Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

April 1813 (season 1, episode 1)

Penelope Featherington trailed behind her sisters, cousin, and parents as they entered the Danbury ballroom. Her eyes darted everywhere, taking in the dizzying scene in front of her. Flowers festooned every surface, while the elite of society mingled in pastel dresses and dark suits. For years, she had dreamed of this exact moment, her first ball, day one of her future. The hopeful smile on her face was even brighter than the daffodil-colored dress she wore.

From this moment, she and the other young ladies of her family had two, maybe three, years to meet and marry a man before the petals would fall off the rose and they would be reduced to unwanted spinsters. They knew what was at stake, Lady Featherington was keenly aware of the danger, and all of them were determined to be successful.

Penelope’s mother, Portia Featherington, grabbed the hand of her oldest daughter and dragged her to the first unmarried man she found. “Lord Fife, allow me to introduce Miss Prudence Featherington. She paints, sings, and arranges flowers.”

The silence hung between them awkwardly, until the man realized the couple wouldn’t be retreating without getting what they wanted. “Miss Featherington, would you like to dance?”

Prudence looked back at her mother with a squeal before taking the man’s hand. “I would be honored, Lord Fife.”

Having launched one daughter into the marriage mart, Portia turned her attention to her middle child. “Lord Cho, this is Miss Phillipa Featherington. I think you will find her to be an affable companion.” The gentleman also relinquished and took the girl to the center of the room. Instead of paying attention to her other charges, Portia stood on the side to gossip with the other Mamas and watch her offspring dance, a proud smile on her face.

A gentleman also approached Penelope’s cousin, Marina, and swept her away to get refreshments, leaving the youngest Featherington waiting alone on the edge of the dance floor.

Penelope smiled as she watched her friend, Colin Bridgerton, swing a young woman in a dance, his energy just a touch too enthusiastic for polite society. They had known each other since they were children and their friendship was a caring and comfortable one. As he executed a turn, Colin caught his friend’s eye and smiled at her. Penelope felt herself glow with the warmth of his affection.

Someone bumped into her. “Oh, Penelope, I did not see you there,” Cressida Cowper sneered, obviously lying. Her entourage of mean girls giggled behind their gloved hands. Penelope ducked her head as she blushed, wishing she could melt into the floor. The debutantes fluttered off, as the embarrassed redhead moved towards the wall.

<><><><><>

Simon Basset entered the ballroom fashionably late, hoping the debutantes would be occupied with other gentlemen and leave him alone. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to factor his godmother into the calculations. “Lovely party, Lady Danbury,” he said as he bowed and kissed her hand.

“Do try to enjoy yourself, Simon.” Her face held a wicked grin as she yelled his title over the crowd. “I am so pleased that the Duke of Hastings has agreed to attend this evening. Perhaps you will find your bride tonight.” Like chum in shark-infested waters, the bait had its desired effect. Lady Danbury gave Simon a little push towards the matchmaking mamas and their daughters, who were circling him hungrily.

The women, young and old, began to flutter their eyelashes and fans, simper in airy voices, and crowd closer to him. Accomplishments were listed and introductions were given with such speed that Simon was sure he could not understand them if he attempted it. The debutantes waved their dance cards towards him, begging for the duke to chose just one of them.

He wondered how gentlemen like his friend, Anthony Bridgerton, managed this feeding frenzy year after year. Perhaps if he could find him, he could teach Simon the tricks of surviving the marriage market.

Simon looked around the room, trying to find an exit or a safe place to hide. Frantically, he began moving, hoping to find a respite. The more he did to escape the crowd of women, the more they did to get his attention.

The small mob of eager debutantes and their mamas forming behind him as he fled from them made Simon feel like hunted prey. He glanced over his shoulder to ascertain how well he had done at eluding them and felt his body collide with a smaller force. Instinctively, he grabbed for the other person, catching their arm momentarily to keep them from falling backwards.

“Oh,” the girl quietly gasped, blushing pink with humiliation. This was so much worse than the incident with Cressida just a moment before!

He turned his attention to the sound, the hounds of eligible women forgotten for a moment. Before him stood a tiny redhead in a garish yellow dress. He glared down at her from his impressive height.

“Excuse me, my lord,” she whispered, ducking her head from his withering glare.

“Quite a clever trap you have set,” he said derisively, hardly looking at her as he spoke. The creativity of the marriage-minded to force interactions with him was predictable and tiresome. “Truly, they will try anything.” He looked around, annoyed to see dozens of female eyes upon him.

“My lord? I do not know what you mean?” She wrung her hands nervously and her jaw trembled a bit, as if she might begin crying.

“Am I honestly to believe that you do not know who I am?” he snapped harshly, his face grim with disapproval and a touch of arrogance.

“We have not yet been introduced, my lord.”

“If you desired an introduction, I believe accosting me to be the least civilized of ways.”

Penelope felt her anger begin to rise. Normally, she was soft-spoken, but as the youngest in a family of strong women, she knew how to hold her ground as well. “Accosting you? You ran into me!”

He tightened his jaw, wondering how he was going to execrate himself from this situation, when he heard the familiar tap of his godmother’s cane on the floor near them.

“Good evening, Lady Danbury.” The girl’s voice sounded even more fearful as she stiffly curtsied to the intimidating hostess of the ball.

“And to you, Miss Featherington. May I introduce my godson, Lord Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings. Simon, this is Miss Penelope, the youngest of the Baron Featherington’s daughters.”

“Nice to meet you, Your Grace.” She curtsied, blushing again, as he bowed regally.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Featherington.” After introductions were made, an awkward silence settled between them, before Lady Danbury lightly struck Simon with her cane. Properly corrected for his poor manners, he asked, “Would you like to dance, Miss Featherington?”

“I, um-”

“It is a dance, girl, not a marriage proposal!” Lady Danbury said sharply, staring at the debutante expectantly. Few women in the entire kingdom had as much power as she did, and even fewer would dare to disobey her.

Chastised, Penelope remembered her years of training and handed the duke her dance card. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

He signed his name to the next line and gave it back to her, holding out his hand to lead her to the dance floor. Several people had been watching their interaction, but now that they were moving to the center of the room, the frenzied whispers from the other guests got louder. Simon did his best to ignore them, focusing on positioning himself and his partner as the music started.

Penelope felt the eyes of the Ton on her, which distracted her from executing the steps of the waltz correctly. She stumbled a few times, glancing around at the crowd self-consciously. On one side of the room, she saw Cressida, frowning at her with jealous incredulity. Colin watched her with a puzzled expression, a biscuit suspended before his mouth. As Simon turned her slightly, she caught the eyes of Lady Bridgerton, who smiled at her encouragingly. She wished her other friend, Eloise, was there to support her, but she hadn’t debuted to society yet and was left at home.

“Do not look at them, Miss Featherington,” he ordered with a clipped voice. “Look at me.” He could feel the tension in her body as she worried about everyone’s opinions and hoped to focus her on something else.

For the first time since they bumped into each other, she looked up and met his eyes. “I'm sorry, Your Grace.”

Simon drew his eyebrows together, surprised by how young his dance partner looked. Her hair was arranged in tight curls, which combined with her height to make her appear like a doll. He suddenly felt very protective of her. Softening his voice, he encouraged her warmly, “Try to enjoy it.”

She gave him a tiny smile. “It is intimidating.”

“Is it worse than the presentation?” he asked, referring to the tradition of debutantes parading themselves before the queen as a way of introducing them to society. As a male without sisters, he had never attended one, but he had heard stories.

She giggled lightly. “Oh, no, Your Grace! Nothing is quite as scary as meeting Her Majesty. I thought I was going to faint with fright, but my sister stole that honor instead.”

He let out a puff of air, almost like a laugh, and gave a weak smile that died quickly. “Did you come out at the same time?”

“Yes, Your Grace. My mother had all three of us debut together this year.”

“How unusual.” He thought about asking her more questions, but restrained himself. After all, he wasn’t seeking a wife and didn’t want to give the girl any false hope of his interest.

When the music ended, she curtsied to him and thanked him for the dance. He bowed and offered his elbow as he led her off the dance floor and towards the Bridgertons. Seeing them approach, Colin bounded up to Penelope, grinning eagerly. “Pen! You danced beautifully!”

Standing next to the serious and aristocratic duke, Penelope felt a little embarrassed by her immature friend. “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said warmly, but properly. They weren’t children anymore. Now that she had been presented to the queen, their relationship needed to change.

The use of his formal name seemed to shock Colin into realizing they were in a public setting with the eyes of society upon them. “Good evening, Miss Featherington.” He bowed, as he had been taught.

“This is Lord Basset-”

“I know who he is!” Colin interrupted, unable to hold the respectable facade for very long. “It is good to see you again, Simon.”

“Colin, you should address him as ‘Your Grace,’” a deep voice scolded from behind his brother.

“Bridgerton!” the duke exclaimed with a grin, sticking out his hand towards his friend.

Anthony shook his hand while enthusiastically announcing, “Hastings! Welcome back, Your Grace!”

Simon groaned. “You know I hate that name. Please, call me Simon.”

Colin could not miss out on being part of the conversation for long. “My brother and Lord Basset know each other from Eton and Oxford,” he explained to Penelope, who looked a little overwhelmed with all the male attention. They were all taller than her and she had to crane her neck to look up at them.

She looked beyond Lord Bridgerton to his sister, pleading with her eyes for rescue. The other girl walked around the circle to take Penelope’s arm. “You are doing well,” she whispered in her friend’s ear.

“Oh, Simon, do you remember my sister, Daphne?” Lord Bridgerton asked casually, throwing out the introduction so the men could get back to talking about their school days. “Daphne, may I introduce Lord Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings.” They greeted each other with the appropriate bows.

“Anthony, may I take Penelope to get some lemonade?” Daphne asked, deferring to him as her chaperone for the evening.

“Colin, watch your sister.” As the oldest brother and head of the household, Anthony was used to giving orders and having them be obeyed. He also realized how fortunate he was to have a small army of brothers to delegate tasks to should he ever desire a respite. Colin nodded and put out his arms to escort the women.

“Thank you for the dance, Your Grace.” Penelope smiled and curtsied, relieved to be done with the awkward socialization for the night. After a brief conversation with her friends, she could go back against the wall where she felt most comfortable and wait out the end of the ball.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Featherington.” The duke bowed to her stoically and watched the group of younger people wander off.

“Penelope- Miss Featherington- is very important to our family. I think of her as a sister.” Anthony’s tone was serious and held a bit of a warning as he addressed Simon.

The duke frowned, slightly confused by his friend’s tone. “She is sweet.”

“She is very young-” again with that same tone of warning “-younger than Daphne by a few years.” He thought about spelling out how protective he felt towards his siblings’ friend, but he assumed he had said enough to enlighten the duke of the facts.

Her age seemed obvious to Simon, and he didn’t understand what Anthony was so upset about tonight. “They seem like good friends.”

“My entire family loves her, especially my mother. She thinks of her as another daughter.”

Irritated, Simon asked, “What is your point, Bridgerton?”

With a sigh, he viscount declared harshly, “Penelope is innocent of your rakish ways, and I will not allow you to corrupt her.”

“I had no intention of corrupting her! She is a child!” He could not keep the disdain and horror from his voice.

“Exactly. And while we are talking about it, you can stay away from my sister as well.”

“Understood. I have no interest in them or any other dull-witted chit in this room. I will not marry.” He pronounced his last statement a bit loudly, causing those around him to turn towards him in shock.

Anthony looked at him incredulously, pretending to not be offended at his friend’s dismissal of his sister as vapid. “Are you truly not planning on taking your place in society when you have a dukedom?”

“I have a title, which as far as I am concerned will end with me.”

“Have you informed these vultures of your wishes?” Anthony gestured out towards the ballroom and all the hungry matchmaking mamas.

“I am sure word will get around soon, but what of you, Lord Bridgerton?” He emphasized the honorific pointedly. “You are the firstborn Bridgerton of a firstborn Bridgerton, nine times over. Where is your wife?”

“I still have time.”

“You have been a viscount for a decade, whereas I have only been a duke for a few weeks.”

“True, but I am in possession of something that you do not have- brothers. Built-in heirs.”

“You must marry eventually- sire your own heir.”

“We shall see,” he replied haughtily, changing the subject to something more interesting and less dangerous. The entire time they spoke, Lord Bridgerton never took his eyes off Daphne, staring down any man who tried to get close to her. It was a tough job to be such a vigilant watchdog, but he was not going to let his sister be compromised by an unworthy man, even if that man was his best friend.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

While the older men were conversing, Colin escorted his sister and friend to the refreshment table, handing them both a glass of lemonade before taking one for himself. He also grabbed a few biscuits, as there was no societal stigma against men eating at parties like there was for women.

“You were beautiful at the presentation yesterday,” Penelope gushed at her friend. “A diamond of the first water.”

“Thank you. Eloise said every other debutante hates me because of the queen’s special attention. Mother was very pleased, but I find the expectation to be perfect all the time very daunting.”

“You were both perfect,” Colin complimented smoothly, flashing Penelope a smile that made her stomach flutter.

“Do you think the duke will call on you tomorrow?” Daphne asked, stealing a glance at the man and meeting her brother’s disapproving frown instead.

“No, he is not interested in me. He only danced with me because Lady Danbury pushed him into it.”

“She is terrifying,” Colin interjected with a fake shutter. ‘It does make me feel better to know that her own godson is scared of her as well.” He chuckled.

“I am sure all the suitors will be in your drawing room, Daphne.” Penelope fluttered her eyelashes at her male friend in a way she hoped looked alluring. “Colin, will you be calling on anyone tomorrow?”

He gave her a confused look before turning his attention back to the dance floor. “Who is that?”

“I do not know, Brother.”

It took a moment for Penelope to recover from her disappointment, but when she finally glanced in the direction her friends were indicating, she blurted out. “Oh, that is my cousin, Marina Thompson. She is visiting for the season.”

Daphne’s eyes got big. “Your mother is shepherding four young ladies through the marriage mart this year?” Even as she asked the question, she realized that Lord Bridgerton’s chaperoning and Lady Featherington’s supervising of their charges was completely different. Both Penelope and Marina were currently navigating the ballroom alone, while the attention seemed to be on the other two sisters. Whereas Daphne had an overabundance of chaperones with her three older brothers.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Colin said, his focus already on Miss Thompson. He wandered away without bowing or properly bidding them farewell.

“It looks like my brother may be throwing his hat in the ring.” Daphne smiled at him as he eagerly tried to push his way into Marina’s inner circle.

“Miss Bridgerton, I was hoping to find you away from your brothers tonight,” a man said, slipping into their company the moment Colin was occupied elsewhere.

“Lord Berbrooke, good evening.” The debutantes curtsied to him and looked at each other uncomfortably.

The man raked his eyes up and down Daphne’s body, ignoring Penelope completely. “You look very grown up in that gown, Miss Bridgerton.”

For the first time that night, Daphne hoped her older brothers were watching their interaction carefully. Something about the lord gave her a sick churning in her stomach. “Thank you?”

He licked his lips. “I have had my eye on you since I was at Oxford.”

Daphne’s repulsion increased as she cringed. “When I was but five?”

He laughed as if she had made an adorable joke. “I was pleased that the queen noticed what I have been observing for years. You are beautiful, Miss Bridgerton.” He inched closer to her, reaching out his hand to snag her dance card.

“Penelope Anne Featherington!” her mother yelled as she rushed towards the girls, dragging her other daughters behind her. “I just heard that you danced with a duke!” Never had the young women been so glad to see her.

Lord Berbrooke slithered away before the vengeful matron could confront him.

“Yes, Mama,” her daughter answered quietly, ducking her head from the scolding she knew was coming.

“Good evening, Lady Featherington, Miss Featherington, Miss Phillipa Featherington,” Daphne greeted with a bright smile and a flawless curtsy.

Lady Featherington ignored the Bridgerton girl completely. “Penelope, why did you not introduce us? You know your sister has always wanted to marry a duke.”

“We are not courting, Mama. It was just a dance.”

“You are the only one he stood up with all night. It must count for something.”

“It is nothing, Mama.” She looked to her friend, disparate for help, but Daphne was inexperienced with the force that was Lady Featherington.

“Come, you will introduce us at once.” She grabbed her youngest daughter’s hand and dragged her over to where Simon and Anthony were still talking. “Lord Bridgerton, you must acquaint my ladies with your distinguished friend,” she demanded with a syrupy voice.

In shock, Daphne followed the Featherington family back to her brother. She could not believe the audacity of this marriage minded mama to throw herself and her children at any eligible bachelor.

Anthony scowled at the interruption and looked at his friend apologetically. “I would be happy to introduce you. May I present Lord Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings. Simon, this is Lady Featherington and her daughters, Miss Featherington, Miss Phillipa Featherington, and Miss Penelope Featherington.”

“Your Grace,” they replied together, demurely bowing to him.

“I believe you have already met my youngest, Penelope.” Portia Featherington grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her in front of the duke. “It was so kind of you to bestow her with your favor earlier, Your Grace.”

Simon put on his most blasé facial expression, but responded kindly. It wasn’t Penelope’s fault her mother was forcing her to interact with him again. “Miss Featherington is a beautiful dancer and very forgiving.” If they weren’t in polite company, he would have winked at her to acknowledge how they met, but he gave her a small nod instead.

“My other daughters are quite accomplished dancers as well, Your Grace. They both have places left on their dance cards, if you would like to test their skills.” She pushed Penelope to the back and pulled another daughter forward. “Prudence paints, sings, and arranges flowers and is much lighter on her feet than her sister.”

Daphne winced at the veiled comment related to her friend’s weight. It was such a common criticism in the Featherington household that the Bridgerton girl wondered if anyone even noticed they were doing it anymore. “I think Penelope is the best dancer in your family. When we had nursery balls growing up, my brothers loved dancing with her.”

Anthony caught the pointed look his sister was giving him. “Yes, you are very graceful, Miss Featherington.” He nodded, quite satisfied with his assessment. “Now, Sister, I think it is time for me to get you home.”

“But, Anthony, I have not danced with anyone.”

“It is better to leave them wondering.” The night was still fairly young, and the siblings could stay longer at the ball, but Mama Featherington was making him nervous. She was exactly the type of matron he was hoping to avoid. “Simon, I have some peers of the realm I would like to introduce you to at our club. You could share our carriage.”

“Capitol idea! We will go in my carriage, though, and leave yours for your brothers and mother to share.”

“Come, Daphne,” Anthony said brightly, excited to be leaving the feminine world of pastel dresses and pretty music. “Let's thank our hostess.”

When the two suitors and diamond bid them farewell and left, Lady Featherington caught up her two oldest daughters by the hand and dragged them to intercept the next gentleman they could find.

<><><><><>

As soon as she was alone, Penelope retreated to the wall, where she could watch the events of the ball without participating. The solitude gave her time to process the events of the night. She could not believe that she had danced with a duke! It was more than she could have dreamed for her first social event and she wondered with excitement what the season would bring.

“Dance with me, Pen!” Colin demanded holding out his hand towards her.

Bewildered by his audacity, she put her hand in his and allowed him to drag her onto the dance floor. The music began for the last waltz of the night, and she curtsied to him as he bowed.

Although Pen had been in his arms many times in nursery balls, this time felt different to him. Colin hadn’t liked seeing her dance with Lord Basset, but he wasn’t sure why he felt that way. Perhaps because she gave the duke one of the special smiles that Colin thought were only for him or maybe he felt protective of her because of the duke’s reputation as a rake. It hadn’t mattered to him when she ran through the steps with his brothers previously, both self-proclaimed rakes as well, but something about Simon’s waltz with her disturbed him.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” she asked him after noticing the scrutinizing look he was giving her.

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “More than previous years.” Colin was older than Pen, so he had already experienced a few seasons before this one. “I danced with your cousin, Miss Thompson, but only as part of a group. Can you help me get time with her?”

“What do you mean, Colin?”

“She is an angel, Pen! I would like to court her. Do you think she would be amicable to my suit?”

Penelope wasn’t sure why, but it stung a little for her friend to use her to get her cousin’s attention. “I do not know. She only arrived today, and I do not know her well.”

“Do you know her favorite flower? I am planning to call on her tomorrow.”

“I have no idea what she likes. Maybe do something simple, like daisies?” They were the flower she would have chosen if Colin had bothered to ask her. He continued to pepper her with questions about her cousin during their dance, which made Penelope increasingly frustrated. She felt misused by him and eagerly pulled away from him when the music ended.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The morning after the Danbury Ball, Daphne woke up excited to spend time with all the callers she expected would be visiting that day. “Tell Cook to make extra biscuits,” she reminded her maid, “and be sure we have a plan to keep the tea service fresh.”

“Yes, Miss,” Rose replied with a smile, drawing back the curtains on a beautiful, sunny day. Quickly and carefully, she prepared her young debutante, polishing the diamond for the gentlemen visitors.

At a quarter to one, Daphne and her mother were seated in the drawing room like a tableau, their servants stationed around the house ready to accept visitors. “Remember, Dearest,” her mother said, putting her palm on top of her daughter’s hand, “it is only the beginning of the season. Enjoy the attention and try to relax.” She smiled at her as she squeezed her hand. “I am so proud of you.”

Mother and daughter pulled apart and resumed their feigned positions of composure and tranquility when they heard pounding footsteps on the stairs. They watched the door with rapt attention to see who was so eager to visit her. Disappointment crossed their features when the viscount entered the room.

Anthony strutted to the settee and sat next to his waiting sister. “Am I the first caller?” he asked brashly, grabbing a biscuit and crossing his leg. “Excellent!” He had left his mistress’s bed to be available in the family home for morning calls and was determined to end them as quickly as possible.

Within minutes, the drawing room filled with suitors, all carrying large bouquets and eager to spend a few moments with the diamond of the season. Daphne tried to be a gracious hostess to all of them, engaging them in light conversation and complimenting their choice of flowers, but her brother was making it very difficult.

With vicious glee, Anthony picked apart every man who dared to sit across from his sister. He brought up embarrassing stories, jilted mistresses, wagers unpaid, family gossip, and plain insults to scare away all suitors. Of course, none of them were good enough for his sister, but he also found himself thoroughly enjoying the process. The entire rest of his life was spent flattering, cajoling, and agreeing with these men and their fathers. Today, he got be petty.

Throughout the afternoon, Daphne and her mother became more incensed with the viscount. They felt like he wasn’t taking the courtship ritual seriously enough. He insulted several suitors that might never give the debutante another chance.

When the last gentleman cleared out of the room, Anthony slapped his knee and declared, “That was a productive morning!”

“You are ruining your sister’s chances at marriage,” Lady Bridgerton scolded, her anger burning against her firstborn son.

“She is better off without them. Be grateful, Sister, that I saved you from those rakes, fops, and pinks.” He stood and checked his pocket watch, pleased to see the entire event had only taken two hours from his day.

“What if those are my only options, Brother?” Daphne asked, her eyes watery.

“We will find someone better,” he replied confidently. “Now, I have other business to conduct in town today, so I will see you this evening for supper.” He nodded his head to them in an unnecessary bow and turned on his heel.

“Mother, what am I going to do?” Daphne begged, the moment her brother had left the room. Now that she didn’t have an audience, she fixed herself a cup of tea, trusting in its familiarity to soothe her nerves.

“I will deal with you brother. Try not to worry.” The dowager poured herself some tea and sat down again, plotting in her head what she planned to say to her son regarding his heavy handedness.

<><><><><>

Meanwhile at the Featherington House, the entire family waited hopefully for callers to begin arriving. Penelope wondered if Colin or even the duke might visit her and rehearsed in her head some of the clever things she might discuss with them. She folded her hands on her lap and tried to appear demure.

“Penelope, sit up straighter,” her mother ordered in a harsh tone. “Remember to smile and flatter the gentlemen, ladies. Any one of them could become your husband.”

At one o’clock, carriages began pulling up to the house, depositing well-dressed young men. The butler showed them in as they arrived, announcing them and declaring who they had come to visit. Much to Portia’s displeasure, every gentleman stated that he hoped to court Miss Thompson, the cousin, rather than one of her own daughters.

Penelope studied the suitors with interest, watching how they presented Marina with gifts and compliments. Flowers were the most popular option, but some men chose to bring sweets, books, or even a puppy.

She was very pleased when her cousin passed the animal to her waiting arms. Happily, she played with the puppy on her lap, snuggling him and giving him kisses, released from paying attention to the callers.

“Good morning, Pen,” a familiar voice greeted to her.

“Colin!” she smiled, her heart leaping with hope and affection. “Thank you for coming!”

“Wish me luck,” he demanded, holding up a bouquet of daisies and smiling at his friend.

“Good luck, Colin,” she replied automatically. Her countenance fell when he walked away from her and presented the flowers to Marina. They chatted and laughed, ignoring everyone else in the room, while Penelope watched and waited for him to notice her again.

After a few hours, Lady Featherington yelled out into the crowd. “Thank you for your visits, Gentlemen. Be sure to bid good day to Prudence, Phillipa, or even Penelope on your way out the door.”

All of the men streamed past Penelope as if she didn’t exist, except Colin. He stopped for a moment and gifted her with one of his charming smiles. “Good day, Pen.”

For a blissful second, she thought he had been reaching for her, but he placed his hand on the puppy’s head instead. She sighed in disappointment, then returned his smile. “Will I see you in the park tomorrow afternoon?”

“I think my mother mentioned something about it at breakfast. I look forward to seeing you and your cousin soon.” He dipped his head to her and walked through the door, leaving Penelope with a tiny flame of hope in her heart. After he left the house, she moved to the window seat to watch him cross the street and enter his house.

<><><><><>

Lord Nigel Berbrooke sat in his office and watched the stream of suitors pouring in and out of the Bridgerton House. It wasn’t the first time he had observed the business of the family from his window, as his house near theirs in Grosvenor’s Square gave him a perfect vantage point. He knew the daily and weekly patterns of each member, the most common visitors, and which vehicles the family favored.

When the flow of callers slowed to a trickle and finally stopped, he licked his lips in anticipation. Finally, Lord Bridgerton’s carriage pulled up in front of the house, the viscount embarked, and the vehicle departed. Baron Berbooke knew that the second son had spent the night at his bachelor house and hadn’t returned, and the third born son was preoccupied at the Featherington House. With no one left to guard the hen house, he knew it was time to act.

Grabbing the bouquet he had a footman purchase for him that morning, the baron walked the short distance to the Bridgerton House. After presenting his card and being announced, he slipped into the drawing room, pleased to see the viscountess and her four daughters taking tea together. He appraised them with lewd appreciation, before settling his gaze onto Daphne.

“Miss Bridgerton, I am so pleased to have you all to myself,” he said with a smile. The room was bursting with flowers, but he pretended he didn’t see the evidence of other callers. “The other men do not recognize your beauty and rarity like I do, my diamond.”

Hyacinth, the youngest of the eight Bridgerton children, tittered with laughter and received a raised eyebrow from her mother.

“Good afternoon, Lord Berbrooke,” Daphne replied, trying to sound welcoming instead of repulsed. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“My dear mother always tells me, ‘Son, women are a garden, and you must pick the best one.’” He handed her the bouquet with a bow. “It is my judgment that you, Miss Bridgerton, are the best. Now that you are finally out in society, I am ready to make you mine.”

Daphne looked at her mother for rescue, but Lady Bridgerton just brushed her fingers along her cheeks as a reminder to smile and invited Lord Berbrooke to join them for tea. The debutante did her best to entertain the baron politely and silently counted down the minutes until they could dismiss him.

<><><><><>

With the start of husband hunting season, families around the Ton with eligible daughters found themselves with very little leisure time. Marriage-Minded Mamas planned every part of the day to include as many chances to meet a potential husband as possible. After a confining afternoon holding court for suitors in their drawing rooms the day before, this year’s debutantes and their families amassed in the park for a more relaxed gathering.

Penelope spotted her best friend coming towards the Featherington tent. “May I go play with Eloise, Mama?” she asked sweetly.

Looking exasperated and still wound up from their overabundance of suitors yesterday, Lady Featherington replied sharply, “A young lady does not play.”

“Might I promenade for suitors with Eloise?”

“Yes, go.” Portia scanned her eyes over the park, hoping for a gentleman to show interest in her older daughters.

Freed from her mother’s critical eye, Penelope hurried towards her friend. They greeted each other happily, hugging and grabbing each other by the arm to walk with their heads close together. “How was your first ball, Pen? Was it as horrible as I imagine?”

Her friend giggled a little. “No, it was fun. I danced with Colin.”

“Lady Upside-Down reported that you also danced with a duke. Is it true?”

“Only because Lady Danbury forced him to do it,” she replied with an eye roll. “He bumped into me and accused me of trying to trap him.”

“Typical man! He crashes into you and then blames you for inconveniencing him!” She spoke animatedly, which attracted the attention of a few people enjoying the park nearby. Eloise was developing a reputation for her strong opinions about marriage and men in general.

“It was a pity dance. Nothing more.”

“Good riddance, I say then! I think we should put all men out of our minds forever! You are just fortunate that you do not have any brothers.”

Penelope glanced over to the Bridgerton tent, where three of the four brothers were playing a game with their youngest sister. “I do not think they are completely bad.”

“I guess Colin is aright most of the time, and Benedict can be helpful, but Anthony is an ogre.”

Penelope giggled as she watched the viscount cheer on his youngest brother in their game. “They have all been kind to me.”

“Because you are not their sister!” Growing impatient with the conversation, Eloise steered her friend further away from their families, but close enough to still be considered safe and supervised. They watched the debutantes and their suitors and commented on the pairings, noting how the couples interacted with each other. Eloise mocked the pageantry of the courtship ritual, claiming it was stupid and fake, but Penelope observed it closely, writing epic romance stories about the couples in her head.

“Here comes the duke,” Pen whispered excitedly as Simon approached on horseback. He rode proudly with his gaze straight ahead and exuding authority.

“Who?” Eloise blurted, slightly louder than her friend would have liked.

“Lord Basset, the man that I danced at Lady Danbury’s ball.” Penelope froze as he rode past, not acknowledging her presence in any way.

“Oh, I know him. He is my brother’s friend. Rude of him not to greet you, though.” Eloise frowned at the duke’s back, offended on Pen’s behalf.

Penelope swallowed back her disappointment. “It is alright, El. Like I said, it was only a pity dance.”

Eloise studied her friend’s face, confused by her sadness. “I am thirsty. Come!” She pulled Pen back towards the Bridgerton tent, where the family was gathering for some lemonade and treats.

Taking a glass from a footman, Penelope sat down on the available carpet and began chatting with the family about everything and nothing. After nearly ten years in their midst, she felt like one of them. Lady Bridgerton treated her just like one of her daughters, and the older brothers watched out for her as if she was their sister.

“Miss Featherington,” Anthony began when there was a lull in the conversation, his voice warm and condescending, “you do not need to be concerned about unwanted attention from Lord Basset.”

The young woman looked at him confused, and then turned to Daphne hoping for an explanation. “Thank you?”

“It seems that my dear brother has not only taken it upon himself to scare all my suitors away, but yours as well,” Daphne answered, her voice polite but slightly bitter.

“I am simply trying to protect you. Lord Basset is not a suitable husband and neither were all the cads in our drawing room yesterday.”

Penelope blushed at his casual reference to marriage.

“What about Lord Berbrooke, Brother?” Hyacinth asked from her privileged position at the viscount’s side. As the child born after her father’s death, Anthony had always been more of a parental figure to her than merely a sibling, and she received the majority of his affection. “He visited us after you left.”

“Most disagreeable man!” Eloise interjected with a shutter.

Anthony scrunched his head in thought. “Berbrooke? He was a few years ahead of me in school- an only child and liked to keep to himself. I do not know of any reason to shun him.”

“He is pompous, rude-”

“Hyacinth! Do not speak of your elders in that way!” her mother scolded.

“Where did Colin go?” Benedict finally looked up from his sketching long enough to notice the missing person from their family tent.

“He said he wanted to promenade with a girl,” Gregory added, pleased he knew something his older brothers did not.

“Uhh!” Eloise groaned, standing to her feet. “If we are going to talk about courting, then I am leaving!” Eloise seized her friend and ran out of the tent. In the shade of a willow tree, they wiled the afternoon away talking about the books they were reading, gossip from around the Ton, and the rights of women.

<><><><><>

“Oh, Penelope, Colin is absolutely perfect!” Marina gushed, pacing around her cousin’s room long after they were both supposed to be asleep. “I can see why you have been friends with him for years.”

“He is just nice to everyone,” Penelope argued. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind her cousin that she wasn’t special to their neighbor boy, but she worried it wasn’t true.

“He is nice to everyone,” Marina agreed, not hearing her cousin’s meaning, “which is why I know he will make a great husband and father.”

“Father! Colin is still very young, and he wants to travel after the season ends.” Penelope played with the lace edge of her bed sheet, torn between supporting her cousin’s ambitions and holding onto hope for a future with Colin herself.

“Sometimes people’s ideas change. You have seen how gentle he is with his younger siblings, always playing with them and watching over them.” Marina sighs with her hand to her chest in adoration. “He is perfect.”

