time since you have attended one of these,' he agreed. 

She nodded. 'In many ways they have not changed.'

'No,' he agreed. 'They have not.'

There was a beat of silence between them.

'Agatha seems to be finding her own in there,' he said. Broaching the topic he wanted to discuss.

Her eyes finally met his. Nervous, hesitant and a hint of pride. 'Yes, she… has always done well in social situations. Unlike her mother,' she gave a self-deprecating laugh.

'You were fine in social situations when you were comfortable,' he argued, it slipped from him before he could help himself.

'Only when I had…' she trailed off. 'But yes, Agatha does very well and is good at charming people.'

'She charmed my entire family in an instant,' he said.

'I do not doubt you. She was charmed also,’ she gave a soft smile.

'Speaking of… charming…' Colin said slowly, approaching the topic. 'I must inform you about Lord Haddington.'

'Ah yes, Mama was particularly excited about him. Apparently his estate is large.'

'Yes, well… he seems to have taken a charm to Agatha,' he continued.

'Oh?' Penelope asked, her eyes curious.

'Yes, and I do not believe he is right for her.'

Penelope straightened her back a little 'Why not?'

'He is a rake,' Colin explained. 'The worst kind. Our daughter deserves better.'

Something flashed in Penelope's eyes at the words 'our daughter', but it was gone too quickly for Colin to dwell on it.

'I see,' Penelope said.

'So, please, dissuade her from his suit, she can do so much better.'

Penelope nodded. 'I will try.'

'Try?' Colin repeated. 'You need to do more than try. Forbid her from courting him if you must. He is no good for her.'

'Agatha is her own person, and capable of making her own decisions. I will not forbid her from anything,' Penelope said.

Colin felt anger flush through him. She did not understand. She had not heard the things he had, otherwise, she would agree immediately. 'Oh I see, that is how you raised her then? Perhaps if you had forbid her from some things growing up, she would not have run off to Mayfair on you the way she did.'

'How I raised my daughter is none of your business.'

Colin found himself taking a step closer, heat rising in him. 'Might I remind you, she is our daughter. So you may find it is some of my business.'

'If that is your case then, do you really believe forbidding her to do anything would be effective? She is stubborn, and only sees such a thing as a challenge.'

'Very well then, I will speak to her about him,' Colin said. He was certain he could reason with Agatha. He went to turn, and Penelope grabbed his arm to stop him.

The skin beneath his jacket crackled at just the hint of her touch and he stopped breathing for a moment. His face went back to hers and she was looking at the way her hand was placed on his forearm.

'You cannot go in there now and cause a scene,' she reminded him.

He faltered. He could not. The Ton did not know Agatha's true identity. There was nothing he could do that would not rouse suspicion.

'Right,' he muttered. Frustration flooded him over the thought. He could not do anything. He could not chaperone, or be a proper father to her in these settings. He could not protect her.

'What if I… sent her to Bridgerton house tomorrow?' Penelope asked. 'It can be to see Belinda, but, perhaps you might be there at the same time and you could talk to her about suitors. She might be more willing to listen to you about it than me.'

He nodded. She let go of his arm and he felt colder for it.

'He signed her dance card, Pen,' he said softly. The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. It felt both so foreign on his lips, and at the same time, very much like coming home again.

If hearing him call her Pen affected her, she said nothing about it. 'Then we should make sure we go inside as not to miss our daughters first dance at a Mayfair ball.'

Chapter Text

'Then we should make sure we go inside as not to miss our daughters first dance at a Mayfair ball.'

Penelope had turned quickly and retreated back into the ballroom. Where it was safer. Where her heart would race and her palms would get sweaty for very different reasons, none of them to do with Colin Bridgerton. There were more people around in there. He wouldn’t dare talk to her so familiarly there. Not unless he wanted attention on them.  

Pen.

He had called her Pen.

She had known it was him as soon as the shadow of his figure cast over her. He had cleared his throat in greeting and she had not waited for him to start talking, instead she had spoken, hoping to take charge of the conversation before he said something that took her off guard and put on her on the back-foot. 

He had been concerned about a suitor of Agatha's. She suspected his concerns were valid, but then he had questioned her parenting and she got defensive. She had spent the past eighteen years so unsure and so uncertain about how to be a good mother and constantly worried she was doing a terrible job of raising Agatha. She did not need him validating those fears and insecurities, she did just fine at it herself. 

Colin had been ready to march into the ball and tell Agatha she could not court Lord Haddington. The thought should not have made her heart flutter. Seeing him protective and defensive of her should not have had any affect on Penelope, but it had.

Pen.

The name had fallen from his lips like it belonged there. No one had called her Pen in a long time. The last time was Eloise, when she had visited, but as soon as she saw the look that crossed her face at the name, she had refrained from it quickly after.  

He had called her Pen.  

So easily. For that singular moment it was like the years between them did not exist. It was as though she belonged to him again.  

It was all so much. All at once.

And she did not belong to him. Not even close.  

Penelope did not dare look back as she entered the ballroom once more. She knew he was right behind her, but she could not acknowledge it. She did not possess the strength to.  Instead, she quickly found her Mama and sisters and joined them.  

‘Penelope, there you are! Just in time,’ Portia said. ‘Agatha has secured a dance with Lord Haddington.’ Portia was beaming at the prospect.  

‘Yes, I heard,’ she said.

Portia glanced at her. ‘How? It only just happened and you were not here.’  

‘People talk, Mama. I happen to listen,’ Penelope covered quickly. She did not know what her mother would have to say if she found out who she’d been conversing with. She had no desire to find out.  

Portia shook her head, but didn’t press the matter further. ‘The dance is about to start.’  

Penelope looked out to the dance floor and quickly found her daughter curtsying before Lord Haddington, the music began and they started dancing.

It was a quadrille. Fortunately. Lively, fun, harmless. Penelope hoped Colin was more settled at seeing this.  

Agatha seemed to be enjoying herself. She was smiling, as she let Lord Haddington lead her through the dance.

Penelope could feel eyes on her and she looked up across the ball to find Colin watching her watch Agatha. He gave her a nod and looked back to their daughter on the dance floor. A soft smile found his face as he did. Rake or no rake, Penelope was glad to see even Colin could find himself enjoying the moment of their daughters first dance at a ball like this.

She had not meant to refer to as Agatha her daughter alone to him. It was a force of habit. Years of her being the singular parent to the girl had ingrained it into her. For eighteen years there had not been an ‘our’, there had only been her. Anger had flashed through him and that in turn had made heat rise in her in response. The way he had been so quick to accept Agatha should not have had her feeling the way it did. She was treading dangerous territory with that.

'They grow up so quickly, do they not?'

Penelope was taken by surprise at the voice beside her. She looked up to see the viscountess standing beside her. Even with years passed, Kate Bridgerton was still one of the most beautiful women in the Ton, Penelope was certain of it. She stood tall, looking out onto the dance floor, no doubt watching her new niece.  

'They do,' she agreed, her eyes sliding back to where Agatha continued dancing.  

'We are still a few years away from Charlotte entering society, but I am already quite nervous about it,' Kate admitted.

'I have not met her, but given she is the daughter of you and the viscount, I am certain she will thrive in this environment,' Penelope said.  

'That is precisely what I am worried about.'

Penelope let out a soft, unexpected laugh.  

'How are you, Penelope?' Kate asked, then grimaced and shook her head. 'Forgive me if using your given name is too familiar, Miss Featherington.'  

'It is fine. I do not mind it,' Penelope said honestly. 'You are welcome to call me Penelope. I am well.'

Kate smiled softly. 'Good. You look well. So does Agatha.'  

Penelope gave a nod. She was unsure about how to best respond to the open acknowledgement. So few people in the Ton knew the truth about who Agatha was and she was prepared to have to keep it secret.  

'I wanted to let you know that she is a lovely young lady. She seems to be very bright, much like her mother. She is welcome at Bridgerton House any time, just as anyone in the family is.'  

'Thank you. That is incredibly gracious of you,' Penelope said, her voice soft.  

'And you are also welcome in our home,' Kate continued. 'I know that you may not want to. But if you ever needed anything, our door is open to you.'

Penelope's eyes widened slightly. Whatever she had been expecting her to say, that was not it. 'I was certain your family would hate me.'

Kate’s face tightened. 'You might not be everyone's favourite person right now,' she said honestly. 'But, give them time. The news was shocking, I must admit, and Bridgerton's are, well, protective of their own. However, I am perhaps more familiar with unique family circumstances. I know it is not easy. So, please do not feel a stranger if you ever need someone to talk to.'

Penelope found herself unexpectedly rapidly blinking back tears. She had not anticipated such kind and welcoming words from any of the Bridgerton’s once the news of Agatha broke. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. 'Thank you, Kate,' she said. 'Forgive me, I mean, Lady Bridgerton.'

'Kate is fine,' she said. ‘In fact, I insist upon it.’

'Thank you.'  

'I best go back and make sure my family aren't causing trouble. It is lovely to see you Penelope, truly. I hope to see more of you this season,' Kate said. 

Kate sounded so sincere, Penelope believed her. She watched as Kate all but floated back across the ballroom and found Violet and Anthony. She steadied herself and tried to school her face from how affected she was. She was not a total stranger to kindness these days. However, she had not expected it from any Bridgerton. Not after they found out about Agatha.  

The quadrille came to an end and Agatha retreated to the refreshment table. Quickly joined by Belinda and Philomena.

'That looked like it went well, did it not?' Portia asked her.  

'It did,' Penelope said.  

'What did Lady Bridgerton say to you?'

'Nothing,' Penelope shook her head. 'She just said she was pleased to see me.'

Portia raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'Is that all? What was her tone?'  

'Sincere?'  

'Hm,' Portia did not sound pleased. 'They are good. I'll give them that.'  

Penelope was about to ask what she meant but Portia was making her way across to Agatha to no doubt ask her about the dance, and how Lord Haddington was. Possibly even if they should expect a caller the following morning. Penelope sighed. She did not have the energy to cope with her mother, particularly when she was on the hunt to secure a husband for someone in her family.  

Penelope busied herself with lemonade and clinging to the wall for the rest of the evening. She observed from a distance the way Agatha seemed to fast be making friends with Belinda Basset and Philomena. Penelope found herself grateful for the blossoming friendships. Agatha did not really have many friends her own age in Bath. Some girls she was friendly with, but she kept to herself more often than not. Penelope often felt guilt over it, certain that the reason Agatha had not made close friends was because by default, having only a mother and living on the very edge of town did not set her up well for good social standing. Seeing Agatha so easily befriend her cousins had Penelope feeling relief.

Eventually the ball started to come to a close. Their carriage was called and they returned back to Featherington House with no further Bridgerton run-ins. Penelope was relieved, her heart was still jittery from her exchange with Colin earlier and she didn’t feel ready to see him again.

As they entered the door one of the footmen stopped her. 'There is a visitor for you Miss Featherington,' he said. 'In the drawing room.'

Penelope was stunned, but nodded her thanks before heading to the drawing room, not bothering to see if the rest of her family was following. She had no idea who would choose to visit at such a late hour, and it made her nervous.  

She entered the drawing room and relief flooded her quickly. Standing in the middle of the room was Eloise. Her oldest friend, who had truly been a godsend for the past several years. She had finally made it to Mayfair.

As soon as Eloise noticed Penelope entering the room she rushed forward and engulfed her in a giant hug.

Penelope was quick to accept the hug. Relishing the way Eloise gripped her tightly in comfort, saying everything that could not be said with words.

'I cannot believe you are here in Mayfair,' Eloise said.

'Nor I you. I thought you were content in the countryside.'

'I am. It feels strange to be here. But of course I had to get here as quickly as I could once the news reached me.'  

Penelope nodded in understanding. She turned and saw her mother, Prudence and Agatha all standing at the entrance of the drawing room watching them with curious eyes.  

'Lady Crane?' Agatha asked tentatively, recognising Eloise from her one visit to Bath years ago.

Eloise gave her a smile and shook her head. 'You can finally call me Aunt Eloise now.'

'What do you mean?'

'El's maiden name is Bridgerton.' Penelope explained.   

Agatha's eyes widened. Then, she smiled. 'I knew there was a good reason I liked you. You are the very same as the Aunt Eloise I've already heard so much about from Belinda then?'

'All good things I hope.'  

Agatha was about to respond, but Penelope cut in.  

'Mama, could we please have a moment alone?' she asked, looking at Portia.

Portia nodded. 'Come on everyone, it is time to get ourselves ready for bed.' she ushered Agatha and Prudence out of the room until finally it was just Penelope and Eloise alone.

'I tried to make it in time for Danbury's, but luck was not on my side.'

'You did not miss much,' Penelope said. 'Only, Agatha may already have a suitor and your brother having a minor conniption over it.'

Eloise's eyes widened. 'What do you mean?'

'Apparently the man is a rake and unsuitable,'

'You realise he is going to find something wrong with every suitor?' Eloise asked. ‘He is going to be worse than Anthony was with Daphne in her season.’

Penelope nodded. 'Oh I know. But I do not think Agatha has marriage on her mind just yet, so he needn't worry.'

Part of her was relieved. This conversation felt normal. As though it was natural to talk about Agatha, and Colin like this. Light hearted, and friendly. Not as though the world were about to end at the mere mention of his name in relation to their daughter.

'He did not have marriage on his mind either, the season you two-‘ Eloise stopped herself. 'Apologies. I did not mean to bring it up. Especially not so quickly.'

'Given everything, it is only natural I suppose,' Penelope said. She gave a sigh, there came the crash, the stark reminder of the situation she was in. She looked at Eloise helplessly. 'I have no idea what I am doing right now.'

'I would be more surprised if you did,' Eloise said. 'But I am also certain you are doing a better job than you realise.'

'I am also so sorry you are getting caught in the middle of it all. If you have to take his side I understand. How did he take it?'

'Take what?' Eloise asked.  

'You, knowing about her? Being sworn to secrecy by me?'

Eloise bit her lip and avoided her gaze. 'I came straight here. I have not seen him yet.'  

'Oh,' Penelope said. 'I would have thought you would have gone to see him?'

'I love Colin, dearly do not get me wrong, but he has six other siblings that can comfort him.'

The words 'you do not' did not need to be said. Sure, Penelope had two older sisters, but it was not the same and Eloise knew it. Penelope did not grow up with the same kind of unwavering sibling and parental love that Eloise and Colin did. She had been forced to learn how to be independent very early on.

'I really appreciate you,' Penelope said.

'And I must know everything,' Eloise countered.  

It was late, and Penelope was tired. She longed to get to bed, but it was nice to see her old friend and so, she let herself be dragged to the settee and sat down next to Eloise who looked at her with eager curiosity. It reminded Penelope so much of the girl she'd grown up with.

'So what happened? How did all of this unfold?'  

'Well, if I am honest, I forgot that Agatha is my daughter. And that the other half of her is Bridgerton.'

Eloise let out a laugh.

Penelope regaled the story. The ploy of wanting to see the London social scene, to marry. Showing up on Colin's doorstep instead.

'She truly is bold,' Eloise remarked. ‘I have to admire that.’

'Yes,' Penelope agreed. ‘It is difficult not to. Even if I was oh so cross with her over it.’  

'As you should have been. It was foolish of her to do, even if the outcome has been positive. How much have you and my brother spoken?'  

'More than I thought we would. But also, not that much,' Penelope said with a sigh.

'How do you think he is?'

'Angry. Rightfully so. Upset. Understandably. But he…'

'He what?'

Penelope lifted her head to meet Eloise's eyes, knowing her own shone with unshed tears she was desperately holding back as she thought about Colin and the way he had been.

'He's embraced her as his own already. So quickly, with barely a question. He cares for her, as he should and it, well, it's more than I could have asked for. He could have shunned her. Denied her claims and told her to never speak to him again, but he did not. I truly believe that, well, if it would not cause ruin on your entire family he would make sure the entire Ton knew she was his daughter.'

'He is a good man, Penelope,' Eloise said softly. 'Despite all of his flaws, he is good.'

'I know,' Penelope agreed. Colin always had been that way.  

'How is Agatha?'

Penelope let out a sigh. 'For once I truly do not know.'

'What do you mean?'  

'She has been upset with me. Some days, it is bad and others it is as though she has forgiven me entirely. I do not know which is true.'  

'Perhaps it is both,' Eloise said. 'If there is anything I have finally learnt over the years it is that we are all complicated. Oftentimes two things can be true at once.'

Penelope gave her an incredulous stare. 'Who are you and what have you done with Eloise?'

Eloise gave a laugh. 'I think I finally grew up. Having children will do that to you.'

Penelope thought about the way she was forced to grow up quickly. It had taken only ten months for her to go from having been engaged, to that engagement breaking, to finding out she was going to have a child and giving birth to that child with a midwife and doctor she barely knew in Bath. At nine and ten she was a mother. Raising a child alone. Without a husband, so far from her family.  

She was grateful her neighbours were kind. They visited often and made sure she had things she needed. She would forever be grateful for Mrs Hindley and her hospitality.

'It does,' she said finally.  

'It is late isn't it?' Eloise said.  

'Yes, and it has been a long night.'  

'I suppose I should see if my brother has a guest room for me.'  

'Anthony?'  

'No…' Eloise grimaced. 'Colin.'  

'You are going to see him now?' Penelope asked, her eyes wide.

'I believe I should get it over with.'

'Again, I understand if you must take his side.'  

Eloise shook her head vehemently. 'There are no sides. Not for me. Though I must stress I can understand why you did what you did.'

Penelope found herself blinking back tears once more. 'Thank you El. So much.'  

They hugged tightly before Eloise was on her way. Penelope saw her out then retreated back up the stairs and to her bedroom. As she pushed the door open, Agatha was dressed for bed, her hair let down and dressing gown on. She sat at the dressing table running a comb through her hair.

‘You should be in bed,’ Penelope said.

Agatha turned to her. ‘You never told me Lady Crane was my aunt,’ she accused.

Penelope gave a sigh. It was back to anger then?

‘I know. I am sorry.’ It was all she could do to apologise.

‘She knew, when she came to visit?’

Penelope sat down on the end of her bed and started to pull pins from her hair. ‘Not until she arrived. She figured it out quickly. Your aunt Eloise is the smartest person I know.’

‘Smarter than you?’ Agatha asked.

Penelope gave a soft chuckle. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Good,’ Agatha said. ‘Someone needs to be.’

Penelope suppressed her smile. She knew that by the morning Agatha would no longer be so upset with her.

‘Off to bed with you now, missy,’ she said.

‘Fine,’ Agatha said. ‘I am still upset at you never telling me Lady Crane was my aunt. Especially when you knew how much I liked her.’

‘I know,’ Penelope agreed. ‘Would it help things if I told you that you can visit Bridgerton House tomorrow?’ It was a cheap shot, but worth trying.

Agatha’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’ 

‘Yes really,’ Penelope nodded. ‘I promised your father.’

Something sparked in Agatha’s eyes as she turned the bed sheets down and started to climb into the bed. ‘I knew you two spoke tonight.’

‘Yes, well done of you,’ Penelope said, pulling her nightgown from the closet to change. She tried not to worry too much about the comment. They had been discreet, she was sure. ‘It will have to be after calling hours, as I’m sure your grandmother will force us all to stay inside in case you get a visit from a Lord.’

‘I told him not to, so hopefully he does not.’

‘He wanted to call on you then?’ Penelope asked, her eyes wide.

‘He implied it. I said he should not or else Grandmama will expect us to be married before the end of the season. I believe that scared him off.’

‘I see,’ Penelope said.

It was silent after that. Penelope gave a heavy sigh as she herself finally got into bed. 

‘Good night Mama,’ Agatha said quietly into the dark room.

‘Good night dearest,’ Penelope responded.

Before long she heard Agatha’s breathing steady, a clear sign she was finally asleep. It took Penelope a lot longer, her mind still racing from the ball and from her conversations with both Colin and Eloise.

Everything felt as though it was unravelling quickly, and the season was only just beginning.  There was a long road ahead of them and Penelope did not feel anywhere close to ready for it.

Chapter Text

For Agatha, things could not have been going better.

Truly.

For the first time in her life she had a mother and a father. She had aunts and uncles, on both sides of her family, two grandmama’s and more cousins than she could possibly count.

It was not perfect.

Not even close to it.

Her Mama’s lies still stung. More were uncovered by the day it seemed and Agatha wondered if she would ever learn them all. She still loved Mama. She knew, deep down, life had not been easy for her. That did not make it hurt less.

Her father was a secret. She was a secret. London society, the Ton, were far worse than Bath (something Agatha had not truly comprehended before). Judgemental, set in their ways. Willing to cast out anyone who did not fit their ideals. They could not know who Agatha truly was and that alone was difficult.

The light amongst it all, however, were the Bridgerton’s, her father’s side of the family. They were nothing but warm, and welcoming to her. They had smiled at her, greeted her at the ball. Allowed Belinda, her cousin, to become her friend.

It was strange, Agatha thought, having a friend. She had been friendly with girls her age in Bath. It was different there. She did not have anyone she truly belonged with. Who understand her.

Belinda was kind. Asked her a lot of questions, but never once did she imply that she thought Agatha’s circumstances were odd. Or beneath her in any way. Belinda treated her as an equal. Even though Agatha knew that by societies standards they were not. Belinda was the daughter of a duke and duchess. Agatha was a bastard child of parents with no kind of ranking.

At no point, however, did Belinda ever act as though that was the case.

The morning after the Danbury ball, Mama surprised her with the news that after calling hour, she would be allowed to go to Bridgerton House for tea.

Calling hour came and went with no callers for her.

Grandmama seemed put out by it. Agatha, in truth, was relieved.

Lord Haddington had implied he would like to call on her. She did not want him to. He was fine. Handsome, nice, and seemed to like her. But she knew that calling on someone showed intent to court. Agatha was not ready for that. She would rather focus on getting to know her new family properly first. Somehow her attempts to dissuade him from calling had worked.

Finally, she was set free and headed to Bridgerton House across the square. Rae chaperoned her there, though Agatha truly wondered if it was necessary since it was so close by and she could easily walk there herself. Apparently London custom dictated it.

Agatha was let into the house and lead up to the drawing room. As she did there was clearly some kind of commotion going on.

Muffled voices behind one of the doors were loud, but not quite loud enough for her to be able to hear anything. Then a door was swung open. Agatha stood stunned as she was face to face with a man she hadn't seen before. She had now met enough Bridgerton's to know he must be one of them. Tall, startling blue eyes, dark curls on his head. He looked at her curiously for a moment, before his attention was drawn away by a voice from inside the study.

‘I cannot be here anymore if you are all going to take her side!’

It was unmistakably her father.  Yelling. She turned to see if she could see him, but from where she stood he was out of view.

‘You need to calm down Colin,’ Agatha assumed it was Anthony, he was not quite yelling, but talking forcefully.

‘She lied to me. To all of us. For years!’ 

A gentle hand clasped around Agatha’s elbow.

‘This way,’ a soft voice said in her ear.

Agatha turned to see Kate Bridgerton, the viscountess beside her. She let herself be guided away from the scene, as much as she wanted to find out more about what was happening and what her father was yelling about.

‘Is everything ok?’ She asked. It was a stupid question. Things were clearly not ok.

Kate paused for a second. ‘Your father is not usually so angry,’ she said, her voice remaining calm and gentle. ‘I am sure he will be ok.’

Agatha could only nod and follow Kate into the drawing room where Belinda was playing piano forte, a woman she didn’t recognise, but looked so much like the rest of the Bridgerton family watched her. Belinda finished her song with a flourish and the woman clapped.

'You have improved so much Belinda!'

‘Thank you,’ Belinda looked a little shy.

The woman’s attention was then suddenly on the newcomers.

‘Oh!’ She exclaimed. ‘You must be Agatha.’

She stepped forward towards them and Agatha gave her a smile. ‘Guilty as charged.’

‘It is wonderful to meet you,’ she said. ‘I’m Francesca.’

‘Oh, it is lovely to meet you,’ Agatha responded. Francesca was one of the Bridgerton’s she had not met yet. ‘I nearly have the full set now.’

Belinda let out a giggle. ‘The full set! That is a great way of putting it,’ she said. ‘Who are you missing?’

Agatha bit her lip in thought. ‘I believe just Benedict and Gregory.’

‘Well we can remedy that today. Uncle Benedict arrived last night and Uncle Gregory is due to come by today.’

Agatha smiled, but she knew it wasn’t meeting her eyes. At the mention of her uncles her thoughts had gone back to what she’d just overheard. Her father yelling. Clearly upset about something and she felt in the dark about it. She didn’t like it.

‘Oh my goodness, I completely forgot to ask you,’ Belinda said. ‘Did Lord Haddington call on you?’

Agatha’s attention was turned back to Belinda. She shook her head. ‘He seemed quite certain of it last night, but it appears he actually listened to me and did not. Grandmama was very disappointed.’

‘And your Mama?’ Belinda asked.

‘Seemed a little relieved. As was I.’ Agatha responded honestly.

Lord Haddington was fine as far as gentlemen went. He had a charming smile, and knew all the right things to say. He was very easy on the eyes with his dark hair and eyes and tall, sturdy stature. But all of that, to Agatha, was precisely part of  the problem. She felt on edge around him. As though at any moment she would say the wrong thing and he would want to move on to the next girl in line. She found herself being too careful with her words with him. Too conscious of how she looked, stood, danced, spoke.

Agatha has always thought, that if she were fortunate enough to fall in love, it would be with someone she could be herself around.

Not that she had thought about it much. Agatha knew a life without romantic love could be fulfilling. Her mother had exampled that for her entire life. She could be content without it.

Francesca suddenly excused herself, leaving the two girls alone in the drawing room.

'Finally a moment of peace and quiet.' Belinda sighed. 'Next time you are coming to Hastings house, ok? I know you come here so that you can have time with uncle Colin, but there are always too many people here.'

Agatha gave her an amused look. 'I like it. It's so different to my own home. It was mostly just Mama and myself.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. I completely forgot that the excessively large family part is also new for you. We can continue to meet here.'

'It might be nice to see Hastings House sometime though,' Agatha said. 'I'm sure we can arrange it.'

Belinda gave her a smile.

'So, what did you want to discuss?' Agatha asked.

'Oh right, the plan,' Belinda eyes glimmered. 'Because I need to know if our idea worked and if we should look to continue it?

'Oh, yes!' Agatha exclaimed, possibly louder than she planned too. 'I believe it did work. A little at least.'

Belinda grabbed Agatha’s hands and pulled her to the large armchair

'Tell me everything you know right now,’ she demanded.

'I do not know much,' she confessed. 'But they definitely talked last night.'

'Excellent. Do you know what they talked about?'

'Well, certainly me and my suitor. I am not sure what else.'

Belinda hummed. 'That's ok. Progress is progress no matter what it looks like. We can test the theory at the Stowell House soiree tomorrow night. I already have my mama looking into which suitors are to be attending and we can pick someone out.'

'Do we know if my father will be there though?' Agatha asked.

'If you are there, I am certain he will be there.'

'I suppose that seems to be a theme.’ 

'And if he isn't, then he will certainly be at Aubrey Hall the following week.'

'Aubrey Hall?' Agatha asked.

'Right, sorry. I keep forgetting. Next week is the annual Aubrey Hall Hearts and Flowers ball that Grandmama puts on every year. I am certain you will receive an invitation to arrive earlier. It would be strange if you did not. So if the soiree does not go the plan, we can execute then. We have the entire season remember?'

Agatha nodded. ‘Right, you are right.’

‘I usually am,’ Belinda grinned.

‘Agatha,’ both girls turned to the newcomer to the space. Agatha smiled when she saw her father enter the room.

Colin looked surprised. ‘I did not realise you were here.’

‘I have not been here long,’ she said.

Colin gave a nod, then requested some tea and biscuits to be arranged before settling himself on the settee in front of Agatha. Belinda seemed to understand and mumbled something about requesting sheet music from Francesca.

‘How did you enjoy the ball last night?’ He asked.

Agatha could not stop the smile that crept across her face. ‘It was so much fun! Is every ball that grand?’

Colin chuckled. ‘Many are. But Danbury has a special touch to hers. Did you meet her?’

Agatha shook her head. ‘Mama pointed her out to me. Though I was not fortunate enough to speak with her. Apparently she inspired my name.’

Colin’s eyebrows rose. ‘Did she now?’

‘According to Mama. When I was born and I was a girl she thought of the women she knew who had inspired her. Who she admired. Apparently Agatha Danbury made the top of that list.’

She watched her fathers face. He frowned as he processed the news. Clearly this was new to him and not something he and Mama had talked about. Then finally his face settled on a smile.

‘She made a good decision with that then.’

‘Do you think so?’ Agatha asked.

‘Yes. Lady Danbury is truly formidable. I have my suspicions you are the same.’

‘I can only hope so then.’

A moment of silence passed between them. Agatha didn’t know what to say to her father. Conversation with him was still new and she was still getting to know him. She hadn’t so much as had any father-like figures in her life so this was all a strange experience.

‘I…’ Colin started. ‘Did you have any callers this morning?’ He asked.

Agatha saw right through him. She had noticed him watching her dance with Lord Haddington. Had suspected he and Mama spoke about it with each other.

‘You mean did Lord Haddington visit?’ She asked.

‘Well, yes. I am admittedly curious.’

‘What would you have to say about it if he did?’ She asked.

She might have been testing the waters. Testing what… she couldn’t quite say. She wasn’t entirely sure yet.

Colin straightened his spin and sat up a little straighter. 'I would be honest.'

'Honest about what?'

'I do not think he is the most suitable match for you,' he said. The words rushed out like he needed to say them quickly, or not at all. 'I know I do not know you that well, yet, but his current reputation leaves much to be desired.'

Agatha found herself smiling.

'What?' he asked.

'He did not call on me,' she said. 'And I was glad he did not because I do not know if I liked him.'

She watched as her father breathed a sigh of relief.

‘I was worried you would hate me.’

Agatha shook her head firmly. ‘I am only just getting to know you. I cannot hate you.'

'I am pleased to hear that.'

Agatha nodded. She bit her lip, then decided to just go for it. What did she have to lose?

'I did overhear, earlier,' she started. 'I did not mean to, but the door was open and… are you alright? You seemed really upset.'

'Oh.' Colin cast his eyes down to the floor. 'You were not meant to overhear that.'

'I know! I know, and I'm sorry. But is everything ok?'

He nodded and looked back at her. 'Everything is alright. I just found out something that upset me, and I let it get the better of me.'

'What was it?'

Colin shook his head. 'I don't believe it would do you any good to know.'

'Is it to do with me?' she asked.

'What? No! No of course not. There is nothing you have done that has caused me to be upset. I promise.'

'You are sure?'

'Yes, I am certain.'

‘Don’t tell me you’ve only known this lovely young woman for five seconds and have already made things rocky.’

The man from earlier entered the room, he sat on the settee next to her father. His eyes sparkled with amusement and Agatha found herself unsure on how to react. She knew he was undoubtedly a Bridgerton, some relation to her father. His teasing appeared to be friendly, but Agatha was always conscious of not assuming such things until she knew for sure that it was harmless and good-natured.

‘I am Benedict,’ he offered.

‘Oh! Lovely to meet you,’ Agatha smiled at him, as she mentally checked yet another Bridgerton name off her list. From what she knew he was her father's second oldest brother. Another uncle.

‘Lovely to meet you too. Sorry I could not be here for your grand reveal.’

'I would hardly call it a grand reveal,' Agatha said.

'Nonsense. It was the most scandalous thing to happen to this family since Gregory's courtship. If you could call it that.'

At Agatha's questioning look Benedict gave a dramatic sigh. 'Brother, you have not told her all the stories?'

'What stories?' Agatha asked, she could tell her face was lit up. She enjoyed stories so much.

'Tell me, is she coming to Aubrey Hall next week?'

'I, well, need to check with her mother first,' Colin admitted.

'Ah, yes. The mother,' Benedict gave Colin a sly look Agatha could not interpret quickly enough, before he turned back to her. 'Well, if there is one thing this family is good at, it's having a chaotic, dramatic love story. You should be aware of what you are born into. A different type of inheritance if you will. We will make sure you know each and every last one before the week is out.'

With that, Benedict seemed to declare his job done, as he stood up and started to excuse himself.

'I am sure the sentiment has already been shared, but I am pleased you finally made your way to us Miss Featherington. Welcome to the family.'

Something inside her preened once more. It did not seem to matter how many times the sentiment was shared, her father's family's ease of accepting her continued to make her feel warm, and protected. She never would have imagined firstly that such a large family was there waiting for her, and secondly that they would bring her into the fold unquestioning.

'Lovely to meet you,' she said. As soon as Benedict left she turned back to her father. 'That is the second time Aubrey Hall has been brought up to me today,' she tried to sound casual about it, but the fact that neither time had been her father had her concerned that the assumed invite was perhaps, not quite as assumed as everyone thought.

'Ah, yes. I would like you to visit the Bridgerton ancestorial home, before the big ball Mother enjoys throwing every year,' he said.

'I would like to see it.'

'I will ask your mother tomorrow, at Stowell House. I assume she will be there?'

Agatha nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically as she thought of her conversation with Belinda earlier.

'Then, yes, I will extend the invitation.'

Agatha was walked home by Belinda and Francesca. The entire time she could not keep the smile from her face. Aubrey Hall. Time with her new family away from the eyes of the ton. If she could convince her mother to chaperone her, then, well, the possibilities became endless. She could not wait to talk to Belinda about it in private. And she could not wait for the next week to arrive.

Chapter Text

When Colin awoke, the morning after Danbury’s ball he felt good.

The ball had been good overall. Despite his daughter dancing with a man entirely unsuitable, she looked like she had fun and he was happy to see her feeling free to participate. His conversation with Penelope may have been tense, but it had ended with a promise that he would see Agatha today and could get to know her a little better still.

He got himself out of bed, dressed and went down to the dining room, where hopefully his cook already had food prepared. The small number of staff he kept knew he liked to eat as soon as he woke.

What he was not expecting was to see his sister, Eloise, sitting at the table, a half eaten apple in her hand as she read a paper.

‘El?’ He asked. She looked up at him.

‘Hello Brother,’ she said.

‘Why are you here?’

‘Well, you know Phillip does not keep a Mayfair home. Our siblings that do, have homes which are far too chaotic for me. I plan to enjoy the peace and quiet being away from Gloustershire affords. Dunwoody set up one of the spare rooms for me last night. You had already retired for the evening.’

Colin gave a nod. He moved to one of the empty seats at the table and opted for a pastry.

‘I’m glad you made it. There is a lot to catch up on.’

Eloise’s face tightened in some sort of grimace. ‘Yes, I suppose there is.’

‘I am aware that the news of, well, my having a daughter is shocking, I am admittedly still coming to terms with it myself. But I am asking that everyone welcome her with open arms and make her feel like a part of this family.’

Eloise mumbled something Colin could not decipher.

‘Pardon?’ He asked.

‘Nothing,’ Eloise shook her head and Colin felt himself bristling at it.

‘You will embrace her. Just as our family accepts Oliver and Amanda, I have every right to have my daughter accepted.’

‘I know,’ Eloise cut in quickly, ‘and I know she will fit in just fine with the rest of us. She’s a very bright girl.’

‘Your assumption it correct but-‘

‘It is not an assumption,’ she interrupted.

Colin paused, and placed his half eaten pastry onto his plate. ‘How do you mean?’ He asked carefully.

Eloise seemed to be determined to look anywhere in the room but at him. ‘I have met her.’

‘You have met her?’ He asked.

‘Yes.’

‘What do you mean you have met her? You missed the ball.’

‘I did,’ she agreed. ‘I… I met her briefly years ago.’

Colin’s mind went blank. He heard her. He did. But it was as though his brain refused to make an attempt to comprehend what she had just said.

‘Pardon?’ He asked instead.

‘It is a long story.’

‘Then perhaps you should start. I don’t have all morning.’

Eloise nodded and Colin watch as she took a deep breath. ‘It was nearly five years ago now. I can remember that it was a beautiful sunny day, when the post came with a letter for me. The handwriting was so familiar, and so unexpected. Penelope,’ she said.

Colin nodded slowly, allowing her to continue.

‘She did not say much. Only saying that I had been on her mind. She apologised for some things that, well, she really did not need to apologise for. But, I understand why she felt she needed to. I do not know if you remember, but Pen and I had a giant row and stopped talking that season.’

‘Yes, I remember,’ he said, his voice sounded thick with emotion and foreign to his own ears. He remembered well asking time and time again what had caused their rift.

He had eventually, unfortunately, found out.

‘Many times I had wondered if I made the right decision. I have a lot of regrets about it. I do wonder if things could have-’ she stopped herself, took a deep breath then continued. ‘If things could have been different if I hadn’t been so mad at her.’

Colin couldn’t help but let his mind drift of to that what if as well. Penelope could have confided in Eloise, before she left Mayfair. His sister could have changed her mind.

He wanted to be furious over it. Over the potential that everything could have been different if Eloise had gone about things another way. But he could not pin all of the blame on that on his younger sister. She was hot headed, and stubborn. Not a fortune teller.

‘Well, anyway, her letter did not say much. Only that things had changed a lot for her. That she lived a peaceful life, away from the Ton, and was happy. She wanted to try and reconnect if I was willing. She didn't mention anything about… her. I promise you, I would have said something otherwise.’

Colin wanted to believe her. But he did not. It was easy to claim such a thing in hindsight. It still remained that at some point she had found out about Agatha. And she had not told him.

‘With little more than an address, instead of replying to her, I decided to go and visit. What better way to make amends right?’

‘Right.’

‘Penelope was shocked to see me at her front door. I was shocked to see the thirteen year old girl in her house. An almost spitting image of herself at that age.’

Colin nodded. He did not trust himself to say anything. Eloise had seen Agatha at thirteen. A child still. The pressure in him was building. Eloise had known. Eloise had seen her when she was young. Something Colin had not, and he now never could. His eyes unwittingly welled up and he stubbornly blinked them away. He would not let Eloise see him like this, not after this colossal betrayal.

‘Penelope tried to down play it. At first she pretended she was a niece. Sent to stay with her for bad behaviour. I did not believe her. The girl was not her niece. That much was clear.’

It was only the slightest, smallest comfort that Penelope had tried to hide her identity to Eloise. It was not enough to ease the pain of the wound Eloise had opened up.

‘Eventually she confessed. She told me everything.'

‘Describe everything,’ he said, his voice was choked, suffocated by the tears he was forcing down.

‘From why your engagement ended, to finding out she was pregnant. To moving to Bath and everything beyond that. Colin, please, believe me when I say that I begged her to tell you once it became clear to me you did not know. I knew how much it would break your heart, that you would have stepped up, without question, to be a father to her in any capacity you could. That you would not force her into a marriage she did not want to be in.’

'You should have begged harder,' he said. His voice was low, and quiet. He had never quite felt rage like this. Especially not against his own family. Not when he found out Penelope was Whistledown, and was the one who had been writing all of those horrible things. Not when Agatha had shown up on his doorstep and he was confronted with the reality of having missed his daughters entire childhood. No, those moments, though they angered him, a lot, were tinged with overwhelming sorrow at the way they had altered his reality entirely.

There was no sorrow here. Not for his younger sister who had carried on with her life for five years, all whilst knowing Agatha existed, and was only a days trip from London away from him.

'I know,' Eloise said. 'Colin I… I am sorry. I had thought I had reasoned with her. Enough that she would have told you.'

'And when no news of your niece arrived you did not think to follow up?'

'I did not know if perhaps the two of you had come to a silent arrangement, and it was not my business to pry in to.'

Colin let out a short humourless laugh. 'Not your business to pry? Eloise, all you ever did growing up was pry into business that was not yours. What made you draw the line at Penelope's secret child?'

Eloise was silent for a moment. 'The fact that I am a mother myself now. I know how difficult it is. I know from listening to Phillip how difficult it is to raise children alone. It was her burden to bear and I promise I really tried. I swore to her I would let it be hers alone to deal with, as much as that pained me. True to my word I did not tell a soul. Not even Phillip.'

'Because you knew he would have encouraged you to tell me.'

Eloise bit her lip. 'I suppose I had not thought of it in those direct terms. But it potentially helped me make my decision.'

Colin took a moment, for several long seconds he was quiet. He took a few deeps breaths then spoke carefully. 'I need you to get out of my house Eloise.’ 

'But I-'

'I am going to go for a walk. When I return I want you packed up and gone.'

'Where do you propose I go?'

'You have seven other siblings who all have residences in or near to Mayfair.  You can stay with one of them.'

He was surprised when she did not argue back. When she nodded and stood up slowly, the scrape of the chair against the floor echoed loudly through the room. She turned and left, heading up the stairs to the spare room she was set up in.

Colin took a beat, then stood himself. Before he could think too clearly, he left. He was unsure of his destination, until he suddenly found himself at Bridgerton House. It was fitting he supposed, he was due there later that morning anyway.

He ran into Anthony in the hall.

'Colin! You are here early,' Anthony said.

'Yes.'

Anthony frowned. 'Are you alright?'

Colin met his eyes. 'No,' he said shortly. 'I am very far from alright.'

Anthony looked around the hall, clearly looking out for a sign of his children, or his siblings before ushering Colin into his study. Benedict was already there, he stood to greet his younger brother, but seemed to stop when he took note of the stormy look on his face.

'Let it out,' Anthony said.

'What? You're not going to tell me to pull myself together? To get over it?' Colin asked.

'Why would I do that?' Anthony asked with a frown.

'You have in the past,' Colin admitted.

'You are going through a lot right now. I'm not surprised you are not alright.'

Colin started pacing, three steps one way, three steps another. Back and forth he went, until he came out with the news.

'Eloise knew,' he said.

'Eloise knew what?'

'About Agatha. Eloise knew. She has known for years.'

'I do not understand what you mean?'

'Eloise arrived in Mayfair late last night. She revealed to me this morning that she visited Penelope years ago and met my daughter while she was there and has kept silent on the matter for years.'

'Colin, I am sure you have misunderstood-'

'I have not misunderstood anything,' Colin could hear his voice rising. 'The only thing I do not understand is why my own sister would not tell me about my daughter when she knew I did not have a clue she existed.'

'I am sure that Eloise-'

'Why are you insistent on taking her side?' Colin asked.

'I am just going to… step out,' Benedict said quietly, getting up from his seat.

'I am not taking sides, I just think that you should calm down and-'

'I cannot be here anymore if you are all going to take her side!’

‘You need to calm down Colin,' Anthony said, his calm demeanour only irritated Colin further.

‘She lied to me. To all of us. For years!’  Colin felt the heat in his face. His rage flowing through him.

'I understand,' Anthony said. 'But you must calm down. Agatha will arrive soon, you need to spend time with her, and later we can discuss this matter as a family.'

'What is there to discuss?' Colin asked. 'She lied. To me. To all of us. She robbed me of years with my daughter. Years I cannot get back.'

'Colin, the person who withheld information from you is Penelope.'

The words unexpectedly struck Colin.

What his brother said was true. He could not deny that. It did not mean that Eloise was not culpable. Colin was still so upset and angered by Penelope for all of it, but that was not what upset him right now. It was Eloise, learning of the truth and not telling him.

Anthony had no right to bring Penelope into it. To try and re-direct his anger away from his sister.

'That is not the matter we are discussing,' he said instead. His tone came out low and threatening. Making it clear, through the words, that they would not be discussing the Penelope of it all. What Penelope had done, what had happened, was between the two of them alone and not for his family to interfere on. Clearly, as this revelation revealed, they had done enough damage as it was. 'I shall take a moment to compose myself before Agatha arrives.'

Colin left the study.

He took himself to the kitchens. A snack of some of his favourite biscuits and some tea calmed him down somewhat. Enough that he decided he would head to the drawing room to wait for Agatha to arrive.

It turned out she was already there. She was conversing with Belinda and it warmed Colin's heart to see the two cousins friendship growing.

During their conversation he became relieved to know that Lord Haddington had not called on her, that she was not sure if she liked him.

She had overheard him earlier, yelling at Anthony and he felt ashamed. Colin did not want her thinking he was aggressive and angry. He had his moments, he was a Bridgerton after all. Despite that, he would never direct it towards Agatha. Not ever. She could burn everything to the ground and he would find a way to stand by her side.