Penelope held Colin in high esteem, but she knew he wasn’t perfect. “He can be very impulsive and flippant, often speaking words he doesn’t really mean. But, he is so charming that everyone just forgives him easily.”

“How endearing.”

“He is just not right for you!”

Marina turned on her cousin, her eyes blazing with accusation. “You love him?”

“What?” Penelope spat, her face flushing.

“You do love him. Admit it!”

“I….”

“Your love is a fantasy, Penelope,” her cousin sneered. “Colin has known you most of his life and sees you no differently than his sisters. If he cared about you, he would have began courting you the day of your presentation. He sees me as a woman, a wife, and I am not going to let him get away. I will marry him.” With her bold declaration, Marina slipped out of her cousin’s room, leaving Penelope to mourn alone.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“Simon, I am so glad you could join us for supper tonight,” Anthony called down the table and over the heads of his siblings.

“How could I have refused when Lady Danbury accepted Lady Bridgerton’s invitation on my behalf?” Simon grinned at his friend, but Anthony responded with a frown toward his mother.

Hoping to divert Lady Bridgerton away from her obvious matchmaking scheme, the viscount said, “You must tell us about your travels.”

“I fear my stories are not as exciting as the news from the Ton,” Simon replied sarcastically, as most of the duke’s tales were not appropriate for a mixed audience.

“Did you hear Lord Gordon was caught in the library with Miss Newberry, and now they are to marry?” Hyacinth gossiped, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hyacinth!” her mother scolded. “Where did you hear that?” Lady Bridgerton looked horrified as she glared accusations at her older children.

“I read it in Lady Upside-Down,” the youngest sibling answered cheerfully.

“You are not supposed to read those!”

“The maids sneak them to her,” Eloise tattled, easily lying to her mother. In truth, the two sisters sat head to head in the older one’s room and read it together.

Lady Bridgerton frowned as Simon interrupted the family fight to ask, “Who is Lady Upside-Down?”

“No one knows,” Colin shrugged before scooping a pile of roasted veggies onto his plate. “She seems to know everyone, though.”

“She is just another cheap gossipmonger,” Anthony explained in his slightly arrogant, oldest brother voice. “London is full of them.”

“She is brilliant,” Eloise added. “Each one of her tales is written as a witty poem.”

“It is not the best poetry, but it is good enough for Mayfair.”

“Let's see you write a better one then, Benedict.” Eloise stuck her chin out at her older brother in a dare.

“I wonder if one day I will be in Lady Upside-Down’s paper?” Gregory interjected longingly, causing his six older siblings to scold him. He yelped as Benedict flicked him in the ear.

In her peaceful, unshakable tone that she always responded to her children’s antics, Lady Bridgerton turned to the duke and said, “I hope you do not mind the chaos. I know it’s terribly unfashionable to have all of us at the table together, but we like each other.” She glanced at her offspring at the exact moment that Hyacinth threw a dinner roll at Gregory’s face. “Well, most of the time.”

Simon laughed. “I have missed this while I was away,” he confessed honestly, looking at each person around the table. He had spent many years among them when he was younger; although, he still found it strange to see Anthony at the head instead of his father. Sitting among them again wasn’t quite like coming home, but it was the closest Simon had ever felt to it.

Lady Bridgerton studied this man that she and Edmund had welcomed into their family as a child and saw the solution to their Lord Berbrooke problem. Simon would be perfect for her daughter, a man already integrated into the family and a duke besides. With a big smile, she said, “Daphne, perhaps after dinner you would like to play pianoforte for us?”

Daphne smiled tightly. “If you wish, Mother.”

“She is quite accomplished,” Lady Bridgerton added, catching her oldest son’s eye.

Anthony frowned at her for a second before brightening his face and asking, “What was your favorite city, Simon?”

“Madrid was quite exotic with its blend of European culture and Eastern delights.”

“I would love to see Spain one day,” Colin interrupted, taking control of the conversation. “Perhaps after my Greece trip.” Just like a racehorse, the third Bridgerton brother was off at a gallop, expounding on his travel plans and spouting facts about the places he wished to see.

With the table distracted, Simon leaned over slightly to converse with Daphne. “Are you alright?”

“Why would I not be?” she demanded, scowling at him.

“It is just that you do not seem very happy.”

“How could a woman be anything but felicitous seated next to you?”

“Have I offended you, Miss Bridgerton?” Some men might have infused the question with concern and sincerity, but he lightly mocked her instead.

She huffed loudly, then glanced nervously at her mother to see if she noticed. Fortunately, the matriarch was preoccupied with the latest sibling squabble. “Your reputation offends me.”

His smile got even bigger, enjoying this conversation more by the minute. “You are aware of my reputation?”

“I am aware of your friendship with my oldest brother and the things you do together. If that were not enough, I know what Lady Upside-Down has written about you. She called you a capital-R Rake. Do you refute the accusation?”

“You seem to know everything about me, Miss Bridgerton. Just like I know plenty about you- the little sister of my oldest friend. Accomplished. Chaste. Desperate.”

“How dare you!”

“Desperate to marry, of course,” he mocked, with a teasing smile.

“And you are like every other so-called gentleman of the Ton. Arrogant. Immature. Pompous. Opinionated. Shallow. There is nothing more I need to know, Lord Basset.”

“Then you are also aware that I will never marry.”

“What?” His pronouncement derailed her train of thought and stunned her into silence.

“I am in London on business, and then I will leave the country again.”

“Oh,” she whispered, feeling very foolish for her argument.

“You need not worry about me bothering you after tonight,” he finished, punctuating his statement with a sip of wine and a decided turn away from her.

<><><><><>

“Are you purposefully trying to ruin your sister’s prospects at every opportunity?” Lady Bridgerton accused the moment she entered her oldest son’s study.

Immediately after his friend left, Anthony had retreated to his desk to work on the household accounts and enter the expenses for the day into the records. Pulling his hair, he sighed at his mother’s question. “What prospects? Simon was never a legitimate option for Daphne. He will never marry.” The duke hadn’t kept it a secret how much he despised the marriage mart, but eager Mamas everywhere didn’t believe him.

She shook her head and dropped her combative tone to more reasonable and pleading one. “Many men say that they will never marry, including your father-”

“Do not bring him into this!”

Outsiders always assumed that the children got their obstinacy from the late viscount, but it actually came from their mother. She pushed onward. “If your father were alive, Daphne would have already been matched. He would have made an arrangement with an old friend.”

Anthony knew he would never measure up to his father, but he resented his mother for reminding him of his shortcomings all the time. Yelling at her wouldn’t solve anything, though. “Look,” he reasoned, “I have known Simon for a long time-”

“As long as I have known him, which is why I am sure he is perfect for your sister.”

“He will not marry, Mother. We have talked about it several times throughout the years. It is not bravado or denial or even immaturity-

“It looks like immaturity to me,” she huffed, quite annoyed with her son’s stubbornness.

“His mind is made up, and I know he will never change.” He picked up a bill from the modiste and studied it, hoping the action would make his mother leave him alone.

“You need to decide if you are merely an older brother or if you are the head of this household. If you want the privileges of Lord Bridgerton, you must take on the responsibilities of Lord Bridgerton.”

It hurt Anthony that his mother couldn’t see how much he did for their family, how much of his own happiness he had sacrificed. “Of course, I take my duties seriously, Mother.” He gestured angrily towards the piles of papers littering his desk, while waving the modiste bill in her direction.

“What of your prospects, Anthony? Should I provide you with a list of debutantes for you to pursue at tomorrow night’s ball or do you already have your own?”

“I have no interest in debutantes.”

“Time is running out- you need heirs. By the time your father was your age, he already had you and your brothers to carry on his legacy.”

He thought it was cruel of her to remind him of his deadline, the age Edmund was when the bee sting ended his life. Much like Simon, Anthony also vowed to not leave behind a devastated wife and children when he died in less than ten years. “Fortunately for me, his abundance of offspring means that the family does not need me to add any more heirs.”

“You are counting on your brothers- the artist and the dreamer- to do for the family what you have refused to do?”

“My entire life is this family!” he roared, standing to his feet in anger and frustration. “Benedict will continue to scribble and paint all day long, while being supported by this estate. Colin will get money for his Grand Tour. Daphne will get her match- I will arrange it soon. Eloise will have money for books and lectures. Francesca will travel to our aunt’s house in Bath, where she can focus on her music. Gregory and Hyacinth will be spoiled by all the tutors and opportunities that two young people can expect in a family as esteemed as our own. And in ten years time, this house will be full of so many grandchildren that you will not even miss mine.”

“I just wish for all my children’s happiness, including yours,” she added quietly.

“Then, leave me alone, Mother.” He sat down again and resumed his work as she quietly abandoned the room. No one in the family had as much power to work him up as his mother. Since his father death, Anthony had been expected to maintain the title and responsibilities of a viscount, manage the estates as head of the household, shepherd his siblings as a pseudo father, and emotionally support his mother as a partner. It was exhausting on a good day and impossible every day.

He checked his pocket watch, another thing he had inherited from his father, and made a deal with himself to work for one more hour before departing for his mistress’s apartment. It was only in her arms, far from the stuffy expectations of Mayfair, that he felt at peace.

<><><><><>

A Few Days Later

“Bridgerton!” Nigel Berbrooke called out, feigning a look of surprise. He, of course, knew he’d be able to find the head of the family at White’s tonight, as it was Anthony’s weekly habit to meet his friends for drinks. The baron wasn’t part of the group, but he hoped that soon he might join them as family.

Anthony turned his attention from Benedict and Simon to greet the lord. “Berbrooke! Good evening.”

“I was hoping we might have a word.”

The viscount stood up and walked to the corner of the room for privacy. “How can I help you?”

“As you are aware, I have recently inherited my barony,” Nigel began in a business-like tone.

Anthony felt the familiar pinch he got whenever he thought about how young men received their title after the passing of their fathers. “I'm sorry for your loss,” he answered sincerely.

“As my father’s only heir, I am mindful of the need to continue our hereditary line. I am in need of a wife this season and was hoping that you would give me permission to marry your sister.”

“Daphne?” The viscount appreciated the baron’s pragmatic and unemotional approach to marriage. He would have been less amendable to the arrangement if the other man had come to him with poetry and lovesickness.

“The diamond.” He drew the word out and tastes it with his tongue, before catching himself and resorting back to the practicality he knows the other man wanted to hear. “Miss Bridgerton is poised, well-trained, and amicable, and I know she would be a suitable baroness to help continue the honorable Berbrooke name.”

“Have you spoken to the young lady about your suit?”

“I have called on her every day this week,” Nigel replied with a smile.

Unwilling to admit that anything happened in his household without his knowledge, Anthony covered his surprise. “You have my permission, and we will speak again when you are ready to propose.”

“Thank you, my good man. I look forward to our continued acquaintance.” Nigel dipped his head towards the higher ranking man in a half bow. “Good evening.”

After the baron left the room and his brother rejoined their table, Benedict asked, “What did he want?”

“To marry our sister.” Anthony raised his glass in a mock toast and took a sip.

“Did you give him your permission?”

“I did. He claims to have been visiting Daphne all week.” The viscount allowed his face for show his confusion. “Do you know anything, Benedict?”

He took a sip of his drink to give himself a chance to consider the question. “No, I haven’t been home when he has visited, and no one has mentioned anything to me.”

“Our mother must have thought she could handle his suit. Do you know anything about him, Simon?”

“Only his name. I have heard nothing about his reputation; although, I will ask the chaps I know.”

“Thank you. Benedict, can you check with your contacts as well?” His brother nodded his head in agreement, and the conversation changed to more interesting topics.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope was instantly enthralled by the mystical beauty of Vauxhall Gardens. The outdoor space beckoned to her from the surrounding darkness, drawing her towards the party with faint music, swirling gowns, and enchanting lighting. The night hummed with excitement, as the Ton wondered what marvels the venue would produce for them.

The moment they entered the party, the Featheringtons scattered, leaving Penelope alone to find a spot on the outskirts of the dance floor. After a few minutes, Colin strode over to her, giving her hope that he might draw her into a dance.

“Have you seen Miss Thompson tonight?” he asked, not even bothering to greet her properly, his eyes darting around the party distractedly.

“Good evening, Mister Bridgerton.” Even though he didn’t bow, she curtsied to him, as she had been trained. “Miss Thompson felt ill, so Mama stayed home with her.”

Colin’s face fell in disappointment. “Please tell her that I hope she feels better soon.”

“I will. Thank you.” Fortunately, Marina’s condition wasn’t catching, just female complaints related to her monthly cycle, so the rest of the family didn’t need to quarantine.

They stood awkwardly for a few moments before Colin blurt out. “You are not wearing yellow tonight!”

Penelope hated yellow, but those around her, including her friends, thought of it as her signature color. “With my father supervising tonight, I got to pick out my own dress.” The fabric still featured yellow, but was mostly dominated by cream daisies.

“Small mercies,” he teased, as they fell back into the ease of their lifelong friendship. She often complained about the dresses her mother forced her to wear, so he understood how special this night was for her.

Cressida Cowper heard the friends laughing from a few feet away and immediately elbowed into their conversation. “Good to see you again, Mister Bridgerton.” She angled her body towards Colin and curtsied, using the opportunity to push her rival away from her prey.

Hiding his surprise from the sudden attention of the debutante and her entourage, he bowed to them in greeting. “Good evening, Miss Cowper. Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yes, thank you, though I only have one spot left on my dance card, Mister Bridgerton,” Cressida cooed sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes and pushing the paper towards him in a way he could not refuse.

Remembering the rules of gentlemanly behavior that Anthony had taught him, Colin signed her card. “Pen, may I claim one of your dances as well?” He had enjoyed dancing with her since the nursery and saw standing up with her as a reward for enduring a dance with Cressida.

Penelope smiled at him and excitedly moved her dance card in his direction. “Of course, Colin.” Perhaps he was finally seeing her as an eligible lady, a woman he could court and marry, instead of just another sister.

Filled with jealousy and general meanness, Cressida faked a loss of balance and tipped her drink all over her rival’s dress. “Oh, no! I am so sorry, Penelope!” she sneered with fake remorse.

Pen looked at the bright purple punch stain on her clothes, mortified and defeated. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she glanced at Colin one final time and dashed into the night away from the party.

His friend’s name was on his tongue, but Colin knew he mustn’t shout at her in a public place. Anthony had also instructed him to never chase after a girl at a party, lest he find himself trapped in a marriage he didn’t want. He watched her go, torn between what he wanted to do and what was expected.

“Mr. Bridgerton, it is time for our dance,” Cressida announced cloyingly, drawing him to the dance floor. The sooner she could make her suitor forget all about the dowdy wallflower, the better chance she had of securing the match for herself.

With the slightest hesitation, Colin turned his attention to the debutante. A nagging voice in his head told him to shun his dance and go after his friend. He squashed it down and allowed her to lead him into the middle of the party.

Tears blurring her eyes, Penelope tore though the gardens, unaware of her surroundings. In her embarrassment, she ran from the well-lit party into the welcoming darkness, seeking a place to hide. Cressida’s cruel laughter echoed in her head, driving her deeper into the shadows. The sounds of the crowd grew quieter, allowing her sobs to become amplified in the isolation.

“What is the matter, Dove?” a male voice crooned from somewhere near her, his voice deep and velvety on the night air.

Penelope stopped crying and held still, the hairs on her neck standing up in fear. Slowly, she looked around her, straining her eyes to see into the shadows. “I am fine.” She realized to her dismay that she was completely alone.

A figure stepped towards her. Whether he had followed her into the darkness or was already waiting for her didn’t matter. He was ready. She went down like prey.

<><><><><>

Daphne Bridgerton arrived at the ball on the arm of her viscount brother and accompanied by her mother and two older brothers. As the rest of the family fanned out into the party, Benedict to a group of bachelors his age, Colin towards Penelope, and Violet to a cluster of gossiping Mamas, Anthony led his sister to the edge of the dance floor.

Most men were scared away by the castigating looks the viscount gave anyone who glanced at Daphne, but Lord Nigel Berbrooke boldly approached the couple. “Lord Bridgerton. Miss Bridgerton,” he said, bowing to them.

Anthony smiled at him and returned the bow as his sister curtsied. “Good evening, Lord Berbrooke.” The men chatted for a few moments, ignoring Daphne.

“May I escort your sister in a dance, Lord Bridgerton?” Nigel asked, holding out his hand to her.

“I am sure she would be honored,” Anthony replied, nodding his head toward his sister in assent. He stepped away from her as another sign of his approval.

Daphne hesitated a moment, as she didn’t want to spend any time with Lord Berbrooke. She certainly didn’t feel honored by his disconcerting presence. Still, the rules of their society dictated that she could not turn down his request. “Thank you, my lord,” she finally said, placing her fingertips in his hand.

He looked around the party proudly, nodding greetings to any man who noticed he had the prize, the queen’s diamond, in his possession. As he lead her through the steps of the dance, he continued to focus on the other men, pulling Daphne closer to him than propriety allowed. When he finally looked at her, it was with lewd, appraising eyes. “You sparkle tonight,” he whispered, his breath hot on her face.

The debutante resisted the urge to pull away from him. “It is rather warm,” she replied, ignoring his compliment. She could feel the sweat from his hands through his own gloves and her own, which she was trying very hard not to think about in the moment.

Finally the dance ended. “May I fetch you a lemonade, Miss Bridgerton?” Lord Berbrooke asked, returning her to her brother’s side.

“Yes, thank you.” She hoped he would leave and forget to return.

Once the suitor had left them alone, Anthony bent his head down to Daphne and informed her unemotionally, “I have looked into Lord Nigel Berbrooke for you, Sister. He is well-regarded by other men, comfortably wealthy, and an only son. His barony is over two hundred years old and his estates are well-managed. He has never hurt a woman or an animal. In other words, Daphne, there is not anything wrong with him.” The viscount nodded and smiled at her, expecting her to be pleased with his assessment. Lord Berbrooke would be proposing to Daphne soon, so he wanted to make sure his sister knew he approved of him.

“He is not very interesting,” she said carefully. It was not in her nature to argue with her brother, unlike some of her other siblings.

“Familiarity can grow in time,” he reassured her before turning his attention back to Lord Berbrooke, who pushed a lemonade towards her.

<><><><><>

Simon had hoped that the novelty of his arrival would have worn off a little since the last society ball, but the matchmaking mamas were even more aggressive than before. They crowded around him, simpering and giggling as badly as their daughters. As far as he could tell, every one of the debutantes danced, painted watercolors, embroidered cushions, played pianoforte, and arranged flowers. Not a single one of them stood out from the others or seemed even slightly interesting.

He sought out a familiar face and landed on the Bridgertons, nodding and smiling at Daphne. Instantly, the viscount’s discerning eye spotted him and fired off a glare. Simon responded with a grin towards his friend.

“My daddy says I am a princess,” one of the girls near him called out, causing the others around her to chorus their own assertions.

“My family traces back to William the Conqueror.”

“My father has connections on the continent.”

“My mother is friends with the queen.”

Politeness would not allow him to cover his ears, but Simon desperately wanted them to stop squawking. It was like being in the middle of a flock of birds, each one of them determined to be louder than the others. He was very glad for his height, which allowed him to map out an exit and head towards it.

At first the debutantes stayed close to him, but they gradually fell off when they realized he was headed towards the Dark Walk. All of the women had been warned about going off alone with a man, and none of them would risk the shame of being wanton. Only the most hopeless would attempt to trap a man alone and necessitate a marriage, but it was too early in the season for those types of games.

Simon breathed easier as the sounds of the party grew fainter. He almost felt like a little boy again, skipping out on his studies to enjoy the fresh air. Aimlessly, he ambled along the softly lit garden pathway, thinking about everything and nothing. The gentle lullaby of frogs sung to him from the pond, while crickets played their instruments from the grass. The Old Man on the Moon smiled down at him, allowing him to explore the Dark Walk, which was lit only by moonlight.

A lump on the ground up ahead caught his attention. Squinting his eyes in the darkness, he slowly approached it, curious as to why someone had left a pile of fabric outdoors. Slowly, he understood that it wasn’t just clothing, but a person. “Miss?” he whispered, waiting to see if she responded before stepping closer.

A low groan split the air, but the girl didn’t move.

He took another step in her direction. “My name is Lord Simon Basset. I will not hurt you.” Her dress was pushed up against her stomach, exposing her legs and telling a story about what had happened to her that night. He pulled off his coat and draped it over her body.

Having done the one thing he could think to do, he froze. He thought about getting help, but, being new to the Ton, he also wasn’t sure who to trust with the news of her violation. Anthony would probably know what to do and might know the woman’s name to help him find her family, but he didn’t want to leave her alone again. In all of his years at Eton and Oxford, no one had told him what to do in this situation.

He decided to start by assessing the girl and trying to learn what he could about her situation. “Miss? Can you tell me your name?” He crouched down beside her head, studying her face. Something about her seemed familiar, but the shadows obscured her identity from him.

She didn’t make any more noises, and Simon wondered if she had fainted. He moved a few steps away and sat down, guarding her body from further harm. After the society party ended in a few hours, then he would move her out of the garden. The fewer people who saw her shame, the better.

Simon wasn’t sure how long he waited in the darkness before he heard footsteps on the lit pathway near him. He sprang to his feet and approached them, having recognized the visitors by their voices. “Good evening, Lady Danbury,” he called out, hoping he didn’t startle them.

Lady Danbury discerned the voice of the man she had raised from boyhood. “Why are you hiding in the garden, Simon?” She spoke affectionately, with just the slightest hint of censure.

“I was just enjoying the stars.”

“As were we,” Lady Bridgerton added, giving him a quick curtsy. With Anthony being so vigilant and difficult regarding Daphne’s courtship prospects, Violet found herself unneeded and frustrated. Agatha intervened and brought her into the garden to converse like young debutantes.

Simon thought of a hundred ways to break the news of the injured woman, but none of them felt right. “I am glad to see you, because I need your help,” he announced abruptly, moving out of their line of sight and gesturing with his arm towards the body. “I found her like this.”

“Who is she?” Lady Danbury asked, as her friend charged towards the woman.

Lady Bridgerton thought she recognized the fabric of the debutante’s dress. There were only a few women in the Ton who wore such garish patterns in bright colors, Dread gripping her heart as she approached her. “Penelope!” she gasped, her worse nightmare confirmed.

“Miss Featherington?” An image of her trusting face looking up at him as they danced flashed before his eyes. He swore darkly. Fortunately, the women ignored his ungentlemanly behavior.

Violet knelt before the girl, her adopted fifth daughter. “Penelope, darling, it is Lady Bridgerton. Can you speak?”

Pen didn’t make a sound, but she turned her head in the direction of the soothing voice.

Tears spilled out of Violet’s eyes as she looked into the girl’s blank ones. “You are safe now, Penelope.” She brushed the hair off of her daughter’s face with a mother’s compulsion, then choked on a sob when Pen startled at her touch. “It is alright, darling.” Of course, nothing was alright, but Violet didn’t know what else to say. “I am taking you home.”

Lady Danbury had been standing next to Simon a few feet away, watching and planning. “We will bring her to my house. It is quieter with none of the smothering chaos of the Bridgerton House and my servants are loyal.”

“Should we not tell her parents?” Simon didn’t know much about how to handle a delicate situation, but he was sure anything involving an underage debutante should include her guardians.

“They left already,” Lady Bridgerton said, feeling anger stir within her.

“Without her?” the duke’s own anger flared, his hands balling into fists instinctively.

“They are not our priority right now,” Lady Danbury reminded them. “We need to take care of Penelope.”

Lady Bridgerton commanded the duke, “Lord Basset, can you carry her to my carriage, please?”

He knew he was capable, but he hesitated over whether Penelope would want him to touch her. “If you think it best.”

“We will take my carriage, Violet, and leave the Bridgerton one for your children.”

Simon squatted opposite of the matron over the debutante’s body. “Miss Featherington, it is Lord Basset. I'm sorry, but I need to pick you up. Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury are right here, too. You are safe.”

“I am not leaving your side, Penelope,” Violet reassured her, nodding to Simon to place his hands under the young woman’s body. As he lifted her into a bridal carry, the matron tucked his coat around her to cover her nakedness.

The debutante had no reaction as she was carried to Lady Danbury’s carriage and laid on the bench. She didn’t say a word as they drove through the dark streets of London to the mansion. Her unseeing eyes stared ahead as the servants greeted them and bustled around to settle her into a room. She allowed Lady Bridgerton to bathe, dress, and tuck her into bed like a child, without resistance or a whimper of protest.

“Penelope, darling, you are safe here. Try to sleep.” She brushed her hand over the girl’s forehead soothingly, just as she had done with each of her eight babies.

“What is going to happen to me?” Penelope’s voice cracked with emotion; although she had yet to cry.

She and Agatha hadn’t discussed the young woman’s future yet, but she doubted the details would be a comfort to Pen tonight. “I will make sure you are provided for and kept safe. Do not worry.” She poured a small amount of laudanum into a glass and helped the girl drink it. “The most important thing right now is to rest. I will stay with you while you sleep.”

When the poppies had done their job and dragged Penelope into unconsciousness, Violet finally allowed herself to cry. She mourned for the girl, her adopted daughter, and the trauma and losses she had endured that night. She sobbed for her pain and humiliation, the destruction of her dreams for the future, and the death of her innocence.

After a few hours, Agatha crept into the room. “I had the servants prepare a guest room for you,” she whispered, laying a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Try to sleep for a few hours. I will sit with her now.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

After putting Penelope into the carriage, Simon bid farewell to the matrons and went in search of the Bridgerton footmen. He ordered him to tell Lord Bridgerton about his mother’s early departure and climbed into his own conveyance. His first stop took him to his solicitor, whom he paid well to accompany him on the goose chase to find Lord Featherington.

At White’s Gentleman’s club, they found Penelope’s father engaged in a spirited dice game. “Lord Featherington, a word, please.”

Distracted by his gambling, the man gave his assent for Simon to continue.

“In private, Lord Featherington,” the younger man commanded sternly, using his position in society to force compliance.

Giving Simon his attention for the first time, the baron looked between the duke and the other man nervously. “Have you come to collect on a debt?”

“No, but it is imperative that I speak with you alone. Is there a room we can use?” Simon had spent so little time in London as an adult that he wasn’t familiar with Whites and all the transactions that usually happened there.

Lord Featherington led the two men upstairs and into a small meeting room. “What is this regarding, gentlemen. I would like to return to the table.”

Ever since discovering Penelope in the garden a few hours ago, Simon knew what he was going to do. He couldn’t leave a vulnerable girl to the wolves of the Ton if he had a way of protecting her. Steeling his resolve, he introduced himself and his solicitor and launched into the reason for his visit. “My lord, I would like to marry your daughter, Penelope.”

“My youngest daughter? Are you sure?” Lord Featherington stared at the duke incredulously, taking in the fine tailoring of his expensive clothes. He wondered if there was something wrong with the man that he would seek her hand when so many other choices existed in the marriage market.

“Yes, sir. I brought my solicitor, so we can work on the contract tonight. I intend to apply for the marriage license in the morning.”

“Perhaps you should court her for few more months,” the baron argued, attempting to delay his exposure as an unlucky gambler.

Simon had heard the rumors of the dwindled Featherington fortunes and wasn’t surprised by the older man’s discomfort. “I do not require a dowry for her hand. It is frankly an insulting custom in my judgment. You need not worry about my ability to support your daughter. Her well-being is my responsibility now, and I take that duty with the upmost seriousness.”

For the third child of an impoverished baron to marry a well-situated duke was more than Lord Featherington had ever dreamed for his family. “You may take any of my daughters that you would like, Your Grace,” he said, a bit too eagerly.

“I will give you five thousand pounds tonight to invest in your gaming, but the wedding must happen as quickly as possible.” Simon was prepared to cross the border into Scotland for an elopement, but he was hoping to avoid adding another laying of shame onto Penelope’s head if possible.

There were only a few reasons why a man would push for such a quick wedding. Lord Featherington ran down the list in his head, but ultimately his desire to gamble won out above all else. He nodded his approval, and the solicitor immediately got to work making it official.

A little while later, all three men signed the agreement. Lord Featherington went back to his dice, while Simon slipped out the back door to finally return home. The newly elevated gambler proclaimed his luck to anyone who would listen, buying round after round of drinks for everyone, and losing large amounts of money at various games.

As soon as Penelope’s name was matched with the Duke of Hastings, the gentlemen began to gossip about the reasons behind the match. Someone shared that they had seen Lord Basset carrying the debutante out of the garden and putting her into a carriage. Another person reminded everyone how the couple had danced together at the Danbury Ball. Before long, the story reached the ears of Lord Bridgerton, who vowed to kill his best friend.

<><><><><>

After a short and restless night, Simon went for a hard ride at dawn, hoping to clear the frustrations from his mind and distract his body. He found himself in front of his friend’s boxing gym and impulsively decided to visit him for a spar.

“Morning, Hastings.” The champion boxer greeted him with a big smile, as he pounded rhythmically on a punching bag.

“Nothing has changed, Will. Call me Simon.” The only bad thing about losing his father was how everyone in his life was now calling him by his name. He ripped the knot out of his cravat and began to unwind it roughly.

“I had heard you were in town, but I was not expecting you this morning.” Will wiped his face and took a long drink.

Simon continued to undress himself, laying aside his coat, waistcoat, and shirt next to his cravat. “I trust you are up for a match?” He stretched out for a few minutes before climbing into the ring.

“Of course. Something on your mind?” he asked amicably, grabbing the rope expertly to swing himself up. His friend always came to visit when he had emotional problems to work out with his fists.

“Perhaps with enough punches, I will stop thinking,” Simon declared bitterly, putting on the boxing gloves his friend had handed him. The two men sparred for several minutes, landing hits on each other and talking about lighter topics. This time in the gym was one of the only things Simon enjoyed about London.

“You have improved,” Will complimented, stepping away after a well-placed punch.

“I trained with Mighty Mick in Ireland while I was away.”

“I should have guessed since your feet have been dancing a jig this whole time.”

Simon laughed. “They practice step dancing to bagpipe music and Micky always has some playing when he fights."

The door burst open and a very irate Lord Bridgerton marched into the room. “Might I have a word?” he demanded, visibly struggling to maintain his gentlemanly demeanor.

Simon landed one more punch on his friend as he replied sarcastically, “As many as you would like, Bridgerton.”

Anthony paced the room. “Are you going to come down here or must I come up there?”

“I am ready for a break,” Will admitted, hitting his glove against Simon’s to end the match. He jumped out of the ring as the viscount climbed into it.

The moment he was on his feet, Anthony took a bare knuckles swing at his friend’s face. “Bastard!” Simon dodged the hit, which made the other man angrier. He punched him again, landing one this time on his eye. “I told you to stay away from Miss Featherington!” He emphasized his statement with a well-placed blow to the jaw.

“You heard.” Simon dropped his arms to his side, deflated and willing to take whatever his friend felt he needed to give him.

“I knew you were a rake, but I didn’t realize you were a villain too!” He socked the other man in the stomach several times, before Will managed to grab him from behind and pull him back. Rage and hatred radiated off Anthony, but he allowed himself to be dragged from the fight.

“Bridgerton!” the prizefighter scolded, holding the viscount firmly. “What happened?”

“He assaulted a young woman at last night’s ball.” If men could spit venom, the duke would be dead.

Simon shook his head. “It was not me.” He took a deep breath, then trained his eyes on his friend’s face to show his honesty. “I was hiding from debutantes, when I found her in the garden alone. She- she- she-” His emotions were bringing back his childhood stutter, which added to his shame. He took another deep breath and counted backwards from ten like Lady Danbury had taught him. “She had been attacked, but the scoundrel had already disappeared into the night.”

“Did she give you a name?” Anthony demanded, already planning revenge with his brothers as accomplices.

Simon’s heart clinched when he thought about her silence the night before. “She never said a word.”

Anthony was surging with protectiveness. “Where is she now?” he demanded, making plans to rescue her himself if needed.

“Your mother took her back to Lady Danbury’s house.”

“Poor girl,” Will interjected, releasing Anthony from his grip now that both men were calmer.

Simon jumped out of the ring and pulled off his boxing gloves. “I need to apply for a marriage license with the archbishop this morning,” he announced, wiping his face with a towel. “Will both of you come with me as witnesses?”

“You are getting married?” the viscount yelled in shock at the same time the prizefighter said, “Of course, whatever you need.”

“Miss Featherington came out of the garden wearing my coat. The Ton assumes I ruined her, so I will be the one to marry her. Lord Featherington signed the letter of permission last night, since my bride is under twenty-one.”

“But, you never wanted to marry?” It wasn’t that Anthony was trying to talk his friend out of the arrangement, as much as he was just trying to understand and adjust to the new information.

“It does not matter. It is done, Bridgerton,” Simon replied firmly, resolved to his fate. Although he had promised his father on his deathbed that he would remain single and never sire an heir, his honor and compassion wouldn’t allow him to condemn Miss Featherington to a life of reproach and loneliness.