‘According to Mama. When I was born and I was a girl she thought of the women she knew who had inspired her. Who she admired. Apparently Agatha Danbury made the top of that list.’

It felt like another blow. He had not thought about it until now, but he did not get to help Penelope name her. Agatha was a fine choice, a great choice. Agatha Danbury was a formidable woman, well respected and a character of strength. He could not have chosen better himself.

It did not mean that the confrontation of something else he had missed out on did not sting.

It was not his daughters fault however, so he made sure he smiled at her.

‘She made a good decision with that then.' It was the honest truth.

Somehow it was Agatha who reminded him about Aubrey Hall, in amongst the revelations of the morning, he had forgotten his mothers ball was coming up.

However, once again he would have speak with Penelope to offer the invitation and hope that she would be agreeable to it.

The following evening was slow to arrive. Colin had not really wanted to go to Stowell House. He was still upset at the revelations that had come to him about Eloise's knowledge. He had not been able to say a word to her since. True to his request, she had moved to stay at Benedict's townhouse as Sophie and the boys were still in the country. He had been spared from seeing her.

Fortunately, Stowell House would be a smaller affair to Danbury’s ball. He was at least comforted in that.

He arrived with Simon, Daphne and Belinda. The rest of his family had chosen to sit this particular event out. His mother already occupied with arrangements for her Hearts and Flowers ball the following week. Kate had offered to help.

He quickly found himself a glass of wine and took up a spot in the room near his brother in law.

'It is tiring, all of this,' Simon said.

'The events? Yes. I have not been to so many in a number of years.'

'The events, yes,' Simon agreed. 'I was, however referring to keeping an eye on the girls and ensuring they are not getting into trouble.'

'Oh, yes, it is tiring,' Colin agreed. 'I am finding myself surprised at how many of the gentlemen in the ton are unsuitable.'

'It is strange to think our girls are of age to be married. It happens so quickly,’ Simon said.

Colin was silent. Equal parts preening at how easily Simon had referred to Agatha as is daughter, including him in the club of Bridgerton (or Bridgerton adjacent, in Simon’s case) father's, and feeling sick to his stomach once more at having lost those years watching Agatha grow up beforehand.

‘Sorry, I forgot,’ Simon said.

‘It’s alright. I have moments where I forget too,’ Colin admitted. ‘It grieves me to think she may find a husband so soon and my time with her cut short.’

'Perhaps she will not…' Simon trailed off. 'Or perhaps I should not finish that question.'

'Why-' Colin stopped short as he followed Simon's gaze.

Agatha was by the refreshments. Talking with Mr Ernest Reeves.

Suddenly Lord Haddington looked like a saint. Mr Reeves was perhaps not directly a rake, but he was a weasel and Colin did not trust him as far as he could throw him.

‘Your girl does seem to be popular with the gentlemen of the Ton,’ Simon commented.

‘Unfortunately,’ Colin said.

He gave a deep sigh, and took another drink of his wine.

‘Once again, I find myself having to speak with her mother about who is suitable and who she should be steered away from.’

Simon was silent for a moment.

‘How are things between the two of you?’ Simon asked finally.

Colin gave his brother in law a look. ‘Daphne can ask me herself if she must know.’

Simon held his hands up in surrender. ‘I only need to be able to say I asked. She’s protective of you. She cannot believe someone would deny you the opportunity to raise your daughter.’

Colin sighed. ‘I know. However I need my family to recognise when to stay out of it.’ 

Simon gave a nod of acknowledgement, but did not comment further. Colin turned his eyes back to Agatha. Whatever Mr Reeves had said had her giggling.

Colin cast his eyes around the room. Where was Lord Haddington? So keen on her just a few nights ago? Surely, if he had any interest in Agatha he would be swooping in to regain her attention.

Colin grimaced. How had it come to be that the better option of his daughters suitors was the well known rake?

Good god he would not survive the season.

‘Speaking of your Miss Featherington,’ Simon said.

Colin looked at him and Simon nodded towards the other end of the room, where Penelope stood alone. She looked beautiful, but then, she always did. His heart still responded to the sight  of her, quickening in pace and begging him to seek her out.

‘Now might be your opportunity.’

Colin nodded in agreement and excused himself. He headed towards Penelope and took up a spot next to her. There was still a respectful distance between them and he kept his eyes focused on Agatha and her new suitor instead of Penelope.

‘People are already talking about us. Must you give them more gossip?’

‘What people?’ Colin asked, he had not heard there was talk of them.

‘Does it matter? Talk is talk.’

‘Where did you hear such rumours?’

From the corner of his eye he saw her give him a sidelong glance.

‘Old habits die hard, apparently,’ she said dryly.

Right. The gossip wheel. Of which she was formerly the master of. He had momentarily forgotten.

‘What are they saying?’

‘I did not care to find out.’

In many ways Colin understood. He supposed it was better not knowing. The Ton had a way of dramatising events unnecessarily so.

'Why are you over here?' she asked.

'I have two reasons,' Colin said, finally turning his body slightly in towards her. There was no point in trying to pretend further that he was not speaking directly to her. 'First is that Mr Reeves is-'

'Unsuitable, yes I know,' Penelope gave a sigh.

'Right,' Colin gave a nod. 'How did you know?'

'Even my Mama shook her head at him.'

Colin gave a snort of laughter. Of course the benchmark would be what Portia Featherington found acceptable.

'Apparently he is just after money. He barking up the wrong tree there however, which I am sure he will work out soon enough. Agatha's dowery is respectable, but nothing compared to those descending from titled parents.'

'Anthony did not send notice?' Colin asked.

'Pardon?'

'We will ensure she has a decent dowery,' he told her. Colin watched as she stiffened. Her back straightened and her face grew tight.

'Colin I do not need your-'

'Let me,' he did not care that his tone was pleading. 'Please, let me at least do this one thing.'

'We can discuss it later.'

Colin wanted to growl out in frustration at her. Argue back with her to make sure she understood, it was the only thing he felt he could do. He could not while they were in public.

'We will,' he said firmly. Hoping she understood he was not letting the topic go.

Penelope gave a short nod, and went to move away from her.

'There was one other thing,' he said quickly, before she could go far.

She paused, but did not say anything. Instead, she waited for him to continue.

'Aubrey Hall,' he said.

'What about it?'

'The Hearts and Flowers ball is next week. I would… it would be appreciated if you and Agatha could join us a few days prior. On our private lands, away from the Ton. It would be, well, lovely to have you both.' Colin had intended to simply invite Agatha to come alone. There were enough respected adults around to keep her safe, but as he stood beside Penelope the extension of the invitation to her slipped out before he could stop it.

Penelope was silent. Colin’s heart sank as he took it to mean she hated the idea. Of course she did.

‘Please, Pen,’ he was no longer above begging. He would get on his knees if he had to.

‘I…’ she looked up at him. Her eyes were swimming with tears she tried to blink away rapidly.

‘What is it?’ He asked. His eyes searched hers for some kind of answer, but it seemed with the time passed he was no longer confident in understanding her expressions.

If he were to guess she was stunned. Overcome with memories.

‘It is very intimate. To be invited,’ she said.

‘A family affair,’ he agreed.

‘Can we talk about this later?’ She asked.

Colin nodded.

'Come by tomorrow, after calling hours. I will tell Rae to have you meet me in the garden.'

Colin nodded again. Tomorrow. He could do that. It would give him just enough time to plan the right things to say to convince her Aubrey Hall was a good idea.

Chapter Text

Penelope had thought, time and time again, that she should have remained in Bath. She could have simply written Colin a letter explaining the truth and called it a day.

Yes, she is your daughter. Look out for her, but please be careful to not hurt her.

She could have taken Mrs Hindley’s offer of formally introducing her to Mr Northcote. With Agatha away in London, perhaps she could have entertained the thoughts of marrying. Entering a courtship at the very least. She had never truly given the idea much thought, all of her focus and energy went to ensuring Agatha had everything she needed.

Perhaps if it was not a courtship, it could have been physical and nothing more. Men were able to indulge in such activities all the time. Why not her? She had only been physical with one other aside from Colin. Years ago now, when Agatha was still a child. She had felt lonely, and longed for connection, intimacy. It had wound up feeling wrong, and she had realised afterwards that her heart had not properly healed.

But staying in Bath was never truly an option. There was far too much allure to seeing Colin again. The thought of being able to show him that she had continued existing, had built a life, had raised a surprisingly well-rounded daughter all by herself had been too strong for her to resist.

Of course she had been a bundle of nerves at the thought of facing him once more after so many years and the unimaginable hurt between them, but she had managed to forge ahead and do it.

Every time she’d seen him since, her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. She was never quite sure what expect from their encounters, and she left each one feeling dizzy.

‘I saw you and Father talking last night,’ Agatha remarked. Her tone was conversational, casual. Penelope knew her daughter well enough to see that she wasn’t merely commenting on it. She wanted to know what they spoke about.

‘We did,’ Penelope responded.

Agatha carefully chose earrings to match the dress she was wearing. She was going out promenading with Portia. Penelope was grateful, as it made Colin’s pending visit much easier to keep away from prying eyes.

She had contemplated going to him. He lived alone. There was no one to eavesdrop.

The danger though, was with her heart. It was not possible to simply stop loving Colin Bridgerton. Those feelings were buried and locked away. Being alone with him, in his house was too risky. She did not trust herself to keep those feelings buried. The danger of her finding that key, and unlocking what she had once declared was done was too high.

‘Did he mentioned anything to you about Aubrey Hall?’

There it was, Penelope thought. She wanted to know if a formal invitation had been given. If Penelope had accepted on her behalf.

‘It may have come up,’ Penelope said.

Agatha turned to look at her. Her eyes curious and eager for more.

‘It is between me and your father,’ Penelope continued. She would not quite admit to Agatha she was enjoying stretching it out.

Penelope had known, the moment Colin had brought it up she was not going to be able to say no to the request. She wanted Agatha to be able to experience the magic that was Aubrey Hall. She wanted Agatha to be free to get to know the Bridgerton side of her family away from the prying eyes of the ton.

Penelope was unsure if she could go. Whether she had it in her to face an entire household of Bridgerton’s after everything. She was certain they despised her. That they looked down on what she had done. Judged the decisions that she made without knowing the full story.

She did not know if she had the strength in her to explain to them why she had done what she had.   

‘Please Mama,’ Agatha looked at her pleadingly. ‘Please say I can go. I would so love to.’

‘I know you would,’ Penelope said.

‘Father would love me to as well. Please?’

Penelope gave a sigh. ‘Do not tell your Grandmama, but I will be speaking with him this afternoon.’

Agatha frowned, for a moment, then a grin split across her face. ‘You are?’

‘Yes.’

‘Privately?’

‘Yes! So please do not tell Grandmama or no one will be going anywhere.’

‘Alright, alright. I understand,’ Agatha said, still grinning.

‘Now off you go and enjoy the park. It’s a wonderful day out there.’

‘I will,’ Agatha said. She picked up her reticule and hurried out the door, just as they both heard Portia calling for her. ‘Goodbye Mama, enjoy your afternoon.’

Penelope wished she could enjoy it. A private conversation with Colin did not exactly fill her with excitement.

Actually, Penelope did not want to think too much on what emotions she was feeling over the fact that in a mere hour he would arrive. This was about Agatha. Their daughter and what was best for her. Nothing more.

Whatever she felt for Colin played no role in any of it. She could not allow herself to get caught up in a fantasy simply because he looked at her in a certain way that made her heart race.

That still did not stop her from making sure her curls were brushed and pinned pack delicately, her lips and cheeks rouged and her dress a flattering mint green before he arrived.

By the time Rae knocked on her door and announced a visitor she felt only slightly more prepared.

He was in the garden, as she had instructed him to be. Coins slipped into Rae’s hand allowed them the privacy she desired. Though Penelope did not need to be chaperoned anymore, her mother still seemed to insist on proper rules.

‘Good afternoon,’ Penelope said, keeping her tone polite.

‘Good afternoon,’ Colin responded. He gestured to the seat before them and offered her a seat.

Penelope glanced at it but did not move. Her mind transported to the last time they sat on the bench. Together. He offered to help her find a husband.

It was a lifetime ago.

In fact, so much had happened between them in this very garden all those years ago. She had not thought about it. Not until she was standing here, with him once more. It felt as though she was tempting fate somehow.

‘I will stand thank you,’ she said instead.

‘Very well.’

Silence passed over them. Penelope waited for Colin to start, but he simply stood, staring at her.

‘Aubrey Hall,’ she offered lamely. Hoping it would spark him to start speaking.

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Next week in fact.’

‘You wanted Agatha to join the family earlier?’ she asked.

‘Yes. I did. Both of you,’ he said.

‘Right.’ There was the part she was unsure about.

All Penelope had ever wanted when she was young was to be a Bridgerton. It had almost happened. It was a unique kind of pain to realise just how within her reach it was, and how it was her own fault it all fell apart. If it weren’t for Whistledown…

Her own pain aside, she recognised that Agatha could still have that. Agatha had not made the same mistakes she had. Agatha could have the family Penelope always wanted. In fact, Agatha already did. She was a Bridgerton by blood and they had already welcomed her into the fold. It was so much more than Penelope could have dared hoped for when the truth came to light.

But if she went, if she was there, at Aubrey Hall, surely that would overshadow everything. There would be tension over the fact that she hid Agatha. They they did not know their niece, cousin, daughter… granddaughter.

‘You do not want to,’ Colin realised.

Penelope shook her head. ‘I find it difficult to believe I would be welcomed there.’

‘You would be.’

‘Colin, please be realistic.’

‘You cannot deny me this. Surely. Please.’

Penelope’s eyes widened. The last time Colin had pleaded with her like this it was… well, they were in a carriage and he was pleading for very different reasons. The desperation in his voice felt like an echo of that time, of that Colin, her Colin. She recognised he was setting his pride aside and begging. She wondered if he knew it wouldn't take much more for it to work on her.

‘You are truly this distressed over me not attending Aubrey Hall?’

‘I should be allowed to have my daughter there.’

Oh. It suddenly made sense to Penelope. He did not believe she would allow Agatha there on her own.

‘And I would-’ Colin hesitated.

She waited for him to continue.

‘It could be good for us. If you were there too.’

Penelope’s traitorous heart fluttered with him looking at her so fiercely and referring to them as an ‘us’. It should not have. They were not an ‘us’, they barely had the chance to be. He did not mean it the way her heart tried to interpret it.

‘Why?’ Penelope prided herself on being eloquent. On having practiced over the years to have the right thing to say in the moment. However she found herself rendered near silent. A single syllable was all she could muster to convey her confusion.

‘Pen, we-‘ he stopped himself before starting again. ‘I believe we should speak with one another. In a place where we can do so freely. Away from the prying eyes of society. I have questions, so many questions about Agatha, and the things I missed out on. There are other questions I deserve the answers to as well. Aubrey Hall will give us the freedom Mayfair will not.’

Penelope found herself nodding. Colin visibly relaxed in relief.

‘So you will agree to it?’ He asked.

‘Yes,’ she let herself answer before she could over think it again.

It felt like she was wading into dangerous territory as she did. Walking straight into the lion’s den, with Bridgerton’s who surely hated her, and Colin who definitely did. She would have to watch on the sidelines as Agatha forged bonds with those she once considered herself close with.

It was for the greater good. She attempted to assure herself. For Agatha, and her relationships with her family. Penelope had to remind herself over and over, this was about her daughter and what she needed.

She could perhaps, at least ensure she convinced Eloise to be there, to be her confidant throughout the week. It would be nice to have at least one friend.

‘Thank you. Thank you,’ Colin rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it in thanks. The touch rocked her to her core. Her insides both felt ignited and liquified and she was struck with the sinking realisation that she had not done a good enough job of burying what it was she had always felt for this man. Her body screamed for more. For her to step into his warmth. To embrace him.

She did not. She stood rooted to the spot until he finally removed his hand from her shoulder.

‘I will make the necessary arrangements for travel,’ she tried to move things along so she could be free of his presence.

‘Of course. If you need us to arrange a carriage we can do so.’

‘Thank you. But, we will be able to work that out.’

‘Of course.’

Penelope saw him out. He left through the garden gate as she did not want the increased risk of Portia and Agatha arriving back early.

Speaking of Portia, however, Penelope was going to have to inform her mother of the new plans to go to Aubrey Hall the following week, now that she had agreed to it.

Penelope was back in her room, sitting by the window, trying to read a book when Agatha and Portia finally made it home. Agatha all but sprinted into the room, eager to know what the outcome had been.

Penelope watched with amusement as she tried to not bring it up immediately.

Agatha talked about how nice the afternoon had been, how she had enjoyed the sun, and feeding the ducks in the pond. Until finally, she asked.

'Did you speak with Father?'

'I did,' Penelope said.

'What did you speak about?' she asked.

'Aubrey Hall,' Penelope replied.

'Am I allowed to go?'

'Yes,' Penelope finally admitted. 'We shall both be going, arriving two days before the hearts and flowers ball so that you can spend time with your father and the family.'

'You are going to come as well?'

'Yes,' Penelope sighed.

Agatha smiled. 'It will be nice to have my whole family in one place.'

'Well if that is the case, we should invite Grandmama, and your aunts and uncles.'

Agatha's face dropped. 'Oh, please do not-'

'No, do not worry, I won't,' Penelope quickly said.

'I like them, I really do, I only want… well, I've come to know them quite well already. I would like to get to know the other side of my family just as well.'

'I know,' Penelope said. 'Remember that I grew up with my mother. You never have to apologise for how you feel about her. No matter whether it is positive or negative.'

Agatha gave a nod.

Later that evening, when it was dark, the rest of the family had retired to bed and it was just her and Portia by the fire, Penelope brought it up.

'The Bridgerton's have extended an invitation to Agatha and myself to arrive at Aubrey Hall prior to the ball,' she said softly.

'Pardon?' Portia asked.

'The Bridgerton's have-'

'Yes, I heard you. Which Bridgerton's?'

'Does it matter?'

'Which Bridgerton's?'

'Well, Colin. But he would not have done so without the permission of Anthony and Kate, and Violet as well probably.'

'Are you sure the invitation was for the two of you?'

'Certain of it.'

Portia hummed, but said nothing further.

'I would like the borrow the carriage. It's far more comfortable for a long journey. It can be back in time to bring you to the ball.'

'Are you certain it's a good idea for you to go?' Portia asked.

'No, I am not,' Penelope found herself admitting. 'But I am certain it presents a good opportunity for Colin and I to talk. To find a way to be civil. For Agatha's sake.'

'You can do that here in Mayfair.'

'With the way the Ton pry's into everyone else's affairs? No, it is not the same.'

'I cannot stop you,' Portia sighed. 'Though I will make it know that I do not think it wise.'

Penelope gave a nod. She stood, signalling that she was ready to retire for the evening.

'Penelope, please be careful,' Portia said.

'I always am.'

'With your heart,' Portia continued. 'I fear that, well I fear that you will get swept up where you should not.'

'Mama, I assure you, there is nothing to fear there. This is all for Agatha's sake. Ensuring there is civility between myself and the Bridgerton's, so that she does not feel caught up in something that it not her doing. Nothing more.'

'If you say so,' Portia did not sound convinced, but Penelope knew she had to let it go.

'I say so. Good night Mama.'

'Good night.'

Chapter Text

The countryside rolled past them as the carriage made its way to Aubrey Hall. Penelope was enjoying the fresh air, the wide landscape before them. It felt good to be away from London.

They’d left early, far too early for either her or Agatha’s liking. But the journey to Aubrey Hall would take the entire day and so, it had been necessary.

‘Mama, how did everything come to be?’ Agatha asked, breaking the near hour long silence.

‘How did what come to be?’ Penelope asked.

‘Well, I know you once lived in Mayfair, and participated in the social season. You were engaged to my father and, well, I am here. How did it all happen? I have been trying to put the pieces together with information I get from you and Father, but I do not think I have the full story.’

Penelope glanced back out the window. They had hours left of their journey. She did not feel like revisiting the past in such a way, but as she looked over to her daughter sitting across from her she recognised that she owed it to her. If she were in Agatha’s shoes she would also want to know the truth.

‘I first met your father when I was twelve and he was fourteen,’ she said.

‘You knew each other as children?’

Penelope nodded. She launched into the story of how they met. How their friendship formed and grew.

She told Agatha about her first season, about Marina.

‘You surely told him then?’ Agatha asked. ‘About her being with child to another man?’

Penelope shook her head. ‘I tried. I did not have the right words, I was only ten and seven at the time.’

‘But he found out eventually?’

Penelope nodded. She shared as much for the story as she could. Carefully leaving out the parts about Whistledown. One day she would reveal that part of herself to Agatha, just not yet.

‘Would you make the same decisions again?’ Agatha asked.

Penelope bit her lip. ‘I do not know,’ she answered softly. ‘That thought may not be worthwhile dwelling on as neither of us can change the past now.’

Agatha nodded.

Penelope continued to share the abridged version of her relationship with Colin. How in her third season out she was desperate to leave her mothers house and decided to pursue a husband. How Colin had offered to help her and wound up being the one who offered for her hand. She did not go into detail of the downfall of their relationship. Sharing only that things soured between them and their engagement ended. That it was only afterwards she discovered she was with child.

It was almost evening when they finally arrived.

Aubrey Hall was an achingly familiar sight. So many years. Summers, balls, and everything in between had happened in the grand estate. This time of year the grounds were lit up with flowers of every colour imaginable. 

‘Oh wow,’ Agatha breathed.

Penelope felt the same. She was not prepared for the onslaught of memories that hit at their arrival.

She could almost hear Hyacinth yelling at Gregory over a pall mall game. Anthony yelling at Benedict and Colin for tracking mud into the house. She could smell the leather of the books in the library. Colin finding her there reading, just because he knew that was where she would be.

The carriage stopped right at the entrance. It took between Penelope taking a deep breath and opening the door of the carriage for a small welcoming party to gather on the steps of the grand estate. She did her best to steady herself when she saw them.

Colin, of course. He was smiling, a proud smile directed at Agatha that warmed her. Beside him were Kate and Anthony, then Simon with Belinda. Finally, her eyes fell on Violet. The matriarch of the Bridgerton family.

She looked nervous. But smiled all the same. Penelope’s heart raced. She had not used the time in the carriage mentally preparing as she should have. She was about to spend days with this family and she was not entirely certain how they felt about her.

Colin was the one who stepped forward. He addressed Agatha first.

‘Agatha, welcome to Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton ancestral home.’

‘It is far grander than I expected,’ she said. ‘Thank you for inviting me here.’

‘You are always welcome at Aubrey Hall,’ Kate said, she then gave Penelope a pointed look. ‘Both of you.’

Penelope gave her a grateful smile a nod. Kate could say it all she wanted, and probably believed she meant it, Penelope had always liked Kate, she had a strength of character rarely seen in Mayfair. However, it would take a long time for Penelope to feel at ease in any Bridgerton home again, if she ever could. The distance between her childhood self and who she was now had never felt more stark.

‘We feel so fortunate to have you here,’ Violet spoke for the first time.

Penelope turned to her. She watched as Violet pulled Agatha into an embrace. Her heart warmed at the sight, despite the ache she felt as not being able to share the same moment.  Nothing quite compared to just how maternal Violet Bridgerton’s hugs were. At one point in her life Penelope was certain a hug from Violet alone could heal anything.

Then Violet turned to her. ‘Penelope, dearest,’ she said.

Before Penelope could speak she was enveloped into the kind of hug only Violet Bridgerton could give. It was warm, and welcoming and she could feel deep cracks in her heart mending as she melted into it. It was everything she had needed, for so long. Everything she wanted to sink into and try to keep.

She wanted to cry. To sob there and then in Violet Bridgerton’s arms.

She did not. She kept herself collected.

She could cry later. Much later. Once she was alone.

‘Welcome back,’ Violet said softly, for her ears only.

Eventually, reluctantly, they pulled away.

‘Let us show you to your rooms,’ Kate offered.

Penelope nodded gratefully. Two of the footmen had their luggage in hand, and Penelope and Agatha followed Kate through Aubrey Hall.

It was surprising to Penelope, just how little the place had changed. So many memories were unlocking as they walked up the stairs and through to the wing where most of the bedrooms were. They stopped at one door.

‘This is your room Agatha,’ Kate said, pushing the door open.

‘I get my own room?’ Agatha asked in awe.

‘We don’t mind sharing,’ Penelope offered.

‘Nonsense. You are Bridgerton’s. You can have your own rooms.’

Penelope knew she should correct Kate. She was not a Bridgerton. Not even close. It hardly felt like the right moment though. So she let it pass.

‘Penelope,‘ Kate turned to her with a devastatingly beautiful smile. ‘You are next door.’

Kate opened the door for her and Penelope stepped in. It was like being transported back in time. It was the room she always stayed in, back when she was still a child. The room was all greens and blue accents. It looked exactly as she remembered it.

‘We though you might like something familiar,’ Kate said with a smile.

‘Thank you,’ Penelope said, her voice was soft and she was worried it would crack. ‘All of this means so much to me. I know it cannot be easy and I-‘

‘Stop,’ Kate said, her tone gentle. ‘You are family, Penelope. No matter what anyone says.’

‘But I-‘

‘We are just grateful you have returned, and to have the precious gift that is Agatha brought into our lives. Regardless of how long it took for us to find our way together again.’

Penelope nodded. ‘Thank you Kate. This is all appreciated more than you will ever know.

‘We will let you freshen up for dinner. We will meet you in the dining room in an hour. You can call for a ladies maid if you need one.’

Penelope nodded. She stood there, in the middle of the room until Kate and Violet shut the door behind them.

It was only once the door was firmly closed and she hear their retreating footsteps that she let herself go. Every thread holding her together for dear life finally snapped. She couldn’t even make it to the bed. She sank to her knees on the floor. She covered her face with her hands to muffle the sobs that escaped without warning.

Why had she thought she could do this? Be in a place that was so Bridgerton. How could they be so hospital to her? Welcome her into their home with open arms when she certainly did not feel as though she deserved it? How could she just accept it?

Every part of her hurt. Her body, her heart, down in her very soul she felt the pain. Years of burying it deep suddenly undone.

She could not do this. She could not be so close to what she almost had, all she had ever wanted and realise everything she had thrown away because she feared a loveless marriage. It did not feel fair she had to confront her past so brutally after running from it for so long.

Sobs wracked her body violently. Tears dripped from her face, onto her dress and the carpet she knelt on. She struggle to breathe through it, every breath more shallow and shaky than the last. The only other time she had cried like this was the day she moved into her small cottage in Bath. 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually she calmed down. The tears eased, her breathing deepened and with several long, deep breathes, it finally felt as though it was over.

Penelope gave herself fifteen seconds and several long deep breathes before she called for a maid to help her into a dress for dinner, and fix up her hair.

All things considered she was only three minutes late to the dinner table and fortunately not the last to arrive. She approached the dining room with a large amount of trepidation. She did not have a clue what to expect.

As she entered the room, she was overwhelmed by how large the gathering was. She had somehow not anticipated every Bridgerton to be present. But as she scanned the room, she realised every single one of the siblings was present. So were most of their partners (the exception was Phillip, who was still in Gloucestershire).

They greeted her cordially.

It was Eloise who took her by the hand and pulled her to a seat at the table. She was grateful for her friend taking her under her wing in an otherwise overwhelming situation. With Eloise on one side, Agatha on the other, and Colin across from her, she felt the most at-ease she could.

Conversation flowed easily amongst Bridgerton's, as it always did. She tried her best to catalogue things of the spouses she did not know. It was easy to see how the pairings had been made. Bridgerton's, it seemed, had a natural ease to finding their match.

It made her heart ache a little for Colin.

It surprised her, honestly, that he had never married anyone else. When his family was so full of love and strong partnerships, surely he desired it too?

Instead, he sat across from her, Sophie on one side, Gregory on the other.

Hyacinth was telling a long rambling story about an afternoon she went to. Penelope was listening intently. She could remember Hyacinth as a child, always telling elaborate stories, usually about other people.

She could have easily taken up Whistledown mantle had Penelope thought to pass it on.

Part way through, she caught Colin's eye and before she could think, she smiled at him. He returned it and it made her heart jump a little.

'Are we playing Pall Mall tomorrow afternoon?' Gregory asked.

'It is tradition,' Anthony said. 'Children's game first, then the adults.'

'Why do they get to go first?' Hyacinth asked.

'Because last time three of the balls ended up in the lake and it was an arduous task to retrieve them,' Kate chimed in.

'Mama, do you know what Pall Mall is?' Agatha asked.

Penelope nodded, and caught Colin's eye once more. She nodded her head towards their daughter and he realised instantly what he needed to do.

'Family,' he spoke up above the chatter. 'We have a newcomer to Pall Mall who needs to be initiated.' he gestured towards Agatha.

The chatter started immediately. Everyone started explaining the rules all at once, and how to play, what to look out for.

'So I suppose this is a competitive game?' she asked, Penelope grimaced slightly at the glint in her eye. Agatha enjoyed competition. A little too much.

'If you're not playing to win, you might as well not play at all,' Daphne said.

'I see,' Agatha mused. 'In that case, I look forward to besting you all tomorrow.'

That got her favour immediately. Penelope quietly ate her meal, watching as her daughter seemed to officially be welcomed into the Bridgerton fold through competitiveness and Pall Mall.

Instead of staying up, as she would have done when she was younger, desperate to not waste a minute with the Bridgerton's, she retired to bed early.

It meant she awoke early too, and after a stroll through the garden and breaking her fast with some pastries, she found herself, mid-morning back in her bed chambers, mulling over what her next move should be.

As much as Kate had promised she was welcome, she still felt very much as though she were a begrudging guest, tolerated because they had to. No actions from any of the family confirmed this was the case, but she could not shake the feeling deep within herself.

There was a knock on the door, and Penelope welcomed them in. Hesitantly Agatha stepped inside.

'Hello Mama,' Agatha greeted.

‘Why are you in here, Agatha?’ Penelope asked, curious as to why her daughter had seemingly taken up residence in her chambers.

‘I have been waiting for you,’ she said.

‘Is everything ok?’ Penelope asked, panic flared through her. If something had gone wrong, if someone had said, or implied something to her she would have to speak with Colin about it.

‘Everything is fine,’ Agatha smiled. ‘The Bridgerton’s are wonderful.’

‘Ok, good, I’m glad.’

‘I just hoped we could spend more time together, it feels as though we’ve barely gotten the chance since coming to Mayfair.’

‘Oh, I see. I am sorry about that,’ Penelope felt guilt constrict in her. She had not meant to get so caught up in it all.

‘So, I was thinking you could show me the library. Aunt Eloise was saying how you loved it so when you used to visit and I thought you could share some of your favourite volumes.’

‘You would like that?’ Penelope asked.

Agatha nodded enthusiastically. ‘I would like it a lot.’

‘Well, alright, let’s get to the library then.’

Penelope lead Agatha through Aubrey Hall, she was still just as familiar with its wings and corridors as she once had and they easily found the old library. It had always been one of her favourite places in Aubrey Hall. She used to spend hours here, reading all sorts of things. Even some volumes she knew Violet would be furious to find out she’d read.

She pushed the door open, and was greeted with the smell of leather and the grand site of volumes all stacked on top of each other, meticulously organised.

‘Now, you must be careful with some of these, they are incredibly old and-‘ Penelope spun around. ‘Agatha?’

She caught site of the door closing. A giggle and then the familiar sound of retreating footsteps.

There was a groan, that decidedly did not come from her and her head whipped around to the corner of the library.

Colin.

‘I fear we have been played,’ he said.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ She asked.

‘I came down here with Belinda, she was asking about a title she knew I had read. The girls appear to have locked us in here.’

‘Oh,’ Penelope was speechless for anything else to say.

‘I am sorry. I am sure either someone will notice us missing soon enough, or they will become guilty and let us out.’

Penelope sighed. ‘Well, I suppose at least we have books to occupy our time.’

Colin nodded.

Penelope turned from him, unsure of what else to say and instead focused on the shelf before her. She was only pretending to read the spines. In truth her heart hammered over being in such close proximity to him. It was the first time they had been truly alone since she first arrived in Mayfair.

‘Or, we could talk?’ he offered.

She spun around to face him.

‘We said we would.’

‘Well, yes I suppose we did but we-‘

‘Then let us use the opportunity to talk. I have a feeling it’s going to take my family a while to notice us gone.’ Colin gestured to the arm chairs placed in the middle of the room.

Penelope caved, and nodded. She stepped to the middle of the room and took a seat in one of the chairs, Colin quickly followed.  

A long silence passed.

‘What did you want to speak about?’ Penelope asked. She did not know where they were supposed to start. There was both everything and nothing to say.

'How are you finding Aubrey Hall?' he asked.

Penelope raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment on his starting point. Instead she chose to answer it. 'Fine. Overwhelming. I have many memories here.'

Colin nodded as though he understood. When he did not say anything, she continued.

'Summers here with your family. Some winters too. It always felt like a safe haven. A welcomed reprieve from my own family. I remember-' she stopped herself. She did not need to reminisce too much on the past.

'Remember what?' he asked, sounding eager to know.

'Watching your family play Pall Mall. Being impressed, and pleased every single time the way you manipulated the game.'

'I never manipulated a thing,' he protested.

'Oh but you did,' she smiled shyly at him. 'I could never keep my eyes off you for long, so I saw every tactic you used. You were, are, clever.'

'Yes, well,' Colin cleared his throat. 'It was all in the name of a Pall Mall win.'

'You are always so competitive,' Penelope said. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should, then decided he would probably enjoy the tid bit she had to share. 'Agatha has a lot of that trait, as you may have noticed last night.'

'A lot you say?' he asked. His eyes sparked, just as she had hoped they would. It sent her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding.

'Oh yes,' Penelope readily confirmed. 'We would go to the markets every Saturday and she would always come up with some kind of contest on the way.'

'What kind?'

'Oh, anything. Who could find the reddest strawberries, the greenest cabbages. The most obscure trinket, the most expensive cake. Anything that caught her interest really.' Penelope warmed at the memories. It had been a while since Agatha had instigated such a competition, and they were such simpler times. She remembered feeling as though she'd finally found her rhythm with motherhood.

'How often did she win?'

'Most of the time,' Penelope smiled softly. 'I would occasionally make sure she did not. Only so she did not turn into a miniature version of Anthony.'

'Thank you for your service,' Colin said. He met her eyes, his own crinkled around the corners in a smile that sent that flutter through her once more.

'You are most welcome.'

'Tell me more about what she was like? As a child?' he asked.

Penelope took a deep breath. 'She was so bright. She still is, as I am sure you've realised. Even as a very young child she had so much interest and fascination with the world around her. She would talk to any and all strangers that she could. She would always be so inquisitive about them. She would almost harass them with questions until I had to pull her away.'

'So she was not shy?'

Penelope blushed. 'Not at all. She has every bit of that annoying Bridgerton confidence.'

'Do not underestimate your own strength. Perhaps much of it is what you were not given the opportunity to be until you were older.'

'What?' Penelope was sure her eyes were wide as saucers as she looked back at him.

Colin had the grace to blush.  His cheeks tinged red and he looked away from her. 'I only mean that, you are incredibly strong, and brave. You always have been.'

'I…' Penelope found herself rendered speechless. 'Thank you.' She eventually settled on.

'I am merely telling you the truth. Please, what other stories about our daughter do you have?'

A thought suddenly struck Penelope. So strongly she was suddenly unsure about how it had not occurred to her earlier. She chose to speak before she could stop herself.

'I have journals I kept,' she said, and Colin's eyes flew to hers. 'They are back in Bath, not with me. I could, mail them to you when we return after the season is over.’

Something in Colin’s face changed. The softness that had been there disappeared. A hard mask came on. It was almost fascinating to watch his expression change so suddenly.

‘Right,’ he said, his voice slightly choked. ‘Of course you will return to Bath.’

‘It’s our home.’

‘Does Agatha know of these plans?’

‘It does not matter that-‘

‘Of course.’ Colin interrupted her. ‘She will simply have to do as you say.’

‘We can come to an arrangement,’ Penelope said. ‘Surely you did not expect us to stay in Mayfair forever.’

Colin looked frustrated. As though there were a million things he wanted to say but was not. Penelope wanted to demand that he did. She wanted to know what was going through his mind. She refrained. It did not feel as though anything good could come of it.

‘Besides, there is still so much of the season left,’ she tried. ‘We have plenty of time to work it out.’

Colin didn’t respond.

A good five minutes of extricating silence passed between them. Penelope kept glancing at Colin, who seemed to refuse to look her way.

‘What did you mean by ‘we have been played’?’ She asked, referring to his earlier comment.

‘I already told you Belinda-‘

‘You said how, not why,’ she pointed out.

Colin looked pointedly away from her.

‘What do you know?’ She asked him.

‘Nothing. I don’t know anything for certain,’ he said.

‘But you have suspicions,’ she realised.

He gave a short nod.

‘What suspicions?’

‘Perhaps you should be interrogating your daughter, not me,’ he said.

It stung. In a truly unexpected and horrifying way. Her daughter. Not theirs. Hers. She suddenly understood why he got so upset that night at the Danbury ball when she had said it.

‘Colin, please do not-‘

‘I am sure I can pick the lock,’ he stood abruptly. ‘Could I borrow a hairpin?’

Penelope studied him for a moment. She decided it was best not to argue and she pulled one of the longer pins out of her hair. Her curls tumbled down around her shoulders as she did. Their eyes met, and it was a million unspoken things all at once.

He took the pin from her, careful to not let their fingers brush. And then he was gone from her line of vision. 

Penelope felt helpless. She did not say a word. Instead she stayed on the armchair, listening to the noises of the lock components and the pin he was no doubt manoeuvring within it.

There was a louder click, and a creak. The door opening.

‘I should have thought of this sooner,’ she heard him mutter.

Then she heard his footsteps as he walked away until she knew she was definitely alone.

Penelope gave a sigh. If this was how every conversation was going to go, she was certainly in for a long few days.

Chapter Text

Colin stared down at his desk. The singular hairpin from Penelope's head rested on the mahogany. The decorative gem on the end seemed to sparkle up at him. Laughing at his failure to remain calm and rational.

There was another life he had lived. One where he took her hair down simply for the enjoyment of seeing it loose around her shoulders, to see the way her eyes sparked and darkened with desire. For him. Another life where he could take her as his, where he could feel every soft curve under his palms, and listen to her sighs hot in his ear.

That was not the life he lived now.

He did not ever truly know where he stood with her. What his place in her life was now. For every step forward he thought they took he was thrown another curveball.

Bath. Bath was her home now.

He had forgotten entirely. That was how quick he had been to adjust to their presence in Mayfair. He had come to assume they would choose live in Mayfair, where he did. That there might be equal time spent with their daughter before she eventually married.

Being confronted with the news they would return to Bath so suddenly had sent white hot anger flashing through him. It felt as though it was yet another blow against him. Another symbol of how he missed out on everything, and there was no true way to claw it back. As he sat at the desk in his study, a symbolic hairpin before him, his anger started to subside and he was able to form a plan.

He would need to look into renting a townhouse in Bath. Something he had not considered before. He could only hope Anthony would see reason and agree to the arrangement.

Colin knew his anger continued to get the best of him. He let it override an otherwise pleasant conversation, one where he was able to learn more about his daughter and what she was like as a child. The thought he’d missed out still stung, but he was far more focused now on simply learning as much as he could.

He knew what he needed to do.

Apologise to Penelope. Ask for more of her time. Not let his anger have him storming out on her. Not again. His pride was not worth it.

His eyes flickered to the clock, the children’s Pall Mall game would be starting soon, and he had to be there to show Agatha how to play.

Shrugging his jacket on and buttoning it up, he made his way to garden. Just in time to catch Daphne talking with Agatha, who held the green mallet in her hands. He smiled at that, the green was a particular favourite of his too.

‘I hope you are not manipulating the game to your favour, dear sister,’ he said.

‘I was explaining the rules.’

Colin shook his head. ‘You want one of your brood to win so you may claim victory. I now have a stake in this match, and you best believe I long to ensure it is played right. Agatha, come along with me,’ he said.

Agatha looked between them for a moment then, stepped towards Colin and silently followed up out of earshot of the family.

‘Disregard anything she just told you,’ he said.

‘Oh, but she simply-‘

‘No. Here is how you’re going to play the game. This is a family competition. Sibling set against sibling set. Of course, everyone tries to pretend it is each for their own, but you need to have a close eye on Belinda and Edmund.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They will look at though they are simply attempting to help their younger siblings with the game, but I assure you, it is so their ‘clan’ wins. Do not let the fact that Mary is seven years of age cloud your judgement.’

‘Oh, I see,’ her eyes sparked. ‘If anything, I should be at an advantage then, as I won’t be distracted by a younger sibling of my own.’

Colin nodded. His chest constricted. He could not let her see how that affected him so.

He had always imagined having a large family.

‘Exactly. Use that to your advantage.’

Agatha nodded. ‘I will. Do not fret Father, I shall win this game for us.’

‘That’s my girl,’ he grinned at her and sent her on her way.

‘Manipulating her already?’ Benedict sidled up to him.

‘Simply ensuring she understands what is at stake.’

‘You have a disadvantage.’

‘Do I?’ Colin asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘You only have one, and this is her first game. Unless her cousins choose to take pity on her there is no possible way she can win.’

‘We shall see who is eating their words later,’ Colin said. He bid Benedict off before the conversation could further and took a deep breath as he was once again struck with his own losses.

Now was not the time to dwell on those thoughts.

The course for the game was readied by the two youngest, and as Colin watched he was struck with a flash of fiery red. He turned his head, and he truly was like a moth to a flame, for Penelope had arrived in the garden, close by Eloise’s side.

He had not been able to forgive his sister yet. Could not even think about what she had done.

Despite his earlier upset at Penelope, his eyes were still drawn to her. It was as though he could not look away until her eyes met his and he knew all would be forgiven between them.

Finally she looked over to him. She studied him, as though assessing his mood since he stormed out of her. Her small, soft smile and accompanying nod indicated that she understood. They would have a more civil discussion later. He could apologise and they could attempt to find a better way to navigate everything. One where, with any luck, his emotions did not continue to best him.

The game started and they watched with rapt attention. Parents cheering their children on, encouraging them every step of the way. Colin watched the way Agatha embraced the game with ease. He could see her competitive determination coming through, particularly when she forwent moving forward in the game to knock Edmund back several steps, using her ball to bat his well out of the way.

It was a proud moment for him, watching the way Edmund's face fell, before his eyes narrowed at Agatha.

'I will not forget this, cousin. I will get you back,' he said, his tone menacing, but not threatening.

Colin watched with bated breath for Agatha's reaction. She simply smirked at him. 'We will see about that.'

The game continued and Agatha, Belinda and Charles were in the three way tie for the lead, Charlotte coming in close behind them, she was practically Kate's double, so Colin was not too surprised she was in it to win.

It was Charlotte's turn. Colin watched and she made eye contact with her older brothers, gave a small nod, then sent the ball flying into the air. It was impressive how high it went, though as is descended it became clear to all watching that whatever target it was supposed to hit, it was well of the mark of.

Instead, the ball collided with the top of Agatha's head.

The sound was loud. The scream from Agatha shot through Colin's body as she crumbled to the ground in an instant.

Charlotte's hands flew to her mouth in a shocked gasp, she look genuinely horrified. The young girl starting crying out that she was sorry and did not intend to hit her like that.

‘Agatha!’ Colin wasted no time. He raced over to her, only vaguely aware of the rest of his family doing the same thing.

He reached her in record time. She was awake, her hand clutched the crown of her head where the ball had hit her.

Colin knelt down next her, beside him Penelope was doing the same.

‘Let me see,’ he said, his voice soft and gentle as to not alarm her.

Hesitantly Agatha moved her hands away and Colin, relieved that there was no blood, carefully inspected her. There was already a lump forming. Her sharp inhales and winces as he carefully examined her let him know is was very tender to the touch.

‘Agatha I need you to look at me,’ he directed.

She raised her head towards him, squinting against the sunlight.