“We can clean up at my house and leave whenever you are ready. I am sure Alice would make us something to eat, too.”

“Thank you, Will,” Anthony said, climbing off of the platform and gathering up his clothes. “And, Simon, I will guarantee the bond amount for you with the bishop.”

“I cannot imagine who would object, but thank you just the same.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Anthony stepped into his family home with a heavy heart. “I will be in my study,” he informed the butler. “Please send Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and Eloise to me as soon as possible.”

“Of course, my lord. Would you like a tea service?”

“No, thank you.” He marched to his sanctuary as quickly as possible, wearing an expression that scared off any staff that might have wanted to stop him with a question. While he waited for his siblings, he poured two fingers of whiskey and downed it, and then poured another round into four glasses.

“Are you well, Brother?” Benedict asked gently as he entered the room and saw the line of tumblers.

“Drink,” Anthony ordered, shoving a glass into his hand. He added water to two of the glasses to cut the potency with the expertise of an older brother.

Benedict tentatively sipped the drink, eyeing his brother over the rim. “What is wrong?”

Anthony shut and locked the door before returning to his desk. “Penelope was raped last night at Vauxhall Gardens, and Simon found her.” He paused as his brother swore. “I went with him this morning to get the marriage license. Our mother is with Penelope now at Lady Danbury’s house.”

“What do you need from me?” Benedict asked his question not with impatience, but from a genuine desire to support the head of their family.

He scratched his head in frustration. “I do not know. Somehow, I have to tell our sisters what happened. Of course, normally I would not discuss such an event to protect their innocence, but Penelope is their friend.”

“I will help you.” Benedict stood, put his arm on his brother’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.

“It is a reminder of how diligently we must guard our sisters.”

“Of course.” The men talked through the situation in low tones until a knock sounded on the door. Benedict unlocked it and ushered his sisters to the chairs in front of the viscount’s desk.

“Am I in trouble?” Eloise asked bluntly, looking between her brothers. It was the only reason she got called into her brother’s study, usually with Benedict there to act as a mediator. “I'm sorry I got ink on Daphne’s gloves, but I will replace them with my allowance.”

“You never asked to borrow my gloves,” her sister exclaimed, raising her voice. “You stole from me!”

“I did not steal them. I borrowed them the other day because mine got ruined digging in the garden.”

“Eloise!” Benedict scolded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. After his brother’s world-changing news, it was good to experience something so normal and unimportant with his beloved sisters.

“Gregory dared me to find five worms before he did,” she explained, dragging her little brother into the fight. The Bridgertons were famous for their competitiveness. “I started digging before I realized I still had my gloves on. You know, if women were not required to keep our hands covered in public, we might get a lot more done in the world.”

“Enough!” Anthony yelled sharply, in no mood to listen to a lecture from his little sister on the hardships of womanhood. “Daphne, I will talk to Mother and make sure you have enough gloves for the Season. Eloise, no pin money this month to pay for your ruined gloves.” He sighed. A big part of his role as Lord Bridgerton was mediating these types of arguments and solving problems for his seven siblings. It was exhausting on a normal day, but today he didn’t have the patience for their squabbling. “Now, where is Colin?”

“I am here,” he said cheerfully, breezing into the room in a buoyant mood as always. Then, he noticed the grim look on his brother’s face. “Did someone die?” he quipped, taking a seat as Anthony passed him the tumbler of whiskey.

“Drink up and then we will talk.”

“It is not even noon,” Colin protested. At six years younger than his brothers, he was still a lightweight when it came to drinking.

“Just drink,” Anthony growled. He gave the watered down alcohol to both his sisters, who eyed it suspiciously. “I know you do not usually drink liquor, but you are going to want it today.

Eloise shrugged and took a big gulp, always eager to prove herself equal to her brothers, then coughed while pretending the alcohol didn’t bother her. Observing her sister’s struggle, Daphne sipped hers cautiously. “We are here, Brother. What is the news? Is Mother alright?”

The other siblings looked at Daphne in horror, as it hadn’t occurred to them that the problem could be with their matriarch. They all remembered the horrible summer when their father died and they almost lost their mother to childbirth.

For a moment, Anthony heard his mother’s screams of pain echoing from that night. He shook his head to dislodge the memories. “Mother is fine.” He downed his whiskey, but held onto the glass. It felt good to have something solid in his hands. “The information I am going to tell you needs to stay in this room. Do not talk about it where servants can hear and do not even hint about it to the babies.” He referred to their three younger siblings who were all older than ten, but they would always be the babies to the older five.

“Is this about Penelope? She was not home today when I went courting at the Featheringtons.”

“You were trying to court Penelope?” Eloise asked with a frown of disbelief and disapproval. The youngest Featherington girl was both of their friend, but she knew all of that would change if her brother started getting romantic with their neighbor.

Colin looked shocked that she could suggest such a thing. “No! I was visiting Miss Thompson.” Marina hadn’t been available, still confined to her room for the same illness that kept her home the night before. He wanted to add that he had been attempting to court the Featherington’s cousin for a week, but he could see from Anthony’s eyes that this wasn’t the right time for such a discussion.

“She seems very nice,” Daphne said sweetly, giving her brother a gentle smile. Her own courting experience was going very poorly, but that didn’t mean she could not be happy for other debutantes.

“Niceness is the most important trait in a future wife,” Benedict quipped, pouring himself another serving of whiskey. The viscount always kept the highest quality alcohol in his study, so his brother was keen to indulge whenever he had the opportunity.

“Can you all be quiet and focus please!” Lord Bridgerton roared, growing very impatient with his brood of siblings. “Miss Featherington was found on the Dark Walk last night by Lord Basset.”

“That bastard!” Colin exclaimed and then looked only slightly remorsefully at his siblings. “Sorry, sisters.”

Anthony swallowed hard and ground out the rest of the story. “She had been ruined.”

“I will duel him!” Colin asserted, cocky for victory in his youth.

“It is not your responsibility,” Anthony replied gently, looking at his brother compassionately. He understood his desire for revenge and the helpless feeling of not being able to do anything. He flexed his right hand, which was beginning to get stiff from beating on his friend.

“So, you are dueling him? I will be your second.”

“No, Colin, I am not.”

“We have to do something! He is a villain!” Colin pushed his fingers against his eyes to stop his tears as Daphne put a supportive hand on his arm.

Anthony ran his fingers through his hair and looked to Benedict for help managing their younger brother. “He found her.”

“I do not understand what you mean,” Eloise interrupted, snapping at her brother. “What happened to Penelope?”

The second oldest put out his hand to stop Anthony from answering. After a moment, he said softly, “Someone- not Lord Basset- hurt her very badly, El.” Benedict hoped using his sister’s nickname would soften his message a little, but he knew it was futile.

Daphne paled. Before she had debuted into society, her Mother had given her some instructions, however vague, about the dangers of dark gardens and monstrous men. She didn’t know what exactly had happened to her friend, but she knew more than her sister. “Poor Pen,” she whispered.

“I will marry her,” Colin declared, resolute in his decision to rescue this childhood friend from the realities of adult life.

“What!” both sisters screamed.

Anthony wanted more whiskey very badly, but he knew it wouldn’t make this next part of his news any better. “No, Colin. Lord Basset is marrying her.”

“But, she is my Pen,” he protested.

Taken aback by his sibling’s possessive claim, Anthony frowned, before putting the viscount mask on again. With a steely, unemotional voice, he proclaimed, “It is done. Everything is in place for them to marry in three days.”

“Where is she? Can I see her?”

Eloise joined her brother’s pleas. “Me, too! I want to see her as well. Please, Anthony.”

Their begging twisted his heart, reminding him of their young age and friendship with the neighbor girl. “She and Mother are at Lady Danbury’s house. When she returns, we will ask her about a visit.”

“I am sure she will be pleased to see you both,” Benedict added reassuringly, giving them a gentle smile.

“Remember, this story cannot leave this room. Does anyone have any questions?”

“Is he a good man, Anthony?” Daphne’s voice broke a little with emotion, her own precarious future as a debutante weighing heavily on her.

Her brother met her eyes with a sad smile. “Yes, he will be kind to her. I even think they will be a good match in the end.” The duke would answer to the viscount if he was not.

“Is he not a rake?”

“Eloise Bridgerton!” the viscount scolded, back to feeling exasperated with his precocious younger sibling.

“Our father was a rake,” Colin offered, looking up at the painting of their father above the fireplace.

“Reformed rakes make the very best of husbands,” Benedict finished with a teasing grin. No matter what happened in the family, he always found a way to lighten everyone’s hearts and unite them as a family.

“Some topics are better left in the gentleman’s club.”

“But, Anthony, Mother said it,” Colin complained.

“In private, to her sons,” the viscount corrected with a sigh.

“Women should be allowed to rake about town as well,” Eloise announced, always thinking of ways society disadvantaged her gender.

Anthony just wanted to end the meeting and get back to his duties. “Absolutely not! Also, Daphne and Eloise are not allowed to go anywhere without Benedict, Colin, or myself as their guardians.”

“What!” Eloise protested, while her brothers nodded solemnly.

Daphne’s objection was quieter, but she was still insistent. “But, we never go anywhere without our maid.”

“Maids are not enough protection for you. This is my command and there will be no discussion.” He rarely lorded his power of viscount over them, but he needed his sisters to understand the seriousness of the danger.

“We only desire to protect you, Sisters.” Benedict put a hand on both of their shoulders. “You are precious to us.” Persuaded by their brother’s tenderness, both girls nodded their assent.

Exhausted from his tumultuous day, Anthony dismissed everyone to their activities, warning them again not to talk about Penelope outside the room. “Daphne, a word, please,” he ordered, causing his sister to sit down again.

“Yes, Brother?” she said sweetly, as Benedict left the study and closed the door behind all the siblings. The news about Penelope had shaken her, but she had appreciated the pragmatic way Anthony had dealt with it. She wondered if he had more details to share with her or a favor to ask her related to the Featherington girl. As one of seven siblings, she felt special that her important brother had decided to spend a few extra minutes with her.

“You are engaged to Nigel Berbrooke,” he announced abruptly, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He was proud of himself for handling the matter of Daphne’s marriage so deftly and without drama.

“He has not proposed to me!” she protested, all her warm feelings related to her brother dissipating like smoke. The last thing she wanted in the world was to be married to that horrible man.

“It is done. We signed the contract last night.”

“But, I do not love him!”

Her impassioned cries were met with her brother’s stoicism. “I have acted in your best interest, Sister. One day you will understand. There is no reason why you might not grow to love him. He is a good match for you.” It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his sister’s happiness; he just understood the purpose of marriage differently than she did. He valued security, while she cared about love. Perhaps she spent too much time reading romance novels.

“Does Mother know?” The Viscountess Bridgerton wanted love matches for her children, such as she had with her late husband, Edmund. The children had been raised on their story since birth and expected to have their own epic romances. Well, all except Anthony, who had decided that love only brought pain and suffering.

The big brother winced at his sister’s question. “No, I have not had a chance to tell her.”

“She is not going to allow it,” Daphne warned him with a slight smile, feeling triumphant.

“She will have to allow it. The gentleman's agreement has already been reached. You shall marry him,” he decreed, her stubbornness fueling his frustration. Last night was proof of how dangerous the single life could be for women without the protection of husbands to look after them. When she was safely ensconced in marriage, Anthony would have one less sister to worry about and protect.

“I am not marrying him!” she yelled one last time before running out of the room and slamming the door.

Anthony poured himself another shot of whiskey, downed it quickly, and rubbed his hands through his hair. Parenting siblings was the hardest part of being the viscount. Bleary eyed from his long night, he returned to the estate account books, seeking solace in their long lines of orderly, unemotional numbers.

He didn’t understand Daphne’s reaction- he had done exactly what his mother had told him to do. What she said his father would do in his situation- he’d made an arrangement for his sister’s future with an old friend. He fulfilled his responsibility towards her and he didn’t comprehend why she would be anything less than pleased.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Simon stood in the foyer of the house where his fiancé rested, a large bouquet of pink China roses¹ in his arms. Suddenly, he felt very tired, as all the adrenaline of the past day drained out of him at once.

Lady Bridgerton came down the stairs, composed and graceful despite the dark rings under her eyes. “Your Grace,” she greeted with a gentle smile and a bow. “Those are beautiful flowers.”

After meeting with the archbishop, he had spent a long time at the florist deliberating about the flowers he would bring her. “Even though Miss Featherington did not choose her groom, she still deserves to be courted.” It was important to him that he have no regrets in the coming years, so even during their short engagement, he wanted to treat her well.

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. There were so many things she wanted to tell him about Penelope, women, and marriage, but the rules of propriety kept her silent. Instead, she said, “Thank you. She will appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

The air between them was heavy and awkward, as he waited for her to add more insights about his bride. Finally, he asked, “How is she?”

“Sleeping, mercifully. She awoke this morning in a lot of pain, so we gave her another dose of laudanum.”

“Does she know?” With one selfish act in the dark, the unknown villain had permanently altered her future and taken away her choices. It twisted his heart to know she was forced to marry him. As upset as he was for breaking his own vow not to take a wife, compassion drove him to regard her as the victim in every way.

“No, she has been sleeping since last night.” In all her maternal wisdom, she had no idea how to broach this subject with Penelope. She hoped Agatha might take the lead.

“She should hear it from me. I will call on her tomorrow and propose properly.”

“Do not be discouraged if she reacts poorly, Your Grace. Penelope has dreamed of a grand romance and epic love story since she was a girl. She needs time to grieve those dreams, as well as all the other things she lost last night.”

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. I hope to see you as a frequent visitor at Hastings House after the wedding.”

“I am not sure you could keep the Bridgertons away.” She smiled fondly, which quickly turned teary. “She is very dear to all of us.”

“She is blessed to have so many champions. Can you please make sure she gets these flowers?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” He handed her the bouquet, and she smoothly passed them to a nearby maid. “Would you like to stay for tea? I am sure Lady Danbury would like to see you. She is sitting with Penelope, but I can go up and relieve her.”

“No, thank you. And, please, call me Simon. We are family.” Strictly speaking, they weren’t related, but the importance of the Bridgerton family to both Penelope and himself made it feel they were an adoptive family. She had called him by his first name when he was younger and had just started being more formal since he inherited the title, which he hated.

She smiled softly at the man she had known since his childhood. “Thank you, Simon. Please remember to take care of yourself as well. Have you slept?” Her mothering role came so naturally, she could not stop herself from worrying about him as well.

“No, I could not sleep last night.”

“It is understandable, but you should go home now and try to rest. Ask your cook for some help with that black eye. My boys swear by raw beef.” She smiled fondly, thinking about all the scrapping her sons had done over the years.

Simon touched his jaw tenderly. “Anthony thought I had harmed his little sister.”

“As you said, Penelope has many champions in our family.”

“Thank you for your help, Lady Bridgerton. I will see you in the morning.”

<><><><><>

“Tell Lord Bridgerton that my sister and I are going shopping,” Colin ordered confidently, breezing past the butler and out the door. For a moment, he stared across the square to the Featherington House. Without realizing it, he was looking for Penelope’s familiar shape in the drawing room window as she perched on the window seat to read.

“I would like to start in the bookshop,” Eloise demanded, frowning at the pained expression on her brother’s face.

“We are not going shopping,” he whispered, forcing himself to turn away from his friend’s house. “We are visiting Penelope.”

“We should at least get her some flowers.”

“Why?” Colin looked bewildered. “We are not courting.”

Disappointment shown in his sister’s face. “Of course not. They can also be given to a friend when you visit.” The two siblings walked the short distance to Lady Danbury’s house, stopping at a pushcart to buy flowers along the way.

They announced themselves to the butler and followed him into the drawing room. A maid brought tea, while they waited for the matron to greet them. Colin happily munched some biscuits, but Eloise’s dread over her friend’s condition made her too nauseated to eat.

“Mr. Bridgerton. Miss Bridgerton. I do not believe you have ever visited me,” Lady Danbury said, giving them an appraising look. She knew why they were in her home, but first she needed to maintain her reputation as the scariest woman in the Ton.

The two siblings bowed to her. “Good afternoon, Lady Danbury,” Colin said with a charming smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Can we see Penelope now!” Eloise demanded abruptly. Her anxiety was making her even less patient than usual and the buzz of alcohol in her blood made her bold. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she expected to be scolded for them.

Colin pointedly ignored his sister’s outburst. “Forgive us for intruding, but we are very concerned about our friend.”

“Miss Featherington is resting and should not be disturbed.”

“Please, Lady Danbury,” Eloise said, moderating her tone to be more ladylike and polite, “may we at least see her?”

“I understand that you are upset, but it would be better if you came back tomorrow with different flowers.” She eyed the bouquet in Colin’s hands disdainfully.

“Is something wrong with what we brought. They are yellow- Pen loves yellow,” Colin insisted, studying the flowers and looking confused.

“Does she?” Lady Danbury asked with a tiny smile of bemusement.

“She wears the color often,” Eloise added.

“So, you decided to bring your friend yellow roses?”

“Yes?” Colin sounded much less sure of himself.

“Miss Bridgerton, do you recall what yellow roses mean?” Lady Danbury turned her critical eye on Eloise.

“No. I find floriography² boring” In general, she tried to stay as far away as possible from feminine pastimes like flower arranging and embroidery.

“I will have my footman fetch you a book on the subject before you leave today.” Somehow the offer felt like a threat. She stared at Colin again. “Yellow roses mean disdain, Mr. Bridgerton. Is that what you meant to tell your friend?”

Colin’s mouth dropped open a bit. “I could never disdain Pen!”

“When your sister is finished with my book, you should take a turn reading it too. The language of flowers is very powerful, and you must take care what you say with them.”

“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” Colin sighed, giving her one of his signature smiles.

“Does Anthony know you are here?” Lady Bridgerton demanded the moment she stepped into the room. Her eyes stared at her offspring, daring them to lie to her.

“Hello, Mother,” Colin said, ignoring the question with a big smile. He knew she could never resist his charms, much to the viscount’s annoyance.

Eloise tried a different approach, blaming herself for their outing. “I wanted to check on Pen, so Colin brought me.”

“As I am sure Lady Danbury has informed you, Penelope is not taking calls today.”

“I need to see her. Please, Mother.”

Lady Bridgerton didn’t have the stamina to argue with her children, but fortunately, Lady Danbury wasn’t as easily convinced. “Miss Featherington will be home for visitors tomorrow. Mr. Bridgerton, escort your mother and sister home, and I will see you all during visiting hours.” Her voice was clipped and didn’t leave room for arguing.

“Agatha, are you sure I should not stay?” Lady Bridgerton asked, thinking about the young woman in the over-sized bed upstairs.

“You need to rest, Violet. My staff and I will take good care of Miss Featherington.”

“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” Colin said, standing up and bowing. “Come, Mother, I will take you home now.” He stepped into the role of dutiful son easily, taking her arm and squeezing it lightly. “Eloise.”

“I'm sorry for disturbing you, Lady Danbury. See you in the morning.” Eloise curtsied and took the offensive yellow blooms from her brother.

“I look forward to it,” the matron said, giving the Bridgerton girl a rare smile. Her footman entered with the book and handed it to her, then she passed it to Eloise.

“I am off to spread disdain throughout the neighborhood.” Eloise smiled wickedly, wagging the flowers in her arms to emphasize her intention.

Lady Danbury laughed, while Lady Bridgerton scolded her.

<><><><><>

Lady Bridgerton left one maelstrom to enter another. “Mama!” Daphne sobbed, clinging onto her mother at the door.

Surprised to see such a reaction from her oldest daughter, Violet wrapped her arms around her. “I know, my dear. It is so hard.” She assumed that Daphne was upset about Penelope, as debutantes who had been presented on the same day. The world had a much darker tint than it had a few days ago, when every girl was full of happiness and hope for her future. She caressed her daughter’s hair gently, soothing her in a way she hadn’t done much since toddlerhood.

“Where were you?” Lord Bridgerton demanded, storming out of his study and pointing an accusing finger at Colin.

The younger brother looked to the butler, “Humboldt should have told you we went shopping.”

“Really?” Anthony replied sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at him. “What did you buy?”

“Flowers,” Eloise interjected, holding up the yellow roses. “For Pen.”

“They came to Lady Danbury’s house,” Lady Bridgerton said over Daphne’s head, her face expressing disappointment in her oldest son. “Penelope is in no condition for company.”

“I followed your stupid law, Anthony!” Eloise rolled her eyes. “I bought Colin with me.”

“So, it was your idea to lie to me and sneak over there?”

Eloise could tell by the viscount’s face that she was about to get in trouble. “No, Colin planned the whole thing and brought me with him.”

“Colin!” The vein in Anthony’s neck was popping out and his jaw was like steel.

“She is my friend,” Colin insisted defensively.

Anthony shook his head with a sigh, wondering what he should do with his younger brother. The Penelope and Colin had known each other for years and had very lax standards of propriety between them, but that needed to change now that she was out in society. He softened his face as he remembered the neighbor girl’s trauma. “How is she, Mother?”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Her life will never be the same.”

“Which is why I made the rule, Eloise,” Anthony informed, his voice full of condescension and exasperation, “to protect you. And why I made a match for you, Daphne.” He looked down at his sisters proudly, confident that he was doing what was best for them.

“You are engaged?” their mother exclaimed with a bright voice, smiling down at her daughter.

“To Nigel Berbrooke.” Daphne said his name without emotion, then fell onto her mother again in tears.

“Anthony!” Lady Bridgerton yelled. “Tell me you did not!”

Her oldest son looked confused. “He is an excellent choice. I looked into him.”

“Please, Mother! I cannot marry him!”

“The contract has already been signed. This is what is best, Daphne.”

Emotions were running high, but Lady Bridgerton knew how to take control. “We are not having this private conversation in front of the servants. Everyone to the family parlor. Now!” When she spoke in this tone, her children knew that had better do exactly as she asked.

As soon as Anthony and Daphne had shuffled up the stairs and into the parlor, the viscountess dismissed the servants and closed the door. “Explain, Anthony,” she demanded. “You told me to arrange a match for my sister, so I did. Lord Berbrooke comes from an excellent lineage, always pays his debts, has a good reputation among the men of the Ton, and has chosen Daphne.”

“What of love, Anthony? Does he love her? Does she love him?”

“Love is not a requirement for marriage, Mother!”

“I cannot believe you signed the contract without speaking to me first.”

“Or me!” Daphne added, anger burning in her eyes. Now that she had her mother on her side, she felt more confident to challenge her brother. “It is my life, Anthony!”

“I have done my duty to you, Sister,” he said firmly. “Now, you must do yours.”

I will not marry him!” she said with uncharacteristic stubbornness.

“You will. The decision has been made, and it is impossible to renege on it now. I am a gentleman.” He could feel his mother’s disappointment poking into him uncomfortably, but it only made him more obstinate.

“You cannot make me marry! You are not my father!”

Anthony matched her anger with his own. “I am Viscount Bridgerton! And you will obey me!”

Their mother watched them yell at each other with tears in her eyes. “Daphne, your brother wants what is best for you,” she said quietly, wishing her husband was still alive to lead the family. “The world is dangerous for young women.”

“You will be protected and secure as the wife of a baron. It will be a good life,” Anthony insisted, pleading with his hands.

“You can still find happiness as mistress of your own household,” Lady Bridgerton assured her daughter, flipping sides in the argument in acceptance of the situation. “And in a few years, you will be busy with children. You can throw all of your attention into taking care of them.”

Satisfied that he had won and confidant that his mother could handle Daphne, Anthony checked with pocket watch purposefully. “Now, if you will excuse me, Mother, I have many calls on my time today.”

“Yes, of course.” She smiled at him, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “We will see you at supper.”

He kissed his mother’s cheek and hurried to his mistress’s arms.

“Mother, what are we going to do?” Daphne begged, falling onto the settee hopelessly.

“We are going to have Lady Berbrooke for tea next week,” the viscountess said confidently, a plan already forming in her mind. Anthony had asked about the baron’s reputation among the gentlemen of the Ton, but Lady Bridgerton knew that the real gossip came from the servants. They would entertain the baroness upstairs while the maids learned what they could downstairs. “Try not to fret, my dear. All will be well.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope opened her eyes slowly, her head throbbing with pain. Nothing in the room looked familiar, and she felt a wave of fear and panic rush over her. She closed her eyes again and tried to remember how she got to this place, this room, this bed. The world spun behind her eyelids.

“Miss Featherington?” a timid female voice asked. “Are you awake?”

“Who are you? Where am I?” Penelope pulled the blankets tighter around her body like armor. Her memories seemed to have disappeared.

“My name is Ruby, miss. I work for Lady Danbury.”

“Lady Danbury?” The debutante’s face scrunched in confusion, unable to think how she had come to be sleeping in the matriarch’s house.

“Yes, miss. My lady has asked that I get you dressed and ready to receive callers. Would you like to break your fast downstairs with Lady Danbury or should I order a you a tray?” The maid darted around the room, getting everything ready for her charge.

“I am not hungry.” She felt quite nauseated, but she wasn’t sure if it was her headache that made her stomach hurt or if she was sick.

“Perhaps just some tea then, miss.” Ruby stuck her head out of the room and passed the request to another maid. Patiently, she stood next to Penelope’s bed and held out her hand. “May I help you up, miss?”

“Thank you, Ruby.” Standing up brought with it a wave of nausea and the maid helped her to the dressing table. Her entire body hurt, particularly at her core, but her pounding head surpassed it all. “What happened to me?” She stared at the pink roses in a vase at the corner of the tabletop and wondered who had placed them there.

Ruby busied herself with Penelope’s hair, ignoring the question for as long as possible. Finally, she said, “You have been asleep for over a day, miss. Lady Danbury would like to talk with you now that you are awake.” She worked in silence for the rest of the morning unsure what she could say to help the girl.

<><><><><>

An hour later, Penelope found herself washed, dressed, coiffed, and seated in Lady Danbury’s drawing room like a doll. The countess had sent a footman to the Featherington house yesterday to get clothes for her guest, so she was able to wear her own citrus colored gown to face the day.

Pen bit the inside of her bottom lip, the pain helping to keep her grounded while her teeth kept her from screaming. Although she still could not remember how she had come to be in this place, some part of her brain knew something was very wrong.

“Good morning, Miss Featherington,” Lady Danbury greeted pleasantly, seating herself across from the girl.

Penelope stood and curtsied, her body feeling ten times heavier than normal. Gratefully, she took her seat again and waited to hear the matron’s explanations. The room swayed before her eyes and she fought against closing them.

“Ruby said you did not eat anything this morning.” The matron frowned, her tone somewhere between scolding and concern.

“I do not feel well. Have I been sick?”

“You do not remember?” The countess wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information.

A bubble of panic rose in Pen’s throat, choking her. She swallowed hard. “I have a bad headache, so maybe I will remember more when I can think better,” she suggested, willing the older woman to confirm her theory.

“Ruby, please bring a cup of willow bark tea and a few water biscuits for Miss Featherington.” The older woman softened her tone to tell her guest- “You have been staying with me for the past couple days.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Danbury, but perhaps I should go back home today.” Penelope hoped the countess would insist that she stay. This mansion was so much quieter and more welcoming than her own house, even with the dark cloud of unknown dread shadowing her visit.

“You are welcome to stay as long as needed. Now, please try to drink some tea and have a sandwich. It might help you feel better.” She motioned for the maid to serve her guest, then turned the topic to mundane gossip and light topics, biding time until their other visitors arrived.

“A caller for Miss Featherington, my lady. Lord Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings,” the butler announced as a tall gentleman entered behind him.

Simon bowed and addressed the women. “Good morning, Lady Danbury. Miss Featherington.” He held a large bouquet of expensive flowers in his arms. Confidently, he walked towards where she was sitting and held them out to her.

Something about his name and presence frightened her, but she didn’t know why. The bruising and swelling on his face made him look dangerous and violent, while his height towered over her, especially from her seated position. Penelope recoiled from him, trembling, her eyes wide.

Trying not to let his own confusion show, he turned and sat down near his godmother. Yesterday, it had made sense for him to say that he would be the one to tell his fiance about their wedding date, but he didn’t have any idea where to begin. He didn’t expect her to be afraid of him and he wished he knew how to make her feel more comfortable.

“Ruby, please take the flowers to Miss Featherington’s room,” the hostess ordered.

Feeling a bit safer now that the man was seated, Penelope whispered, “Thank you for the bouquet, my lord.”

“My pleasure, Miss Featherington.” He gave her a small nod while keeping his face neutral, reaching for a tea cup just to have something else to hold. “Did you receive my pink roses, as well.”

Penelope remembered the flowers on the dressing table. Nodding, she pushed down the feeling of panicked nausea in her throat at the thought of this stranger going into her room while she slept.

Lady Danbury interrupted her questioning thoughts with an inquiry of her own. “Penelope, do you remember Lord Basset?”

The young woman frowned and bit her lip, uncomfortable with all the attention on her. “I am not sure.”

“It is alright, Miss Featherington,” Simon said gently even as he looked to his godmother for answers. “We only danced together once.”

“Miss Featherington is having a bit of trouble with her memories,” Lady Danbury explained, forcing herself to keep her tone light.

“At Lady Danbury’s ball, was it not?” She remembered their awkward introduction and forced pairing for the waltz. “You are Anthony Bridgerton’s friend?”

“I think about our dance often.” The words came out as roguish flattery from a suitor, but it wasn’t a lie. Since the night at Vauxhill Gardens, he was haunted by the innocent and trusting face of his fiance as she looked up at him. He glanced at the girl. Somehow, she looked even younger than she did that night, her eyes haunted and her face pale. Sickened, he noticed fingerprint bruises on her wrists and neck. He took a sip of his tea, wishing it was brandy.

Ruby returned with the medicinal tea and plain crackers for her nausea. Tutting over her new charge like a nanny, the maid encouraged Penelope to sample both slowly, staying close to her protectively. She glared at the duke distrustfully.

The silence in the room dragged on awkwardly. Impatiently, Lady Danbury prompted, “Lord Basset has a question he would like to ask you.”

“Yes, I do.” The duke shot an uncertain look to his godmother, begging her for help, but she only waved him towards the girl. Slowly, he stood and walked towards Penelope, dropping to one knee a few feet away from her chair. He hoped he was far enough away for her to feel safe.

Penelope watched the man warily, her eyes darting over to Lady Danbury frequently to gauge her reaction. The matron gave her a warm, confident smile, so the debutante tried to trust him as well. From his position on the floor, she could easily look into his eyes without straining her neck. He appeared to be nervous, but resolute, and his expression was empathetic.

“Miss Featherington,” he began sincerely, “I would like to take your hand in marriage.”

She frowned, unsure if she heard the words correctly. His proposal was nothing like she had read about or dreamed of since she was a girl. It didn’t include any flowery language or tender phrases. He hadn’t even said he loved her. She replied with the only thing she could think to say, “After one dance?”

Her question surprised Simon, who scrambled to find an explanation for their abrupt engagement. If she didn’t remember what had happened or why she was in Lady Danbury’s house, she probably didn’t know why he was there. “I have already received your father’s authorization.” He cringed when he realized the words he chose were more formal than his original proposal and came out quite cold.

It didn’t surprise Penelope that her father had already contracted her to this man. The Featherington family had a title, but very little money. Marriage to a duke would both raise their position in society and help her father financially. She wondered what benefit the duke could find in marrying her. Perhaps her father owed him a gambling debt.

“Our wedding is in two days,” Simon announced, driven by a need to get all the information out in the open. “I will be a good husband.”

Lady Danbury could not believe how badly her godson was butchering his proposal. Of course, the question was more of a business transaction than a romantic melding of souls, but the matron still felt like the debutante deserved better. “What Lord Basset meant to say is ‘Please, Miss Featherington, will you marry me?’”

“My godmother is right. I should have said please.” He didn’t sound apologetic, just exasperated.

“I do not understand why it matters what I say. This is an arrangement between yourself and my father.”

“I am marrying you, Miss Featherington, not your father. Your consent matters to me.”

“No, it does not. You just told me the wedding is already scheduled. I do not know what caused you to consider me for your bride, but I have never thought of you for a husband.”

The words of explanation almost slipped from his mouth, but Simon bit them back. He didn’t know if she could handle the weight and horror of them right now, especially if she could not remember what had happened. It seemed cruel to force her to relive it again. He decided to try for pragmatism again. “I can offer you security, money, comfort, status- you will be a duchess. I will be kind and generous, and you will never want for anything.”

“What of love? What of romance? Will our children be born in a house without affection?” She feared raising her own offspring in a home like the one she had grown up in.

If she had purposefully wanted to hurt him, she could not have done better than she had just done. Simon’s face twisted in pain. His family home had been full of cruelty and hatred. His father had declared him dead because of his disappointment in his son. “We will never have children!”

Penelope jumped at his harsh declaration. “You do not want an heir?” she whispered.

“No, the Hastings dukedom will die with me.”

“Then, why do you want a wife?” In the novels she read, the only reason for an arranged marriage was the acquisition of offspring. She knew she’d be expected to produce at least one male heir, although, a spare or two was encouraged. Without romance or practicality driving their union, what was the purpose?

“I do not want a wife either.” The bitter words were out of his mouth before he realized he had uttered them. He swore in his head and retreated back to his chair across the room, avoiding the gaze of either woman.

“Penelope, I think we should discuss this further after you have rested,” Lady Danbury suggested. “Please trust me that there is an explanation for this confusion, and I will explain everything to you later.”

“I'm sorry for how I spoke to you, Miss Featherington. I had not planned on being a husband, but I will do my best to be a tolerable one. You will be safe with me.”

Penelope found his constant reassurances to be quite worrying. He promised to be a good, kind, gentle, and tolerable husband, but he never wanted a wife. The nagging feeling that something was seriously wrong gripped her again. “I cannot marry you, Lord Basset. I do not know you.”

“What do you want to know, Miss Featherington?”

“Everything.” When it came to the man she was going to marry, she didn’t think it was possible to know too much about him.

The butler interrupted, stepping into the room, “Excuse my, My Lady, but Lady Bridgerton has arrived with a few of her children.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

"-Lady Bridgerton has arrived with a few of her children."

Lady Danbury breathed a sigh of relief.  Her friend with the large brood was better at handling difficult topics and emotional moments than herself.  She also had a much longer history with her young guest and had practically adopted her into her family.

Instead of the warm matriarch, though, two of her offspring burst into the room.

Eloise ran over to Penelope, throwing herself on the settee next to her and hugging her tightly, uncaring of her friend’s bruised body.  “Oh, Pen!  I am so glad you are alright!” she yelled, overwhelming the other woman with affection and enthusiasm.  “I cannot believe you are getting married!”

Meanwhile, Colin threw himself on his knees in front of her.  “Pen, I am so sorry!” he gushed, tears in his eyes.  She looked even worse in person than she did in his imagination, with a cut on her lip, a black eye, and bruises peaking out from under her dress.

“This is entirely my fault.  I should have ran after you that night.  I should have protected you.”  His mind kept playing the scene between himself, Cressida, and Penelope over and over, his guilt growing by the minute.  If only he had broken society’s rules, his childhood friend wouldn’t have been attacked.

Penelope looked at him with confusion in her eyes and dread in her heart.  “Protected me from what?”  She stared down at him expectantly.

“Colin Bridgerton- get off the floor!” his mother scolded, entering the room after a short delay.  Her son sheepishly moved to a chair.  “I'm sorry about my children’s behavior, Agatha.”  She had taken a moment to speak with Ruby about Penelope’s recovery, never expecting the chaos that her offspring would bring with them. 

“Good morning, Violet.”  She gave her friend a wry smile and ordered a fresh pot of tea for her guests.

The Bridgerton matriarch shooed her daughter away and sat down next to Penelope.  “It is good to see you out of bed, darling.”  She studied the girl’s face, reading her anxieties, pains, and sorrows expertly.  “How are you doing?” she whispered.

The numbness that had trapped her since her assault melted all at once.  Penelope fell against the older woman’s body, curling herself against her.  “Mama,” she cried brokenly as full sobs shook her body.  “What happened?” she managed to ask amid her gasping, breathless tears.

“Lady Danbury, perhaps I should visit tomorrow,” Simon suggested, standing up.  The heartrending display of emotions in front of him made him very uncomfortable.  He wanted to run back to the boxing gym or gentleman’s club to bury his own feelings again.

Not yet,” his godmother replied sharply, causing him to sit back down again.  “You are not going to leave when your fiance is clearly in distress.”  Lady Danbury knew that her godson didn’t have a lot of experience with emotional situations, but he would need to learn if he was going to be a good husband.

“Maybe we should leave?” Colin asked, overwhelmed by his guilt.  Instead of relieving his conscience, he heaped more remorse onto his head after his attempted apology.  He hoped he would be given another chance to reconcile with his friend.

“It would be best to take your sister home now, Mr. Bridgerton.”  Lady Danbury wasn’t opposed to the inclusion of Penelope’s friends in general, but Eloise’s innocence must be protected.  “A difficult conversation needs to happen and the less audience members for it, the better.  I will send a footman if Miss Featherington desires company later today.”

“Thank you, Lady Danbury.  It was good to see you again, Lord Basset.”  Colin bowed to them, then motioned for his sister to follow him.

“We will be back soon, Pen,” Eloise promised, touching her friend’s back.  She was not sure if Penelope heard her, as she was still crying loudly.  “Good day, Lady Danbury.  Lord Basset.”  She curtsied to them and walked out of the drawing room, stopping at the door to look at her friend one last time.  She didn’t understand everything Pen had experienced, but her heart broke to hear her in such pain.

When the younger people had left, Violet brushed Penelope’s hair away from her face.  “I can explain everything, if you are ready to hear it,” she said gently, her statement leaving room for a negative answer.

Pen pulled herself away from her friend’s mother, ashamed at the large wet spot she left on her dress.  Simon crossed the room to offer her his handkerchief, while Ruby handed her a fresh cup of tea.  “I would like to know,” she replied as she wiped her face.

She could not meet anyone’s eyes, but she allowed Lady Bridgerton to take her hand.

“What do you remember?” the matron asked gently.

“At the Vauxhall Garden’s ball, Cressida spilled her drink on me  I ran away from the party, because I was embarrassed that my dress was ruined.”  She spoke in a monotone, staring into the void.

“Do you remember anything else” Lady Bridgerton prompted softly.  The girl beside her had none of the strength or resilience that Violet normally associated with her.  She hoped they were doing the right thing by bring the trauma into the front of her mind again.

The debutante hesitated, at war with herself both to forget and remember that night.  “A man found me in the dark.”  She gasped and dropped the tea cup, which shattered onto the floor.  “It was you!  She looked with horror and fear at the man across from her.  “That is why you have to marry me!”  

“No, Miss Featherington!” Simon protested, a bit more forcefully than he intended.  A little calmer, but still firmly, he explained, “I found you and stayed with you until Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton arrived.”

“And you believe him?”  Penelope looked at the two older women, betrayal in her eyes.

Before either matron could answer, a shrill voice screamed through the house.  “Where is my daughter?  I know she is here!”

Penelope stiffened beside Lady Bridgerton, who immediately reassured her.  “It will be alright.”

“Lady Featherington!  How dare you come barging into my house!” Lady Danbury admonished, standing up to confront the woman.

Portia ignored her completely, charging up to her daughter as she continued her screeching lecture.  “Why did you not tell me you were engaged to a duke?  I had to read about it this morning in Lady Upside-Down’s pamphlet!”  She waved the paper in her daughter’s face threateningly.  “I suppose I should be happy that you managed to trap him after only one dance, but I do not know how you have accomplished it.  Perhaps you can give lessons to other fat wallflowers on how to secure their own marriages.  At least we can say that your sisters will rise alongside you on this tide.  Perhaps Prudence could even marry a prince!”

“Lady Featherington, this might be a better conversation to have in private,” Lady Bridgerton suggested, darting her eyes at the duke.  She hoped the other woman would understand that the entire topic was inappropriate and shouldn’t ever be discussed.  At the very least, it might spare Penelope the embarrassment of being talked about so disparagingly in front of her fiance.

Portia remained standing, lost in her own world of criticism against her daughter.  Dramatically, she placed a hand to her forehead.  “I never dreamed that I would be the mother of a light skirt!  The scandal is already being talked about around town.  Oh, the shame of it!  If only it had been one of my pretty daughters!”  She roamed her eyes over Penelope’s body.  “We must put you on a reducing diet immediately.  At least two stones before your wedding, three if you can find the willpower to achieve it.”

“The wedding is in two days, Mother.”  Penelope felt Lady Bridgerton squeeze her hand in support and love.

“Two days!  I cannot believe you are depriving me of a big society wedding!  A marriage this advantageous deserves to be celebrated!”

“Father already signed the contract.”

“What?  He never told me!” she screeched  “Two days is not enough time for a visit to the Modiste!”

“Penelope has an appointment for tomorrow,” Lady Danbury added with a smile.  “She must be given a new wardrobe to compliment her role as duchess.”

“A new wardrobe!  We cannot afford an entire trousseau!” Portia complained, her diatribe bouncing from one subject to another.  The only one who could fully understand the cornucopia of her objections was her daughter.  It was a common occurrence around the Featherington household.

Lady Danbury looked at Penelope gently.  “I would be honored to supply her collection.”

Portia waved her hand at her daughter disparagingly.  “She looks ugly in everything she wears, so do not get discouraged if the Modiste does not produce anything flattering.”

“I have always thought Penelope looked beautiful.”  Lady Bridgerton kept a smile on her face and her tone polite, but inside she was seething with anger.  In all the years of knowing Pen and watching her grow up, she had no idea this was how her mother spoke to her.  If she was this mean-spirited in public, she could not imagine the things she might say in private.

Portia was pacing now, wound up by the flurry of thoughts in her head.  “Oh, and I hope your fiancé knows that there is not any money for a dowry either, so he had better not be expecting one.  Everything we have saved is going towards your sisters.  Besides, he is the one who ruined you.  We should not have to pay him to take you off our hands.”

“Enough!” the duke roared, rising to his feet.  “I will not tolerate this any longer.”

“Who are you to tell me how I can speak with my daughter?” Portia snapped, glaring at him.

“Lord Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings, your daughter’s fiancé.”  He straightened his spine to his full, aristocratic height and placed his hands behind his back authoritatively.  “None of those things you have said about her are true.  Miss Featherington is worthy of so much more than me and my stupid title, and I am going to spend the rest of our lives proving it to her.”

“You have said your piece and now it is time for you to leave.”  Lady Danbury flicked a finger at the footman, who entered the room.

“Not without my daughter!”

“No, Lady Featherington,” Agatha continued resolutely.  “She will stay with me until the wedding.”

Lord Basset stepped closer to his godmother and her adversary, towering over them with his height and societal power.  “I will send a footman tomorrow to gather Miss Featherington’s belongings from her room and move them to my house.  He smiled at Penelope charmingly, showing more tenderness towards her than their relationship warranted for the sake of vexing her mother.  “My Dear, if there is anything particular you would like from your childhood home, please let me know so I can ensure it gets packed for you.”

It took Pen a few seconds to understand that Simon was addressing her with the affectionate title.  “I would like my books, please.”  She still wasn’t sure if she was safe with him, but she returned his smile.  He was one of the few people to ever stand up for her against her family.  “Thank you, my lord.”

“Of course.  Is there anything else?”  This felt like an important moment to Simon, a chance for him to meet her needs and fight her battles.  He moved to stand between his fiance and her mother.

“The contents of my writing desk.  I have a few letters from friends that I have kept and a novel I have started.”

“Would you like to pack those yourself?  I can come with you or arrange for an escort.”

His consideration was slowly opening Penelope’s heart.  “I would like to fetch them myself to ensure I do not forget anything.  My mother can keep the dresses, though.”

Lady Danbury laughed aloud.  “Good idea, Miss Featherington.  Now, Lady Featherington, we will see you at the wedding.”  She nodded her head dismissively.

“You cannot do this to me!  I am her mother!”

“Lady Danbury asked you to leave,” Simon said curtly, staring her down arrogantly.  As a duke, he outranked her significantly, and she had no choice but to obey.

Lady Featherington huffed out of the house without bidding anyone, including her daughter, a good day.

“Horrible woman.”  Lady Bridgerton shuttered and hugged Penelope close again.  “I'm sorry, darling.  I had no idea she was this bad.  You do not deserve any of what has happened to you or anything your mother said.”

“I must apologize to you too, Miss Featherington.”  Simon bowed his head in a rare showing of humility.  “I should not have taken liberties.  I will not do it again.”  He was referring to the intimate way that he addressed her, feeling like he had pushed her beyond where their relationship had progressed so far.  Except for one dance a few weeks ago, they were strangers.

“No, thank you for stopping my mother.”  She finished her statement with self-conscious shyness, blushing from his attention.  After everything that had happened, she was still a debutante and unused to male attention.

He thought about explaining what he meant, but decided he shouldn’t ruin the tentatively warm moment between them.  Instead, he smiled at her.  “There is one thing you should know about me, Miss Featherington- I cannot stand a bully.”

<><><><><>

Penelope woke up from her afternoon nap with a plan.  “I would like to speak with Anthony,” she told Lady Danbury firmly, her spine straight with determination.

“He is not the Bridgerton I thought you would seek out,” the dowager replied with a slight furrow of her brow.

“Please, Lady Danbury.  I have questions for him.”

Within the hour, Viscount Bridgerton was seated in the drawing room, his legs crossed and his hands folded, waiting for an explanation as to why he was called to Danbury House instead of his siblings.

“Lord Bridgerton,” Penelope greeted him as she bowed.  The footman closed the door behind her.  “Thank you for coming.”

Anthony sprang to his feet and bowed to her respectfully, then looked around the room nervously.  “Miss Featherington, do we not require a chaperone?”  In another setting, he would have called her by name, but it felt right to put a wall of formality between them, especially since she addressed him that way first.

She moved into the room and sat across from him.  “Ruined women do not need chaperones, my lord.”

“You are not-”

“Please do not lie, Lord Bridgerton.  Even to spare my feelings.”

He stared at the oriental rug in the middle of the room, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts.  Finally, he spoke, his face tense with stress.  “I know it is insufficient, but please allow me to express my condolences and apologize for my siblings.”  He had been given some idea what to expect of Penelope’s injuries, but the reality was shocking.  It hardened his resolve to protect his sisters, even against their wishes.

“It is unnecessary, my lord.  I do have several questions, though, and I need you to be honest.”

For the ten years or so that he had known her, Penelope had been a ball of sunshine in bright yellow dresses and an easy laugh.  Now, the cheerfully colored garments seemed to mock her saddened disposition.  It was physically painful for him to witness.

“Of course, Miss Featherington.”  He would have done anything she asked to alleviate her distress even a little.

“Why did you warn Lord Basset away from me?”  She twisted the fabric of her dress with one hand, while the other hugged her knees to her chest.

It wasn’t ladylike to sit curled into a ball, but it felt protective, and she was beyond caring what the Ton thought about her.

He delayed a moment.  “I knew that Simon- Lord Basset- had no intention of marrying, and I did not want him toying with your affections.”

“It was not because of a deficiency of character?”

“No!” he answered quickly, then amended his answer.  “Well, he is a rake.”

Penelope only vaguely understood the meaning of the word.  “He spends time with a lot of women?” she asked hesitantly.

He looked embarrassed.  Men and women of the Ton didn’t discuss such matters between themselves.  “Yes, he spends time with them without commitment.  As I said, he did not wish to marry.”

Penelope bit the inside of her bottom lip for a few moments, her mind flooded with questions so loud that she wanted to plug her ears.  Tears began to drip down her face.  Finally, she said quietly, “Did Lord Basset violate me?”

Anthony looked down at his bruised knuckles from when he had assumed the same thing about his friend.  He heard her sniffle and knew he had to tell her what she needed to hear.

“No, Miss Featherington, it is not within his character.”

She glanced at him through wet eyelashes.  “You are certain?”

“I have know Simon longer than I have known you, Miss Featherington, and he has never forced himself onto any woman.”  The viscount spoke with conviction, hoping that his confidence would comfort Penelope.

“Why is he marrying me, then?  It seems he has taken on a burden of dishonor that is not his own.”

“You are not a burden, Penelope.”  He felt lost as to how to console her and help her see her worth.  Although she often felt like his sister and he had counted her among their family for years, she was not actually his sister.  As much as he wanted to take her into his arms and hug her tightly, he also knew that such an action would have dishonored her further.  “I cannot speak for him, but Simon is marrying you because he wishes to do so.  If he did not want to wed you, he would not have tracked down your father that night.”

“Will I be safe with him?”

It struck Anthony how similar this question was to the one his sister asked him the day before.  When Daphne had asked, he answered easily, willing to say anything to make his family feel better about the outcome.  This time, the words stuck in his throat.  He wanted to reassure her that everything would be fine, that his friend was kind and that she had nothing to fear, but he didn’t know if it was the truth.  He knew his friend had his own ghosts to battle and didn’t know how that would manifest in their marriage.

When he didn’t answer for several minutes, she croaked, her voice tight with emotion, “Please, Anthony, will you marry me?”  Even as she said the words, she knew the reason why he could not unite with her.  Her scandal would effect the entire Bridgerton family and ruin the rest of the siblings for marriage.  She knew he could not be her rescuer, but she could not stop herself from asking.

Her voice made her sound younger and reminded him of his beloved youngest sister, whom he would have granted any request.  She was not his sister, though, and the outcome of the situation had already been decided.  Carefully, he reassured her, “Lady Danbury raised him to be a gentleman, and I believe he will be good to you.”

She nodded her head weakly.  “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton.”

He smiled at her warmly.  “You are welcome, Miss Featherington.”  

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next morning, Violet, Daphne, and Eloise met with Agatha and Penelope to discuss the wedding happening the next day.  Of course, the Featherington family would normally have been included in planning, but after Portia’s behavior the day before, they weren’t invited.  The matrons chatted happily about all the details and made lists for their combined servants until the modiste arrived.

“Congratulations, Miss Featherington,” the dressmaker, Madame Delacoix, said in her fake French accent.  She curtsied to the group and greeted them all by name.  Both families were good customers of hers, which was why she was willing to make a house call for them.

“I would like to pay for Miss Featherington’s trousseau,” Lady Danbury began in a tone that invited no argument.  “She needs garments appropriate for a duchess.  At least five morning dresses, five evening dresses, three ballgowns, four walking gowns, coordinating spencers and pelisses as appropriate, a silk wrapper, three corsets, seven chemises, three nightgowns- I am sure you know the ones I mean.”  She raised an eyebrow suggestively, while keeping the secrets of the marriage bed hidden from the maidens in the room.  “Please coordinate with the haberdashery to obtain matching gloves, stockings, garters, reticules, and any other accessories you deem necessary and the cobbler for shoes to match each occasion.”

“It is too much,” Pen protested quietly, embarrassed by the amount of fuss everyone was making over her and the attention they were currently giving her.  Her stomach hurt from the anxiety of trying to be what they expected from her and the knowledge that she would never fit her role.  

“My lady is most generous!” the modiste gushed.  She presented her fabric sample book to the matron, but Lady Danbury waved her towards Penelope.  “My girls will need at least a month for such a large order.”

“I will pay extra to make this your priority.”

The modiste and the matron continued to work out the details, while Daphne began flipping through the pages of the sample book.  “I can help you pick some colors, Penelope.  Perhaps lighter colors for the summer day dresses and jewel tones for the formal gowns?  Lady Danbury, what is the Hasting family color?”

“Family colors?”  Penelope’s headache was better today, but she remained overwhelmed and discombobulated.  Official household hues seemed like another useless detail that she was now forced to care about as a duchess.

“Yes, the Bridgerton family is light blue and your family is bright green.”  Daphne found the colors in the fabrics to illustrate her point.

“The Hastings use black and gray, but the duke tends to wear a lot of deep red,” Lady Danbury explained.

“What does it matter?” Eloise asked from Penelope’s other side, annoyed by the inane discussion and echoing her friend’s attitude perfectly.  If it wasn’t her best friend who was facing the wedding bells, she wouldn’t have come for the meeting.

“Dressing in the family colors shows that you belong to that family,” Daphne told the younger girls in her best big sister voice.  “Penelope should start incorporating black into her wardrobe to please her husband.”

Lady Danbury raised her voice and spoke with authority.  “I have been trying to steer His Grace away from the color.  So dour.”

“Perhaps Penelope can bring some brighter colors into His Grace’s wardrobe,” Lady Bridgerton said with a gentle laugh, trying like all of them to keep the mood lighthearted.

“Here are a few design sketches I did for you,” the dressmaker said, holding out a small pile of papers.

Penelope flipped through the illustrations.  “These are beautiful, but I would look like a woman in these dresses.”  After the events of the Vauxhall ball, she wished every part about her that men found attractive would disappear.  Madame Delacoix designs, while artistically done and lovely, put too much emphasis on everything she wished to hide.

“Darling, you are a woman,” Violet said gently.  “I am sure whatever the modiste creates for you will be perfect.”

“Come with me, Miss Featherington.  Let's get you measured.”  The dressmaker led Penelope behind a screen and recorded all of her information.  Wisely, she didn’t comment about the bruises and marks on her body, but she struggled at times not to react to them.

When they finished, the modiste opened a dress box and held out a partially finished garment.  “Mr. Benedict Bridgerton visited my shop two days ago and commissioned me to make you a dress.  My girls and I have been working on it non-stop to have it ready for the wedding.”

“Mr. Bridgerton ordered my wedding dress?”  Pen’s overwhelmed mind could hardly comprehend what the dressmaker was telling her.  She knew Benedict was an artist, and she even knew he had a clandestine relationship with the modiste, but she didn’t understand why that translated to him buying her a dress.  Not just any dress either- her wedding gown. 

Madame Delacoix helped Penelope into the dress, using her body as a mannequin to fit the gown to her exact measurements.  “You are a beautiful bride, Miss Featherington.  Now, step into the room and show everyone your butterfly stage.”

Penelope could only do what she was told.  When she reentered the room, the other women gasped and giggled.  “It is purple!” Daphne announced excitedly, pleased to see her friend wearing a non-citrus color.

“Oh, Penelope, you look so lovely,” Lady Bridgerton whispered with tears in her eyes.

Lady Danbury nodded her approval.  “Flawless, Miss Featherington.”

“How did you get that sewn so quickly?” Eloise demanded, astonished to see so much work done after only a few minutes behind the divider.  It was almost like the modiste was a fairy godmother.

The modiste continued to make small adjustments to the dress as she answered, “Your brother asked me to make it.  He wanted her to have something new for her wedding day.”

“He really should not have spent his money on me.”  Penelope looked down at the beautiful and expensive lilac gown and could see only doll’s clothes.  Of course, she was grateful to Benedict for the gift, but the dress also represented another decision that was taken from her in the past few days.  She didn’t choose her groom, their wedding date, or any of the other details, and now she also didn’t get to pick out her own dress.

“Benedict has always been very generous.  I am sure he means it to be a wedding gift.”  Lady Bridgerton was shocked by her son’s impropriety to buy something so personal for an engaged woman of the Ton, but she didn’t let her disapproval show lest Penelope take her censure to heart.

<><><><><>

After the modiste left and the women enjoyed a leisurely tea time, Eloise and Penelope returned to the Featherington House to supervise the collection of Pen’s belongings.  Earlier that day, the duke had arranged for his footmen to drop off a few large trunks for his bride to use.  After they were packed, the men would return in the evening to move them to Hastings House, so all of Penelope’s items would be waiting for her when she arrived.

The moment she stepped into her childhood home, Penelope was surrounded by her sisters like pesky flies.  “It is not fair!” Prudence complained loudly.  “I am the oldest- I should be marrying the duke!”

“You should not be allowed to get married before we do!” Phillipa chimed in, crossing her arms.

“I thought you were interested in Colin Bridgerton?”

“I thought she would be a spinster.”

“Ignore them,” Eloise whispered, leaning close to her friend.  “We just need to get your writing and then you can escape to Lady Danbury’s again.”  She took Penelope’s hand and led her up to the bedroom.

Two large trunks sat open on the floor as the maid and housekeeper worked to pack them.  “Thank you,” Penelope said with a small smile, watching them work.

“Be sure to spread out the books between the trunks,” Eloise reminded them helpfully.  As a fellow bookworm, she knew how quickly the weight of a few books could add up.  To her friend, she asked, “Is there anything from the rest of the house you would like to bring with you?”

Penelope shook her head.  “Just my writings.”  She navigated the chaos of her room and opened the drawer on her writing desk.  It was empty.  “Amanda, did you already pack my papers?” she asked the lady’s maid she shared with her sisters.  Her ink well and quill pens were missing as well.

“No, miss.  I was leaving them until last, so you could get to them without unpacking.”  The maid stopped her work to help Penelope and Eloise search her desk and the rest of the room.

“I see you have not become so high in the instep to grace us with your presence,” Lady Featherington sneered from the doorway.

“Mama, have you seen my papers?” her daughter asked, distress evident in her face.

“It is not right for a married woman to have letters from another gentleman in her possession.”

Penelope argued, feeling yet another part of her old self slip through her fingers.  “They are from Colin.  He wrote me when he was at Eton.”

“Ladies do not have male friends!”

“Where are my papers?”  She felt Eloise squeeze her hand in support and she clutched it, fearing the worse.

“I burned them,” Lady Featherington informed her blandly.

“Mama!  No!”  She could not stop the tears from falling.

Her mother looked at her with hard eyes, determined that her daughter would understand the facts of their world.  “Penelope, you have managed to capture the attention of a man of great name and means.  Your duty from this moment on is to make Lord Basset feel like the most important man in the world, to cater entirely to your husband.  His dreams.  His wishes.”

“What about my dreams?”

“What dreams?”  Lady Featherington shook her head in disbelief.  “Ladies do not have dreams.  They have husbands.  And if you are lucky, and you fulfill your role, sometimes what you wish for may come true- through him.”

Eloise glared at the matron like an avenging angel and put her arm tightly around her friend.  “Let's go, Penelope,” she said firmly, guiding her out of the house and into the carriage.  “I cannot believe your mother did that!” she seethed as they traveled back to Lady Danbury’s house.

“I should have been expecting it.  She never lets me have even the smallest happiness.  Everything good in my life must be destroyed by her.”  Penelope allowed herself to cry until the carriage stopped.

Lady Danbury met the young women in the entryway.  “I knew I should have gone with you,” she said after seeing the debutante’s watery eyes and red face.

“It would not have helped,” Eloise replied in a defeated tone, her arm still wrapped around her friend.  “Lady Featherington did something mean and irreversible- she burned her letters and manuscripts.”

“Bitter woman!”  The matron waved her cane in frustration and anger.  “Would you like them to be uninvited to the wedding, Penelope?”

“No, it would just invite more talk.  There is already going to be enough of it with the quick wedding.”

“I will enlist my siblings to distract your family and keep them away from you tomorrow.”

Pen smiled a little at Eloise’s suggestion.  She knew how distracting the Bridgerton brood could be even if they weren’t trying to get in the way.

“If you decide you do not want your family around at any time tomorrow, just say the word, and I will have them removed.”

“Thank you to both of you.”  Penelope wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, feeling a little better from their show of support.

“Now, Lord Basset is coming for dinner tonight, so you should go to your room and rest for a while, Penelope.  I will send Ruby up to help you get ready.  I know it has been a trying day, but it is important that you spend time with Simon before tomorrow.”  Lady Danbury gave the younger woman an encouraging smile.  “Miss Bridgerton, I will send a carriage for you in the morning.  Please tell your mother that she should come at ten with the rest of the Ton.”  Agatha was sure her friend would want to be with her adopted daughter as she got ready for the wedding, but she was concerned about overwhelming the girl on a difficult day.  She thought it might be better to contain most of the Bridgertons to one arrival time.

“It could be a challenge, Lady Danbury, but I will enlist Anthony to help me.”  Eloise gave her friend one final hug.  “Good-bye, Pen!”  She curtsied to the matron and accepted the ride back to her house in the Danbury carriage.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- My personal head canon is that Madam Delacoix is magical to outfit the Ton so quickly without a massive sweatshop doing the work for her.  The sewing machine hadn’t even been invented yet! (1829)

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope’s stomach boiled with anticipation of her dinner with the duke.  Yesterday’s meeting had been chaotic and confusing, and she didn't know what to expect from tonight.  She wanted to believe Anthony’s word about Simon’s innocence, as well as the duke’s own claims, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust him.  Or any man.

She pasted a smile on her face as she entered the sitting room.  The duke was alone, as Lady Danbury wanted to give the courting couple a chance to speak without an audience. It wasn’t proper, but Penelope’s circumstances made any show of propriety into a farce.  Simon stood up as soon as he saw her.

“Good evening, Lord Basset,” she said demurely, curtsying with her eyes downcast.  She felt her heart racing, but her fiance appeared calm enough.

“It is good to see you again, Miss Featherington.”  He bowed to her as well, then stepped forward with his bouquet of daffodils.  “I will admit to you that I have not studied much on the language of flowers, so I hope I am not giving you the wrong message with them.  I saw them and thought of you on the night we met.”  She looked so different from the bright girl he first knew.  Tonight, her face was wane and grim, despite the yellow dress she wore.

A small, forgotten part of Penelope recognized that Simon had just said a very sweet thing and made a thoughtful gesture.  In another life, she might have even called it romantic, but that part of her was dead now.  Instead, she just thanked him quietly and sat down across the room from him.

He handed her the flowers and took his seat again.  Without something in his hands, he rubbed and spun his signet ring nervously.  “I know we are still strangers, Miss Featherington, but I was hoping you could call me Simon.”

“Alright.  Then, you should call me Penelope.”  It was a pragmatic exchange, devoid of emotion, but charged with meaning.

He gave her a soft smile, grateful that she seemed to be making an attempt to be friendly with him.  “I stood in the bookstore this morning for an extraordinary amount of time, trying to pick out a book that you might enjoy.  The shopkeeper tried to help me, but I was quite hopeless.”  He realized he was babbling and stopped talking abruptly.  Unlike most men his age, he hadn’t played the courtship game previously and didn’t have a formula for interacting with debutantes.

“I do not require any gifts from you.”  She wrung her hands, wondering what he wanted her to say.  “Thank you for the flowers,” she said again.

“I asked Anthony- Lord Bridgerton- what he would recommend since he has so many sisters.  You may blame him if you do not like these macrons.”  He handed her a small box, bearing the logo of the best Parisian bakery in London.

She recognized the brand from tea time at Bridgerton House and knew her mother wouldn’t approve of the treat or the expense.  “Thank you, Your Grace.”  She held the box on her lap, debating with herself whether to open it or not.

Normally Simon was confident and suave in his interactions with women, but he didn’t feel debonair when speaking to his fiance.  Ignoring her use of his honorific after he had just asked her to use his name, he tried to move the conversation along.  “I have also been thinking about your request to know me better.  It is very odd marrying as strangers, but I thought I could tell you a few things about myself, and then perhaps you could share some as well?”

When she nodded her head, he pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and began.  “From a young age, I was raised by my godmother, Lady Danbury.  I met the Bridgerton brothers in the park just before I entered Eton, and Anthony was my first friend and brother.  His father was the model of everything I esteem to be as a man.  After Lord Bridgerton died and Anthony and I graduated from Oxford, I did not have any reason to stay in London.  For nearly ten years, I traveled the world unencumbered by responsibilities and exploring different cultures.  I enjoy looking at paintings; although, I am not an artist myself.”

He knew he probably should have talked about his parents, his reason for returning to London, the promises he made to his father, and all the other darker and heavier secrets he never shared with anyone.  Not only did he have no desire to dig through that mess of emotions and memories, but he also didn’t think it would be beneficial to their meeting that night.  The Bridgertons were an easy, safe topic of conversation.

“I would like to hear a little about you, if you feel comfortable,” Simon offered, smiling at her softly.

Penelope was touched by how the duke spoke of her beloved Bridgertons, and especially the patriarch, whom she knew only briefly.  “I am the youngest of three sisters, as you know, Your Grace.  My family moved to Mayfair when I was a child, and I met the Bridgertons when my hat flew off my head and knocked Colin off his horse.”  She almost smiled as the memory played in her head, but she couldn’t quite manage it.  “Soon after, I met the rest of the clan, and I have been a part of their family ever since.  Anthony and Benedict are like my older brothers and are very protective of me.”

Simon rubbed his swollen chin.  “Oh, I noticed.”

She looked at him askance, then continued her own list.  “I also enjoy looking at paintings, and sometimes go with Benedict to the art gallery when he meets with his artist friends.  Although I love reading and could do it all day and night, I am also beginning to enjoy writing as well.  I hope to….”

When she allowed her statement to die off, Simon gently coaxed her, “What is it?”

She bit her lip, debating whether she should tell him her biggest secret.  “I hope to… publish one day.”  Her own family would have ridiculed her for such a dream.  Even this afternoon, her mother had told her that married women aren’t allowed to have desires beyond hearth and home.  She waited for Simon’s derision, curling into herself in shame.

“When you are ready, I will do what I can to help you get published,” he quickly reassured her, pride filling his voice.  He could do nothing about the mental, physical, and emotional trauma she had so recently endured, but he could support her in her dreams and hobbies.

Penelope lifted her head to look at him, shocked at his positive response.  Perhaps she might have happiness in her future after all.  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied humbly, a small flame of hope igniting in her heart where there had only been pain and darkness.

Companionably, he began discussing their immediate future.  “Just before I left tonight, your trunks arrived from your house.  Did the packing go well?  Any problems?”

Pen clinched her jaw as tears formed in her eyes.  Quickly, she pressed her handkerchief against her eyelids, unwilling to break down in front of this stranger.

“What is the matter?  Did you get everything sorted?  I can send another trunk if you have more belongings.”  His voice took on a bit of a frantic tone as he tried to solve the problem she didn’t name.