‘What is your name?’

She frowned.

‘Answer the question for me, darling,’ he encouraged.

‘Agatha Featherington.’

‘Do you know where you are?’

‘Aubrey Hall.’

‘Do you know who I am?’ He waited with baited breath.

‘My father.’

Colin nodded. Happy with her answers. She was not showing signs of confusion or memory loss, it relieved him immensely. He looked to Penelope who watched him. Her eyes filled with concern and worry.

‘She’s going to be ok, but I will get Mother to call the physician in to look over her,’ he looked back to Agatha. ‘You should rest for the afternoon, possibly the evening too.’

He expected a protest, but she must have been in a great deal of pain, for she nodded and let him help her stand up.

She leant against his body, allowed him to support her. Before they started walking back to the house Agatha held her hand out to Penelope, who readily took it, gripping in tightly as though to assure herself Agatha was going to be well.

The three of them walked back inside together. 

They lead her up to her room and he helped to her to sit on the bed, whilst Penelope assisted in removing her boots.

‘We will get one of the ladies maids to assist your dress and get you into something more comfortable,’ Penelope said. Her voice soft, comforting, motherly.

‘I will be fine Mama,’ Agatha protested.

‘I am not taking any chances,’ Penelope insisted. ‘You will rest, the physician will check and with any luck you will be alright for the ball.’

Agatha looked worried. ‘Mama, I have to attend the ball. I cannot miss it.’

‘We will see what the physician says.’

Colin agreed with her. He would not risk his daughter aggravating a head injury for a dance. He could not allow that.

Penelope called for the maid. Colin watched as she discussed with the maid and then the two of them left the room.

‘Should we have left her?’ Penelope asked him as the door closed behind them, her eyes wide with worry and concern.

‘She deserves her privacy whilst she changes,’ Colin said. He too, felt bad leaving their daughter alone in there, but he could see the fear and distress clear on Penelope’s face. So he did what he could to assure her. He had grown up in this household, wonderful, but chaotic, and there had been many an injury suffered, from scraped knees, to blows to the head. He himself had been victim to many. He knew, she was going to be alright, and he knew, Penelope needed his reassurance. 

Penelope nodded at his words, but the distress didn’t leave.

Colin acted impulsively, without truly thinking. His mind focused on the way Penelope was worried, and distressed and needed comfort as much as he did. He stepped in towards her, drew his arms around her and pulled her to his body.

He half expected her to freeze up, to push him away.

She did not.

She leant into him. Her face buried into his chest and he held her tighter.

‘She’ll be just fine,’ he assured her. ‘She’s not the first to be hit in the head with a pall mall ball, and won’t be the last.’

‘The way she crumbled to the ground was terrifying,’ Penelope spoke into his chest, her voice sending vibrations through his body, warming him from the inside out.

‘I know, I know,’ he stroked her hair, her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner, in an effort to calm her down.

‘I did not like it at all.’

‘Neither did I,’ he agreed. ‘But she will be ok. She just needs some rest.’

Penelope nodded. She raised her head to meet his gaze. She was still firmly secure in his arms. It was as though a missing piece of his heart was being found. Slotting right back into the place it belonged. It made his chest tighten and his stomach tie itself into knots.

It should not feel this way. 

There was an endless list of reasons that he should not have such an emotional response to holding her once more after eighteen years of not being able to. Too many for him to name. In this moment, however, none of those things seemed to matter.

Holding her felt right. This was where she was supposed to be.

This was where he was supposed to be.

There was the telltale sign of footsteps approaching and they sprung apart.

Colin smoothed the front of his jacket down, as though she had left an imprint of herself on more than just his heart, that would reveal the embrace they were just in. She was doing the same with her dress.

Around the corner came Anthony and Kate.

‘Is she ok?’ Kate asked, her eyes full of concern.

Colin nodded. ‘A little rattled, but she will be fine.’

‘We have sent for the physician,’ Anthony said. ‘Better to have her looked over than not.’

‘I am so sorry,’ Kate said. ‘It was Charlotte’s ball and I just feel so incredibly guilty for the injury caused.’

Colin was about to say something but it was Penelope who did.

‘They are children, it is not their fault. I know Agatha will be fine, it was simply a shock to see her fall the way she did.’

Kate stepped towards Penelope and placed a comforting hand on her arm. ‘You are far too kind. I will be speaking with her about what is and isn’t appropriate all the same. I simply pray Agatha is well.’

‘Thank you, Kate.’ Penelope said softly.

The door to her room opened, and the ladies maid stepped out.

‘She is tucked in, warm and resting,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ Penelope offered.

‘We will be back when the physician arrives,’ Kate said, nodding to Anthony.

They left, and Colin and Penelope were left to enter Agatha’s room.

Colin let Penelope lead. She carried in her a strength he did not possess. Her head high, her back straight as she strode into the room as though she owned it. The fear and distress he had seen in her before was hidden within her, it was clearly not for Agatha’s eyes. When she reached Agatha her expression was so similar to that of his own mothers when she had taken care of them if they’d fallen ill.

She stroked Agatha’s hair.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Fine,’ Agatha said. ‘My head still hurts, but I don’t feel dizzy any more.’

‘That’s good,’ Colin shared. ‘It means the injury is not too severe.’

Penelope gave him a soft smile and short nod, an encouragement to come closer.

He did. He took Agatha’s closest hand in both of his. ‘You gave us both a bit of a scare.’

Agatha did not respond straight away. Her eyes flickered between the two of them. Then she smiled.

‘What is it?’ Penelope asked.

‘It is nice,’ she said. ‘Seeing you both side by side like this. I would have gotten injured far sooner had I known this would be the outcome.’

Colin could not look at Penelope.

‘You do not mean that,’ Penelope said.

'Perhaps not truly,' Agatha admitted. 'I still enjoy the sight though.'

Colin could not help a glance at Penelope then, just at the same time she looked up at him. Her bright, blue eyes were wide, hopeful and yet, he could see her trepidation over how he might react to that. In truth, warmth bloomed in his chest as he realised, it was the first time the three of them had been alone together.

As a family.

As it should have always been.

He found his eyes stinging with tears at the thought. He rapidly blinked them and smiled, his eyes flickering between them.

'Perhaps the three of us can indulge a little longer.'

He was rewarded with a beaming smile from Agatha, before she winced and admitted it hurt her head to smile that wide.

Colin dragged the armchair in the room over to the bed for Penelope to sit on, while he himself sat on the vanity stool.

'I want to hear a story,' he declared.

'What kind of story?' Penelope asked.

He shrugged. 'Anything, something from the archives. Something funny.'

'Oh, what about the time we Mr Northcott ran into us at the markets?' Agatha looked to Penelope.

Penelope glanced to Colin, a wary look on her face that sent an alarm through him. The feeling was distantly familiar, but he chose not to dwell on it.

'Well, alright then,' Penelope sighed.

She launched into a story about the time they were at the Saturday markets, when a man they knew through their neighbour, Mr Northcott, tumbled into Penelope, who then tumbled into a stall selling apples sending them flying everywhere.

'You should have seen the way Mama told him off and told him he would pay for the damages occurred,' Agatha said, a proud smile on her face. 'If I did not know any wiser, I would say that he quite enjoyed being told off by you.'

Penelope's face grew red. 'Agatha, it is un-ladylike to speak in such a manner,' she scolded.

Something tingled in Colin at the mention of this Mr Northcott, and Penelope's reaction to Agatha's comment (Penelope was correct, Agatha should not be speaking of such things, in fact, she should not even understand the implication of what she had said). He pushed the feeling aside.

The were interrupted by a knock on the door. Kate, informing them the physician had arrived. They let him into the room and allowed him to perform his examination.

As he checked over Agatha, Colin could not help but hover, perhaps being a nuisance to the professional, as he inspected her.

'She will be fine,' the physician eventually declared. He faced Colin. 'She should stay in bed for the rest of the day, however if the swelling has gone down tomorrow and she feels able to, she can start to move about.'

'Thank you,' Colin nodded.

They opted to have dinner in Agatha's room, all three of them.

Once dinner was over, Agatha was feeling tired and so with a goodnight and kisses to her forehead, they let her be.

Colin knew he did not need to escort her to her room. It was right next door. His own was much further down, still, he saw her to her chambers. Penelope's hand reached for the handle and she paused. She turned back to him and her bright blue eyes met his once more.

'The last time she was ill I-' she stopped herself, and shook her head, almost scolding herself.

'What?' Colin asked, if it was something he should know, he wanted to.

'It is a ridiculous thought. Please, do not mind me.'

'I would like to know,' Colin said. 'particularly if it pertains to Agatha.'

Penelope shook her head. 'It was a selfish thought. About myself.'

'I would still like to know.'

'I suffered terrible nightmares, I barely slept myself,' she admitted. She took in a deep shuddering breath. 'Having to take care of her alone, when I could barely take care of myself was the hardest thing I've ever done.'

'You are not alone this time,' he said, his voice soft, barely a whisper.

She nodded. 'I had the most ridiculous thought, you would think me foolish.'

'I highly doubt that.'

Penelope bit her lip, and his eye was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He was wading into dangerous waters, he knew. Yet he could not look away from her.

'I was going to ask if you might… hold me? Just for tonight?'

He should not have any other answer than no. As he looked at her, met her cautious eyes that glimmered with a spark of hope, as his eyes traced over her face, seeing only his Penelope, the woman he had loved, there was no possible option for him to do anything else.

'I will,' he agreed.

They slipped through the door to her room, closing it quietly behind them.

Chapter Text

Colin snored.

It was something Penelope hadn’t previously known about him, for although they had created a child together they never had the opportunity to share the same bed for sleep. Unlike her father’s roar of a snore she would hear from time to time growing up as she crept through the house, or Prudence’s whistling snore, Colin’s snore was soft and gentle, she found it soothing if only because it meant he was real, he was there beside her all night.

She had not expected him to agree when the words tumbled from her mouth 'I was going to ask if you might… hold me? Just for tonight?'. She had expected him to blanch at her request. Remind her how inappropriate it was. How they, in no certain terms could be in the same bed together. It was wildly improper behaviour and under his families roof no less. She had never been more relieved to have been wrong about an assumption. It appeared he needed her comfort as much as she needed his.

Agatha would fine. She knew it, logically. It did not diminish how terrifying it had been watching her fall to the ground the way she had. How much it hurt seeing her in bed in the middle of the afternoon, not even protesting it because of her pain.

For all the times Agatha had been ill, or injured in her lifetime, Penelope had been alone. She had to be strong for her daughter, and she had no one else lean on.

Now, there was someone else who understood. Who shared her worried and fears.

Things were still tense between them. One common fear did not undo the years of hurt that lingered, simmering under the surface still. Did not repair all that needed repairing. However, it was a comfort to know her agony was shared. She was no longer alone. At least not in this moment.

It had been with shaky hands she had undone her dress and put her nightgown on, behind the privacy screen already in the room. Years of practise in Bath had her not needing assistance to undress from a simple day dress. Although Colin did not see a thing, the thought of how close he was to her undressed body made her shiver. He discarded his outer layers, sleeping in his shirt, loose on his frame and revealing far too much skin and his breeches. It could not have been comfortable, but he had not protested.

They had not spoken as they crawled into the bed, both under the covers, doused the candles and were enveloped in darkness.

True to his word, Colin held her. He folded his body around her and she could feel his heartbeat against her back, it was fast, his breath shallow as he tentatively curled his arm around her waist and pulled her into him.

Penelope was sure she did not dare breathe for several long minutes. Afraid she would disrupt the moment and it would be lost to her forever.

She did not get a lot of sleep. Too afraid to miss a moment of being in Colin’s arms, and too afraid of the nightmares of Agatha’s injuring herself that appeared when she did.

She could see the sun, starting to peak it's way through the curtains. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. Committing the feel of his arm tight around her and his broad chest against her back to memory. She may not have this opportunity again.

There was the distinct sound of the door knob opening, and before Penelope could react, the door creaked open.

'Penelope? I wanted to check in on- oh!'

'What is it?' Colin mumbled sleepily beside her.

Penelope sat up, much faster than she should have.

Eloise stood in the middle of the room, frozen to the spot as her eyes took in the sight before her.

'Sorry. I will just, sorry! I did not see anything,' Eloise rushed out as she backed out of the room as quickly as she humanly could.

'El it-' Penelope tried, but the door quickly closed behind her and they were alone once again.

After a beat, Penelope risked looking at Colin. His eyes were already on her. She struggled to read his face. He had closed off all emotions, but his eyes gave away his fear at being caught.

‘I do not think she will say anything,’ she said softly.

Colin nodded but still did not speak.

‘I promise. I will talk to her and make sure she knows nothing happened.’

‘I should not have stayed the entire night,’ he said slowly. ‘I thought about leaving once you fell asleep, but I… slept very well myself instead.’

Penelope did not have the heart to inform him her sleep had been average at best so she nodded.

‘I am glad you stayed,’ her voice was barely above a whisper, shaking slightly as she confessed as though it were a deep sin. Perhaps, in many ways it was.

Colin did not respond, but she saw a flicker in his eyes that let her know he was glad for it too and it was enough.

‘I should try and make it back to my chambers before I am noticed. Mother has a way of knowing things.’ He got up off the bed and started pulling his discarded clothes back on. She instantly mourned the loss of his warm body in the bed. ‘I shall meet you in Agatha’s room to break fast together?’

Penelope nodded. She watched as he pulled his jacket back on, then his boots. He moved to the door, gave her one last look that she struggled to decipher, then left.

She breathed in deeply and let out a sigh. She did not know where exactly she stood with him. More and more often he looked like the Colin she remembered. The one who cared deeply for her. The Colin who was first and foremost her friend. But that Colin still disappeared quickly. When he remembered his anger at her, at what she had done, who she had hidden from him for years.

More than ever, Penelope longed to be able to rewind the clock. To make different choices. But she could not do that. She had to live with her actions and find a way to move forward.

She could not sit in bed on day reflecting, as enticing as it was. So she managed to pull herself out of bed and chose a simple pale pink dress for the day.

Just as she was preparing to get to Agatha's room, there was a loud knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ Penelope answered.

The door was pushed open. Eloise stepped into the room, her hands covering her eyes, in an over the top demonstration only Eloise could deliver (though, perhaps, Benedict would also give her a run for her money).

‘El, stop being dramatic. It is only me in here.’

Eloise dropped her hand but still looked around the room cautiously. ‘I am sorry but I am still scarred from this morning.’

‘Well perhaps you should not be barging into rooms without permission.’

Eloise folded her arms across her chest. ‘I was walking into the room of my spinster friend. Who is very much not married. It should have been a safe bet.’

‘Spinster is not the compliment you think it is,’ Penelope reminded her.

Eloise simply shrugged. ‘Either way, you are not married. You should not have a man in your bed chambers.’

‘It was Colin,’ Penelope reminded her.

Eloise raised an eyebrow.

‘Alright. Fine. No, he should not have been here. We are both aware of that. However, nothing untoward happened.’

‘I do not need to know any of the details,’ Eloise said.

‘Alright then,’ Penelope agreed.

‘I will also not tell anyone,’ Eloise said, her tone much softer. ‘I still cannot begin to understand what it is that exists between the two of you. Or what happened all those years back. But you both deserve the time and space to deal with whatever you must.’

‘I greatly appreciate that El.’

‘If you could also tell him that, perhaps he will finally soften towards me enough to listen to my apologies.’

‘I do not believe I have quite that much sway with him in this moment.’

‘You are underestimating yourself.’

Penelope gave a sigh, but did not comment further. ‘I know you are not here to talk about Colin. So why are you here?’ She asked.

‘Originally I wanted to see how you were. Agatha took quite a hit yesterday and I wanted to make sure someone had checked in on you. It appears it was not necessary.’

Penelope’s heart warmed. ‘It was necessary, and I appreciate you for it.’

‘So, how are you?’

‘I am well. Yesterday was eventful, and a shock, but Agatha will be well and so I am also.’

Eloise nodded. ‘Good. That is good to hear.’

‘And you?’ Penelope asked. ‘How are you?’

‘Phillip is due to arrive with the children later this afternoon. They will be devastated to have missed Pall Mall, but it will be comforting to have them around.’

‘I am looking forward to meeting the man who finally convinced you marriage was not such a terrible fate.’

Eloise gave a soft smile. ‘I do not feel caged with him. If anything, I feel as though I have more freedom to be myself.’

Penelope stepped forward and embraced her in a hug. She held her friend tightly.

‘That is all anyone ever wanted for you,’ she said.

Eloise gave a laugh, though her eyes shining with tears gave her away. 'Who would have ever thought us in this position? Me being the one married and you the one who is not.'

'It turns out life is not as predictable as we once mourned,' Penelope agreed.

'Why did you never marry?' Eloise asked. It was so like her, to phrase a question so simply, and innocently not quite realising the punch to the gut it truly was.

Penelope had to push down the feelings that threatened to surface so she could keep her face neutral and not have Eloise worry about her. The truth was, it hurt that she never found the love she ached for. For a fleeting moment (the very moment that resulted in Agatha's conception) she believed she had it, until it was stripped away from her just a quickly once her lies became revealed. She had always understood Colin's betrayal with her. That did not help it to hurt less.

'I was barely desirable as I was on the marriage mart. A spinster, husbandless mother with no dowry or fortune to speak was hardly going to be a catch was it?' She thought briefly of Mr Northcott, and his apparent interest. He was hardly the man of her dreams.

'What of the Whistledown money?' Eloise asked.

Penelope let out a humourless chuckle. 'I could not go about flirting with men by informing them of my pseudonym and related pounds could I?'

'I suppose not,' Eloise sighed. 'I did always have a burning curiosity of how much you made with the sheet.'

'Enough to get me by,' Penelope said. It was an exaggeration. She had made more than enough to get her and Agatha by. She was careful with it all the same, ensuring every penny was accounted for, always worried that at any point, with little coming in, what she had remaining could disappear. But she had been able to provide. And they had been able to be comfortable.

'Well in that case I am very grateful for it.'

Penelope was not sure she shared the same sentiment. For had Whistledown never existed…

'I should go and check on Agatha,' Penelope said. Suddenly eager to get away from the conversation.

'Oh of course. I am keeping you, I apologise.'

Penelope shook her head. 'Never apologise for us spending any amount of time together. I cherish it.'

'Me too.'

Penelope knocked on Agatha's door and waited to be called in. Colin was already there, a slice of toast in his hand. Penelope met his gaze with a smirk.

'See, it is not so difficult to knock, is it?' she asked.

Colin shook his head. 'I find it an easy task myself.'

Penelope's grinned widened, glad that some of the awkwardness had dissipated.

'What are you talking about?' Agatha asked.

Penelope shook her head. 'Never you mind. Simply know, that it is common manners to knock on the door of a room before entering. Even if you are certain you do not need to.'

'When have I ever not done that?' Agatha asked.

'It is simply a reminder,' Penelope said.

'You are being strange this morning,' Agatha did not hesitate to point out.

'Whatever do you mean?'

Agatha narrowed her eyes at her, studying her closely. 'I do not know yet. But I shall inform you if I find out.'

'Well alright then,' Penelope agreed. She helped herself to some toast with and spread strawberry jam on it.

Agatha turned to Colin with a grin. 'I believe that is two pound you owe me.'

'Deal is a deal,' Colin agreed.

'Alright, now you two are being weird,' Penelope said.

'Father placed his bet on the marmalade. I knew you would pick strawberry so I have just earnt myself two pounds.' She grinned, proud of herself for her winnings.

Penelope gave Colin a puzzled look, knowing that he knew for a fact she did not like Marmalade. He gave her the quickest, briefest, blink and you miss it, wink before returning his attention to Agatha.

It should not have sent her heart fluttering, but her heart had never obeyed her mind in the first place, so off it soared whilst she did everything she could to remind herself that the casual wink only meant he was finding ways to bond with his daughter. It had nothing to do with affection for her.

The morning passed quickly. Penelope and Colin eventually left Agatha to spend some time with her cousins, who were desperate to check in on her. Colin disappeared quickly. She did not know where he went, it was none of her business. She however, took up a seat in the old library.

She had always loved their Bridgerton's collection and found herself perusing the shelves before finding a copy of Emma. She pulled it from the shelf and sat herself on the armchair facing the fireplace to read.

‘I thought I might be able to find you in here.’

Penelope startled. She looked up from her book to see Violet Bridgerton entering the library.

‘Oh, good afternoon,’ Penelope closed her book and stood in welcome.

Violet waved her hand. ‘Please, sit.’

Penelope nodded and took her seat again. Violet took up the seat opposite.

‘Agatha seems to be doing well. I was just in to see her,’ Violet started.

‘Yes, I believe she should be well enough to join us for dinner this evening.’

Violet smiled. ‘We would all love to see her up and about again.’

‘I believe she is ready to be up and about again also,’ Penelope grinned back.

‘And how are you?’ Violet asked, her tone shifted, and Penelope knew she was asking about more than just Agatha’s injury.

‘I am well,’ she said carefully.

Violet nodded and gave her a warm smile, a sort of encouraging one that only a few knew how to give, and Penelope felt as though she had to keep talking.

‘I must thank you for your hospitality for the past few days. I realise I am probably not the guest you wanted, and I am deeply appreciative for you welcoming me into your home the way you have.’

Violet nodded, letting her words sink into the air between them before she spoke.

‘I still vividly remember the night Colin came home and told us his engagement to you was over.’

Penelope inhaled sharply. She was unsure if she was ready to go there again. She had buried those memories deep. It might haunt her in dreams, but she actively avoiding thinking too long about it during the day for the pain only dulled, never truly gone.

‘I had watched the two of your grow together from the time you were young,’ Violet smiled softly at the memory. ‘I watched your friendship flourish naturally. You were always drawn to each other.’

Flashes of memories fluttered through her minds eye.

‘Your engagement was such a delight. A surprise at the time, but as I dwelled on it, your courtship was in fact, years long even if not truly recognised for what it was at the time. I was so excited to have you as a daughter.’

A lump formed in her throat. A daughter of Violet's. All she had ever wanted.

‘I never told anyone this, I had to place my priority in making sure Colin would be ok. But, I did have moments where I grieved the loss of you not being part of our family anymore.’