“No, everything is ready for tomorrow, Your Grace.”  She forced herself to give him a small smile, which didn’t reach her eyes.  “I am just a little emotional from leaving my childhood home,” she lied, the excuse coming easily to her mind.  Most young women would be upset about moving away from their families; although, Penelope was indifferent to the change.

Simon’s experience with women was limited, so he took her answer as believable and logical.  “Naturally.  We can visit them or host them at our country estate whenever you would like.  I am sure it will be difficult for you to be away from the Bridgertons as well.”

“I think I will miss the Bridgertons more than my own family.  Eloise and I were such good friends that it was common for us to run between each other’s houses all day long.  I developed a unique relationship with each of her siblings and Lady Bridgerton often counted me as one of her brood.”

“The Viscountess told me as much herself.  It is a wonder- you spent so much time around the younger ones, while I enjoyed the company of the older two that it is strange our paths never crossed before this year.”  He doesn’t really marvel at it as he hadn’t been in London very often during the past several years, but his comment felt like the right thing to say at the moment.  It seemed important to him that he emphasize their common past as much as possible to combat their unfamiliarity with each other.

“Did you ever play Pall Mall with the family?”

“Yes, they are brutal!”  He laughed at the memory.

“Indeed, they are quite uncivilized.”  She spoke lightly, but could not join him in a laugh.

“What else did you and Eloise do to pass the time?”  He looked genuinely interested, as if he wanted to learn more about this stranger that fate had thrown into his path.

“Mostly, we read books under the trees or in the library if the weather was bad.  We also enjoyed discussing the news of the day or sharing what we were learning.”

“From Lady Upside-Down?”

“Sometimes we gossiped, but mostly we talked about politics, science, philosophy, world events….”

“Unusual topics for debutantes, are they not?”

“Benedict indulged us by sharing what he had learned at Eton and Oxford and encouraged us to form opinions on many issues.”

“I hope you will share them with me someday.”  In general, he admired a smart girl that he could speak with about a variety of topics, even ones that were considered masculine.  His comment to her, however, felt too intimate, as it pointed to a future together.  He could not quite wrap his head around the idea that they were to be married in the morning.  He took a sip of brandy to hide his embarrassment.

She blushed at his reference to their married life.  “What about you, Your Grace?  What did you enjoy doing with the Bridgertons?”

“I thought we agreed you would call me Simon,” he scolded, raising an eyebrow at her.  “The older brothers and I did what gentlemen do in the country- hunted deer, shot birds, rode horses, played cricket, practiced fencing, and held boxing matches.”

“Your black eye.”

He touched his bruise gently.  “Anthony punched me.”

“Unprovoked?”

“The morning after the ball- he was upset I had hurt you.  I have no doubt he would do it again if he felt the need, probably with his brothers joining him.  You are very special to the Bridgertons.”

She dipped her head as her cheeks colored.  Anthony hadn’t mentioned hitting his friend, but she had wondered about his bruised knuckles.  “They are very important to me as well.”

“We will see to it that they continue to be part of our lives.  Perhaps we can even work together to beat Anthony at Pall Mall.”

“We will need to get him away from his Mallet of Death first.”

“Yes, we shall make a plan!”

The door pushed open and Lady Danbury admitted herself into the room.  “It is good to hear you laughing,” she said with a smile.  In truth, she had been eavesdropping on them for quite a while, poised to burst into the room if Penelope needed rescuing from her suitor.

“We are planning a campaign against Anthony Bridgerton on the field of Pall Mall.” Simon replied very seriously.

“Perhaps you can plan more during dinner.”  Lady Danbury led them all into the dining room.  Throughout the meal, she kept the conversation flowing with stories of her godson as a child and encouraged the couple to ask and answer questions about themselves.  Tragedy may have been the instigator of their marriage, but Agatha was convinced they would have a happy future together.

As soon as the meal ended, Lady Danbury shooed Simon out the door, reminding him that his bride needed to rest for tomorrow.  She could see that Penelope was exhausted from the day and needed time alone to process everything that she had learned.

“Until tomorrow, Penelope,” Simon whispered, bowing over her hand.  He didn’t kiss her glove, but lingered in position as a sign of honor.

“Good night, Your Grace.”  She curtsied to him with a smile that didn’t make it to her eyes.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

-  Daffodils mean new beginnings, hope, friendship, loyalty, and resilience

-  See “Pirates in the Park” for a meet cute between Simon and the ABC boys (canon compliant- not matched to this timeline)

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The crack of the cue against the ball split the tense air in the billiards room, where the three oldest Bridgerton brothers had gathered to give Simon a stag night.  Benedict and Colin went through the motions of playing, while Anthony and the groom sat nearby nursing brandy bottles.  The night was supposed to be a celebration, but all of them were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to make conversation with each other.

Simon appeared to be unaware of the other men in the room as he stared into the void and drank to quiet the ghosts.  Her name kept echoing in his head.  Penelope.  Penelope.  Penelope.  His future wife.  Her face swam before his eyes.  A drop of sunshine at the Danbury Ball.  Shadowed and unrecognizable in the garden.  Trembling with fear as he knelt before her.  He remembered the weight of her in his arms when he brought her to the carriage.  The feel of her tiny hands in his larger ones as they danced.  The sound of her giggle when they met.  She haunted him, joining the chorus of ghosts that resided in his mind.

Denigrating the memory of Simon’s mother and shunning the boy for his imperfections, The Duke had never given his son any reason to value family.  Eventually the son learned to hate the father as much as he felt his father hated him.  Despite his efforts to mold himself to be The Duke’s opposite, people frequently told Simon how much he looked like his father.  Simon feared that becoming a husband or a father would awaken whatever monster had created The Duke.

Until meeting Edmund Bridgerton, Simon thought all men hated their children.  Instead, the viscount knew each of his offspring individually.  How to make them smile.  What they wanted from the world.  When they needed encouragement, a lecture, or a joke.  Why they laughed or cried.  Who their friends were.  Edmund’s care of his children showed Simon a picture of masculinity and fatherhood that he had never imagined.  Lady Danbury had raised him, but Lord Bridgerton mentored him.  Simon was eternally grateful he met Anthony and his brothers that day in the park.

 
<><><><><>

Penelope’s life flashed across Anthony’s mind, torturing him with scenes from their shared past.  A six year old girl skipping up to Colin to retrieve her wayward bonnet.  The same girl, a little older, twirling in the Bridgerton ballroom, her head thrown back in delight, as servants rushed around preparing for the evening’s event.  A nine year old Penelope marveling at the paper crown that Grandpa Ledger crafted for her birthday, a family tradition that the Bridgertons were excited to share with her.  Finding her laying on the grass with her forehead pressed against Eloise’s head as they discussed a book.  She and Francesca playing piano as Colin sang at Christmas.  Dancing with her during lessons, her face turned up towards his in trust and love.  Her merry sabotage of his Pall Mall win and championing of Daphne’s triumph.  He had watched her grow up alongside his siblings, his mother’s adopted daughter.  Never could he have imagined that this would be her fate.

Anthony’s father taught him how to provide for his family through the viscountcy, but also how to protect them with his position.  Many of their discussions centered on the importance of female virtue, the consequences of ruin, and his role as defendant of his sisters.  With a tight jaw, Edmund told his son of the Featherington’s problems: their lack of an heir, the baron’s gambling problem, the neglect of their youngest daughter, and the responsibility the viscount felt towards Penelope.  Since the sunny redhead was already part of the Bridgerton family, Anthony easily added her to the list of women he would defend.

The weight of his failure threatening to crush him when he remembered what had happened to his beloved adopted sister.  He had been distracted by Daphne, under pressure from his mother to settle her engagement, and he hadn’t even realized Penelope had left the ball.  If he knew who to accuse, he could have dueled the man or hunted him down.  Since there was no one to blame as the villain, he blamed himself.

<><><><><>

Colin felt like an absolute cad.  Of all the men in the room, he was the one who could have acted to rescue Penelope that night in the garden.  He knew when she left the ball and ran into the dark, but he allowed himself to be distracted and led to the dance floor instead.  When faced with a choice between the bully and his best friend, he chose to betray her.  He longed for the magic spell or wishing star that he could invoke to go back into the past and fix that night.  Life wasn’t a story from their books, though, and bad decisions could not be easily undone.

Throughout the years, Colin had gotten comfortable being Penelope’s hero.  First in their pretend games, and then later in real life, he had been quick to rescue her, reveling in her bright smile as his only reward.  His mother had hinted often about her desire for them to marry, acting out Violet’s own friends-to-spouses story she shared with her husband.  He always brushed her off, insisting that his relationship to Penelope was only friendship.  To his shame, he knew that he hadn’t been much of a friend lately either.

<><><><><>

Like his older brother, Benedict had also received instruction from their father about guarding and guiding his sisters and Penelope.  On the night of the ball, he had forgotten to even look for the redhead girl.  She and Eloise were always found in each other’s company, practically joined at the hip, so he just thought that they were together at home.  It was true that his sister had been sent to bed before Benedict had left for the ball, but Penelope had debuted that year and was in attendance.  The Bridgerton boys knew they could not trust the Featherington family to safeguard their youngest, and their suspicions had proved correct.

He hadn’t even been able to describe for his favorite sister the horrific trauma that her best friend had endured.  Eloise was naive to the ways of men with women and part of his job as an older brother was to keep it that way.  He knew that his sister and Penelope would remain friends after tomorrow, but their relationship would change.  Their childhood was over.  The carefree days of zipping between each other’s houses, giggling over gossip and novels, and competing against the brothers would become infrequent letters.  He mourned for both of them and wished he could have protected them better, prolonged their innocence just a little bit longer.

<><><><><>

“We should have a toast,” Anthony finally said, breaking their contemplation.

Benedict immediately put down the cue and began pouring shallow splashes of whiskey, relieved to have something to do.  “Yes, it is tradition.”

“What is there to toast to?” Simon slurred morosely.

Anthony took the brandy bottle and moved it out of his friend’s reach.  As best man, he needed to make sure the duke didn’t consume so much alcohol that he could not function in the morning, and Simon had already drank quite a bit throughout the day.

“To Pen,” Colin suggested, taking the whiskey from his brother and holding it up.

“To your bride,” Benedict added.

“To my wife,” Simon agreed.

“To Penelope,” Anthony finished, leading the group in downing their shot.  “Now, Simon, it is time we get you to bed.”  He stood and held his hand out for his friend, pulling him to his feet.  “Brothers, you as well,” he ordered in his familiar viscount voice.

<><><><><>

Once in bed, Penelope found that she could not sleep.  Her mind swirled with memories, thoughts, regrets, ideas, and voices related to every aspect of her life.  After the grandfather clock chimed the hour of two, she gave up on sleep and decided to write instead.

Throughout her childhood, she had discovered that putting her thoughts and emotions onto paper helped her sort through them and purge them from her mind.  She would often joke that if she wanted to forget something completely, she just needed to write it down.  It proved absolutely rubbish for academic studying, but helpful for other parts of her life.

She lit a candle and sat down at her writing desk, pulling out a piece of stationary.  Dipping her feather pen in ink, she wrote, “Things Lost.”  Some of the items were obvious- her innocence,  the choice of spouse, details of the wedding.  Others losses were more personal- her manuscript, a secret crush, Colin’s letters.  She wrote down all her dreams for her future, the love she would never experience, the children unborn.

Every relationship in her life would change after tomorrow.  Simon would be her husband and lord.  Lady Danbury would become like a mother-in-law, while Lady Bridgerton would never be her in-law.  Eloise would still be her friend, but she wouldn’t be part of her daily life as she had been when they were children.  Colin would never have the option to court her, kiss her, or marry her.  Lord Bridgerton would change to become an almost brother-in-law due to his close friendship with Simon.  Her relationship with Benedict would turn professional- artist to client- and would probably never include long debates and discussions.  The rest of the Bridgerton siblings would grow distant, as would her own biological family.  Even the relationship with herself would change.

Penelope wrote down every single worry fluttering around her mind.  When she reached the bottom of the second page, she finally felt peaceful.  Everything on the list were losses and changes that she could not control or fix.  She sighed and reread each item several times.

“All is vanity- a chasing after the wind,” she whispered, tossing her papers into the fireplace and watching her past burn.  Satiated, she returned to her bed, but still found it difficult to sleep.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The morning of Penelope’s wedding began with an ominous thunderstorm that rattled the window and pulled the blossoms off the fruit trees.  Eloise arrived at the house in Lady Danbury’s carriage, slightly wetter than she had planned, but determined to cheerfully shepherd her friend through the day.  She burst into the bedroom in a whirl of energy.  “Good morning, Pen!”

The bride was seated at her dressing table, biting her nails.  “Thank you for coming, El.”

“Of course, I came!  My best friend is getting married.  I would not miss it for anything!”  She threw herself at Pen and hugged her tightly.  “Oh, Colin heard about Benedict’s gift and wanted to send one of his own.”  She handed her friend a small box.

Penelope worried the box in her hands.  “I am not sure it is appropriate.  Women are not supposed to receive presents from bachelors.”

“You accepted Benedict’s gift!” Eloise argued.  She had already listened to her brothers fight about it among themselves and with Anthony and she did not want to hear any more about it.

“Only because your mother and Lady Danbury accepted it for me.”

“Fair is fair, Pen.  Besides, I cannot be the one to tell Colin you reject his present.  You know how important and meaningful gifts are to him.”  As his sister, Eloise had benefited from her brother’s careful gift-giving over the years, but Pen had as well.

“Alright!”  Penelope opened the box and took out a small, silver butterfly hair pin.  “Oh, it is lovely, El!”  She moved to the writing desk and quickly penned a thank you note for both brothers.  “Can you please deliver these for me?”

“Our whole family loves you, Pen.  I hope you know how much we treasure you.”  She tucked the notes into her reticule for later.

Eloise’s statements were uncharacteristically sentimental, and her friend appreciated them even more for their abnormality.  “I hope you will visit me at Hastings House.”

“Of course we will, Pen!  You will grow tired to us for how often we will visit.”  The girls laughed and talked about their childhood together, the focus of their conversation carefully banal.  Each of their maids prepared them for the ceremony, taking special care to make sure both women were perfectly coiffed.

A knock on the door caused Penelope to jump with nervousness and fear.  Ruby stepped away from working on her lady’s hair to answer the door, admitting the two matrons.

“Penelope, you look beautiful,” Lady Bridgerton said affectionately, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.  She hugged the girl around her shoulders, careful not to crease her dress or bump her hair.  Despite her daughter, son and friend’s protests, she could not stay away from her adopted daughter on this special day.

“She does indeed,” Lady Danbury added.  “Absolute perfection, my dear.”

“Eloise, you look very lovely as well.”  Violet smiled at her daughter approvingly, but didn’t attempt physical contact, as she knew her daughter would not appreciate the gesture.

“Simon sent you a wedding present, Penelope,” Lady Danbury announced with an excited smile.

The bride opened the jewelry box to reveal a deep yellow teardrop pendant on a black ribbon.  “Eloise, can you help me put it on?”

Her friend took the necklace from her, while Lady Bridgerton said excitedly, “A yellow diamond!  How fitting!”  The pendant looked like a drop of sunshine hanging around Penelope’s neck.  

“Yes, a symbol of hope and happiness,” Lady Danbury explained, nodding approvingly.  She wondered if Simon was aware of the gemstone’s meaning when he bought it or if he had just chosen it for the color.  “Now-” she clapped her hands- “we must not keep the groom waiting.”

“I am almost finished, my lady.”  Ruby pinned the veil onto the back of Penelope’s head and stuck the butterfly into her hair.

“Eloise, let's meet Penelope downstairs in a few moments,” the countess ordered, directing the girl with her cane.  “Your mother needs to speak with her.”

The girls exchanged a worried look, while Lady Danbury herded Eloise out of the room.  After tidying up a few items, the maids exited the room as well.  They would return during the wedding to finish packing Penelope’s belongings.

Violet sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her as an invitation for Pen to join her.  She had been thinking about what to say to her adopted daughter for days and felt a flutter of butterflies in her own stomach now that it was time to share what she knew.  With no married daughters, this would be the first time Violet gave this particular speech.

“How are you feeling, darling?” she began, holding Pen’s hand.

“Fine.”  She hung her head, so she Lady Bridgerton wouldn’t be able to read the truth in her tear filled eyes.

“Oh, my dear, it is alright.”  She wrapped an arm around the girl’s back and pulled her in tightly.  “A bride often feels nervous, excited, fearful, and many more emotions on her wedding day.  It is normal.  You have more reason to feel these things than most women, and it is alright for you to be struggling today.  Simon is a good man, and I know he will be kind to you.”

“I do not know him.”  They’d had a few good conversations over the past few days, but he was still a stranger.

“You have a lifetime to learn more about each other,” she smiled, thinking about her own late husband.  They had been good friends before marriage, but she soon found that there was much more for them to discover.  “One of the things you will learn together is about the marital act.”  She blushed to even hint at what happened between spouses.  “This act is done in the marriage bed and is what causes children to be born.”  She smiled brightly, diverting the attention to the results instead of the process.  “You will be a wonderful mother, Penelope!”

The younger woman felt dazed to hear about yet another aspect of marriage for which she felt unprepared.  Since the night of the attack, Penelope could hardly tolerate being near Simon.  She could not imagine sharing the marital bed with him, whatever that meant.  The Featheringtons didn’t have a lot of money, but each of the girls had their own bedrooms.  She had never shared a bed with anyone and she wondered if she would be able to sleep with someone in her space.

Lady Bridgerton watched the flashes of thoughts and emotions that crossed Penelope’s face.  Her heart broke for the girl, and she hoped that Lord Basset would indeed be a gentle and patient husband to her daughter.  She worried about the effects of the trauma Pen had endured, but didn’t know what to tell her about the event.  She hoped Penelope would never remember.

“I am going to check on everything downstairs,” Violet said, standing up abruptly, “and will send your father up to escort you.”   No good would come of the two women sitting on the bed thinking and worrying all day.  She kissed her adopted daughter on the top of her head.  “I am so proud of you, Penelope.”

<><><><><>

Fortunately, the storm had passed through and left a sunny day in its wake, so Anthony and Simon could wait outside Danbury House for the ceremony to begin.  “How are you doing?” the viscount asked, taking a swig of brandy from his flask and handing it to his friend.

“I keep thinking about what your father would say to me.”  The duke toyed with the flask in his hands, not drinking any of it.  After spending most of the past few days at clubs getting drunk, he didn’t want to be intoxicated on his wedding day.  It didn’t feel respectful to his wife.

“My father?”  Anthony could not keep the surprise out of his voice.

“I used to be so jealous of you when we were younger.  Spending school holidays and summers with your family showed me a different life than the one I knew as a child.  Your father loved you, Anthony.  He was proud of you.  Unconditionally.  Do you know how lucky you were?”

“Yes, I know.”  Tears pricked at Anthony’s eyes.  This wasn’t the type of conversation he expected to have today.  His father died quickly and tragically when he was nineteen and the aftermath of that event still haunted him.  It had been ten years and rarely did anyone, even his family, reminisce with him about the patriarch.  

“I used to bask in the warmth of your family, trying to soak it up before I had to return to school. Remember the time he put glue in Benedict’s shoe?  It seemed like he was laughing and joking with his children constantly.  Of course, he also corrected you, but it was never with the aim to crush you.  He always spoke so tenderly to you and your siblings, encouraging you to pursue your interest and master your unique skills.  I would watch him as he interacted with all of you and long for a father like him.”

Anthony was fully crying now.  “Damn it, Simon!  The best man is not supposed to weep on his friend’s wedding day!”  

“His love for his children was an outflow of the tenderness he had for his wife,” Simon continued, staring past his friend’s shoulder.  “I have never seen any relationship in the Ton like your parents.  They were friends, companions, teammates.  Your father constantly gifted her with praise, gave her preference over his children, and treated her as an equal.  It seemed like no matter what he was doing, she was never far from his mind.”

Simon’s speech had unlocked a memory for Anthony, one of his mother sitting on the settee looking pale and haunted.  “After my father died, my mother told me that he was the air that she breathed and without him, there was no air.”

The morose topic and bottle-weariness drove Simon to sip the brandy.  “Even though I am not one of his sons, I feel like he would be disappointed with my loveless marriage.”

“Love destroyed my mother,” Anthony added bitterly, taking back the flask.  “You are better off without it.”

“Do you mean it?  I thought Bridgertons married for love?”

“I intend to marry for duty.  When my mother finally wins at pushing me into the marriage mart, I will find a girl with suitable enough hips for childbearing and half a brain who can handle the responsibilities of a viscountess.  It should not be difficult.”

Simon cringed.  “I am marrying a traumatized girl more than ten years my junior, and even I think your plan is grim.”  They passed the flask for a few silent moments before he added, “I wish your father was here.”

Anthony squeezed his friend’s shoulder.  “Me too- every day.”  He dropped his hand and stepped away, looking at the other man’s feet.  Picturing Penelope’s tear-stained cheeks as she asked him whether the duke would be kind to her, he resolved himself to instruct his friend for her sake.  “Take care of her,” he said quietly, thinking about what he might tell Simon if he was marrying one of his biological sisters.  “Be gentle and patient.  Give her space to grieve and heal.”

“Thank you, Anthony.”

The viscount looked a little embarrassed.  “I think that is part of what my father would have told you today.  He also would have said that he was proud of the man you have become.”

“Be sure to invite us to your wedding of pragmatic bliss next year,” the duke teased, grasping at some lightheartedness.  He wondered if the women were having an emotional morning as well.  The men turned their discussion to unimportant things, allowing them both to calm down after their heavy conversation.

“Your Grace,” a footman interrupted, “the bride is ready.”

Anthony clapped his hand onto his friend’s back as Simon checked his pocket again for the wedding ring.  They entered the house from a side door and took their places in the drawing room, which had chairs arranged on either side of a center aisle.  The special license Simon purchased granted him not only a quick wedding, but it also allowed him to have a private one outside of the church.

The guest list had been kept short for this rushed occasion, but having it be completely ignored by the Ton wouldn’t have been good for their future.  Fortunately, the nine-member Bridgerton family made up a large percentage of the congregation, and divided themselves between the two sides.  Lady Danbury tapped her cane down the aisle and seated herself on the groom’s side, along with with Will and his family.  On the bride’s side, Penelope’s family of four women waited to be joined by Lord Featherington, who stood in the back holding his daughter’s arm.

Penelope didn’t remember a single aspect of the wedding ceremony, except the look of compassion Simon gave her when he slipped the diamond ring onto her finger.  She assumed that she repeated all the right words and legally bound herself to his stranger in front of her.  For better or worse, she belonged to him.

“It is done,” Simon whispered to her as the congregation clapped.  He realized after he said it how fatalistic and dark it sounded and instantly regretted it.  Forcing lightness in his voice, he said, “Let's greet our guests, Lady Basset.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- yellow diamonds weren’t discovered until the 1860’s in South Africa, but we are going with the Shondaland school of history here and including them for the vibes

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The wedding brunch was as intimate as the ceremony, with only the families in attendance.  Penelope sat beside her new husband, picking at her food and trying not to scream at everyone to stop pretending to be happy for her.  After the hurricane of the past few days, she wished the event could have gone uncelebrated and unremarked.

She could tell the Bridgertons were trying to help her look forward to her new life.  They approached the couple throughout the meal and congratulated them, asked cheerful questions, and joked with Simon.  It seemed no one quite knew how they were to behave, except the two youngest, who danced around the room with shameless enthusiasm.

As they had promised, her adopted family also did their best to waylay her biological one from suffocating her.  They listened to her mother brag about their new position in society, played card games with her father, and smoothed her sisters' jealousies.  To Penelope’s relief, the nine Bridgertons managed to keep the four Featheringtons occupied the entire brunch.

Lady Danbury watched the circus with shrewd eyes that understood more than she would ever reveal.  Whenever Penelope looked her direction, she smiled at her in a way the countess hoped conveyed kindness and compassion.  She knew the couple had many challenges ahead of them, but she was confident they would find their way.

Throughout the meal, Simon leaned towards his bride to inquire about her wellbeing and encourage her to try different foods.  He had never had to care for someone else before and found it very overwhelming.  Next to his larger, stronger body, she looked like a little bird with an injured wing. He didn't know how to get her flying again, but he was willing to try.

<><><><><>

After an exhausting hour of being on display, Simon whispered, “Are you ready to leave?”  He was feeling drained from the socialization he’d been required to perform and was anticipating the comfort of a quiet carriage.  Judging from the dark rings under his wife’s eyes and her pale face, she looked ready to collapse as well.

“I am ready, Your Grace,” she lied, nearly choking on the words as a a fresh wave of panic consumed her mind.

Simon nodded to his godmother, who immediately announced to the guests, “The duke and duchess are departing now!”

“Our carriage awaits,” Simon said lightly, putting his arm around her back without touching her and guiding her outside.  The families spilled out of the house behind them.

Perfunctory hugs from the Featheringtons happened first with Portia exclaiming loudly to everyone gathered how pleased she was to have a duchess for a daughter and how sad she was to see her leave.  Several members of the Ton stopped to listen to her pronouncement, which was exactly what she had planned.

Lord Featherington shook Simon’s hand and mumbled words he thought a father was expected to say, while Penelope’s sisters and cousin reluctantly curtsied to the duke.

Lady Danbury went next with a short but gentle hug to the duchess and a longer, but somewhat stiff, embrace of her godson.  “Penelope, I will visit in a month when the modiste has finished your new wardrobe,” she told them definitively, with a pert nod of her regal head.

“Thank you,” Penelope replied, curtsying to her demurely.

“No, Child,” Lady Danbury scolded gently, placing her finger under the duchess’s chin, “you bow only to royalty now.”

Penelope blushed.  There was so much she needed to learn now that she was a high-ranking noble.  Her mother never dreamed her daughter would rise to such heights or would even marry at all and had neglected to teach her how a mistress of a household ought to function.  She pushed all her insecurities away from her head to focus on the Bridgertons.

The four sisters came forward as one and wrapped their friend into a massive hug, calling out their well-wishes and expressing their love.  After a long time, their mother gently cleared her throat, and they stepped away from her to curtsy to the duke flawlessly.

“I will write to you, Pen,” Eloise promised, squeezing her friend’s hand.

“And you must visit us often as well,” Penelope instructed the four sisters, who nodded tearfully.

The girls stepped away from the couple, gathering themselves near Lady Bridgerton for comfort, as Gregory approached the duchess.  “Your Grace,” he greeted, bowing inordinately low, then turning to repeat the gesture to the duke.

Penelope reached out and mussed his hair, as Benedict put his arm around his little brother.  “Congratulations, Your Graces,” he echoed, taking a smaller, more appropriate bow.  He dragged his brother back to the family, allowing the oldest sibling to come forward.

Anthony shook Simon’s hand while placing his left hand on his friend’s shoulder as the duke did the same.  “Do not stay away so long this time, Simon,” he ordered, squeezing his friend’s shoulder tightly.  So close to hugging, but not quite. 

To his surprise, Penelope plowed forward and fell against Anthony in a hug.  He hesitated a second before wrapping his arms around her, making eye contact with Simon over her head.

“Thank you,” she whispered, blinking back her tears.

Lady Featherington hissed and scolded the impropriety, which caused Anthony to pull Penelope a little closer in defiance. 

When she loosened her grip on him, Anthony bent and kissed the top of her head.  “Good-bye, Sister,” he said only for her ears.  “Be happy.”  He handed her his handkerchief and stepped back, his own eyes moist with unshed tears.

With the utmost dignity, the viscount dipped his head in acknowledgment of her new rank and returned to his siblings.  Already dreading the day when he would pass his littlest sister to the care of another man, he tucked Hyacinth close to his body, protecting her for as long as possible.

When Penelope saw Colin holding back, reluctant to bid them farewell, she walked towards him.  Swallowing hard as tears fell down her cheeks, she whispered, “Thank you for being my friend.”  After today, they would never be allowed to be as close as they had been as children.

He put his hand out to take hers, and she allowed him.  “You will always be my Pen,” he promised quietly, bowing over her hand and kissing it tenderly.

“Colin!” Anthony scolded, embarrassed by his younger brother’s behavior.

Dropping his friend’s hand immediately, Colin went to the duke and bowed to him.  “Take care of her, Your Grace,” he admonished, choking a bit on his emotions.

Simon shook his hand.  “You have my word, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Lady Bridgerton extricated herself from her offspring and took the duke’s hand.  “You always have a home among us.”  She patted his arm affectionately, then swept Penelope up in a tight embrace.  “Oh, my sweet girl!  I have loved you since you first skipped into our drawing room.  I know this is not how you would have written your love story, but you can take your broken quill and keep writing.  We love you both, and I look forward to seeing what happens next.”

She had spoken quietly, but Portia understood enough of what was said to be jealous of her daughter’s affection.  Rushing to her, she threw her arms around Penelope, yelling, “I am going to miss you so much!  Hurry back to see us soon!  The season is not done yet, and you must help your sisters make good matches.”

“We must be going,” Simon announced loudly, forcing Portia back by the power of his rank.  “Thank you, Everyone.”

“Good-bye,” Penelope called out weakly, the weight of her circumstances crashing against her.  No longer would she be protected by Lady Danbury, the Bridgertons, or her own family.  Anything Simon wished to do to her was now his by right.  She stumbled, but her husband put a hand under her elbow to steady her.

Unaware of her dark thoughts, he lead her to the two carriages, both with the Hastings crest boldly emblazoned on their sides.  “Our staff will ride in the second carriage, and we will have the first one to ourselves.  Do you need anything before we depart?”

She shook her head and placed her hand onto the glove of the waiting footman.  “Congratulations, Your Graces,” the man said with an enthusiastic smile and dipped his head into a bow.

“Thank you, Miller,” the duke clipped, taking a few moments to check that the rest of his staff were ready for the journey.

Penelope climbed into the carriage and sat on the bench facing the front, pressing herself against the corner and compacting her body to take up as little space as possible.  She clutched her reticule on her lap and stared out the window, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.  A bubble of fear made her stomach hurt as she wondered if she would be safe alone with her new husband.  Her mind screamed at her to run away, but she was trapped by the walls of the vehicle and by the ring on her finger.

Assured that all the details had been handled, Simon stepped inside and planted himself on the bench opposite his new wife, spreading out his legs and arms and relaxing into the seat.  He eyed her body language and frowned.  “Are you comfortable, Penelope?”

She turned toward his caring voice.  “Yes, Your Grace.”  Since she was confined with him, she would make every effort not to anger him.  Her fingers were turning white from how firmly she had folded them together as she attempted to appear like the ideal society wife.

“Nothing is going to happen in this carriage,” he said gently, hoping to reassure her, but she remained distant and guarded.  “You are safe with me.”  In an attempt to appear less threatening, he turned his body slightly away from her and looked out his own window.

After a few minutes of travel, she spoke, her voice wavering with fear.  “Why are we driving away from Mayfair?  Are we not going to Hastings House?”

“We are traveling to Clyvedon Castle, my- our- estate in the country, where we will stay at least through the summer.  I should have told you.”

“It does not signify.  I am glad to leave Mayfair.”  Being isolated from everyone who knew her caused her some alarm, but the community of her childhood no longer felt safe.  London had become  dark and sinister, and she was eager to escape it.

He sneaked a quick glance at her over his shoulder, trying to gauge her sincerity.  “I am relieved to be away from society as well.”

“Is Clyvedon Castle your childhood home?”

“It is where I was born,” he answered flatly.  The place where his mother died giving birth to him.

“What is your favorite part of the estate?” she asked innocently, making a valiant effort to become friends with her husband.  “The Featheringtons do not have a country estate, but I enjoyed visiting the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall.”  She blushed self-consciously, wondering if she had talked too much for his liking.

Feeling guilty for his sullen tone, he replied honestly, “I have no good memories of the country house.”

“Perhaps we can make some?” she offered bravely.

He cleared his throat.  “It will take us two days to get to the estate,” he said curtly, opening a small bag and extracting out a pile of papers.  The only good thing about being a duke was the amount of work it brought with it, enough to keep him distracted and busy.  He expected even more to do once they arrived at the castle.

She watched him study for a few minutes, then got her own reading material out of her reticule.  With a book in her hand, she felt much more comfortable, almost like she was holding a shield in front of her.  She maintained her good posture, but leaned against the seat back in a slightly more relaxed position.

He ignored her for about an hour before he realized he had been staring at her over the top of his papers, mesmerized by her eager countenance.  “What are you reading?”

She put her finger in her book and closed it to answer his question.  “Robinson Crusoe.”

Simon raised his eyebrow.  “Really?  Is that what young debutantes read now?”

“Eloise gave it to me,” she said, a bit defensively, holding the book to her chest with her arms crossed over it.  As her husband, he had the right to dictate everything about her life and could forbid her from reading it.  She waited, unable to meet his eye if he chose to scold her.

“Is this your first time reading it?” he asked kindly, genuine interest evident in his tone.

She was surprised by the softness in his voice, but wasn’t sure if she could trust him.  Without loosening her arms, she answered him quietly, “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I remember enjoying the story as a boy.  You will have to tell me what you think of it when you finish.”  He returned to the paperwork, a soft smile on his face, the first one he’d given all day.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

A few hours later, the carriage stopped and Simon advised Penelope to take her maid for a walk while the horses rested.  Lady Danbury had paid Ruby well to follow Lady Basset to her new home, allowing the duchess to have at least one familiar and loyal servant.  “You should be able to find some privacy behind those trees, but do not wander too far,” the duke instructed the women before setting off the opposite direction.

By the time the women returned, the footmen had set up a small table with two chairs.  Ruby added a tablecloth and began arranging the foods from a hamper onto the table.

“Please sit, Penelope,” Simon said warmly, holding the chair steady while she sat down.  “I thought we could enjoy our tea time outside of the carriage before resuming.”

The duchess wasn’t sure she could eat anything, but she forced herself to smile at her new husband.  “This is nice, Your Grace.  Thank you.”  The short walk in the countryside helped relax her stiffened muscles, and she felt less guarded than she was all day.  So far, her new husband had been kind to her, and she allowed herself to hope that this would continue.

“We have champagne to celebrate.  Does it suit?”  He nodded to the footman to pop the cork and serve the beverage.  

“I have only tried it a few times, but I like it.”  She took a sip from the stemmed glass, feeling very grown-up.  The bubbles ticked her nose and promised happier times.

The duke didn’t need the reminder of his bride’s young age or how little time she’d spent in the marriage mart.  They were silent for a few minutes before he politely said, “I do not think I told you, but you are very beautiful in your wedding gown.”  He took a bite out of a sandwich in an attempt to hide how awkward he felt.

“It was very important to me that the dress was not yellow!”  The alcohol was already making her feel careless and lighthearted.

“I thought you liked yellow?”  He looked very puzzled.  “It is the only color I have seen you wear.”

Unenthusiastically, she deadpanned her reply.  “My mother likes yellow.  She thought the color would make me more attractive to the gentlemen who buzz around ballrooms.”  Suddenly, she realized that the necklace he’d bought her was yellow.  She put her hand to her throat.  “Not that I do not like your gift, Your Grace,” she amended quickly, afraid of upsetting him.  “Lady Danbury told me it was a diamond.”

“A very rare diamond.”  He smiled, hoping that his explanation of its value would smooth over his faux pas of buying something yellow in the first place.  “Purple looks nice on you,” he complimented more earnesty than he felt, worried he had offended her with the diamond.  “Did Lady Danbury choose the color of your dress?”  He grabbed a second sandwich, noting that his bride hadn’t eaten anything; although, she seemed eager to finish her champagne.

“Benedict ordered it for me.”  She finished her drink, feeling giddy.  The fears and grief that had consumed her since that night had faded into the background.  She giggled.

Simon waved off the footman when he started to refill her glass.  “Penelope, have a sandwich.”  He put one on her plate and said, “Benedict Bridgerton commissioned your gown?”

“Yep.”  She giggled again, seeing the absurdity of the Bridgerton brother’s actions.  She took her sandwich apart like a child and just ate the bread.  “He is an artist, and I was his muse!”  She swung her arms out dramatically.

The duke tried not to be embarrassed by his young bride’s behavior.  He realized she had many factors working against her and was not acting like herself.  At least, he didn’t think she was this way normally.  It scared him a little that he didn’t know for sure.  “Perhaps we can commission him to paint our wedding portrait as a thank you.”  He took apart another sandwich and gave her the bread.  As far as he knew, she hadn’t eaten much in a few days and he worried about the effects of the alcohol on an empty stomach.  “Miller, is there water for Lady Basset?”

The footman went back to the supply wagon and brought back a jug of water.  He poured it into Penelope’s glass and retreated away from the table.  Simon persuaded his bride to eat a few more items and drink all her water, which he counted as a success.

“Colin gave me this butterfly pin,” she announced spontaneously, as if she just remembered it, her hand lazily drifting towards her hair in the general location of the accessory.

“Colin?  Did every Bridgerton man give you something?”  He didn’t realize he’d have so much competition for his wife’s affections, even without the added trauma aspect.  The specially commissioned dress from the artist was bold, but understandable.  However, the butterfly pin from the childhood best friend, who calls her by an affectionate nickname, was a step too far.

She giggled her response.  “No, Anthony did not get me anything neither did Gregory.”

After they ate, Simon encouraged her maid to take Penelope on another short walk while the footmen packed up the meal.  Meanwhile, he dug into the storage compartment beneath the seats and found her a pillow and blanket.

A footman helped the duchess into the carriage, and her husband handed her the pillow.  “We still have several more hours before we get to the inn.  Perhaps you would like to rest?”

She was short enough to curl up on the seat, her legs and arms tucked close to her body.  Her position did nothing to banish thoughts of her age from Simon’s mind.  He held up the blanket towards her.  “May I?” he asked quietly.  When she nodded her consent, he laid it over her and tapped the top of the carriage to tell the driver they were ready to depart.

Everything she had been stuffing down inside herself all day released with the help of the champagne.  She cried silently into the pillow, unable to hold back her tears any longer.  Her new husband’s tenderness towards her might have made her feel loved and safe under different circumstances, but instead she felt vulnerable and weak.  She didn’t understand his motivations for being kind to her, for marrying her in the first place, and she feared what would happen when they got to the inn.

Simon watched the tears fall from his wife’s eyes and felt completely helpless for the first time since childhood.  He had no experience with women outside of the bedroom and had no idea what to do with a weeping one.  Holding his papers up to block his view of her, he tried to concentrate on the letter from his solicitor.  He was eager to arrive at the estate, so he could get back into the part of life he understood.  Tending to a vulnerable, traumatized, young wife was not something he could handle.

<><><><><>

After dark, the carriages finally stopped in front of a modest inn, glowing invitingly and humming with conversation and music.  Simon hopped out of the vehicle with his folder of papers and turned around to help his wife.  The maid and footman carried the smaller baggage for the stay, while the majority of their luggage would remain secured in the stables for the night.

Simon opened the door to the inn and allowed Penelope to proceed him into the noisy tavern area.  In previous visits, the roar of male voices, copious glasses of alcohol, and availability of loose women had been welcoming, but tonight it seemed threatening.  He felt his wife’s body stiffen as several masculine eyes stared at her.  “Take my arm,” he ordered her quietly, placing his body possessively between her and the room.

Penelope did as he asked, her legs trembling.  The devil she knew felt like the safer option compared to all these devils she didn’t know.  She allowed him to guide her to the front desk, where Simon gave his name and received two keys.

“I sent my man ahead of us to secure the reservation,” he informed her, grateful for his own foresight to ensure their comfort.  He looked back towards the servants and signaled for them to follow as he led the group up the stairs.

“Penelope, this is your room,” he announced, opening the door.  “Do not leave it for any reason.”  The cacophony of sounds from downstairs reminded him of the threat.  He wished he could stay in the room for her protection, but he prioritized her comfort instead.  She wouldn’t have felt safe with him in such close proximity.

“Ruby, stay with your mistress and see to her needs.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  She dipped into a curtsy.

“Lock the door.  If you need anything during the night, knock on the wall.”  He stared down the maid, trying to convey to her the seriousness of the situation.  When she affirmed his command again, he looked at his wife.  “I will see you in the morning.”  He bowed to her and left for the room next door.

Ruby locked the door as her master had ordered and began unpacking her mistress’s belongings.  “Are you ready to be changed for bed, Your Grace?”

“Is he coming back?” Penelope asked, hugging herself and staring at the door.

“I do not believe so, Your Grace.  He said he would return in the morning.”  She watched the duchess with a frown of concern, not sure how to comfort her.  Many women would probably be disappointed by a wedding night spent apart from their husbands, but she thought this one might not feel that way.

Penelope collapsed onto the bed, burying her head in her hands and sobbing.  Her entire body shook as it tried to rid itself of the extra stress it had been carrying all day.  She had survived her wedding day, her new husband hadn’t made demands of her, and she was secured safely in her own room.

“Are you well, Your Grace?  Would you like me to recall your husband?”  When the duchess replied with a shake of her head, Ruby continued, “Allow me to help you change then, Your Grace.  You will feel better in the morning.”  She sounded cheerful, but Penelope didn’t stop crying until she finally fell asleep.

<><><><><>

The next morning, the servants readied the carriages for departure, while Simon and Penelope broke their fast in the dining area downstairs.  The drunken patrons from the night before slept off their stupor in the rooms, so the meal was quiet.  Simon watched her carefully, encouraging her to eat well, while he kept the conversation light.  It appeared to him that his wife seemed a bit more relaxed today.

“We should arrive at our residence by mid-afternoon,” he informed her after they began traveling.  “I sent a messenger ahead to inform our staff, so everything should be comfortable for us when we arrive.”

“I have never been this far from London.”  She had been watching the scenery out the window, but turned to him as she spoke.  “Despite everything, I am enjoying the journey.”

“I am glad the carriage has not made you feel sick.  Some people feel ill when they try to read while moving.”

In a week with few positives, Penelope appreciated one she can hang onto.  “It is a small mercy.”  Since the majority of her life was spent reading, not being able to do it while traveling would be a disaster.

He frowned at her with concern and decided to keep pushing towards friendship.  “Where are you in the story?”

“Crusoe and Friday have just killed all the cannibals and saved two prisoners.”  Now that she had read the story of pirates, enslavement, murder, cannibals, and mutinies, she understood why Simon seemed surprised that she and Eloise had been exposed to all those things.  It wasn’t what débutantes would normally be allowed to read.  In fact, it was quite a scandal.

“You are almost done with the story.”  His voice held amazement at how quickly she read.  “I hope you have a second book to begin after you finish.”

“Of course, I always have an extra, Your Grace,” she replied sweetly with just a touch of sass.  “It is rare to get this much uninterrupted reading time, though.  It has been a nice escape.”

“Well, then, do not let me interrupt you a moment longer,” he teased, making a show out of putting his own papers to his nose.  “Penelope.”  He drew out her name pointedly to remind her to use his as well.

She giggled.  It was short-lived, but genuine.

<><><><><>

This second day of travel was much like the first one.  They stopped every few hours to rest the horses and stretch their legs.  Most of the trip was spent silently as they attended to their reading, but each of them added commentary whenever they wished.  They were both surprised how comfortable they felt with each other, at least as platonic fellow travelers.

Penelope almost felt at ease in their little bubble of solitude.  Simon hadn’t attempted any physical contact between them and every interaction with her had been courteous and kind.  Throughout the day, a nagging thought would pinch her brain about what would happen between the couple when they arrived at their new home, but Pen pushed it away.  After days of grief, loss, and trauma, she needed these few hours of peace.

<><><><><>

“We are almost to our estate,” Simon announced, bringing Penelope out of her fictional escape and back into reality.  He put his papers back into his satchel and pulled a small box out of the bag.  “I have been waiting to give this to you, because it never felt like the right time.”

She closed her book and set it down beside her.  “I did not get you a gift,” she said regretfully, feeling as if she has failed at something she should have known was an obligation.  “I have not been to the shops since-”

“It is alright, Penelope,” he quickly interrupted to spare her from having to think about that night again.  “I was not expecting you to give me anything.”  He handed her the box, a little embarrassed and hesitant about its contents.  “It is the key to the castle,” he said as she opened the gift.

The romantic in her awakened for a second and a tiny peak of light shown faintly in her devastated heart.  “The key to the castle?”  She loved the way that phrase sounded.

“Our castle, the estate,” he rushed to explain.  “It is mostly symbolic, because the housekeeper has the keys every lock and door on a big ring.  However, it felt right to give you, the new mistress, the key to the front door.”

She clutched the key in her fist.  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I have been thinking about what you said yesterday.  We do not need to be burdened by all the hurts from the past.  With you as my duchess, we will make new memories in Clyvedon Castle.”  He hoped they could find a way to make those statements into reality. 

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- “Take a walk” is code for a bathroom break in an era without rest stops.  Another phrase would be “pick wildflowers.”

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“That is Clyvedon,” Simon said, pointing out the window to a structure in the distance.

Penelope followed his direction, her jaw falling when she saw the imposing structure.  It was much larger than Aubrey Hall or any other home she had visited.  “It’s so big,” she replied, feeling silly that she described such an intimidating building in simple words.  She didn’t know how she could possibly be mistress of it.

“And empty.”  Simon fidgeted with the closure of his bag, his own anxiety rising the closer they got to his childhood home.

They sat in silence, both performing their self-soothing actions as the castle became bigger with each rotation of the carriage wheels.  At last, the vehicle stopped and the couple disembarked.  “Welcome home, Your Grace,” Miller said with a warm smile as he helped his mistress down.

Simon took his wife’s arm and led her towards the front steps, where a cascade of servants stood at attention to greet them.  On the ground, the head coachman and head groomsman’s presence represented the complex hierarchy of staff hired to oversee the carriages and horses.  Next came the small army of senior maids, standing polished and proud in their black uniforms.  Half a dozen footmen stood beside them, a little further up the stairs according to their rank in the house.   The housekeeper and butler waited at the top of the stairs, surveying their underlings with a critical eye.

Penelope faltered a bit, overwhelmed by the amount of staff she was expected to manage.  Her own family’s household had never included so many people and was now significantly reduced as their circumstances had changed.  The Bridgertons had a large staff, but even they didn’t have this many to her knowledge. 

“Welcome to your new home, Penelope,” Simon stated, forcing his words to sound more confident than he felt, thankful that he didn’t stutter in front of his servants.

They ascended the stairs and stopped in front of the most senior staff.  “Lady Basset, this is our butler, Johnson, and our housekeeper, Mrs. Colson.”  Both servants had worked for the previous Duke of Hastings, but Simon wasn’t ready to replace them yet.  They had been kind to him as a child, and he hoped they would continue to serve him well.

The entire company of staff bowed to her as one before the housekeeper took charge.  “We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.  I have prepared an early supper for you on the terrace after I give you a tour of the grounds.”  Mrs. Colson spoke firmly, in a tone that implied she was used to being obeyed immediately.  Since the death of Simon’s mother nearly thirty years ago, she had been the practical mistress of the house and she wasn’t going to give up her authority easily.

Simon recognized the panic in Penelope’s eyes, because it matched the feelings of his own heart.  “The duchess is tired from her journey and will be retiring to her rooms now.”  He didn’t wait for acknowledgment before guiding his wife into the castle.

Penelope’s head swiveled around as she struggled to take in all of the sights around her.  From the towering ceilings to the exotic wood panels, artwork, tapestries, statues, and more, her eyes could hardly process all the splendor.  She immediately noticed the massive vases of yellow roses on either side of the front door and the scattering of smaller bouquets around the entryway.  The housekeeper’s mouth sounded hospitable, but her flowers sent a different message.

“Please let our staff know how they can serve you,” Simon reminded Pen while leading her up a second set of stairs.  “They are yours to command.”

Mrs. Colson emitted a choking cough from behind the couple, which was ignored.

“We can do your tour of the castle tomorrow or whenever you are ready,” Simon reassured his wife.  “There is no rush to do it today.”

“Thank you.  It will be nice to settle in before becoming overwhelmed again.”

“These are your rooms,” the duke announced after a significant walk, opening the door to a private sitting room.  “I had the staff fill this room with everything I thought you might want here, but you must tell me if there is anything more you require.”  He smiled at her warmly and motioned for her to explore the space.

Penelope wandered into the room, noting the empty bookshelves, comfortable spots for reading, and small table and chairs for meals.  A writing desk waited to be explored on one wall, and she walked over to it.  She was surprised to find it already stocked with paper, ink, pen knives, feathers, sand, blotters, and more.

“I did not know if you had a favorite feather for writing.  I asked them to supply you with several options, so hopefully you will find what you like.”  Simon sounded a bit nervous about presenting all the little details to her.  It wasn’t that he expected her to be picky or mean-spirited.  He just wanted it to be a perfect reflection of her desires.  He wanted her to feel at home here.

“I have never had a choice of feathers, so I am quite looking forward to trying each one and deciding which one I favor.”  She sounded sweet and excited, even if it was forced and a bit fake.

“When you find a favorite, we will obtain more of them.  You need not ever be lacking again.”  He felt rather silly dithering about feathers and pens, so he motioned to the bookshelves, reigning himself back to stoicism.  “I thought you might like to keep your personal collection of books in here as well.  I was not sure how many tomes you have, so please let me know if you need more shelves.  Of course, you will also have pen money for your own purchases and may use it for books if you would like to order some.  You can send a footman or plan a shopping day to obtain them yourself.”

Simon’s kindness and generosity both pinched at Penelope’s heart and warmed it at the same time.  It was obvious that he had thought about how to accommodate and provide for her based on even the small amount of knowledge he had of her interests and hobbies.  It was both sweet and intimidating at the same time.  She wondered what sort of payment he would expect for all his gifts.

“This is too much, Your Grace,” she said, hanging her head.

“Nonsense, Penelope.”  His fingers itched to reach for her chin and lift it up, but he worried how she would react to his touch.  He only wanted to encourage and tease her, maybe coax a smile out of his depressed bride, nothing too intimate.  Instead, he changed the subject.  “Come, allow me to show you the rest of your rooms.”

She followed him through a door and into a large room.  Cedar wardrobes stood along one wall, waiting to be filled with her garments.  On the opposite wall, near the window was a marble-topped dressing table with a mirror.  Everything looked to be the highest quality.

“This is your dressing room.  I hope it is outfitted to your satisfaction?”

“It’s bigger than my bedroom at home!” she exclaimed, and then corrected herself awkwardly.  “I mean, at Featherington House.”

“Through that door-” he pointed- “is your private retiring room.”

She blushed at the thought of him showing her that space.  It was where the most private of moments happened, toileting and bathing.

He cleared his throat, clearly a bit embarrassed himself.  “Well, then, shall we continue?”  He led her across the room and through the next door.

She froze and stared at the bed, her heart pounding as her breathing sped up.  It had a yellow blanket on it, but the color wasn’t nearly as offensive as what it represented.  She wondered if this was the marital bed that Lady Bridgerton told her about or if such an intimidating place was in a different room.

Simon watched her with compassionate and worried eyes.  “Are you upset about the yellow accents?  I asked my staff to put them in your room, because I assumed it was your favorite color.  Now that I know you prefer different colors, I can order them removed.”

It took Penelope a few tries before she found her voice.  “No,” she croaked faintly.  “No, I like the yellow.  It is cheerful.”  Fear compelled her to be extra agreeable.  Any moment, Simon would overpower her, however if she could keep him in a good mood, maybe he wouldn’t be brutal to her.  He hadn’t attempted to consummate their marriage in the inn, but now that they were home, there was no reason for him not to do it.  She forced herself to smile.  “It is a lovely room, Your Grace.  Thank you.”

He waited a few more minutes and studied her reaction to the room.  Something was bothering her.  “Penelope.”  She jumped.  “This is your bed, where you will sleep alone.”  He hoped she understood his message.  “You are safe here.  My bedroom is through that door, with my private rooms arranged in the opposite order as your own.  You may knock if you need access to me during the night.  Of course, Ruby will also be available to you at all times.  Her bedroom is on the other side of your sitting room.  This cord-” he indicated the one he meant- “calls directly to her room should you need anything during the night.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered demurely.

He wanted to remind her to call him by his name, but he didn’t want her to think he was scolding her.  It was clear from her body language that she was quite uncomfortable and nervous.  He turned his attention to the housekeeper.

“Mrs. Colson, please have the footmen bring up Lady Basset’s trunks and instruct the maids to assist Ruby in unpacking them, prioritizing the things she will need this evening.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  Would you like your own thing unpacked as well?”

“My valet, Miller, will see to my belongings.  Dinner is to be served in my private sitting room tonight.”  He stopped his list of orders and looked to his wife.  “Is that alright with you, Penelope, or would you prefer we dine formally?”

“Privately, please.”

“While we are dining, prepare a bath for Lady Basset in her room.  Do you have a scent you prefer?”  He gave her a small smile, as he waited for her to answer.

“I have never had scent in my bath.”  She bit her lip anxiously, feeling inadequate to be mistress of this imposing house.

“Something for sleep, perhaps?”

The housekeeper’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as she didn’t expect slumber to be the priority that night.  “Lavender is my recommendation, Your Grace.”  Overseeing the filling of baths wasn’t in her list of duties, but she wasn’t going to correct the duke.

“Does that sound pleasant to you, Penelope?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You are dismissed, Mrs. Colson.”  He nodded to her as she curtsied and left them alone.  “I know this has been a difficult few days, but I hope you feel at home here soon.”

She looked around the room and thought about all he had prepared for her.  How could she not feel welcome?  He had built her the perfect gilded cage, exactly furnished to her preferences.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- learn more about Regency household staff in this blog series by author Sharon Lathan

- In this universe, yellow roses mean disdain

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

As she had every meal since the assault, Penelope struggled to force herself to eat.  Simon gently encouraged her, while keeping up a light commentary on the history of the castle.  He had hoped his conversation would help her relax, but she remained tense.  Fortunately, the meal was over quickly.

He escorted his wife to her bedroom, taking her hand and bowing over it.  “Sleep well, Penelope.” 

“Good night, Your Grace,” she replied, curtsying to him formally.  Her stomach churned with anxiety- fear of this man, this castle, this situation dulling her mind.  She wondered if she would ever feel safe again.

Ruby met Penelope in her bedroom and ushered her into her dressing room. After helping her out of her dress and into a thick robe, the maid led her to the dressing table to take out her hair pins.  “Please tell me if something is not to your liking, Your Grace,” the maid reminded her as brought her into the retiring room where a steaming bath waited.  “I brought the soaps you were using at Lady Danbury’s house, but I can get you other ones if you prefer.”

“The ones we have are fine,” Penelope said quietly.  Until her stay with the dowager countess, she had never used scented soaps, let alone fancy imported ones.

“Do you require any more assistance, Your Grace?”

“No, thank you, Ruby.”  She wrapped her arms tightly around her trembling body and stared into the water as if it could harm her.

“I will be just outside the door then, Your Grace.  Please call for me if you need help.”

“You should retire for the night.  It has been a big day for both of us, and I am sure you will need some extra time to get settled into your new room also.”  If something was going to happen with Simon that evening, Penelope didn’t want anyone close enough to hear her distress.  She knew they could not intervene, so she wasn’t going to subject them to it.

Penelope waited until the maid had wished her good night and left the suite before taking off the robe and stepping into the water.  The lavender perfumed water was slightly too warm, but she knew it would cool quickly.  A full immersion bath was an indulgence she had only experienced a few times previously, as it required numerous staff to provide wood for fires, maids to heat the water, and footmen to haul the boiling water upstairs to the tub.  She bit her lip feeling guilty about all the work her new servants needed to do for her to luxuriate in a bath.

Despite the warm water, she could not stop shaking.  She knew from experience that men didn’t require her clothes to be off to hurt her, but she felt extremely vulnerable without them.  She wondered if Simon had wanted to trap her in this situation for his own pleasure.  Lavender was supposed to help her relax, but she was sure that would be impossible.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged her whole body under the water, holding herself under for as long as possible as if she could hide from him.  For a brief moment, she thought about opening her mouth and inhaling the water.  As she floated weightless in the water, it was easy for her to imagine the freedom of death.  All her pain and fears would go away if she just stopped trying to live.

She pushed her feet off the side of the tub and propelled herself out of the water just as the burning in her lungs demanded that she take a breath.  With dread, she opened her eyes and looked around the room, nervous that Simon had sneaked into her room without her knowledge.  When she realized she was alone, she pulled herself out of the tub, dried off, and got dressed in her nightgown and robe as quickly as possible.

Slowly, she opened the door to her bedroom and peaked into it.  No duke in there either.  She climbed onto her enormous bed and drew her knees to her chest.  Her hair hung uncomfortably against her face and left chilling wet spots on her starkly white nightgown.  She watched the door, expecting it to open at any moment to admit her husband.

For hours, she stared at the door, feeling very alone and frightened.  She hugged her body and waited for the monster to appear, as the candles burned down lower and lower in their stands.  Eventually, they began to sputter and fade out.  When the last flame extinguished, and she was left in darkness, she finally allowed herself to cry.

<><><><><>

Simon felt a significant amount of relief when he bid good night to his wife after dinner.  The strain of focusing on her emotional well-being and trying to adjust to being the master of the house after so many years away left him feeling torn in half.  He wanted to ensure she felt at home in this new place, but he also would rather be anywhere else in the world.  His memories dominated his mind and ghostly voices haunted him from every corner of the castle.

He poured himself three fingers of brandy and downed it quickly, aiming for oblivion.  Pacing around the room, he thought over the moments that brought him to this one and wondered if he could succeed as a husband when The Duke was such a poor example.  Penelope deserved someone much better than himself.  She should have love and romance and tenderness.  Simon knew he was none of those things.  He had never wanted to be any of those things.  Women were for release and every encounter was a transaction.  It had never matter before whether the women he hired were happy or even wanted to be with him.  From London to Paris to Moscow, he had raked across the continent, seeking only what was best for himself.

He cursed under his breath when he thought of his wife again and poured himself another glass of brandy.  “And you believe him?” his bride had asked when her assault was mentioned.  She thought he was the villain in her story, the one who hurt her and trapped her.  He wanted to be horrified by the thought, but he knew himself better than she did and knew he was more than capable of such a violent act.  Throwing back the alcohol into his mouth, he cursed himself for the beast lurking inside of him.  Somehow, he had to find a way to suppress it, to be better than his father.

Taking a candle in one hand and the bottle of brandy in the other, he wandered upstairs to the Children’s Wing.  He sipped from the bottle and stumbled into the nursery.  A random assortment of children’s toys sat on a shelf, dusted and waiting for a child to take interest in them again.  He looked towards the far side of the room, where his little bed used to stand.

“Five pregnancies, and all I have to show for it is you!”  Simon heard his father’s voice echo through the room.  He walked past the empty cradle, glancing down into as if he might find his lost siblings.  “Only one heir, and you are useless,” The Duke’s ghost continued.  “I have an imbecile for a son!” 

Simon took a long swig from the bottle and entered the cold, stark classroom he lived in as a child.  The little desk still sat in the middle of the room next to a large chalkboard on a stand.  “Has he not been taught his manners?” he heard a younger Lady Danbury demand, one of the first things she said to him when they met.  She had come to check on the son of her best friend, after being told that they were both dead.  Simon’s governess had forced him to explain to the formidable lady about his crippling stutter.  

“You can speak,” Lady Danbury reassured him, promising to make him worthy of the title.  The Dragon of the Ton removed him from The Duke’s care that day and took him in as her ward.  He would not have been the same man without her.

Leaving the third floor, he wandered down the stairs to the entryway of the house, noticing for the first time all the little touches of life his staff had added in anticipation of their new mistress’s arrival.  Two large bouquets flanked either side of the door with smaller vases dotted on every surface.  Naturally, they were all yellow, as that was the one thing he thought he knew about her.  He touched the petals of a yellow rose softly and smelled it.  It reminded him of his bride.  He threw his head backwards as if he could look through the ceiling to check on her well-being, nearly tipping backwards.

He stumbled towards The Duke’s study, staring at the intimidating desk in the middle of the room and the huge throne where his father conducted business.  The entire space was designed to frighten visitors, and there was something in the air that intimidated him still.  The ghost voices of The Duke were loudest in here.  “You are my greatest disappointment,” one voice yelled, followed quickly by another.  “I have an idiot for a son.”

It hadn’t matter to his father that he had become articulate, could ride horses, shoot well, and made good marks in academics.  He would never be enough.  “I am ashamed of you.”  Needing to hear all that the ghosts had to say, he forced himself to stay in the room and drink more brandy.  He remembered asking his father why he never replied to any of his letters, desperate as only a young boy can be to gain his approval.  “You are dead to me.”  Lady Danbury quickly rushed him out of the house, never to return.  Those were the last words he heard The Duke say to him.

A few months later, Simon began attending Eton and met Anthony Bridgerton.  He spent every school holiday with the large Bridgerton clan, learning about family life, relationships, and love.  Edmund Bridgerton had more than enough affection to go around and quickly adopted him as a son.  Simon mourned with the rest of the family when Lord Bridgerton died.  The sudden tragedy flung him into the world and away from the warmth and safety of the Bridgertons, as Anthony found himself leading his family.

After Oxford, Simon cut ties to Mayfair and spent years traveling the world and sampling all the pleasures a rich boy could afford.  He ran from the life he was expected to have as the heir of a dukedom, avoiding the marriage mart and society.  The chaos suited him.  If he kept moving from place to place, he never had to think about where he came from or what awaited him at home.

Just a few months ago, he received word of his father’s sickness and made his way back to England on Lady Danbury’s insistence.  He found The Duke moments away from death.  This time, Simon did the talking.  “The dukedom will die with me,” he promised.  “I will never marry and I will never sire an heir.”  These things that were so important to The Duke were the very things Simon shunned.

Feeling utterly exhausted from his drunken meandering through memories and conversations with ghosts, Simon began walking to his own room.  He finished the brandy bottle and set it and the candle down on a hallway table.  As he passed his new wife’s door, he thought he heard noises coming from inside.  He stopped and strained his ear, peering through the crack in the door, but not seeing any light seeping out.  It sounded as if she was crying.

Penelope, his sweet Penelope, was weeping in the darkness on her honeymoon.  He noticed his own heart beating rapidly, but he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or panic.  As he kept reminding himself, he didn’t have any experience with women outside of whorehouses.  He had never comforted a crying one before!  Certainly Anthony would know what to do, as a brother to all those younger sisters.

Anthony’s words from his wedding day stirred in his brain.  “Be gentle and patient with her.”  Simon thought he had been very patient with her so far.  He hadn’t touched her at all or forced her to give him affection.  Their marriage remained unconsummated, and he had left her to sleep in her own bed.  He wondered if she wept because he had not shared the marriage bed with her.

Simon put one hand on the doorknob and the other on the door frame, leaning his head into the door.  Indecision warred in his mind, competing with the fuzziness from the alcohol.  He lost his balance for a second, which caused him to fall into the door, rattling it.  Instantly, the sounds inside the room stopped.

He started to turn the doorknob when Anthony’s voice interrupted him again.  “Give her space to grieve and heal.”  The words hit him like a well-aimed punch to the gut.  His wife needed time.  She wasn’t an untouched and eager bride, ready to welcome his advances with open arms.  She was a traumatized victim of assault, who needed to heal in many ways before she could even consider a relationship with him.

“Good night, Sweet Penelope,” he whispered against the door before falling into his own bed.  He was looking forward to exploring the grounds with her in the morning.  Perhaps, they might even go for a horseback ride or a picnic or both.  He giggled a little in anticipation of creating some new memories with her.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope’s breath caught in her throat when she heard the door move the night before.  She pulled her arms and legs even tighter to her body as she braced herself for another assault.  Her eyes locked onto the door, staring into the darkness and expecting a monster.

The next thing she remembered was Ruby knocking lightly on her door while birds sang outside her window.  “Your Grace?” she called out quietly.

Uncurling her stiff muscles, Penelope replied hoarsely, “Come in.”

“Good morning, Lady Basset.  Would you like to eat downstairs, perhaps in the morning room, or have a tray brought up to you?”

Penelope had never eaten in her room except during times of sickness.  “Do you know what Lord Basset plans to do?”  She rubbed her pounding head, longing for sleep.

“I believe he is still asleep, Your Grace.”  Noting her mistress’s pain, she wet a linen cloth and passed it to her.  “Would you like some willow bark tea?”

“Perhaps it would help.  Thank you, Ruby.”  She forced herself to be polite and kind, since it wasn’t her maid’s fault that Penelope was miserable in her new life.  “Please ask cook- what was her name? -for a scone with honey.”

Ruby smiled at her warmly, pleased to hear that she had at least a little interest in food.  It had been a challenge to get her mistress to eat very much since the attack.  “Very fitting, Your Grace, as the cook’s name is Mrs. Honey.”

Meeting the staff was on Penelope’s list, but she wasn’t going to do it yet.  “Please put in the order.  Have my books been unpacked?”  She stood up, suddenly excited to explore her suite.  Despite the dark cloud hanging over her, she luxuriated in her new freedom and privacy.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the maid said, helping the duchess into a dressing gown.

Penelope stopped in her retiring room before arriving at her personal sitting room.  She noticed several changes to the area since Simon had shown it to her last night.  Eagerly, she crossed to her bookshelves, now full of her own volumes.  Never before had she seen all her books in one place, as her previous room didn’t have space for her collection.  She ran her hand along their spines, which comforted her.  Each book held special memories.

The titles were haphazardly arranged, without reason and in desperate need of organization, so it took her a few extra minutes to locate her collection of Shakespeare plays.  Skipping over the romances and comedies, she pulled down the volume of historical tragedies.  The theme seemed more fitting for her current situation.  She brought the book back to her bed and stretched out on her stomach to read Richard II.