‘Oh, I… Violet it-‘

‘I am so grateful you found your way back to us,’ Violet continued. ‘In whatever capacity that is. And bringing Agatha to us? I could not have dreamed for more.’

‘I would understand if you were upset and angry with me,’ Penelope confessed quietly. 'I took more than my broken heart with me when I ran.'

She watched Violet’s face change. But where she expected to see some of that anger she only saw sorrow, and sympathy.

‘Penelope, I know I do now know the whole story of what happened between you and Colin. But I also know that I cannot imagine how painful it was for you to raise her on your own the way you did. I have suffered enough loss in my life to have learnt what is most important is what I have now, in the present. All that matters to me is that you and Agatha are here now. And all I ask is that you stay a part of us.’

Penelope was helpless to the tears tumbling down her face. She tried to hold them back, but did not possess the power to. She had never dared hope to find forgiveness in Violet. Not after everything that had transpired. She was well aware of the dowagers capacity to love, but was certain she had found the sharp edge of it. She had never been more relieved t be mistaken.

‘Come here, dear,’ Violet held her arms open and Penelope lunged forward, collapsing into her arms and sobbed.   

She was not sure how long she was there, in Violet's motherly embrace. Her tears eventually subsided.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled to Violet who shook her head adamantly.

‘We have a visitor,’ Violet said softly.

Penelope’s head whipped to the entrance of the library where Colin stood. She hastily tried to right herself, smoothing out her dress and wiping at her face, but she knew it was no use.

‘We have been summoned for afternoon tea in Agatha’s chambers as she sees how she goes out of bed in preparation for joining us for dinner tonight,’ Colin said.

‘Oh, of course. Let me meet you there?’

Colin gave a short nod and turned and left.

Violet gentle touched her shoulder and Penelope looked back at her.

‘Colin’s love has always run deep.’

Penelope did not know how to respond to that and so she said nothing.

‘I shall see you at dinner.’

Penelope nodded and watched Violet leave the library. She took a deep breath, steadied herself and walked in the direction of Agatha’s chambers.

Chapter Text

'Check mate.' Agatha looked up to see her cousin, Edmund's, jaw drop as he examined the board between them.  

'Impossible,' he claimed.

'You let your guard down,' she said. 'Or should I say your rook.'

'We play again,' he demanded.

'I have beaten you twice already Ed.'

'Best of five then,' he tried.

'Edmund, Agatha is tired of besting you. Admit defeat and go and do something else,' Belinda piped up.

Edmund let out a dramatic sigh. 'Fine then. But I demand a rematch at another time. And we shall have a better adjudicator.' He passed a pointed look to Belinda who was supposed to be watching closely for foul play but had quickly grown bored.

'I look forward to winning again,' Agatha grinned.

'Yes, well. We will see about that,' he said, packing the pieces of the board away before picking it up. He left the room without so much as a goodbye, leaving the girls alone. It was only after the door closed behind him Belinda let out a snicker.

'I am incredibly grateful that somebody is better at that game than him. He can be insufferable.'

'He is over-confident. It affects his game,' Agatha commented.

'How did you become so good?'

'Mama and I played a lot as I was growing up. According to her it is more of a mental game. Half of the strategy is in your opponent.’

‘Your mama is competitive then?’ Belinda asked with curiosity.

Agatha gave a shrug. ‘I would describe her more as strategic.’

Belinda nodded and came over to the seat beside Agatha's bed. 'How was it for you? Growing up with just her and you?'

Agatha gave a shrug. 'I do not really know anything else, do I?' she asked. 'Mama did her best and I love her so much for it. I suppose that is part of the reason I long so desperately for our plans to work. She deserves to be in love and happy.'

'And you believe Uncle Colin, your father I mean, is able to provide that?'

Agatha nodded. 'I have never before seen her look at anyone the way she looks at him. I know there is a long history there. Neither of them will tell me the full story, despite my efforts so far. I know things soured at one point. After all, their engagement was ended and, well, I had to track him down myself. But I can see it Bel, I can see in her eyes that there is still a spark. I do not believe that whatever was once between them is lost.'

'Do you not get angry sometimes? That she never told you about him? I do not know if I could forgive my mama if she did the same to me.' Belinda asked.

Agatha took a deep breath. She had never quite voiced this aloud. She loved Mama dearly, she always would. She had asked for her forgiveness and Agatha had given it, but she had learnt over the past several weeks that pain in the heart and soul did not heal as quickly as physical injuries.

'Yes. Sometimes. Especially at first. I was furious that she never told me about him. That I never knew who he was or why he was not in my life. I used to hope sometimes that my father was an awful man. That I was better off without him. It does hurt to know how kind and good he actually is and that I could have had an even more wonderful childhood had he been in it.'

Belinda bit her lip.

'What?'

'Some of my first memories of Uncle Colin are of him being quite sullen, and angry. I know he drank a lot, I would hear Mama talking it about it with Father when she thought I was not listening.'

'Oh.' Agatha had not once heard of that side of her father, though she thought back to the first time she arrived on his doorstep. The dishevelled way about him. She had not put much thought into it, had not considered the need to.

'Oh, he is a good person Agatha, truly,' Belinda rushed out quickly. 'He has always been there for us, I promise. Even when it must have difficult for him to be. I believe now, knowing what I know, he must have been going through a true heartbreak back then. I only meant that, well, nobody is perfect.'

'I do not need him to be perfect. I just need him to be my father.'

Belinda nodded in understanding. 'That is understandable.'

Agatha smiled in return.

'In any case, with Edmund now out of our hair, we should discuss plans for dinner. Are you still able to join us this evening?'

'I shall kick and scream in protest if I am not allowed. I am tired of these walls four walls.'

'Excellent, because you will play a pivotal role in this. You must play up how much you have missed due to your injury.'

'Yes, I know. Belinda, the plan was mine, you do not need to go over it with me again.'

'Alright, fine. I understand. I will go and make sure all wheels are in motion.'

'Thank you.'

Agatha watched as Belinda left the room. She went to pick up her most recent book, when there was a knock on the door. She let out a sigh and invited them in. For being injured and bed-bound, Agatha sure was suddenly unfamiliar to having even a moments peace. If it wasn't her cousins, it was an aunt, or an uncle. At one point her grandmama came in and sat with her.

That one had been particularly lovely though. She had told Agatha stories of both of her parents. Mama had already told her they were friends growing up, but she had not quite realised just how close until Grandmama spoke of Mama as though she were part of the family.

Longing had flittered through Agatha yet again, as she thought about the life she was almost given.

There was little use in dwelling on what could have been, however. Agatha had to stay focused on the present, the here and now. The future was bright, if everything went according to plan. 

Maids flurried through her room, setting up a table with three seats.

'What is happening?' she asked.

'Oh, pardon us miss,' one of the maids said. 'We are setting up your afternoon tea. Miss Featherington and Mr Bridgerton are to see how you fair out of bed and if you can attend the dinner tonight.'

'Oh, of course,' Agatha nodded as though she had known about it all along.

It had possibly been mentioned, but with all of her visitors today she must have forgotten.

Agatha got out of bed, she had already been pacing the room a little to test the waters and see how her head was feeling, and so she no longer felt a head rush when she did. She was helped into a simple day dress, her hair was brushed and pinned up in a casual style and she chose slippers that matched her dress.

Mama arrived first.

Agatha could not help but notice she looked a little dishevelled. Her hair, usually immaculately tidy was looser and dishevelled. Her eyes were red and watery.

‘Oh, it’s wonderful to see you up and about,’ she said in a way of greeting.

Agatha nodded but did not try to hide her concern. ‘Mama, are you alright?’

‘Yes dear, I’m fine,’ Mama nodded.

Agatha was unconvinced but did not get an opportunity to say more as Colin entered the room in the same moment.

A look passed between them that caught Agatha’s attention.

Just like the morning, something had changed. Something was different between them. She could not quite pinpoint what it was, but it had been that way all day. In the morning they had been playful with each other. They had joked, and smiled, laughed even and Agatha was convinced she was seeing a glimpse into the past. Seeing who they once had been together.

It had her more determined than ever to find ways to have them interact. To continue to push them together and remind them that they once loved each other. They could love each other again, she was more certain of it now than ever before.

‘How have you passed the time?’ Mama asked.

‘I beat Edmund twice at chess.’

‘Oh, he would not have taken that well,’ Colin chuckled. ‘How did you do it?’

Agatha shrugged. ‘He was easy to read. He liked big power moves, and I could see what he was going to do before he did it, so blocked him until I won.’

Her father beamed at her. ‘I cannot wait to gloat to Anthony about it.’

‘Oh, no please do not,’ Agatha pleaded. The last thing she needed was Anthony not liking her because she best Edmund at chess. As patriarch of the wider Bridgerton family is approval felt important to her, and though she had not had many interactions with him, she was sure she was at least accepted by him.  

It must have read on her face because Colin quickly hurried to correct himself. ‘Anthony appreciates a good game. He will be pleased you could beat Edmund.’

‘Are you certain of that?’ Mama asked.

Colin made a face. ‘He certainly will after Kate speaks with him about it.’

Agatha felt mortified. ‘Perhaps I should have let Edmund win at least once.’  

‘No, please, it’s better for everyone that you did not,’ Colin said.

‘How so?'  

He sighed. ‘All of us Bridgerton’s are competitive. It seems that it is in our blood. Anthony, however, is particularly so. Kate is too, it is part of the reason they were so drawn to each other. Their children, as much as I adore them, seem to have the worst of both of their parents’ competitive streak.’

‘Oh,’ Agatha mulled over that. ‘So, them losing is good?’

‘It humbles them.’

‘I see.’ Agatha nodded. She possibly understood. Then another thought struck her suddenly, diverting her attention to another thought entirely. ‘Uncle Anthony and Aunt Kate were drawn to each other by their shared competitive nature?’

‘It was one of the reasons,’ Colin said. ‘There were many more, I suppose.’

‘What drew you to each other?’ She asked looking between them, deliberately making her tone light and innocent. But in truth, she desperately wanted to know, and she wanted them to be thinking back on it. To go back to that place when they were in love.

‘Oh, I-‘ Mama stuttered. ‘Agatha that is not-‘

‘Her kindness,’ Colin cut in.

Agatha looked at him curiously and she could see from the corner of her sight Mama was doing the same.

‘Your mother was kind and warm. Cleverer than any other in the ton and it was impossible to not be drawn to her.’

Agatha could not help the smile that came across her face. ‘She is clever, isn’t she?’

‘You do not even know half of it,’ Colin responded with a smile.

'Tell me?' she asked. 'I long to know what Mama was like back then. She rarely speaks of her life before Bath.'

Agatha was ready for story after story, but instead, her father seized up and the smile left his face. He glanced to Mama who gave the smallest shake of her head, but Agatha was still able to catch it.

'We should save those stories for another time. Let us talk about you and how you are healing from your injury,' he said.

Agatha frowned. She longed to push the subject, but her joining dinner that evening hinged on their permission and so she would not press it now. There was something they were not telling her. Something Mama did not want her to know, and Agatha could not understand. She already knew the biggest secret of her engagement and that it fell apart. What more could there possibly be?

With joy, Agatha readied for dinner. She had a lovely green dress for the occasion, and she was excited to be able to leave her room. She had missed the pre-dinner entertainment of her aunt Francesca's piano playing, but she at least did not miss out on everyone finding their seats.  

As Agatha entered the dining room, she realised she was unsure if she would ever be truly used to how grand everything was. It was far removed from the simple ways she had grown up with.

The long dining table was dressed with a table cloth, each place with fine cutlery. Flowers and candles adorned the table the entire way down and the room glowed in the warm light.

It felt elaborate for a family dinner. Then, they were a large family, and dinner was an event itself.

As the family took their seats, Agatha caught Belinda's eye and they nodded, setting wheels in motion.

Belinda grabbed Eloise's hand. 'Aunt Eloise, I have barely spoken with you all week! Would you please sit with Agatha and I so we can talk?'

'Oh, I,' Eloise's eyes darted around the room for the briefest of moments before she nodded. 'Of course, Belinda. It would be delightful to.'

'Oh wonderful.'

Meanwhile Agatha worked her magic on her parents. 'Mama, Father, I have so enjoyed the time we have spent together recently. I already promised Belinda I would sit next to her, but could you please sit opposite so we can continue with our conversations?'

She watched as both of her parents exchanged a glance, then nodded at her. Agatha smiled to herself, please with their success. Only minutes later, her parents were seated next to each other at the table opposite her. Meanwhile she had Belinda to one side, and Aunt Eloise on the other.

To begin with everything was grand. Talk was pleasant, polite. Agatha laughed at the jokes made, participated in the back and forth conversation around the table and was thoroughly enjoying herself.

It was sometime between the main course and dessert things soured, and quickly.

'I have been so happy with the way we have been able to spend time together,' she said, directed to her parents.

'Yes, it is truly lovely to see you all together as a family,' Eloise followed up.

Agatha was not sure exactly what went wrong in that moment. It was a kind comment. Where she expected to see her parents beaming back, she instead saw her mother wincing and her father, well.

Something dark crossed over his face. With it, the whole room seemed to dim. Agatha felt uneasy. She had only heard his anger, that one time at Bridgerton House when she had overheard him yelling. She had not seen it before.

'I do not believe you have the right to comment on my family,' he said in a low tone.

'Colin,' Mama said his name softly. Agatha saw the way she moved her arm, stretched it towards Colin, under the table, and wondered briefly if anyone else saw it to. It was clear as day to her that Mama had moved her hand to rest on his knee an in effort to comfort whatever seemed to trouble him so quickly.

Agatha certainly felt as though she had missed several chapters whilst bed bound.

'Sorry, I only meant that it was nice,' Eloise said.

'When I want your opinion, I will ask for it.'

'Colin.' It was Anthony this time who spoke. His voice was a warning. 'Keep it civil.'

'No.' Eloise protested and every head whipped to her. 'Is this how it is to be now, Brother? I cannot even make the simplest of remarks without having to suffer your rage? I have apologised, again and again. I have tried to speak to you, to have you listen to me and you refuse. I will not let you also bully me into silence at the dinner table.'

'Eloise, now is not the-' Violet started.

'If not now then when?' Eloise demanded. 'Colin will not speak to me. He barely accepts being in the same room as me.'

'El, please do not-'

'No Penelope, I am tired of dancing around this,' Eloise continued, looking back to Colin.

'Perhaps I made a mistake. Perhaps I spared your feelings too much in my apology when I should have been honest.’

'Tell me why it is that you care about my feelings now instead of five years ago when you discovered the truth?' Colin asked.  

'It was not my secret to tell!' Eloise cried out. 'I have tried to explain over again. It was not my truth to tell.'

‘Eloise is right,’ Daphne spoke up, her voice quiet but enough so everyone heard her.  

‘Oh no,’ Belinda whispered in a hushed voice only Agatha could hear. She could feel her cousin tense up beside her. 'I am sorry Agatha.'

‘Penelope is the one who kept Agatha away for eighteen years. Why is it easy enough for you to forgive her and not your own sister?’ Daphne asked, directing her question to Colin.

'Excuse me.' Mama stood abruptly from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor as she did. She fled the room in a hurry, leaving silence behind her.

Agatha longed to shrink. To disappear into a fleck. Though every person in the room had their eyes on Colin and Daphne, she felt as though the attention of the room was somehow on her and she did not like it one bit.

Still, she herself could not look away from the scene despite how much she wanted to.

Colin said nothing. Instead, he sent a scathing glare to Daphne, his face expressing a thousand words unsaid, before also standing and exiting the room in the same direction as Mama.

No one moved for several long moments. Agatha could not look at anyone. From the very beginning she had felt accepted by her father's family. They had embraced her openly and let it be known she was one of them. In this moment, however, she felt as though she was suddenly intruding on a private moment.  

It was Hyacinth whose voice broke into the stillness. ‘Perhaps, we should play a game of charades?’

Chapter Text

Some time later Colin would look back on the evening and try and piece together exactly what went wrong. He realised he should have kept his mouth shut when Eloise spoke. Should have just taken the hit and dealt with it another time. His pride had gotten the better of him, it had opened a door and now everyone was hurt.

Agatha, now alone at that dinner table. He dreaded to think what was going through her mind. After she had been in such good spirits. He would have to make sure she knew nothing was her fault. None of it was ever her fault. He trusted his mother and Kate would diffuse the situation and make sure she was alright.

He did not trust anyone else with making sure Penelope was alright.

He was furious with Daphne. He had made it so clear, multiple times, that he was to deal with everything in his own time, on his own terms. His family only need accept it and take his lead. Yet here they were, night three in Aubrey Hall with the rest of the ton due to arrive tomorrow and they were reduced to scathing remarks being made at the dinner table.  

Penelope had too much of a head start on him. He checked the library first, he knew it was her favourite place in Aubrey Hall and had been since they were children, but there was no sign of her there. She was also not in her bed chambers. He walked down hallways, until he spotted the soft glow of candlelight coming from the Anthony's study.  

Colin frowned. It seemed unlikely it would be her. Anthony perhaps taking a breather from the chaos. He slowly approached the ajar door and gently pushed it open wider, in hopes of not startling her if it was in fact Penelope.  

'Pen?' he asked.  

He stepped into the room and found her sitting on the floor. Her legs crossed like children did, nursing a bottle of Anthony's pricy whisky. 

'I did not take you for a drinker.'  

'I am not. But it felt entirely necessary. I knew there would be quality liquor in here. I will pay Anthony back for anything drunk.' She held the bottle out towards to him, welcoming him to join her. He accepted it and took his own swig, the alcohol burnt his throat in a manner that was far too pleasant and familiar.  

'I am sorry for Eloise, and Daphne.' He joined her on the floor sitting opposite and passed the bottle back to her and she took another sip. He watched the way she winced at the burn of it.  

'I did not mean to be rude in running off, I simply do not feel the need to hear your family’s disdain for me.'  

'They were rude first. They should not have said what they said.'  

'There is nothing they can say that I have not said to myself at some point, I can assure you. It is however different hearing it aloud from another's mouth,' she said. 'Although, I feel the need to be clear that Eloise is only after your forgiveness, I did not take offense to anything she said.'  

Colin felt his heart crack at the thought of her thinking so negatively about herself. 'I will speak to Daphne.'  

'And Eloise?'  

'I am not ready yet. That hurt still stings, but it is lessening,' he admitted. 'Please do not tell her that for she will use it to her advantage.'  

Penelope nodded and took another sip of the drink before passing it back to him.  

'If it is alright, with your permission I would like to explain more to Daphne, help her to understand that things are more complicated than she believes them to be.' He spoke carefully and cautiously.  

Penelope looked him directly in the eyes. Her bright blue eyes still had the ability to take his breath away. It was as though she could see right into his soul, and perhaps she could. She had always had the ability to see through him.  

'Why would you defend me?' she asked.  

'Because,' he stopped. He was not sure he had the right words for it. 'I could have fought harder for you. I knew what we had done, I knew you were at risk of being with child I only ever thought that-' he stopped himself and cast his eyes down to the brown bottle in his hands.   

'You thought what?'  

Colin took another long sip of the whisky first, using it as a crutch to find the courage for what he needed to say next. He let the liquor burn. He let it settle in his stomach and he breathed in deeply. He did not know how she would react. 'I had always thought that if you found out you were, you would come back to me.'

Penelope was silent for a moment, before she let out a shaky breath. 'Mama tried to make me,' she admitted, her voice soft. 'And I thought about it, many times.'  

'Why did you not then?' He could not help the bitterness he spoke with. This was what it all came to, that once she knew she was with child, instead of going to him, telling him of her situation and working with him on a solution, she ran away.  

'I was still so hurt. I knew you could never love the part of me that was Whistledown. You said it yourself, you were never going to be able to forgive me for that and I had so much fear for what that meant.'  

Colin did not know what to say, so he took another drink and passed the bottle back to her outstretched hand. She took a sip and continued.  

'I knew if I told you, you would do the honourable thing and marry me. I did not ever have any doubts of that. You were, you still are, a man of honour and would do your duty. However, you would not be able to love me. I feared you would feel trapped, that we would both grow to be miserable and resentful. That our child would only ever know misery in their own household.' She looked at him once more with that piercing stare of hers. 'That is the household I grew up in. I could not bear the idea of subjecting our child to that and so I did the only thing I could think to do and fled.'  

Colin let her words sink in. She was right that he would have married her. It would not have even been a question. He would not leave her husbandless with a child. Their child.  

'It was selfish, I know.' Penelope admitted casting her to her lap. 'I do not believe there is anything I could ever say that would make me worthy of your forgiveness, but I appreciate how much you-' she paused, took a drink and continued. 'How much you have tried to put your anger with me aside for Agatha's sake. It means more to me than I am able to truly express.'  

'I do not think I am able to blame you entirely for what you did,' he said slowly. It was the first time he had admitted it to even himself. It had been simmering under the surface with every interaction with her and Agatha. He had spent nights unable to sleep replaying everything again and again in his mind.  

'What?'  

'You were young. We both were. I look at Agatha and realise you were barely a year older than she is now and I cannot imagine Agatha being in the position you were in. It is easy to forget just how much we both had to learn back then. I was angry with you, continued to be angry with you and I was too convincing to you that I did not have capacity to love you. I did, I could have. I fact, once you were gone and the dust settled, I only missed you.'  

'Oh.'  

'I missed my closest friend. I missed the woman who held my heart in her palms. I missed everything about you and only had myself to blame for driving you away and not fighting harder to keep you,' he confessed. It was easier to blame her. She was the one who ran. Who took their daughter with her when she did. Despite that, he was the one who spoke harshly in his anger. Who gave her reasons to run, and he might be able to forgive her, but he would never be able to forgive himself.  

'Colin I-'  

'I should have tried to find you. Should have scoured England and told you how much I still longed for you. That I was rash in my anger. My jealousy and feelings that you did not truly need me eventually lessened, but-' 

She watched him carefully, silently encouraging him to continue.  

'I was afraid.'  

'Of what?'  

'I could have found you married to another man. Your mother never explained your absence and I wondered if perhaps she had found someone in the country for you in an attempt to lessen the scandal on your family as she tends to do. I could not bear it if I found you and knocked on your door only for your husband to answer.'  

There. It was out there. The one thing that had stopped him from trying to find her. The unrelenting fear he had that her mother had forced her into another marriage. He had rationalised he was better off not knowing.  

Penelope took another drink from the bottle. A much longer sip this time. He wondered if he should put a stop to the drinking. His head was starting to cloud with its effects and he had built a high tolerance over the years. It was unlikely she had, and she must have surely been starting to feel the impact more than he did. As she handed the whisky back to him, he chose not to comment. 

'That was never an option for me,' she admitted.  

'Why not?'  

'I did not require a husband to help provide for Agatha. And for the briefest of moments, I knew what a love match felt like. If I could not settle for you, without your love, how could I settle for another?'

Colin's heart was in his throat. He had so much regret, so much anger at his past self for not going after what he desired. For not following his instinct and letting fear crowd him instead.

'You never married either,' she pointed out. 'Why?'  

It was his turn to take a long sip. It once again occurred to him that he should stop, but it was too much of a comfort.  

'Same reasons,' he managed to say. 'There was no one else for me.'  

'You did not even court anyone?'  

He shook his head. 'I could not. Not with my heart belonging to another. It would not be fair.'  

Penelope nodded but did not comment. She instead stretched out her hand for the liquor and took another swig. He should stop her. Stop himself.  

He could not.  

'What a mess we have made,' she remarked.  

He agreed. What a mess indeed. 'At least there is Agatha. The one good part of it all.'  

'The light of my life,' Penelope admitted. 'I do not know what I would have done without her.'  

'Become a drunk,' Colin said. He meant it to be a joke, it did not land that way.  

Penelope shot him a sharp stare. 'Colin.'  

'I did not mean-'  

She reached towards him, crossing the invisible threshold that had only been crossed by the bottle and placed a warm hand on his knee.  

'I am sorry,' she said, her voice choked with emotion, and he knew it was heartfelt. 'I do not deserve your forgiveness, and I do not ask for it. But I am sorry, I have been for a long time and will be for the rest of my days. I robbed you of her childhood. I robbed her childhood of you. It unforgiveable and Daphne is right to be mad with me. Your whole family should be. You should be. I do not deserve any of the care and love you had extended towards me.'  

Colin found himself shaking his head vigorously. He placed his hand over hers. 'You have always been worthy of love, Penelope. Always. You are not the only one with mistakes and regrets.'  

He watched her face as her eyes welled up. Tears spilled running thickly down her cheeks and his heart cracked again, deeper this time. The second time today she had been brought to tears. It was the alcohol, lowering his inhibitions and boundaries as he shifted himself forward, into her space and gathered her into his arms. He half expected her to pull away but was relieved when she only melted into him. Her arms clung around his waist. He stroked her hair and held her to him.  

'I am sorry, so sorry Colin.' Her voice was muffled by the way her face was burrowed into his stomach.  

He did not have words for her. Only soothing 'shushes' and a tight grip he hoped made her feel secure.  

He had more healing to do, so did she. But the part of him that still loved her could not cope with seeing her like this. Seeing her broken, and desperate and sorry. He longed to be able to fix it. To fix her.  

The door to the study creaked open, Anthony. He half stepped into the room before he saw the sight before him, and Colin could only imagine how it looked.  

Open bottle of expensive liquor half empty on the floor. Penelope in his arms, sobbing so much she had not even noticed their guest.  

Colin met Anthony's eyes and gave a small shake of his head. Anthony gave a concerned look towards Pen and raised his eyebrows in a question. Colin mouthed the words 'We're ok' and hoped Anthony understood. He must have because his older brother nodded and quietly retreated, closing the door on his way out.  

Colin breathed out a sigh of relief. He had half expected Anthony to rampage over how Penelope was an unmarried woman and it was not proper behaviour. His brother must have recognised the situation for what it was, and Colin knew they would be left alone.  

Penelope's sobs eventually subsided, and she pulled back. Her face was red and tear streaked. She wiped at the tear marks.  

'Sorry, I did not mean to cry like that,' she said.  

Colin shook his head. 'Never dare apologise for it.'  

She nodded gratefully.

It was the way she was looking at him, her bright eyes, the sorrow on her face. He could not take it. He cupped her face with his hands and gently wiped the last of her tears away with his thumbs. He wondered how many had been shed that he was not there to do anything about. His heart ached at the thought.

His eyes darted to her lips. They parted as she realised where his gaze had settled.

'Colin.' Her voice was a whisper. A beautiful sound he'd missed terribly.

'Pen.'

He had pulled himself closer. Their noses brushed and she could feel the ghost of her breath on his lips. 

Every part of him was aflame. That which had been simmering was bubbling over.

It was all of it. It was her asking him to hold her. It was seeing her in her night gown. Having her pressed up against his body all night. The feel of her. The smell of her. The way she was looking at him. His thumb brushed her lower lip. Just as soft as he remembered. As he dreamt.

'Colin!' She pulled back forcibly. Stumbling as she hastily put space between them once more.

The space had him blinking. His heart calming down. That bubbling heat cooled. He looked up, somehow, she had managed to stand in her haste to get away from him.

'Sorry. I, sorry. I do not know what overcame me.'

She shook her head. 'It cannot. You, we cannot.'  

It felt like a crushing blow. A rejection. 'Yes, you are right.'

She took a breath. 'Thank you. For your comfort tonight. For listening and for opening. But I should retire. I should… I need to…' She never quite finished her sentence as she turned on her heel and fled from the study.

Colin was left alone, in his brother’s study and a bottle of whiskey. He took a long sip before he himself stood and placed the bottle on the table and silently cursed it. He should have known better than to indulge.

Just as he should have known better than to try and kiss Penelope.

Chapter Text

Penelope did not sleep well.

Her sleep the night before had been fitful. There was far too much on her mind for her to find any kind of peace enough to sleep well.

There was the dinner. Eloise’s argument with Colin. The way Daphne had been harsh with the truth.

The entire, revealing, conversation she had with Colin.

As soon as she had fled from the dining room, she had somehow known he would eventually find her. She had expected he would tell her she should not be stealing the viscount’s liquor, lest she get into strife from Anthony. Either usher her to bed, or force to ensure Agatha was ok, all alongside some words he hoped were reassuring to take Daphne's remarks to heart.

She had not expected him to join her. For them to have the conversation they did.

She certainly had not expected him to come that close. They had been nose to nose. His breath on her lips. His thumb tracing across her lower lip.

He would have kissed her.

She wanted him to kiss her.

Part of her regretted pulling away from him. Stopping them from going further.

It was undeniable to her now. The pull that had always been between them was still there. Raw, and real and unchanged in eighteen years. Only now there was more weight in it. Years of baggage, and damage in between. A hurdle she didn't know if they could get over.

She knew she made the right decision. Somehow, through the fog of alcohol, and the heightened emotions of the past several days, she had managed to stop herself from taking what she truly desired. For, she knew if she had let him, if his lips had touched hers, she would be ruined all over again. She would take and take and take until there was nothing left.

She had ended up with at least enough sense to check in on Agatha before she retired to her own bed chambers. Her daughter was fast asleep, and she could only hope she was faring as well as she could be. Penelope's comfort was that she would trust Violet Bridgerton with her entire life, and therefore Agatha too.

It all raced through her head. The thoughts of what might have happened if she had stayed at the dinner table. Or if she had let Colin kiss her.

She tried to shut her mind off, but it was impossible.

And so, the morning of the Hearts and Flowers ball dawned, and with it, Penelope rose. Physically and emotionally shattered, perhaps more bottle-weary than she cared to admit, and not at all ready for the day ahead.

She could not delay her rising much longer, and so she put on a day dress as slowly as she could before making her way to the breakfast table.

Penelope was grateful that the Bridgerton’s treated breakfast casually. The table was adorned with various foods, and as Penelope made her way she was confronted with Daphne, delicately making herself toast with butter and jam. Their eyes met.

‘I apologise. I can come back another time,’ Penelope said.

Daphne had enough grace to look ashamed.

‘I was hoping I might find you today,’ she said.

‘Oh?’

‘I am embarrassed about what I said yesterday evening.’

Penelope nodded, it did not feel entirely shocking to her that the duchess would want to make an apology. ‘Do not trouble yourself with it. I recognise you are looking out for your brother. I would not expect otherwise.’

‘Still, I should have held my tongue. It did not need to be so public. Especially not in front of your daughter.’

‘I appreciate the acknowledgement.’ 

‘It is difficult for me to see how much Colin missed out on. I find it easy to blame you for it.’

‘I know,’ Penelope admitted. ‘I cannot fault you for that.’

Daphne’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Pardon?’

‘Daphne, I-‘ she stopped, and looked around the room to assure herself they were alone. ‘My actions were about protecting myself, and my heart. I am aware that Colin lost a lot as a result.'

‘Oh, no Penelope you-‘

‘Do not try and back out on your words. They are true to an extent.’ Inside, Penelope was pleased to see Daphne look so taken aback by her words and honesty. Though she would not admit it to anyone, she enjoyed the way the Duchess was caught off guard.

'I did not realise you felt such a way.'

'There are two sides to every story, Daphne. I find the truth often somewhere in the middle. I do not feel it is my place to attempt to defend myself to your family.'

Daphne's face softened. 'I see.'

Penelope nodded. 'I might go and enjoy a bit of the sunshine we have this morning. I suppose I will see you later.'

'I suppose,' Daphne agreed.

Penelope left the room with an apple and took herself to the back garden. It was already a lovely, warm day and she hoped to enjoy as much as she could before the ton arrived.

She just so happened to come across Agatha, sitting on one of the garden benches, staring out over the grounds of Aubrey Hall. She took a deep breath. Agatha had been asleep last night by the time she checked in on her. They had not spoken properly.

'May I take a seat?' she asked.

Agatha nodded and Penelope sat next to her.

'How are you?'

'Fine,' Agatha said shortly. Penelope sighed. She knew what that tone meant. She had used that tone many times in her youth. She was very much not fine.

'I am sorry about last night.'

'Why?'

'I should not have run off. I certainly should not have left you there the way I did.'

'I was with family,' Agatha said. 'I was fine.'

'Then why does it not seem as though you are?' Penelope asked.

Agatha sighed. 'Mama, truly. I am alright. I am not upset. Merely tired.'

'You were asleep when I came to check on you last night.'

Agatha shook her head. 'I pretended to be. I did not feel like talking.'

'You, Agatha Featherington, did not feel like talking?'

'When it was late at night and the following day was important, no, I did not.'

Penelope remained unconvinced, but she knew her daughter well and recognised that now was not the time to push her. So instead she changed the topic.

'Are you excited about tonight.'

Agatha stood abruptly. 'I do not wish to talk about tonight.'

'Agatha, I only wished to-'

'I do not care. I am not in the mood. I feel a slight headache, so I am going to have a rest and hope I am well for the ball.'

She left without any further goodbye, leaving Penelope feeling confused. It felt as though something had happened.

Agatha had always been honest with her.

Suddenly it no longer felt like she was and Penelope did not know what to make of it.

The Hearts and Flowers ball was a big deal to the Bridgerton’s. An event they put on every year, that had started when Violet became Viscountess. Kate had taken over when she had become Viscountess, but Violet still had a strong hand in it. It was an event they put on with pride and one Penelope had thoroughly enjoyed during her time as a debutant.

Penelope had chosen a purple dress, it hugged her figure in the way she preferred, and even she could admit she felt regal with the way its gems glittered under the candlelight. Half of her hair was curled loosely and pinned up delicately, while the rest of it fell down her back in loose waves.

Once she was ready, she walked to the next room to check in on Agatha.

Her daughter turned towards the door just as she entered, and Penelope’s breath was taken away.

She wore a deep blue dress, adorned with gold jewels that shimmered. A matching gold hair comb with sapphires swept her hair to one side. Rogue on her cheeks and lips emphasised her youthfulness but also made her look truly like a young woman of the ton, as she was aways born to be.

‘Agatha,’ Penelope breathed out. ‘Dearest you are radiant.’

‘Thank you, Mama,’ she said.

‘You will be swatting away suitors tonight.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ Agatha responded. ‘Thank you all the same.’

By the time they went downstairs together, the ball had commenced. The Hearts and Flowers ball was just as grand as it had always been and as Penelope remembered it. Everything was decorated blue, with sage and white trimmings. It was beautiful, a soft summer. The first dance of the evening had already begun and for a moment Penelope was lost in watching. She had always enjoyed dancing. Even if she had not been able to do much of it in her time.

She still remembered her last dance with Colin. Before everything unfolded. The way he twirled her around on the floor. The way she felt as though she was living a true fairytale.

That very same night it everything had changed.

Whilst she had been lost in thought Agatha had already found Belinda and the two of them were talking with other girls. Penelope kept an eye on her but stayed back and tried to give her daughter space.

‘Well, you all remember what happened between her and Mr Colin Bridgerton, do you not?’

Her ears pricked. It was an old habit, one she could not help. Especially not when Colin’s name had been mentioned.

‘Oh yes, such a scandal. A little over eighteen years ago if I recall correctly.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘That we can all surely put two and two together can we not? She returns to Mayfair the same week a Featherington none of us knew about debuts. The resemblance is, well look at them, you all have eyes. The girl has spent an unusual amount of time with the Bridgerton’s. They may try and claim it’s because she is friends with the duke’s daughter, but I do believe there is more to the story we are not being told.’

Penelope felt flush. She had been aware there was some gossip and whispers happening. She could not help but keep an ear out. She had not realised just how much they had pieced together.

For the first time since returning to Mayfair her fingers itched for a quill. She longed to write a Whistledown article, dispelling the rumours and setting the Ton on another path. The power she once wielded would come in handy right now.

She could not.

Whistledown was dead. Had died along with her engagement. Had been buried once she'd fled London.

There had been no farewell. No final article.

It was simply… gone.

Cressida had tried. In pursuit of the bounty on Whistledown’s head. From what Penelope had gathered, the more she wrote the more the Ton realised she was an imposter and not the real Whistledown.

She had not even had the time to grieve it. For by the time the reality of it all had sunk in, she was due to give birth. After that all her focus and energy was on Agatha and Agatha alone.

Penelope felt defensive. As though she needed to justify all of it to these women. All of whom were total strangers to her.

She, however, knew she did not. These women knew nothing about her, or her struggles. They would never be able to begin to fathom what it had been like for her, to do what she did. To make the hardest decision she'd ever made.

It took all her effort, but instead of retaliating, Penelope took a deep breath moved herself to the otherwise of the ballroom. She kept eyes on Agatha, but also knew every single Bridgerton in the room was keeping watch on her daughter as well.

It worked. She could still very effectively blend in. She was still a wallflower. She still grew weary of it.

She took the opportunity to slip out and head to the garden where she cou--ld get some fresh air.

‘Pen.’

She turned her head. Colin. He stood several feet away from her, looking devastatingly handsome in ball attire. Her heart stuttered in her chest and her mind flashed to the evening before. When his face had been level with hers. Their noses brushing and his breath on her lips.

‘Is it wise for you to be out here with me?’ She asked.

‘Perhaps not,’ he took a step forward. ‘But when have I ever done the wise thing when it comes to you?’

Her lip felt like it burned with the ghost of his touch from the night before. She found herself licking it before she could stop herself. His eyes dropped to watch.

‘Do not say things like that,' she said.

‘Why-ever not?’ His head tilted in curiosity.

She took a step back, increasing the distance between them again. ‘The Ton are talking. They have a lot to say about me, and you. Agatha.’

Colin’s face creased into a frown. ‘Agatha?’

‘They find my return at the same time as her debut too much of a coincidence. They have noticed how much time she spends with your family.’

‘We can provide them with an explanation.’

‘And what explanation would you give?’

‘I do not know.’ He stepped towards her again, several large strides that brought him into her space. She could smell him. Leather and whiskey. Just as intoxicating as she had always found him to be. ‘Colin, please.’

‘I have been longing for a moment alone with you all day.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought we should discuss last night.’

‘Last night?’

He nodded.

‘I did not realise there was more to say.’

‘Pen, do not do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Pretend that nothing happened.’

‘It is the truth,’ she said. ‘Please, we both know it would have been a mistake.’

‘Would it?’ He challenged.

‘Colin,’ she let out a shaky breath. She could feel her resolve rapidly decreasing by the second.

‘You look stunning tonight, Pen,’ he said. ‘You quite literally took my breath away when you entered the ballroom.’

‘Stop.’

‘I do not say it only to flatter you. It is the truth.’

‘This is foolish,’ she snapped.

His eyes widened in surprise at her tone. ‘What?’

‘You are running high on some kind of fantasy. Here, away from the Ton, you have forgotten the reality of our situation.’

‘I have not.’

‘You have. Forgiveness does not happen this swiftly. You do not truly want me, as I am now with all of my flaws and all of the hurt, I have inflicted. You want the fantasy.’

'What fantasy is that?'

'That we are a family, parents, working together for their daughter’s debut season in society. That we go home together after social assemblies and laugh about the gossip we uncovered, talk about her suitors until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.'

His face softened. 'You think about it too?'

She took another step back from him. 'Colin stop. It is not our reality.'

‘I am more than aware of our situation. I am also living it.’

She took a deep breath. 'Then please start acting like it.'

He stepped towards her, closing the gap she had created. 'It seems the difference between us is I am willing to take steps forward to changing our reality.'

'Colin, please,' she begged.

'I mean it Pen.'

Something in the tone of his voice, the sheer resolve of his voice had her back straightening. She knew he was not caving on her tonight, so she needed an alternative.

'Alright, fine.'

His face lit up.

'Once we have been back in London for a week, if you still feel the same way, we can talk about it.'

'That is too long.'

'It is what I require to know you are not simply caught up in the moment, in the relaxation Aubrey Hall and the country air provides.'

'Fine then.' He nodded, his face just as determined as before. 'One week.'

'One week.'

Chapter Text

One week.

Just one week.

Colin could do one week.  

He could. He was determined to prove Penelope wrong. What he felt was so much more than being caught up in the privacy Aubrey Hall afforded.  It might have moved him along with his forgiveness faster. Sharing worry over Agatha's injury with her, being free to comfort her and be there for her, away from prying eyes of the ton allowed him to realise that what had been there from the very beginning still simmered under the surface, begging to be released.

He would readily admit they still had a long way to go. Their path to healing still incomplete. He longed for it. Longed to have her again, in every conceivable way. He pined to fix the mistakes of their past. For her to give them a chance to try.

He was on his way back to Mayfair, Penelope and Agatha had left Aubrey Hall with Portia much earlier, their farewell brief and stoic, and he instead was sharing a carriage with Francesca and Benedict, who needed to do some business in the city before heading back to My Cottage with Sophie and the boys.

They were all of fifteen minutes into the hours long journey and Benedict kept smirking at him.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Colin caved. He had been trying to resist. This was a standard Benedict tactic, baiting and baiting until his siblings cracked under the pressure.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘Then would you stop looking at me like that?’

‘Like what, Brother?’

‘As though you are the cat who got the cream.’

This only made Benedict’s smirk deeper. ‘Oh, but I believe I am.’

‘What do you mean Benedict?’ Francesca chimed in.

Colin felt hot under his cravat, the knot of it seemed to have suddenly tightened. This did not feel as though it was going to end well.

‘You spent a great deal of time with Miss Featherington over the last few days.’ Benedict eventually said.

‘She is the mother of my child.’

‘Is that all she is?’

Colin knew he was growing redder by the second, as though he were some Eton boy still shy and flushing over the mention of a girl. ‘It is none of your business.’

‘Anthony said he found the two of you in a cosy position.’

‘When she was crying after the words Daphne directed to her and I was comforting her?’ Colin raised his eyebrows. 

Francesca giggled as Benedict grimaced. ‘He left that part out.’

‘Yes well, it goes to show you should not make assumptions then.’

There was a beat of silence, and then another.  Just as Colin started to relax into it, sure the conversation was over and he was left once again to his own thoughts, Benedict spoke up again.

‘I have seen the way you look at her.’ He was more serious this time. No longer a teasing banter between sibling and Colin felt immediately on edge. Mentally he prepared to fight back.

‘I don’t look at her.’ The words tumbled from his mouth in a mess. He meant to say he did not look at her in any notable way. He was so careful to keep himself in check, he was sure of it.

‘You do,’ Benedict insisted. ‘I also see the look in your eyes when you do.’

Colin sighed and turned his gaze from the window to Benedict. ‘What point are you so desperately trying to prove, Brother?’

‘Be careful.’

‘I am.’

Benedict raised an eyebrow. ‘You are certain of that?’

‘Why would I not be?’

‘You fell hard and fast, twice in your youth. Once I believe was misguided, misplaced, equating being a young girls saviour to being in love. The second I believe was real. Young hearts do not always know how to handle it. You acted rash in love and rash in anger and lost everything. I would hate to see you come so close to gaining it back only to lose it all again.’

‘You believe me to have been foolish?’ Colin asked. ‘And that is the reason I missed out on my daughter growing up.’

‘Yes.’

He blinked a few times. He expected this kind of blunt honesty from Anthony, Daphne even. But not Benedict. Not in this manner. It was startling and Colin was left unsure of what to think. He knew himself, understood his flaws internally. He had not, however, realised they were so transparently clear to those around him. He would have been lying if he said Benedict's blunt response did not hurt.

‘You were foolish. You let her get away. I know there is hurt there, hurt I cannot quite imagine, and quite frankly have no desire to. But please move carefully, although we will always do anything for you, we don’t want to have to pick up the pieces of you yet again. Our hearts will find it difficult too.’

Colin did not give his brother a response. He did not need to hear about his shortcomings second hand. He did not need to know about how difficult things had been for his family while he was battling a broken heart and finding a way to move on from what he had lost.

He had never asked for their help. 

Benedict had no idea what he was talking about.

‘What Benedict means to say is we love you and we care about you. We would hate to see you hurt again,’ Francesca spoke softly and kindly in that way only she could.

‘What I heard him say was it’s all my fault because I was young and stupid. He does not understand what happened at all,’ Colin snapped. He felt immediately guilty. Francesca herself had been through a lot in her lifetime. Things he could not begin to imagine.

With a sigh Francesca slumped back in her seat and resumed her pensive staring out the window.