<><><><><>

“Miller!  Can you not see that I am on my honeymoon!” Simon groused, his head pounding.  He rolled away from the window as his valet opened the curtains.

“I'm sorry, Your Grace.  I have been speaking with the staff and there are several matters you should look into immediately.”

The servant rarely spoke so boldly, so the duke sat up to hear his complaints.  “Alright, Miller.  What have you discovered?”  He rubbed his hands across his forehead.

“According to your staff, the Hastings name is badly maligned in the village.”  Miller handed his master a glass of water and went back to laying out the duke’s clothes for the day in the dressing room.

“That is hardly a surprise.  The Duke of Hastings was a tyrant.”

“It appears to be more serious than the late duke’s reputation, Your Grace.  The other servants are saying that the lands are poorly managed, their taxes are burdensome, and the children go hungry.”

Simon frowned.  “The estate has been managed by a solicitor for the past several years, even before the Duke of Hastings died.  Perhaps he can offer some insight into the problems.”  He plodded into his retiring room and gave himself over to his valet for a shave.

“I hope you do not feel like I have overstepped, Your Grace, but I took the liberty to bring you the estate ledgers.  I thought you might want to begin looking at them over breakfast.”

“Thank you.  It does sound like I should give them my attention.  Have you heard how Lady Basset is this morning?”

The valet smiled at the mention of the petite woman.  “A breakfast tray was sent to her room over an hour ago, Your Grace.”

“Very good.  She is to be given anything she requires.  Please inform Mrs. Colson and the rest of the staff.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  Miller rang for his breakfast to be sent up and dressed the duke.  While they were waiting, the valet poured a finger of whiskey and handed it to Simon.  “Your medicine, sir,” he said dryly, earning a huff of amusement.

“Please find the solicitor’s name and information from The Duke’s office.  I will write to him today for his explanation regarding the tenants.  Also, I would like to make the Music Room into my office, so please move a desk or table into the room for my use.”

“The maids have already began airing out and cleaning the study in preparation for you.”

“No!”  Simon cleared his throat, embarrassed by his reaction.  “I mean, no thank you.  I will not be using that room.  Whatever we need can be moved to my new office.”

“In the Music Room?  Did you want the pianoforte relocated to a different place?”

“No, there should be enough space for it as well as my desk.”  He had no memories of his mother, but had heard from the staff when he was a child that the Music Room had been her favorite place.  More importantly, it was a room his father had avoided completely.  Without knowing where he might find sanctuary, he thought he would begin in the least offensive place.

“It will be done as you ask, Your Grace.”  A small knock alerted Miller that the breakfast tray had arrived.  “Would you like to eat in your sitting room?”

Simon briefly thought about imposing on his wife’s company and taking his meal in her presence.  Then, he remembered the ledgers and the mess with the estate.  “Yes, I will wait in there until my office is set up.”

Miller set the table for his master, poured his coffee, and handed him the accounting books.  “Anything else, Your Grace?”  When the duke dismissed him, the valet returned to the bedroom to straighten his belongings before the maids came to clean it for the day.

<><><><><>

After reading for a couple hours and finishing Richard II, Penelope pushed aside the book and gave into her exhaustion.  She had been yawning through most of the fourth and fifth acts, nearly giving up several times.  With the bright, spring sun shining through her open curtains, she felt safe from the beast she had somehow married.

Ruby’s cup of willow bark tea hadn’t soothed her headache, so she hoped a nap would help her relax.  Unfortunately, her pain felt worse after sleeping, radiating down her neck and into her shoulders and making every heartbeat thump with agony.  She rang for her maid.

“How may I help, Your Grace?” Ruby asked, moving boldly to lay a motherly hand on Penelope’s forehead.  “Is your head still hurting you?”

Penelope nodded weakly.

The maid wet a cloth and handed it to her mistress before fluffing and rearranging the pillows.  “I can bring up more willow bark tea, or you can try laudanum?”

“No!” Penelope shouted abruptly, causing Ruby to startle with fright.  Embarrassed, she moderated her tone and explained, “I do not want to be unconscious if Lord Basset desires my company.”

Ruby smiled softly at the mention of the new husband.  Of course, she knew the marriage had been practical rather than romantic, but she hoped the couple would find their way to fondness for each other.  “Shall I inquire of Lord Basset’s valet as to His Grace’s plans?”

“No, thank you.”  If Simon hadn’t made plan to visit her, she didn’t want him to be reminded of her existence or to think that she wanted his company.  He was still a stranger and possibly a dangerous one, although so far he had done nothing to intimidate her.

“We can try some whiskey or a different alcohol in the tea.  It would not be as powerful as the laudanum, but may help.”

“Whiskey is fine.”

“Shall I bring up your supper tray as well?”

“Am I allowed to eat in my room?  Is Lord Basset not expecting me to dine with him?”

“You are Lady Basset, Your Grace,” Ruby reminded her with a sly smile.  “Of course, you may dine in your room.  I will have someone inform His Grace that you are ill.”

<><><><><>

Once again, Penelope sat up all night on her bed, staring at the door, her body tense with fear.  Every creak of the floor caused her to jump and each candlelit shadow made her stop breathing until it passed.  Eventually, she succumbed to the call of Hypnos, curling into the fetal position to sleep.

“Your Grace?” Ruby whispered hours later, leaning close to her mistress’s distressed face.  She watched the duchess whimper and cry in her sleep, mumbling pleas for mercy and help.  Unsure what she was supposed to do, the maid gently shook Penelope, repeating her title.

Eventually, the duchess opened her eyes with a scream, scampering away from the shadow near her bed.

“Your Grace, it is Ruby.  You are safe.”  Penelope sobbed, as her maid shushed her gently, stroking her head.  “It was only a nightmare, Your Grace.  Would you like to talk about it?”

In between her sobs, Penelope managed to gasp out, “I dreamed… Lord Basset… was… chasing me… through the… Dark Walk.”

“It was not real, Your Grace.  You do not need to be afraid of your husband.”  Ruby picked up the lit candle and held out her hand.  “Come here.  I want to show you something.”

Penelope knew there was much to fear in this dank castle, but her natural curiosity compelled her feet to touch the floor.  With a frown of confusion, she followed her maid a couple feet to the door between the two bedrooms.  “No!  Do not open it!” she whispered shouted in a panic when she saw the maid’s hand go for the doorknob.

“I will not allow anything to happen to you,” Ruby reassured her, opening the door, breaking several rules related to servant’s behavior towards their masters.

Shaking with fright and terrified that Simon would punish them, Penelope waited for her servant to explain what she thought was so important that she risked the duke’s wrath on them.

“Listen,” the maid urged her, motioning for her mistress to move closer to the open door.  The second door, the one that led to Lord Basset’s room was still closed, so technically they weren’t intruding on his privacy.

Penelope strained her ear, trying to understand what the maid wanted her to know.  After a few seconds, she picked up the faintest rhythm of snoring.  It didn’t sound like a great, rumbling, dangerous beast.  Instead, the tone was low and humming, more like a distant beehive than a bear cave.  Despite her anxiety and the nightmare that still clung to her mind, she smiled weakly.

Smiling at her mistress happily, Ruby explained, “Lord Basset will not be chasing you tonight, as he is already asleep.”  Mindful to not make any sound that might awaken the duke, she closed the door and shuttled Penelope back to her bed.  She handed her a glass of water.  “All is well, Your Grace, though I will stay with you until you fall asleep,” she promised, taking the glass from her mistress and tucking her into bed.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- coffee was a very popular drink in the Regency era and a symbol of the ever expanding British empire

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope woke the next morning feeling numb.  Her mind was dull; although, her headache was finally, mercifully, gone.  A dark cloud hung over her as the reality of her situation settled like a fog.

She hadn’t seen Simon since the night they arrived at the castle, which suited her fine.  Ruby kept her informed as to the duke’s basic schedule, so the duchess knew that he was busy trying to reconcile the account books.  Considering he had never wanted a wife, Penelope concluded that he didn’t want to be around her any more than necessary.

For the first time in her life, she found herself with unlimited time to indulge in all of her hobbies.  It should have been paradise.  Unfortunately, she couldn’t muster enthusiasm for any of it.  For hours, she stared at book pages, unable to comprehend a single word.

With endless days stretching out in front of her, she found herself sitting in the window seat of her room and thinking about the past.  She remembered running with Eloise in the lands at Aubrey Hall through grass so green it looked painted.  When they finally stopped to read under a tree, Benedict would set up near them, encouraging them to discuss philosophy while he painted their likenesses.  Later, Colin would steal her away to look at maps and dream about the future.  A future that no longer existed, at least not for her.

She couldn’t cry.  No tears would fall.  She could only wait, suspended like fly in a web.  Wait to live.  Wait to die.  Wait for an resolution that would never come.

<><><><><>

“It is a very lovely day, Your Grace,” Ruby commented as she set down the breakfast tray a few days later.  “I know we need all these April showers for the May flowers, but I do prefer sunshine this time of the year.”

Penelope turned from the window and drifted over to her tea table.  “The rain matches my mood.”

“Forgive my boldness, Your Grace, but I think some time outside would do you a world of good.  The gardener told me the tulips are almost done for the year if you wanted to see them before they fade away.

“Lord Basset has not given me permission to wander the property,” Penelope said without a hint of resentment.  Perhaps it would have been nice to go outside or have breakfast in the morning room or find a pianoforte to play, but the drive to avoid the beast of the castle was even stronger.

Ruby had heard rumors from the other servants about Lord Basset’s father and understood her mistress’s caution.  “These are beautiful rooms he apportioned for you, Your Grace.”

“Yes, he was very generous,” she commented, looking around her gilded cage.

<><><><><>

At tea time, Ruby brought in a vase of tulips with the tray  “Since you will not go out, I brought the garden to you,” she explained, placing the flowers on her mistress’s desk with determination.

“Are they from my husband?”  Penelope wasn’t sure if she wanted evidence that he remembered her or not.  Her sleep had been improving the longer he neglected her.  It felt safer to have him at a distance.

Ruby’s face pinched with a prick of pain for the duchess before she resumed the pleasant, neutral look of a servant.  “No, Your Grace.  I asked the gardener to pick them for you.”

“They are very pretty.  Thank you.”  Penelope wandered over to the tulips and gently caressed their petals.  Their bright pink color reminded her of Hyacinth, cheerful in a way that demanded attention.  Her heart ached for the affectionate chaos of her Bridgerton family.

<><><><><>

Simon cursed under his breath.  The paperwork from his solicitor and the account books from the estate weren’t matching up.  He pulled his hair and sighed, looking over the numbers once again.  The ledgers showed a larger amount of take from the tenants, but the report showed a more moderate sum.

“Johnson!” he yelled impatiently.

“Your Grace?” the butler bid as he entered the room.

“Have we heard back from the solicitor yet?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“These books are a mess, and he needs to explain to me why!”  He tapped the accounts to emphasis his frustration.  “Send Edward to London and have him bring the solicitor back with him.  Tell him to ride hard.  I want this mystery solved quickly.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”  The butler left to do the duke’s bidding, while Simon returned to his numbers.

<><><><><>

A couple of weeks later, Penelope decided to organize the bookshelves, as the maids had placed the books rather haphazardly on them when they unpacked for her.  She pulled each volume down, sorting them by genres into piles.  Each book she touched held a memory, usually of Eloise.  The process of dividing them was long, since she was often caught up in reading her favorite parts or just thinking about her past.

“Your Grace!” Ruby exclaimed when she brought up a tea tray in the late afternoon.  “You do not need to exert yourself!  Just tell me what to do, and I can help you.”

“I am enjoying myself.”  She stood up from the floor where she had been surrounded by her favorite things, feeling embarrassed that the maid thought she shouldn’t have been working.  “How is Lord Basset?” she inquired as she had done at least once every day of their marriage.  He still had not sought her out.
 
“He is well, Your Grace.  Would you like me to bring him a message?”

“No, thank you.”

“A letter arrived for you from London,” Ruby announced with a smile, pulling a missive from her apron pocket and handing it to the duchess.

Penelope caressed the envelope lovingly, recognizing immediately from the seal that Eloise had written her.  “Thank you, Ruby.  Please tell Mrs. Honey I will eat in my room again tonight.

<><><><><>

Every morning, after breaking his fast, Simon ordered Zeus, his horse, saddled and brought to the house.  He found that allowing himself an hour or so in the fresh air helped him deal with the suffocating, life-draining work at his desk.  It also allowed him to explore his acreage a little at a time and gain a practical understanding of its layout and elements.

One morning, several weeks into his marriage, he discovered a creek running through a section of the property, flanked with large trees.  He dismounted and let his horse wander away for a drink as he walked the downstream.  The babbling of the water soothed him and the shade from the trees provided relief from the sun.

A peek of yellow caught his eye and he wandered over to investigate it.  He smiled when he recognized cowslip growing along the bank.  The tiny buds stood proudly on their stocks, their yellow heads dipped demurely like debutantes at a ball.

He gasped as he remembered one yellow-clad débutante specifically- his wife!  To his horror, he realized that he hadn’t thought of her in days, perhaps weeks.  He had even forgotten to inquire about her with his staff.  Every moment of his waking hours was flooded with minute details about the estate, but he still felt it wasn’t an excuse.

Mounting his horse again, he took off towards the castle, her name in his head.  Penelope Featherington.  No, Basset!  Lady Penelope Basset.  Surely, the servants would have mentioned if there was a problem with her, he reasoned, hoping the lack of information meant she was well.

The moment he rode up to the yard of the castle, Finn, one of the farmhands, met him in a panic.  “Your Grace,” he began, removing his hat and bowing sloppily, “we need your help with the sheep!”

“My help?”

“Several of the lambs have gotten stuck inside their mothers.”  The servant danced on the balls of his feet, full of nervous, fearful energy.  It was his job to ensure the ewes delivered their lambs safely twice a year without losing either mother or baby to complications.

Simon, still mounted on his horse, frowned.  “What do you expect me to do about it?”  He didn’t know anything about livestock and didn’t believe he had anything to add to the event.

“We need more hands, Your Grace.  A few of the shepherds are home with fevers, so we do not have enough men to tend to all the ewes.

Fighting a desire to curse, Simon swung off his horse.  “Nelson, ride Zeus back to the stables and tell them to come to the sheep fields.  Make haste!”  He pulled off his cravat, overcoat, and waistcoat, tossing them onto the ground for someone to retrieve later.  If he was going to play the part of a shepherd, he didn’t need any extra fabric impeding him.  “Show the way,” he ordered Finn, setting off in a fast clip behind him.

Simon had visited the sheep pens on a previous horse ride, but he hadn’t spent any time with the livestock.  A handful of servants rushed around the pen, monitoring the laboring ewes and ensuring that each newborn lamb was being properly attended to by its mother.

“How are they doing?” the duke asked in a loud voice, raking his eyes over the smelly pen in front of him trying to comprehend enough to look authoritative.  The fifty or so sheep represented a small percentage of his flocks, the majority of which were still in the pasture with other shepherds.

“We need more help, Your Grace,” one of the men replied, not bothering to slow down enough even to bow to his master.  He was covered in muck and looked exhausted.

“The stable hands and grooms will be here soon.”  He knew the sheep weren’t a new addition to the estate, so he wondered how they normally handled the situation.  They needed a land manager to oversee the farms, but Clyvedon currently didn’t have one.  Another thing for Simon’s list.

“The ewes need to be checked for signs of labor.  They handle birthing fine on their own most of the time, but we need to know if there is trouble before it becomes a problem.”  Finn explained to the duke what to do and opened the gate for both of them to walk through.

Simon was relieved to be wearing his riding boots, which covered up to his knee, instead of the short, slip on shoes he normally wore around the castle.  Feeling overwhelmed and a bit silly, he began doing as Finn instructed.

At first, Simon didn’t see the reason for the panic and cry for help.  The sheep appeared to be handling the biological process well, producing one healthy lamb after another.

Suddenly, a shepherd yelled, “Catch her!” and the idyllic pastoral scene erupted into chaos.  Every man stopped what they were doing and began chasing one ewe, who was screaming and running.

“What is happening?” Simon called to anyone who would answer.

“The lamb is stuck,” Finn replied, using his hands to direct the other men in certain directions.  “We have to catch her or she will kill the baby.”

Simon watched the confusion for a few minutes as the ewe dodged and weaved away from the shepherds.  To his horror, he noticed the lamb’s head hanging down under the sheep’s tail, bobbing uncontrollably as its mother ran.  Careless of his person, he joined the fray, running through the mud towards the animal.

The sheep’s terror echoed in the perfect spring morning, punctuated by shouts of frustration and direction from the farmhands.  Simon lunged for the ewe, but it slipped away from him.

The pen wasn’t large, but the animal was panicked and determined to evade capture.  When the men from the stables arrived, they joined the chaos, adding several more opportunities to trap the animal.

“Work together!” Finn roared, his tiredness and frustration coloring his tone.  “Make a circle around her!”

Trapped by a wall of humans, the ewe grew more upset.  After dashing back and forth, she broke free, running directly towards Simon.  He fell onto her, landing in the muck.  Fortunately, he managed to snag a handful of the ewe’s wool in his hand, holding her long enough for the other men to capture her.

Several men held her still, while Finn and other experienced shepherd worked to pull the stuck lamb out of her body.  Meanwhile, Simon got back on his feet, flicking off the worst of the mud from his arms and legs.  One of the grooms handed him a handkerchief to wipe his hands and face, but it was nearly useless.

“Please go to the house and ask Miller to prepare a bath,” the duke ordered one of his stable hands.  Noticing the crowd had scattered again, he asked, “How is the lamb?”

“She survived, Your Grace,” Finn replied, cradling the tiny creature in his arms, “but her mother has rejected her.  It is not uncommon with these types of births.  By the time the child is born, the mother is too panicked to recognize her offspring.”

“What will happen now?”

“The men and I will hand feed her until she can join the other lambs.”

“And the ewe?”

“The men will mark her for a respite this next breeding season, but she should produce many healthy lambs for you.”

Simon gave one definitive nod.  “Thank you, Finn.  Keep up the good work.”  He trudged out of the sheep pen and back to the castle, where Miller first helped him clean up the worse of it outside before ushering him into a bath.

By the time he finished his bath, dressed, and finally sat behind his desk for the day, he had forgotten all about yellow cowslips.

<><><><><>

Every day went nearly the same way for Penelope.  She took meals in her room, spent hours reading, and wrote and received letters from Eloise.  Eventually, she stopped expecting Simon to visit her at night and her sleep improved.  The bruises on her body faded and disappeared, and she almost felt safe in her little apartment of rooms.

Of course, she thought of her husband and wondered about his absence, but accepted it as part of her new life.  She had always been more introverted than her family and she felt quite pampered to have so much time for her own pursuits.  The quiet suited her.

She wasn’t completely alone, though, as Ruby attended to her needs constantly.  The maid learned all of her lady’s preferences, habits, favorite foods, and schedule.  Sometimes, she caught snide comments or grumblings from the rest of the staff, who felt slighted by their absentee mistress, but Ruby found her to be an easy person to serve.  Lady Basset was friendly, kind, and generous, and the maid figured that her mistress would grow into her role soon.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Cowslip are tiny, yellow flowers associated with fairies and magic.  They also bring to mind grace, beauty, mischief, youth, and adventure.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“Your Grace,” Johnson, the butler, announced, standing proudly before his master, “Lady Danbury has arrived for a visit.”

Simon looked up from his desk.  “Escort her to the yellow sitting room and call for tea.  I will join her in a moment.”  He pushed himself away from his desk, stood up, and stretched his hunched muscles.  Although he had been working on the household accounts for weeks, he felt like he was no closer to reconciling the different records or cleaning up the mess.  It was frustrating and discouraging.

He looked down at his clothes, frowning at their wrinkled appearance.  For any other visitor, he would have donned a new outfit, but he allowed himself a small measure of casualness with his godmother.  After stopping in the retiring room to wash the ink off his hands, he stepped into the sitting room.

“Lady Danbury, I am so pleased you have come!”  He gave her a relaxed smile and sat down near her.

“You look worse for wear, my boy.  Is marriage not agreeing with you?”  She peered at him with the discerning eyes for which she was famous.

He dragged his hands through his hair.  “Marriage is fine.  The dukedom, however, is crushing me.  The solicitor appears to have been siphoning money from the estate for years and mangled the books to hide his misdeeds.  I have not been able to get them sorted.”

“Has he been arrested?”

“No, he fled to the Americas.  I am not as upset about the money as I am about the poor management of the properties.  The tenants are unhappy, and I do not even know where to begin to right things.”  He sighed.  It felt so good to share all of his problems with someone.

“Problems that took a long time to develop are not quick to be solved.  I know you will right this ship.”  She smiled at him, warming him with her confidence.  When even Simon’s own father hadn’t believed his son worthy of his time, his godmother universally supported him.

“Since you know everything that goes on in the Ton, I wondered if you might have a recommendation for a new estate manager.”

Lady Danbury sipped the tea a maid handed her before replying, “Viscount Wolfington’s youngest son, August, has been working as a solicitor in town and has a good reputation in society.  His mother, Lady Wolfington, told me recently that he is looking for a position in the country and hoped I might know someone who needed his services.”

“Is Mr. Wolfington married?”

“Not yet.  He is very popular among the débutantes and is generally well-liked by everyone, but his station in life is a bit of an issue for most ambitious Mamas.”

An estate manager needed to be personable to deal with the tenants and their complaints, while also being firm enough to collect rents and demand order.  “Is he a gambler or rake?”

She looked at him askance with a slight quirk of her lip.  “Not any more than most young men.”

“It sounds like he has potential.  I will write to him immediately and arrange a meeting.”  He nodded, feeling very satisfied with his visit.  Although he would never admit to her, he had missed Lady Danbury while he was traveling and was pleased that she had come to see him.

“Will Lady Basset be joining us?”  Her tone was light, but the undercurrent was pointed and direct.

Simon paused, caught off guard by the title that his godmother used.  “Lady Basset?”  He thought about the large painting of his mother that hung in the hallway and wondered why her best friend would be asking to see her, knowing that she was dead.

“Your wife?”  She looked at him as if he was daft.  Surely, he remembered his marital status.

“I did not think to ask.”  It occurred to him that he wasn’t sure when he had spoken to her last.  They had been living in their own worlds and rarely interacted.

His godmother looked as if she had a great many things to say to him about his answer, but instead she asked him, “Is Lady Basset adjusting to her new role as a duchess well?  Have there been any lingering effects from her attack?”

“I do not know.  I could ask her maid, Ruby, if you would like.”

Lady Danbury frowned.  “You have not seen her?”

“Well, no.”  His voice sounds surprised, as if he hadn’t realized the astonishing fact until that moment.  “Not since we arrived here.”

The matron’s hand rubbed against the top of her cane as her anger grew.  “It has been nearly a month!  Did you lock her in a tower?”

“Of course not!” he said defensively.  “She can come out of her room whenever she would like.”

“Does she know that?” Lady Danbury snapped, her frustration with the man she raised clearly evident on her face.

His godmother’s question deflated him for a moment, as he thought about the past couple weeks.  He had been working hard to get the estate running smoothly, spending long hours at his desk and overseeing tenants, servants, and tradesmen.  To his astonishment, and now shame, he had hardly considered how his new bride was coping with all the changes.  She did not demand his attention like so many other things in the house, so he forgot to give it to her.

Lady Danbury watched him think, analyzing the flicker of emotions that passed over his face with her critical eyes.  “You promised to be kind towards that girl,” she scolded, her voice sharp.

He protested, “I have been kind to her!  I have not made demands of her or harmed her or even touched her!”  He could not imagine what more she could want in marriage.  He continued his list, “She has dozens of servants to cater to her every whim, a comfortable castle in which to live, and plenty of money to spend on things ladies like to buy.  Is that not kindness?”  He sounded utterly confounded and slightly sorrowful.

She smiled at him gently.  “Simon, do you wish to be a good husband or are you content to be a beast like your father?”

The duke bristled.  “I am nothing like my father!”

“Then, you must be better than him.”  She stared at him intently.  “When I met you, The Duke had you isolated in the nursery with your governess.  He saw that your needs were met, but he offered you no warmth, no gentleness, no consideration.  You wilted under his demands and only began to flourish when I brought you back to my house.  Do you remember?”

Simon hated discussing his father, but he understood what she was trying to make him understand.  “Yes, I do, but I have responsibilities, duties to the estate and the tenants.” 

“Penelope is your responsibility.  Her happiness is your duty.”

He sighed in defeat.  “Alright, where do I start?  We are strangers to each other.”

“You must begin with what you know about her and build from there.  Spend time with her and give her freedom to grow into your duchess.”

“Miller, tell Lady Basset that she will join us for dinner,” he ordered his valet, who nodded and left immediately.

“Simon, that was not kind.”  She whacked him with her cane on his knee.  “You should have asked her yourself, maybe with flowers after all this time of neglecting her.  Clean clothes and a shave would be a good place to start as well.”  She wrinkled her nose at him as she took in his appearance from head to toe.

“I will be the picture of a perfect duke tonight, Lady Danbury.  Would you like to rest this afternoon?  I can have a room made up for you.”  He had been rightfully scolded by his godmother, but his affection for her was evidenced in his voice.

“You are not casting me out that easily, Boy!” she huffed, a twinkle in her eye.  “I have one last matter to discuss with you.”

“The real reason for your visit, perhaps?”

“Our queen is most put out that one of her dukes got married without her involvement and blessing.  She has heard rumors about your hasty union and wishes to know the truth from your own lips.”

“We were not planning on returning to London until next season,” he complained, his mind eager to get back to his account books.

“This is an official summons from the Crown.  We leave in the morning.”  She stood up, prompting him to stand as well.  “Now, I am going to visit with your wife.  Please send a tea tray to her private sitting room.  I trust you can handle our travel arrangements?”

“Yes, I will put my staff on it immediately.”  He started to leave the room and then stopped, looking at his godmother.  “I'm sorry I disappointed you, Lady Danbury.”

“You could never disappoint me, Simon.  However, I will be most cross with you if you do not figure out how to be kind to your wife.”  She spoke firmly, but love for him shone in her eyes.

<><><><><>

Over the past several weeks, Penelope had grown very content in her apartment of rooms.  She had everything she needed, including several hobbies and the time to indulge in them.  Although she found herself often thinking about Simon and wondering why he never spent time with her, she enjoyed her solitude.  She had also grown closer to Ruby, her lady’s maid, and found very satisfying companionship with her.

A knock on her door caused Penelope to call out the name of her maid with an invitation to enter the room.

“It is not Ruby,” Lady Danbury said playfully, filling the doorway with her intimidating presence.  “May I still come in?”

Penelope jumped out of her desk chair.  Her maid had been her only company for so long that she was very surprised to have a visitor.  “Yes, of course.  I mean, good day, Lady Danbury.”  Out of habit, she curtsied to her and motioned to the table.  “Please come in.”  Quickly, she grabbed up the stack of books scattered on the table and took them over to her desk, her heart fluttering with nervous energy.

“It appears you have been finding things to occupy your time,” the dowager commented, looking around the room.

The younger woman blushed.  “Yes, I am very content.  It has been nice to read and write as much as I would like.  My mother always discouraged it, so I am fortunate that the duke does not seem to mind.  It would be lovely to practice pianoforte, too, but I have not had the opportunity.” 

Lady Danbury raised her eyebrow at her.  “Have you asked your husband if there is an instrument on the property that you may use?”

“He has been very busy with estate business, so I do not want to bother him.”  She looked relieved when Ruby entered with a tray and hoped the refreshments would distract the dowager from her uncomfortable line of questioning.

Lady Danbury set her teacup down.  “You are his wife.”

Penelope shook her head.  “He never wanted a wife.”

“Nevertheless, he has one now,” the dowager insisted, her jaw set in displeasure.

“He has provided me with this suite of rooms and has seen to it that all my needs have been met.  I cannot ask for anything more from him.”

“Of course you can ask for more!  You are mistress of this house, and I find you hiding in your room.”

“I am not suited to this life.  I am the third daughter of a foolish, impoverished baron, invisible to everyone in the Ton, and a wallflower.  Nothing special- just Penelope Featherington.”

“You are not just anything!  You are Lady Penelope Basset, Duchess of Hastings.  Your position demands respect, therefore, you will demand respect.”

“I am not even noticed by my own husband.  The housekeeper has not spoken to me since I arrived.  I am as powerless in this castle as I was in Mayfair.”

A flicker of compassion passed across Lady Danbury’s face, but it didn’t last.  Instead, she leaned towards the younger woman and stared into her eyes.  “When I was a girl, many years ago, I was afraid of my own shadow.  I entered a room and attempted to blend into the background.  But there is only so long we can hide when you are in our position.  I knew I would need to step into the light someday, and I could not be frightened of it.  Instead, I made myself frightening.  I sharpened my wit, my wardrobe, and my eye, and I made myself the most terrifying creature in any room I entered.  I can help you step into this role you have been given, but you need to promise me that when you do, you will be worthy of the attention you command.”

“You were a wallflower, too?  You are the most feared woman in the kingdom, after the queen, of course.”  Her enemies and friends alike called her the Dragon of the Ton for her strength and fierceness.

“The queen made me a countess, but I made myself powerful.  Several years ago when he was a boy, I gave your husband a similar speech.  I made him into the duke and I will make you into a duchess.”

“I do not know where to begin.”

The dowager smiled encouragingly, satisfied to see Penelope rise to the challenge.  “I am taking you back to Mayfair with me and will teach you how to run a household of distinction.”

Her blood turned to ice at the mention of her former community.  “I cannot go back to London.”

“Of course you can.  Do not cower, Lady Basset.  You must return in triumph.”

“I am not ready,” she whispered, worrying her hands.

“You will never be ready.  You must just throw yourself into the fray.  We will begin by presenting you to the queen.”

Penelope scrunched her nose in confusion.  “I already had my presentation.”

“As Miss Featherington.  Now, you must be presented to Her Majesty as the Duchess of Hastings.”  Lady Danbury’s voice was proud and confident, leaving no room for protest.  “Ruby, have the footmen delivered Lady Basset’s new clothes yet?”

“Yes, my lady.  They are in Her Grace’s dressing room.”

“Come, then, my dear, let's chose a dress for your meeting with the queen.”  The countess grabbed her cane and waited for the duchess to lead her into the next room.

“Lady Danbury!  This is too much!” Penelope exclaimed when she saw all the boxes of different sizes piled up around the room.  Immediately, she realized what she had said.  “I mean, thank you, my lady.”  She bobbed a curtsy because she didn’t know what else to do.

“Stop stooping!” the countess snapped.  “Stand tall and bend your head only to those who deserve it.”

Embarrassed from the scolding, Penelope ducked her head.  “I'm sorry.”

“Chin up, my dear.”  She brought the girl’s head up with gentle fingers and smiled at her.  “I may be terrifying, but you outrank me.  You also outrank your own father, Lord Bridgerton, and nearly everyone else you know in Mayfair.  You must embrace it!”  She moved towards a stack of boxes that looked as if they may hold dresses.  “Now, let's see what wonders the modiste has created!”

“I am quite overwhelmed!”  It was a feeling she had been freed from in her weeks of isolation, but the countess’s presence was bring it all back.

Lady Danbury laughed, opening the box on top.  “I promised you a trousseau worthy of your title, Penelope.  I always keep my promises.”

For the next hour, Ruby unpacked the boxes, while the two noblewomen discussed every garment and chose what should be repacked for the trip.  Everything was the highest quality, coordinated with matching accessories, and perfectly sized to Penelope’s body.  The duchess was especially pleased to see not a single yellow item among them.

During dinner, Lady Danbury caught the couple up on all the gossip from the Ton, distracting them from the awkwardness of their unfamiliarity with each other.  After giving both of them a proper scolding that afternoon, the countess turned on her charm and showed them a warmth she rarely allowed anyone to see.  As soon as she left for her own country house, Penelope fled back to her rooms, overwhelmed by the day’s events and intimidated by her proximity to her husband.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Shout out to the (unofficial) Bridgerton musical

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next morning, Lady Danbury joined the newlyweds in their carriage, while her own followed behind with their baggage and servants.  Penelope would have preferred that the countess ride in her own vehicle, so she wouldn’t have needed to sit in such close proximity to her husband.  After nearly a month of being alone, it overwhelmed her to be in constant company.  She wasn’t even permitted to hide away in a novel, because Lady Danbury lectured them both on proper behaviors and protocols the entire way.

Simon watched his wife surreptitiously with his peripheral vision, concerned about how she was handling their sudden journey to London.  She looked a bit like a poppet on a string, nodding along to the dowager’s commands, her face blank and lifeless.  He knew he didn’t deserve her trust after abandoning her for weeks, but wished she felt safe enough to confide in him and let him know her true state.

As the highest ranking peer and only man on the trip, he used this power to ensure that Penelope got plenty of breaks away from the confining vehicle.  He encouraged her to take her maid on long walks, as she had developed a friendship with Ruby recently.  From their last journey together, Simon knew his wife wouldn’t ask for anything she might need, so he ensured she was served plenty of food and drinks.  Every time he gave an order to meet Penelope’s needs, Lady Danbury would offer him an approving nod, bolstering his confidence that he was doing well as a husband.