Colin did the same.

He could not fully understand why the comments from his siblings had him in a foul mood. He understood, at a surface level at least, that it came from a place of love and care. If any of his siblings were in his situation he would respond in a similar manner. But they were not.

It was the way they planted a seed of doubt within him. Something unsettling and off balance that had an impact on his confidence. That maybe he wasn’t making the right decisions.

There was no map he could follow for this. No guide on what he was supposed to do, whether it was a good idea at all. He risked everything walking down this path and he knew it. He only longed for his family's support and for them to keep their concerns amongst themselves.

Perhaps he would be happier if he simply forgot about it.

As the carriage rolled through London, he dismissed that thought. Pen’s smile warmed a part of him he thought he’d lost. Her touch made him feel feather light and as though he might float away, while also managing to ground him, humble him, in ways he had not previously thought possible.

Colin was dropped off at his townhouse first. As he walked through the door it felt nice to be able to take off his coat. With no guests expected it was a nice break to take his shoes off as well. He could relax with no fear of interruption.

A long day of travel had him tired. As soon as his head hit the pillow he fell to sleep. His dreams plagued by red hair, bright blue eyes. Gasps and moans as his fingers travelled across soft flesh.

It was nothing new.

Colin woke the next morning feeling unrested. He could have easily slept many more hours. With no plans for the day there was nothing truly stopping him.

It could have been easy to fall back to old habits. Where he was a recluse. Holed up in his house until forced to leave. But the weather in London was nice for a change.

He had received a missive from Daphne that she was going to escort Belinda on a promenade. It was not explicitly mentioned, but the note itself implied an invitation.

Colin was wary of it.  No doubt she would want to discuss everything that occurred at Aubrey Hall, he was certain that was the reason for the invitation.

His temptation to decline was strong, but brilliant blue sky and warm sunshine was far too alluring. It was not a common sight in London, and he would be a fool if he did not take advantage of the weather.

An hour later Colin was appropriately dressed and arriving at Rotten Row.

He easily and quickly spotted his sister and her husband and joined them.

‘You are here,’ Daphne said, looking pleasantly surprised.

‘You know I can be tempted by glorious weather.’

‘It is lovely,’ Daphne said. She held a lavender parasol over her, protecting her skin from freckling from the rays. Colin wanted to soak up every speck of sunshine he possibly could. He missed the Mediterranean sun and being tan from it.

Belinda ran off ahead, speaking with other girls also debuting this season. Colin tried to be subtle in looking around for familiar fiery hair. It did not seem as though they had made it out today.

‘I suspect they are laying low due to the rumours,’ Daphne remarked.

‘Pardon?’

‘There is gossip about. Agatha’s resemblance, Penelope’s timely returning. You are making more and more society appearances this season. The ton is noticing.’

‘Ah. Right.’

Penelope had mentioned as much. Colin did not think idle ton gossip was worth paying heed to. He could not bring himself to care what they thought.

‘The truth always comes out eventually.’

‘I suppose,’ Colin said.

‘I apologised to Penelope,’ Daphne continued. 

‘She did not mention that.’

‘I should not have said what I said. Especially not in that setting. It was improper in every sense, and I am left mortified I did it.’

‘Daphne-‘

‘I just remember so well what you were like, well, after. The thought of you getting hurt again fills me with fury, and I forget all sense. I see the way you look at her and all I want is to protect you. I could not handle seeing you be a shell of the person you are supposed to be again.’

Another comment on the way he looked at her. Colin had thought he was keeping subtle. He had not realised quite how transparent he was to his family.

Another remark on what he was like when she disappeared. Colin was starting to realise how much his actions seemed to impact on his siblings and there was much he longed to take back.

‘Daphne,’ he said again. Colin took a deep breath before he continued. ‘With Penelope’s permission I wanted to explain a little further about what happened back then.’

‘Oh?’ Daphne’s curiously was clearly piqued. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Penelope did not run away out of nowhere.’

‘What did you do?’

Colin sighed. ‘It was a failing on both our parts.’

He went on to explain to Daphne. Whistledown. Their argument. Their engagement ending. His regret at not chasing her. Not forgiving her. Holding onto anger for far too long.

Daphne stopped in her path and turned to him.

‘Oh, Colin,’ she said, her voice filled with sympathy. ‘I did not know.’

He shook his head. ‘How could you have ever suspected?’

‘Penelope was Whistledown?’

He nodded.

‘I never would have made that guess. Although now it makes total sense.’

‘It does.'

'And how are things between you both now?' Daphne asked.

Colin gave a sigh. Trust Daphne of all people to move past that revelation quickly. Though, he supposed with Whistledown having been retired for eighteen years her identity no longer mattered the way it once had. 'I have hope. The years between cannot be magically mended, but I have hope that our futures include one another.'

Daphne gave him a soft smile. 'It warms my heart to see the light back in your eyes. It gives me hope too.'

Colin returned home in time for dinner. After his meal his mind was still a continuous swirl of thoughts and feelings, so he picked up a long-abandoned book in effort to shut his mind and hopefully have some restful sleep by the time he made it to his bed.

It only partially worked. He found himself missing words and sentences. Re-reading the same page over and over and still not retaining any part of it.

Colin was interrupted from his reading by a knock on the door of his study. He looked up to find Dunwoody standing by the door. A hesitant look on his face.

‘Is everything alright?’ Colin asked.

‘You uh, have a visitor sir.’

Colin glanced at the clock; it was already after eleven in the evening. ‘At this hour?’

He nodded. ‘I would tell them to come back in the morning but, I thought you might want to greet this particular guest.’

Colin’s heart took off before his mind. It pounded in his chest as he could think of only one late visitor Dunwoody would not usher away.

He had images of Penelope's wide blue eyes before him. Her soft lips shaping words he longed to hear. ‘I missed you’ ‘I could not stay away another moment’ ‘I need you’.

His stomach flipped in anticipation as he pulled his robe on and hurried downstairs.

There in the entrance foyer was a girl, red curls loose, a day dress and coat on. She looked up at him as he made his way down the stairs, eyes wide.

Not Penelope.

His heart did not have time to feel disappointed as worry overtook.

Why was Agatha here at this hour? What could possibly be so important it could not wait until the morning? Who was chaperoning her? 

‘Agatha?’ He asked, all questions clear in his tone alone.

At hearing the worry in his tone her expression changed. Her face hardened slightly. ‘I cannot stay in that house a moment longer.’

‘What?’ Colin made his way across the room to stand in front of her. ‘Did something happen?’ His mind immediately went to Portia, and all manner of unsavoury things she could have said to his daughter. Anger tempted to bubble up in him, but he took a deep breath, holding it at bay until he had an answer.

‘I found out why your engagement to my mother broke down,’ her face hardened still, expression growing cold. It was then he noticed the paper in her hand, crumpled under her grip, but a sheet he was once all too familiar with, and his heart sank. ‘And I will never forgive her for what she took from me.’

Chapter Text

The journey from Aubrey hall back into Mayfair took longer than Penelope felt it rightfully should have.

It was immediately clear that Portia had many things her mind. They needed to be more careful. She could not been seen conversing with ‘Mr Bridgerton’ in public again. Agatha could not be so friendly with all of the Bridgerton’s any longer. There were rumours about the ton and they all risked scandal.

‘With all due respect, Mama, I no longer care for what the ton thinks, nor their gossip.’

‘I find that difficult to believe.'

‘It was eighteen years ago, Mama. I have changed,’ Penelope spoke softly.

Despite Penelope’s declaration that she did not care for reputation, Portia still did, and therefore made them keep a low profile the following day, in hope that some other scandal would occur and ton's focus would shift away from them.

They may have been cooped inside for the day, but the Featherington's managed to keep themselves busy. They played card games and read books in the drawing room together. There was something calm, and peaceful about it, Penelope decided. Aubrey Hall had been invigorating, but it was never quiet. There was never a moment to simply exist, and relax. There was something dramatic happening in every corner of the house at any given point of the day. That was the way the Bridgerton's were. Penelope had always adored it.

That did not stop her from enjoying the change of pace for a day.

Phillipa and Philomena retired early after dinner and the house become quieter still.

Agatha also eventually excused herself to bed, whilst Penelope stayed up, choosing to read by the fire. In truth however, the longer she tried to read the more her mind drifted.

She could not help herself thinking about the way Colin had looked at her the other night at the ball. The words he'd said. The way she was so certain he had wanted nothing more than to kiss her. The way she wanted nothing more than to let him.

She had given him a week. A week to prove he was not caught up in the intimacy of Aubrey Hall. A week to think for himself if this was something he really wanted. The thought that he might truly want her again was a lot for her to comprehend. Because, well, why would he? After she had lied to him, after their engagement ended, after their daughter grew up without him getting to see it, or know she existed. How could he so easily forgive and want her?

Eventually, she gave up on trying to read her book. If her mind was going to continue to replay his words over and over again, she might as well be in a comfortable bed rather than the stiff settee she was currently sitting on.

She walked quietly up the stairs, careful not to wake anyone in the house. When she cracked the door to her room open, the fire was thankfully still burning. She expected Agatha to be in bed, dreaming already, but she was not.

Penelope was ready to scold. Remind her that she needed her rest. Before she could say anything her eyes registered the sight before her.

Agatha sat on the rug in front of the fire. Surrounded by pamphlets and papers.

'Agatha?' Penelope asked, her question clear in her tone.

Agatha looked up sharply. 'What is all of this?'

Penelope made her way across the room, she knelt down beside Agatha and picked up one of the sheets. It was a memory frozen in time. A version of herself she no longer truly recognised, yet she was instantly transported back to writing in the backs of carriages trying to meet deadlines. Sneaking out at all hours. Making bribes, putting on accents and maids robes to hide in.

And she was Agatha's age when she was doing it all. She could not imagine her own daughter…

Penelope stopped that thought. This was the same daughter who had orchestrated a lie to get herself to London to meet a man who may or may not have been her father.

Perhaps she should be able to imagine it after all.

'Mama?' Agatha asked again, snapping Penelope out of her thoughts.

'This uh, is… how did you find all of this anyway?'

'A loose floorboard,' Agatha said. 'It yielded interesting results for me once. And apparently a second time now. But I truly do not understand what I am reading.'

'It is Lady Whistledown,' Penelope answered.

'I keep hearing her mentioned. Why is she so important?'

Penelope shook her head. 'She is not. Not anymore at the very least.'

'But she was?'

'She was the most notorious gossip columnist in London back in the day,' Penelope answered.

'And you kept the sheets?'

'I only have a few left. I burnt most of them.'

'Why?'

Penelope sighed. This felt like a cross-road. She had to choose her path and keep to it. The temptation to lie was strong. She had run away from all of this after all, had build a new life for herself. One where Whistledown did not exist. Unfortunately lying had never panned out well for her. It was how she fell out with Eloise, how she lost Colin. Penelope had finally learnt over the years that the gain from lying was temporary at best.

'I was Lady Whistledown.'

'You?'

'Do not sound so shocked, you got your natural curiosity and penchant for sneaking around from somewhere.'

'Why did you burn the issues then?'

'I gave her up,' Penelope said.

'Why?'

'This might be a story for another day.'

Agatha's face narrowed. 'That is usually code that you don't want to tell me.'

'I do not think you will benefit from knowing.'

'I can handle it.'

Penelope took a deep breath, and she launched into the story. How Whistledown started, how she kept it going. How Colin hated the column, and could not forgive her when he discovered she was the author.

'What happened?'

'In the moment Whistledown was not something I could give up. She was my independence, she was income, she was mine and I could not find it in me to let her go.'

'Even though Father did not like her?'

'I had tried to give her up, to leave it all behind. Agatha, back then Whistledown was such a large part of me, I could not give her up so easily. Eventually our engagement ended over it.'

'But if you had given it up, your engagement would not have ended.'

Penelope could not meet Agatha's eyes as she nodded. 'I do not know what would have happened. But that is a possibility.'

Agatha stood and Penelope braved meeting her eyes. She was blinking away tears.

'Agatha,' Penelope said gently, standing up as well. She moved forward to comfort her daughter but she quickly stepped back.

'Do not,' Agatha’s voice shook with emotion.

'Agatha please-'

'All you had to do was not write gossip,' her voice was low. 'And I would have grown up with a complete family.'

'It is not-'

‘Do not tell me it is not that simple. That I do not understand. Am I not the same age you were when you were writing this?’ Agatha gestured around at the pamphlets before them.

‘Agatha, please,' Penelope tried again.

‘Did you know?’ Agatha asked, her voice quiet and unsteady. ‘About me? I assume I was conceived before your engagement ended. Did you know?’

Penelope shook her head. ‘I did not find out until later.’

‘When you had run off to Bath,’ Agatha said.

Penelope felt her heart break. It would be easier to lie. Easier to let assumptions remain assumptions and not have to face this truth. All she had ever wanted was to protect Agatha from the harsh, ugly of the world. Yet here she was, throwing it in her face.

‘I ran off to Bath because I found out about you.’

‘You could have fixed things.’

Penelope shook her head, tears threatened to fall. ‘You did not grow up in this society. You do not understand what it is like.’

‘No I did not. You did not give me a chance to,’ Agatha’s voice was cold. A harsh tone Penelope had never heard her use before, and never before had her own daughter appeared so… Featherington. But the rage simmering in her eyes was something Penelope was all too familiar with, Bridgerton anger.

Agatha started walking over to her bed. From under it she pulled out her bag and began to fill it with whatever she had nearby. Hair pins, gloves, a petticoat.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Leaving.’

‘It is the middle of the night. You cannot leave.’

‘You cannot tell me what to do.’

‘Where will you go then?’ Penelope asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

‘I have another parent who lives in a house with enough space for his daughter,’ Agatha said. ‘I am going there.’

‘It is the middle of the night. He will be asleep. We can deal with this in the morning.’

Agatha buckled up her bag and turned to face Penelope.

‘No,’ she said, her voice firm. ‘You have lied to me. Over and over. Now I find out everything started with your lies. I missed out on so much, because of you. I cannot look at you.’

Penelope should have fought harder. Should have woken up the house. Portia would be able to set Agatha straight. But that felt like cheating. So instead Penelope watched helplessly as Agatha stormed out of the house, summoned the Featherington carriage and disappeared.

They received a missive almost two hours later. Rae had enough sense to deliver it straight to Penelope, and it allowed her to breathe a sigh of relief. Agatha was with Colin. She was safe. He said they would speak in the morning and find a way to resolve things. It calmed her to know Agatha was safe, and Colin was not making any ugly assumptions, but it was not enough to help her find sleep that night. She tossed and turned until day finally broke.

'Where is Agatha this morning? I thought she would be breaking fast with us.' Portia said.

'Apparently she had plans with Belinda Hastings and left early,' Penelope lied. Lying to Portia had never filled her with such complex feelings of morality. It was simply a means to getting by without a tiring, lengthy monologue involved. Portia would have a cow if she found out about her granddaughter's midnight escape. 

'Hm,' Portia sighed unhappily. 'Very well then. I suppose it is just us.'

'Actually, I was headed to the modiste, I did imagine having to attend quite so many balls and need something new. We cannot wear the same dresses, can we Mama?' Penelope said, putting on a smile.

Portia gave her half a smile. The closest to approval Penelope was going to get in the morning at any rate.

Penelope set off quickly, nervous butterflies filling her stomach as the carriage approached Colin's lodgings. She had only been there the one time, on her arrival back to Mayfair. She was let in quickly, his footman apparently already knew to expect her as she did not need to announce herself and she was guided to a small study.

The room was blues and greens, accented with gold. Dark colours, making the room feel cosy. Intimate.

She stood in the middle, unsure of where she was supposed to be. There was a desk with a chair, but that felt too assuming. A single armchair, but that felt too relaxed. So she stood. And waited.

'Penelope.'

She whipped her head to the door. He entered and quietly closed the door behind him.

The room seemed to shrink at the movement and she was suddenly breathing him in.

'How is she?' Penelope asked.

'Asleep,' Colin answered. 'I have a ladies maid from Bridgerton House on her way, no questions were asked. She will rouse her and start to get her ready for the day.'

Penelope nodded. 'Thank you for taking care of her.'

'I always will,' Colin said.

Silence passed over them. Penelope looked back at Colin, studied his features once more. He was truly only more handsome with age. Only more attractive with how much he cared for Agatha. Her heart ached once more for what they'd lost.

'Pen,' he started. 'I need to know what happened.'

'Why?'

'Because my daughter showed up in the late hours of the evening distressed and looking to get away from you. I have to know what happened so we can find a way forward.'

Penelope bit her tongue. Her instinct was to shut him out. To tell him what he wanted did not matter. She needed to collect her daughter and bring her back home. End of story. As she looked into Colin's eyes, she realised she could do none of those things. Before her was a man who deserved true honest answers.

So she explained in excruciating detail what had happened the night before. Colin let her talk uninterrupted. He listened carefully.

'Mama does not know she has gone,' Penelope finished.

'I see,' Colin said.

'Well, go on then,' Penelope said.

'What?'

'I'm ready for you to confirm that this is all my fault. Because it is. All of this is my fault.'

Colin shook his head and stepped closer to her. His body almost touching hers. Every sense was suddenly filled of him and she felt dizzy at their proximity.

'You have made the best choices you believed you could with what you had,' he said.

'Colin-'

'I will not deny my own hurt and anger over your actions. I will also freely admit I still have much to work through. But I will not stand by and let you hurt just as much. You deserve healing too.'

She shook her head. 'I have only ever hurt the people I care for.'

Colin drew her into his arms, he did not give her a chance to pull away as he brought her to his body. She fell into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tight.

'You do not mean to,' he said, running a soothing hand down her back. 'This with Agatha will blow over. She has a lot of new information to sit with and understand. She will come around in time.'

'And you?'

'You already know how I feel,' he murmured and warmth pooled in her belly at his tone, combined with the way she was pressed against his hard, lean body.

Penelope pulled away from him. It was a move of self-preservation. This was not the time, nor the place. This was about Agatha, and working out what to do with her. She took several deep breathes and could sense Colin doing the same before she turned to face him once more.

'I truly do not know what to do right now,' she admitted.

Colin gave her a smile. 'Lucky for you, I have an idea.'

'Go on then.'

'We let Agatha decide what she wants to do.'

'Colin…'

'I mean it, let her have some agency and some choice in what happens. Otherwise she may just sneak off again and who knows where she would go next.'

Penelope sighed. 'What if she wants to stay here?'

'Then we make the necessary arrangements.'

'Portia would never allow it.'

'I do not give a flying toss what Portia thinks,' Colin said. 'Honestly, never have.'

She could not help her giggle at that.

'Alright, fine. Let's see what Agatha wants and figure it out from there.'

Colin gave her a wide grin. 'Excellent. Now, I have not broken fast yet and I am starving. Would you care to join me?'

Penelope's stomach gave a grumble at the mention of food. 'I suppose I could eat.'

Colin showed her to the dining table. Penelope had not thought about what she was expecting, but she realised she was not at all surprised by the elaborate spread  that probably could have fed a large family.

It was quiet as they ate. Colin read the paper, and Penelope took in the dining the room. The first time she had been here there had not been the time to observed what was now Colin’s home.

She let her eyes drift to the way the walls were painted, the artwork displayed. Depictions of Greece, Italy and Spain. No doubt reminders of his tours from his youth. It was all very masculine. The epitome of bachelor lodgings, she realised. Penelope let herself think about what she would change given the chance. She would only add small touches, ones to make it feel more like a home, and less of a place for a bachelor in his third decade.

‘Do you like it?’ Colin’s voice broke through her thoughts.

‘Pardon?’

‘I can see you assessing the place,’ he cleared his throat. ‘Do you like it?’

She nodded. ‘It looks like you.’ She hoped her words made sense, based on the small smile Colin gave, she suspected they did.

They fell back into silence until Agatha entered the room. She froze in the entrance, her eyes focusing in on Penelope and her presence. Penelope stood, the chair underneath scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. The sound appeared to echo in the sudden stillness of the room.

‘Why are you here?’ Agatha asked bluntly.

Penelope was about to response when Colin beat her to it.

‘I asked her to be here,’ he said. ‘Agatha, she is your mother and we need to discuss this.’

‘I do not believe there is anything else to discuss.’

‘Take a seat, have some toast, or fruit and we will talk,’ Colin said.

Penelope felt impressed with the way he was handling the situation. She supposed he had grown up with several younger siblings and had learnt over the years. She quickly shoved down the part of her that yearned to have seen him with a young Agatha. She had given that up.

Agatha slowly sat down at an empty seat at the firmly. Equal distance between her mother and father. She looked at Colin expectantly.

Colin glanced to Penelope who gave a short nod of approval for him to start.

'Agatha, before we begin it is imperative you understand that you are being given a lot of trust and respect from the both of us. We both value how you feel so, instead of making decisions for you, we believe you can be trusted to make your own decisions. In return, we ask that you respect us in the same manner.'

Penelope's heart pounded in her chest. She had never seen this side of Colin before.

Agatha looked between them and finally she nodded. 'Alright.'

'Your mother and I understand why you feel hurt and why you are upset. We do not need you to explain why you ran away last night. However, you need to decide if you truly do not wish to be back in Featherington house right now, or if you want to stay here.'

'I already said-'

'There are considerations to go through,' Colin interrupted her and continued. 'At social outings and events you must arrive with Portia as you have been. As far as the ton is aware, you are still here with their sponsorship. No one outside of immediate family can know you are here.' If that is what you choose.’

Agatha glanced at Penelope, who nodded.

‘You would let me stay with Father so easily?’ She asked.

‘I know you will be safe here, so, yes,’ Penelope admitted, she pushed aside the way her heart ached a little. For eighteen years she had been the only one who could make sure Agatha was safe. Now there was another, her father. It hurt to know she had denied both them this for so long.

Agatha looked back to Colin. ‘Then I would like to stay here.’

‘You understand the conditions?’

She nodded.

‘Very well then. I will make the necessary arrangements,’ Colin said. He gave Penelope a reassuring look. One that said things would be ok. They would figure it out.

Penelope gave him a small nod and took a deep breath.

It would be good for them, she reasoned with herself. For both Agatha and Colin to bond further. She could handle that.

She could.