After an afternoon stop, Lady Danbury watched with tender amusement as her godson pulled a pillow and blanket from under their seat and helped Penelope tuck in for a nap.  He took his seat next to his godmother, allowing his wife to have the entire other seat, and pulled out a stack of business correspondence to read.  It made her proud to see how considerate he had been to his wife all day and gave her hope for their future together.

<><><><><>

They stopped at the same inn as their wedding night, and Simon led the group through the rowdy crowd and up the stairs.  “Penelope, this will be your room to share with your maid.  I will be in the middle, and Lady Danbury will be on my other side.  Ladies, if you need anything during the night, knock on the wall, and I will come to assist you.  Do not leave the rooms without me.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”  Penelope gave her husband a small curtsy good night and went into her room, her maid following close behind with her bag.

“Do you need anything, Lady Danbury?” he asked, unlocking the door to her room.

“You should be with your wife,” she complained, frowning at him.

“She prefers to be alone.”

“Simon.”  She said his name like she expected more from him.  She had hoped that his tenderness to his wife throughout the trip was an indication that the couple was growing closer and learning to live together.  It was not a good sign for their marriage that they were so comfortable being apart so early in their relationship.

“I am not going to force her to endure my presence.  Good night,” he clipped, handing her the room key and marching into his own room.  He didn’t understand why she was disappointed with him for not sharing a bed with his wife.  Many couples in the Ton didn’t sleep in the same room, and it wasn’t considered strange.  Simon had no desire to pretend like his marriage was a love match nor did he wish to have a physical relationship with her.

<><><><><>

A spring storm blew in overnight and complicated their second day of travel.  The innkeeper gave them hot bricks for their feet before they left his establishment, but the carriage was still uncomfortably cold and damp.  Both Lady Danbury and Penelope huddled under blankets, but Simon found that he spent nearly as much time in the rain as he did inside the vehicle.  Every mile took them three or four times longer than expected.

A sudden lurch had the women screaming and Simon cursing under his breath as the carriage listed towards one corner.  The door opened to a very wet and apologetic footman.  “I'm sorry, Your Grace, but we have broken a wheel.”

“Nelson, help the women into the other carriage.  They and their maids can continue onward, and I will stay with this one until we get it fixed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  I will have the other carriage pull up nearby and see if I can find a parasol for them.”

Lady Danbury narrowed her eyes at the footman.  “Tell Rob to ride ahead to the house and begin preparations for our arrival.  Hot baths for myself and my guest and an informal supper.”  The countess had been dreaming about her bathtub in her room for the past several hours.  Normally, she did not indulge, as a full bath was a lot of work for her servants, but she felt she was owed it today.

“I will pass along the message, my lady.  We are only a couple hours from Mayfair, but I cannot say how long it will actually take to arrive.”

“I understand,” she clipped, waving him away with her hand.  She was eager to get home, and the delay was frustrating.

Nelson looked to Simon for further instructions, then bowed his head and hurried off to pass along the orders.  After a few moments, he was back again with a parasol.  “We are ready, Your Grace.”

Simon climbed out of the carriage, holding out his hand for Lady Danbury and transferred her to the footman, who held the umbrella above her head.  Nelson helped the countess into the vehicle and passed the parasol to the duke’s outstretched hand.  “Penelope, allow me to help you,” he beckoned her gently, reaching towards her.

She took his hand to step out of the carriage and stumbled a little when she hit soft mud instead of solid ground.  Instantly, she felt his arms around her back, steadying her and urging her towards the secondary vehicle, while keeping the umbrella above her head.  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said softly.

“Lady Danbury will take good care of you and keep you safe.  I will be along as soon as I am able,” he reassured her, taking the blanket from Nelson and tucking it around her.  “I'm sorry today did not go better.”

“Even you cannot control the weather, Your Grace,” she teased him with a smile.

He was suddenly struck by a desire to kiss the top of her head, but he backed out of the carriage instead.  “Do you have everything you need?” he asked, meeting his godmother’s eyes.

“We will be fine, Simon,” Lady Danbury reminded him, a tad sharply.  “My staff will ensure we are protected and served well.  Take care of yourself and try not to get too wet lest you get sick.”

Simon bid them farewell and closed the door before giving last minute instructions to the remaining servants.  Fortunately, a wheelwright resided in the town less than a mile away, so the duke and his men left the broken one at the shop and headed for a pub.  They warmed up by the fire with pints of beer and large bowls of stew.  After an hour, they reinstalled a new wheel and continued to London.

<><><><><>

When the women arrived at Danbury House, the footmen were already waiting with parasols to escort them through the rain.  Penelope found herself caught up in a flurry of activity, as Lady Danbury sent her staff hustling in different directions.  Before she had a chance to look around, Penelope was standing in a retiring room as a cluster of maids peeled her sodden clothes off of her with military efficiency and shuffled her into a steaming bathtub.  She sighed with contentment as the warmth seeped into her body.

Unlike her bath that first night at Clyvedon Castle, Penelope had no fears for her safety and was able to fully relax.  She luxuriated in the water until it turned cold, finally calling for Ruby to help her into a nightgown.

“Your Grace, Lady Danbury has suggested that you send for a supper tray when you are ready, as she has also retired to her bedroom for the evening.  She apologizes for not being a better host tonight.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, My Lady.  We were given our supper in the servants’ hall while the Danbury maids were overseeing your bath.”

“Please thank them for me.”  Penelope followed her maid through a dressing room and into a well-appointed bedroom.  “I would like supper when it can be arranged.”

“Of course, My Lady.  I will ring for it now.”  Ruby passed along the message, then led her mistress to a dressing table and began rubbing her hair gently to dry it.  After brushing it out smoothly, she braided it in the loose, soft braid that Penelope preferred for bedtime.  “Would you like me to fetch your book, My Lady?”

“Thank you, Ruby.  I will take my supper here when it arrives.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- According to my research, the UK did not adopt the metric system fully until 1965 when they switched from miles to kilometers

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“Please tell Lady Danbury that Lord Basset has arrived,” Simon ordered, standing in the entryway of the townhouse.  His relief at finally making it to his destination was only matched by his frustration at the long, miserable day.

“Lady Danbury has retired for the evening, Your Grace, but she has left instructions for your welfare.”  The butler signaled to a maid to alert the countess of her guest.  “Do you require supper or refreshments?  The kitchen is prepared to serve you.”

“No, thank you.  I would like to retire now.”  For the last few miles, he had been longing for a warm, dry, comfortable bed to stretch out on and was eager to make his dream a reality.

“Very good, Your Grace.  If you would please follow me.”  He led the duke up the stairs and into the family wing of the house, where Simon’s bedroom had been as a boy.

“I am glad to see you, Simon,” Lady Danbury announced from the door of her bedroom.  “Any more trouble?”

“No.  The roads near London were well-maintained, and we were able to travel easily.  How is Penelope?”

The countess smiled at the soft way her godson said his wife’s name.  “No ill effects.  I think you both will be quite comfortable in your old bedroom.”

“My wife would be more comfortable with separate rooms,” Simon protested, panic flooding his eyes.  It was obvious to him that Penelope was still afraid of him, and he didn’t want her to feel trapped if they shared a room.  

“Your complaint is noted and ignored,” she countered with a sly smile.

“I will stay at Hastings House.”

Lady Danbury whipped her cane out in front of him to block his exit.  “Nonsense!  You will stay with your wife.  You will learn how to live together, because you will regret it if you do not.”

The Dragon of the Ton had spoken, and Simon knew he needed to obey.  “Good night, Lady Danbury,” Simon conceded, bowing to her.  When he stepped into the familiar room, the sight that greeted him was anything but familiar.

The room was dark, lit only by the cheery fire in the hearth.  He moved towards the warmth, drawn by the cozy scene before him.  A figure in white sat curled up in a wing-back chair, her coppery hair arranged in a braid and slung over one shoulder.  The firelight danced across her skin, highlighting certain areas and shadowing others.  He watched her, mesmerized.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Penelope flung the book she had been reading into the air, gasping, trembling, and sobbing all at once.  Hugging her legs into her chest, she waited to see what he would do to her.

Simon lit some more candles in the room, banishing the shadows.  “I'm sorry, Penelope.  I thought you heard me come into the room.”  He picked up her book and tried to hand it to her, but she pulled away from him.  “I am going to get dry clothes, and then we can talk.”

With a sigh of frustration, he entered the dressing room, where Miller was waiting for him.  “Your Grace, your bath is ready.”

Simon didn’t feel like bathing, but he was still muddy and wet from their adventurous day.  He nodded and the valet approached to help him undress.  “My wife seemed as surprised to see me in her room as I was to find myself there,” he observed, his muscles tense with stress.  “The challenges of the day have made her very emotional.  Can you fetch Ruby to attend her?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  Miller handed his master into the bathtub and left to find the lady’s maid.

<><><><><>

When Simon reluctantly emerged from the dressing room, he was relieved to find Ruby hovering near her mistress.  Penelope appeared calmer, but her eyes were wild with fright.  A bright shawl had been tied around her shoulders for modesty, and she clung to its edges like a shield.

“Good evening, Penelope,” he began quietly, standing across the room from her.  “I am sorry about earlier.  I never want to frighten you and I assure you that you are safe with me.”

She bit down hard on the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from screaming and vigilantly watched her husband’s movements.  Despite his kind words, she knew she was trapped and wondered how long he would play with her before going for the kill.

“Lady Danbury has decreed that we must share a room tonight.  You should take the bed, and I will sleep on the floor.”

“What?”  The loud buzzing in her ear made it so that she only comprehended part of what he said.

Simon’s voice was calm as he tried not to let his frustration out.  “We do not need to share a bed.  I will sleep on the floor.”  He knew his wife didn’t want to be in the same bed with him or even in the same room with him, but he also knew better than to cross his godmother.  Whatever affection the countess thought she could force between them was turned to anger when he looked at the pale, frightened face of his young bride.

“No, you should take the bed.  I will sleep on the chaise.”  She scrambled out of the chair, eager to claim the spot away from her husband.  Grabbing a pillow from the bed, she quickly positioned it and laid down, curling her body against itself.  Laying down felt like a much more vulnerable position, but she took some comfort in knowing that she wasn’t anywhere near the marriage bed.  She was a bit surprised when she realized the special bed was in Danbury House instead of their own, but she didn’t dare ask for clarification.

Simon watched her for a moment, her eyes squeezed tightly shut like a child afraid of monsters.  “May I put a blanket on you?” he asked softly, echoing his words from their wedding day carriage ride.  When she nodded, he pulled a blanket off the bed and covered her gently.  “Are you ready for the candles to be out?”  She made the smallest sound of affirmation, so he began putting them out one by one.

They laid in the darkness, doing their best to ignore each other and not to move lest the other one be reminded of their presence.  Penelope wept silently against her pillow as she was an expert at crying without attracting attention.  

A small sob alerted Simon to her distress.  “I'm sorry,” he repeated quietly, at a loss for what else he could say.  If he could have found the right phrases, he would have apologized for everything that happened over the past few weeks.

"I'm sorry." For not wanting a wife and not knowing how to be a husband.

"I'm sorry." For her innocence and choices being stolen.

"I'm sorry." For ignoring her for a month.

For his presence in the room that moment.

For the tears he didn’t know how to soothe.

However, he would never apologize for being the one that found her that night in the garden.  He knew he didn’t have much to offer her, but he could at least give her a safe place to land.

<><><><><>

A large, man-shaped shadow loomed over Penelope, his face hidden by the darkness of the night.  “What is the matter, Dove?” he asked in a familiar voice, stepping towards her.  She turned to run, and he grabbed at her arm, his grip hard enough to bruise her.

A screamed pierced the air, startling Simon from sleep.  He lit the lamp near the bed and looked around the room for an intruder.  His eyes found Penelope, who fought and thrashed against an unseen enemy, kicking at the blanket and crying.  He rushed to her side, then hesitated, unsure how to help her.

He crouched down beside her and whispered her name.  “Wake up,’’ he urged her.  Instinctively, he reached out to touch her, then pulled his hand back.  “Penelope!”

She opened her eyes, saw his face looming beside hers and screamed again.  Her body was bathed in sweat as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Penelope, it’s alright.  You are safe.”

“Get away from me!”  She pushed him backwards, unbalancing and knocking him to the ground.  Sitting up and kicking at him, she yelled, “Leave me alone!”  He scrambled away from her, which gave her time to run away.

Lady Danbury opened the door to her bedroom, awakened by the pandemonium, and Penelope threw herself into her arms, causing the countess to stumble backwards a bit.  Her arms came around the frightened girl, holding her tightly.

“Help me!” she pleaded.  “Do not let him touch me!”  She gripped the countess’s robe as she sobbed into her shoulder.

Simon stood in the doorway across the hall, watching his wife and godmother helplessly.  “I told you she was not ready!” he snapped angrily.

A half-dressed footman rushed up the stairs, drawn by the screams and commotion.  “Have one of the maids prepare tea for Lady Basset and bring me a whiskey,” Simon ordered, his voice showing more confidence than he felt.

“Do you require anything else, my lady?” the footman asked his employer.

“No, thank you.  Please tell everyone downstairs that all is well.”  When the servant had bowed and departed, Lady Danbury looked to her godson for answers.  “Does this happen often?”

“I-I-I do not know.”  He didn’t remember hearing her scream when they were in their castle, but it didn’t mean that she hadn’t struggled with nightmares.  “Perhaps I should sleep elsewhere tonight.”  Even without knowing the context of her dreams, he guessed that his presence wasn’t helpful.

“Absolutely not,” she whispered sharply, hauling Penelope back across the hallway.  Simon stepped aside to allow her into the room.  “No one can know what has passed between you,” she explained impatiently.  “And this-” she pointed to the chaise- “must be cleaned up before the staff are allowed in here.”  She snapped her fingers at him, motioning for him to remove the bedding immediately.

“I will not force her,” he declared, while removing the blanket back to the bed.

Penelope hadn’t stopped crying or hugging Lady Danbury, who lowered them both to the chaise.  “You will tend to your wife, and I will hear no more silliness about separate rooms.  Do you understand me?”  Few in the Ton would have contradicted her when she gave them such a steely gaze.

“She does not feel safe-”

“Then she must learn to pretend!”  Lady Danbury pulled Penelope off of her and stood up.  “Give her some tea and put her back to bed.  We can discuss this more after your presentation to the queen.”  She touched his arm affectionately and returned to her own bedroom.

Simon stood frozen and watched Penelope as she continued to sob, completely at a loss for how to help her.  A few minutes later, a knock on the door brought him out of his stupor.  “Place it on the dressing table, then you may go back to bed,” he instructed the maid, who was trying not to notice the distressed duchess.

When she left and Simon had shut the door, Penelope croaked, “Please.”  She swallowed.  “Please, do not hurt me again.”

Simon stopped fixing her tea to face her.  “Again?”

“Can we pretend that I am safe with you.  Please?”

He knelt near her feet, hoping to make his large frame seem less intimidating.  “You are safe with me, Penelope.  Always.”  He stood again to bring her the pillow and blanket that she was using earlier.  “You should try to sleep again.  Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.”  She stretched out on the chaise, as he carefully covered her with the blanket.  She refused to close her eyes until she could tell he was asleep, his gentle snores filling the room.  Only then did she feel safe enough to attempt sleep for herself. 

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Ruby gently shook Penelope awake the next morning.  “Excuse me, My Lady, but Lady Danbury says you must leave for the palace soon.”  She opened the curtains to flood the room with light.

With an unladylike groan, Penelope opened her eyes, then sat up with a jolt of fear.  “Where is Lord Basset?”  Her eyes felt sandy from crying during the night and her head was pounding.  She thought she might recover if she was allowed to sleep in a place where she felt safe for a few more hours.

“He dressed a while ago and is breaking his fast with the countess.  His Grace thought you might appreciate having a tray sent up to your room.”  She waved her hand toward the dressing table, where a full spread waited for her.

“I am not hungry,” Penelope complained.

“This is an important day, My Lady, and you must not faint before the queen.”  Ruby buzzed around the room, tidying it up and making it look respectable before the chambermaids came in later to clean it.

Penelope remembered her sister passing out on the day of their presentation, and a new horror gripped her heart.  “I will try a little,” she conceded, moving over to the dressing table.

“Lord Basset requested that I add hot chocolate to your breakfast as a treat,” Ruby exclaimed, pressing the cup of cocoa into her mistresses hands.

While Penelope drank her special beverage and picked at her breakfast, her maid pulled the braid out of her hair and began gently teasing the strands apart with her fingers.  She spent a long time rubbing scented oils into her scalp and down each section of hair.  Over the past few weeks, she learned that she could distract her mistress into eating more with some light chatter and tender ministrations.

When Penelope was finally ready to go downstairs, she presented as the perfect image of a young duchess.  The dark rings under her eyes and pale skin had been expertly covered over with handmade creams, while color had been added to her lips and cheeks.

Every detail of her outfit was perfect, from the height of her neckline to the swish of her skirts.  The softest kid leather slippers graced her feet as she stood at the top of the stairs.

In all her life, Penelope had never felt more beautiful, not even on her wedding day.  She wore a dress that she helped design and chose specifically for her second presentation to the queen.  She slowly come down the stairs, feeling exactly like the débutante she always wished to be.  There was even a devastatingly handsome man waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs with his hand out to welcome her.  It was like a dream.

Simon watched his wife descend, surprised by his reaction to her.  He swallowed hard, mesmerized by her voluminous skirts swishing across her ankles.

His eyes traveled further up her body, noting how much older than she looked than in her old, yellow dresses.  The gown showed off her womanly curves, and Simon flexed his fingers, eager to touch her.  He felt his heart glow as she smiled down at him warmly; although, he could see anxiety in her eyes and posture.

Suddenly, a picture of her shaking in Lady Danbury’s arms the night before entered his mind, and he dropped his head in shame.  She was terrified of him and doing her best to survive each day, and he had no right to treat her like any other woman.

In her new fashions, she had emerged as a butterfly, but he could make no claims on her beauty.  He wondered if touching her might damage their relationship and her fragile trust as irreversibly as brushing a butterfly wing made it unable to fly.  He held out his hand, waiting for her to delicately alight onto it if she chose.

“Your Grace?” Penelope asked hesitantly, chewing her lip as she tried to make sense of his strange posture.  Her hand hovered above his like a butterfly unsure if its landing place was safe.

At the sound of her voice, he brought his head up, but focused his eyes above her head, which was easy to do with their height difference.  “Lady Danbury has already called for the carriage.  Are you ready?”  She took his hand, and he lead her towards the door.

“Where are your diamonds?” Lady Danbury demanded, casting a critical eye on the younger people’s wardrobes.  Simon was dressed impeccably as normal, but Penelope was insufficiently adorned in jewels.

“I do not have any diamonds.”

“Diamonds are best, but sapphires, emeralds, rubies, whatever you have is fine.”

Penelope looked ashamed and whispered, “I do not have any jewelry except the pendant Simon gave me for our wedding.”

Lady Danbury gave her godson a look of disappointment, clearly believing that he had failed in his duties as a husband and duke.  “Annie, bring down a diamond parure for Her Grace.”  The maid nodded and hurried up to the countess’s rooms.

“Anderson,” Lady Danbury continued, addressing her butler.  “Please inform Cook that we will be out all day and will not need meals.”  She gave last minute instructions to a few other staff members while the duke and duchess waited nearby awkwardly.

Annie returned to her mistress, carrying a plush box.  At Lady Danbury’s impatient wave, the maid said, “Please sit down, Your Grace, so I can help you.”  Efficiently and expertly, she coated the duchess in jewels.

Within a few minutes, Penelope now bore a tiara, necklace, bracelet, earrings, and ring.  She felt ridiculous, but Lady Danbury’s smile of approval made it a little better.  Her head felt heavy from the extra weight, and she moved carefully to not dislodge anything.

“Much better,” Lady Danbury said with a nod.  “Come quickly now.  We do not want to keep the queen waiting any longer than necessary.”

<><><><><>

A visit to Her Majesty was never a small affair, even for someone who frequently took tea with Queen Charlotte like Lady Danbury.  The countess’s familiarity with the court, however, did allow her and her party quicker access to the inner rooms.  Before Penelope and Simon had caught their breath from the long walk through the palace, they found themselves bowing before royalty.

“Is that the furthest you can go down, Lady Danbury?” the queen asked instead of greeting her friend.  Her face held wry amusement founded in their nearly fifty year long friendship.

The countess matched her friend’s dry wit.  “With these knees, Your Majesty, yes.”

“Very well.  Bring your young people forward.”  At the queen’s command, the duke and duchess walked towards the throne, while the countess stepped back.

“Your Majesty, may I present my godson, Lord Simon Basset, and his wife, Lady Penelope Basset, the Duke and Duchess of Hastings,” Lady Danbury announced in a loud, confident voice, waving her arm towards them.  The couple bowed a second time.

“I remember you,” the queen said contemplatively, pointing to the tall, handsome Simon.  “I do not remember you.”  Her Majesty studied Penelope with sharp eyes, waiting for someone to give her more details.

The wallflower was not surprised that the royal had no recollection of meeting her.  She looked at Lady Danbury for guidance and plunged ahead after the countess’s nod of encouragement.

“Your Majesty, I am the youngest daughter of Baron Archibald Featherington.  My sisters and I were presented before the Crown a couple of months ago.”  Penelope’s heart pinched painfully when she remembered how little time had passed since that happy moment and how quickly her life had changed.

“You look young,” the queen judged, frowning.

“I am seven and ten, Your Majesty.”

“I was that age when I married my George.”  Queen Charlotte’s voice grew soft for a moment as a fond smile graced her lips.

“I remember,” Lady Danbury interjected, eager to remind the queen of their long history and bond.  The countess had been elevated to her position on the royal wedding day and became a confidant of the queen soon afterwards.

“You have quite a reputation as a well-traveled rake, Lord Basset.”  Queen Charlotte hummed her disapproval, as she turned her eyes to Simon.  “I heard a rather disturbing rumor about the circumstances surrounding your marriage.  Explain yourself.”

Simon bowed again.  “If it pleases Your Majesty, may we speak in private?”

“Lady Danbury?” the queen demanded sharply, looking to her friend for an explanation.

“Lord Basset intends to tell you the full truth, Your Majesty.  He only hopes to spare his wife from further gossip.”

“Brimsley,” the queen said, signaling her man to clear the room.

“Withdraw,” the queen’s man ordered, with grave dignity.  Instantly, her footmen, ladies-in-waiting, guards, and other staff swiftly and silently departed out the doors, leaving the five of them alone.

“You as well, Brimsley,” Her Majesty commanded with a pointed look, causing her man to bow and exit the room.  “That one is a terrible gossip.  Your story would be all over the kingdom by this afternoon if he had stayed.  Now, tell me what happened.”

“Your Majesty, on the night of the Vauxhall Gardens ball, I was walking along the dark path and came across Miss Featherington- uh, Lady Basset- laying in the grass.  Sh-sh-sh-she had been… v-v-violated.”

He felt ashamed for stuttering before the queen, and took a deep breath before continuing.  “I guarded her until Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton found us, and I helped them get her to Danbury House.  Immediately, I sought out her father and made arrangements for us to marry.

"I did not intend to slight Your Majesty by our quick wedding.  My only thought was to get Penelope safely to Clyvedon Castle, away from the vicious eyes of the Ton.”

“Did you know the man?” the queen demanded.

“She was alone when I found her, Your Majesty.”

“Lady Basset?”

“I do not know.”  Penelope’s head was hung low as tears dripped onto the floor below her.  “I remember nothing from that night.”

The queen’s anger burned hot and unpredictable.  “You are certain it was not Lord Basset?”

Simon looked to his godmother, pleading with her to defend him.  The last time they spoke of this incident, Penelope had asked if the two matrons believed his story.  They hadn’t answered her charge previously, leaving it to hang in the air over Penelope and Simon’s marriage.

“Your Majesty, my godson is most certainly a rake, but he is not a villain.  He has never before been accused of forcing himself on a woman, no matter her station.  I find it even more unbelievable that he would do violence against a member of your Ton, especially a young débutante.”

“What of you, Lady Basset?  Do you also vouch for your husband’s character?”

Penelope raised her red and puffy eyes to address the queen, forcing the sobs back down so she could speak.  “Your Majesty, we only had one dance before our marriage, and Lord Basset never called on me.  We married as strangers.”

“And now?” the royal spat out sharply.

The duke and duchess looked at each other, as Penelope thought about their one month old marriage.  They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, but every interaction they did have had been courteous and considerate.

He could have taken advantage of her the night before and every night of their marriage, as was his right as her husband.  She also remembered the conversation she had with Lord Bridgerton and how confident he had been about his friend’s character.

“No, Your Majesty, I do not think Lord Basset is the villain of my story.”  She wasn’t sure she fully believed it, but neither could she condemn Simon to the queen’s wrath.

“Excellent.  Lord Basset, you may keep your title and your head,” the queen concluded casually, her tone light compared to the weight of her words.

Simon bowed.  “Thank you, Your Majesty.  My wife and I look forward to many years in your service.”

“Your Majesty, thank you for your mercy and your time,” Lady Danbury said, dipping her head and smiling at her friend.

“If I may beg your leniency for a few more moments, Your Majesty,” Simon began boldly, “I have another matter to bring before you.”

The queen arched her eyebrow, intrigued by the prospect of something new interrupting her normally mundane life.  “You may proceed.”

“Your Majesty, as I know you are aware, I have just recently inherited my title and estates from my late father.  Before his death, his properties were managed by a solicitor.  I have learned that this manager stole from my family and absconded to the Americas.”

“My powers no longer reach to that country,” she replied with a tiny hint of bitterness.

“I am not interested in pursuing justice for him, as I believe that would be a long and expensive undertaking.  Rather, I am requesting help from the Crown to get my finances back on solid ground.  The account books are a complete fabrication, and I am worried the estate might be behind on our taxes.”

They queen’s attention peaked.  After the expensive war with the United States in 1812, the country could use as much money from its citizens as possible.  “What are you asking?”

“Your Majesty, I would like to go through the Crown’s records to reconcile them with my own.  I fear it may take me many years to untangle the mess the solicitor made, but I would like to mend my relationship to the Crown first.”

“Brimsley,” the queen screeched.

The servant stepped back into the room.  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Fetch the Royal Treasurer.”

The queen’s man bowed to her, stepped outside the room, and passed the order to a footman.

“Lady Basset,” Her Majesty began with a twinkle in her eye, “have you seen an elephant?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Penelope said quietly, wringing her hands.

“Come, then,” the queen invited, standing from her throne.  “Let's leave the men to their numbers and get to know one another better.”

<><><><><>

Penelope drew her body tightly against the wall of the carriage and stared out the window, trying not to draw attention to herself.  After facing the queen and being forced to think about her assault again, she wanted to be alone.  Unfortunately, Simon sat beside her on the bench, his large, confident presence filling the space, while Lady Danbury watched her carefully from the other side.

“I suppose you think I am cruel,” the dowager countess said in a tone that invited no argument.  She ran her hand along the top of her cane, the only indication of her own emotional upset.

“I am not unfamiliar with your plight, Penelope.  My husband forced his company on me every day of our marriage.  I learned to survive it and I got stronger from it.  You will grow from this circumstance, my dear, if you do not allow it to overtake you.”

Penelope’s hands trembled and she squeezed them together tightly on her lap, hoping no one would notice her distress.  The countess’s speech surprised her in its forthrightness, but she found nothing in it to comfort her.  She bit the inside of her lower lip, allowing her to pretend that pain was the reason for her tears.

“I never forced myself on her!” Simon exclaimed in frustration and anger.  He hated that everyone kept assuming that he would do such a thing to a young woman, let alone his wife, the person he had sworn to protect.  “And I never will!”

“Nevertheless,” the countess continued firmly, “you must be seen sharing a room and sleeping in the same bed.  You are keeping up the appearance of a happy newlywed couple, so much in love that you married quickly and ran away from the Ton to spend time together.”

Simon glanced down at Penelope’s hands, embarrassed by his godmother’s frank discussion.  He could see his wife was wound tightly, but he didn’t speak for several minutes, watching her become more and more agitated.  “Penelope,” he whispered gently, “how can I help you?”

At his kind words, her fragile dam of emotions burst, bringing torrents of tears and loud, breathless sobs.  She pulled herself even further from him, covering her face with her hands.

Something about her tears made Simon’s brain stop working.  He felt completely helpless against her unrestrained sorrow.  A physical threat he could have easily handled, as he was trained in swords, pistols, boxing, and other forms of violence.  He would have defended her to the death, if needed, but he had no idea what to do when the problem was emotional.

Lady Danbury wasn’t comfortable with emotional moments either.  She knew that her friend, Violet, would take the girl in her arms and hold her while they both cried, but Agatha was not that type of woman.  Besides, the countess had already held the duchess while she cried the night before.  In a few minutes, they would be at Bridgerton House, and she could pass Penelope to her adopted mother, who would surely know just what to do with her.

“Should we take her back to your house to rest?” Simon asked, his face grim with concern.

“She will be disappointed if she does not get to visit the Bridgertons.”  Lady Danbury smiled.  “I think it will be good for her, too.”

“From what she has said, they are closer to her than her own family.”

“Speaking of the Featheringtons, do you intend to spend time with them while you are in town?”  As Penelope’s family was members of the Ton and neighbors to the Bridgertons, avoiding them would be a challenge.

“I will discuss it with Penelope in the morning.  They did not treat her well in the days before the weddings, so she might want to avoid them completely.”

“They have never been kind to her,” she said sharply, her mouth grim though her eyes flashed with fury.  “Given how fragile the duchess is now, she may need more time before encountering them.”

Eventually, the rumble of the wheels over cobblestones lulled them all into an exhausted stupor, resting their minds for the sensory assault of the Bridgerton household.

When the carriage pulled to a stop, Lady Danbury alighted immediately, regally taking the footman’s hand.  She pulled and smoothed her clothes while waiting for the younger people to emerge.

“Penelope, we are at Bridgerton House” Simon whispered gently when she didn’t make any movements towards the door.  “Are you ready to go inside?”

“Can I have a few minutes?”  She took out her handkerchief and wiped it across her face and neck roughly.

“Take as much time as you need,” he reassured her, exiting the carriage.

Feeling safer now the Simon’s hulking presence was not directly beside her, Penelope took a few fortifying breaths before climbing out of the vehicle herself.  Simon took the arms of both women as he escorted them into Bridgerton House.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope hadn’t been in the Bridgerton House since before the garden ball.  While they waited for the butler to announce them, she looked around the room as if she had never seen it before.  Nothing in the foyer had changed, but everything seemed different.  She felt like a stranger in a home that had once been as familiar to her as her own.

“Pen!” Eloise yelled, dashing towards her friend the moment the butler announced their arrival.  “I am so glad you are here!  I have so much to tell you!”  She grabbed Penelope’s hand and started to drag her away somewhere private.

“Eloise, we do not treat guests like dolls,” her mother scolded sharply.  “Unhand her at once!”  When she was satisfied that her daughter obeyed, Lady Bridgerton shooed her away from Penelope and embraced her.

For several minutes, the viscountess hugged the younger girl, rubbing her hands along her back and whispering gentle, maternal words of love and support.  When they pulled away, both women had tears in their eyes.  “I have missed you, Penelope,” Lady Bridgerton whispered warmly, purposefully ignoring the protocol to call the higher ranking woman by her title.  “I am so glad to see you.”  She squeezed her hands lovingly.

The duchess dropped her eyes, feeling self-conscious under the watchful gaze of so many Bridgertons, each of them wearing matching expressions of compassion.  “Lady Bridgerton, thank you for inviting us to supper,” she said politely, wishing she could find somewhere to hide.

“It is our pleasure, my dear.”  Lady Bridgerton smiled at her adopted daughter one more time before turning her attention to the rest of the party.  “Welcome to our home, Lord Basset.”  She gave him a quick curtsy to acknowledge his rank, while he bowed to her.

“I thought we agreed you would call me Simon,” he reminded her with a smile.

“Can I call you Simon, too,” Hyacinth interrupted, her expression eager and hopeful.  As the youngest of the Bridgerton bunch, she constantly tried to appear older and pushed against the limits imposed on her as the baby of the family.

“No, Hyacinth, you may not address His Grace so informally,” her mother corrected, putting in both a grammar and manners lesson into a single sentence.

The young girl shrugged her shoulders and clasped onto Penelope, crushing her tightly.  “I have not seen you in ages, Pen!  Do you not like us anymore?”

“Penelope is married now and has been away on her honeymoon,” Colin replied for his friend, gently applying pressure to his little sister’s shoulder to encourage her to release their guest.  When Hyacinth stepped back, Colin bowed to Pen and addressed her formally, “Good evening, Lady Basset.”  They had once been as close as siblings, but with the change in her status, he wasn’t sure how to relate to her anymore.

She curtsied to him, feeling sad about the wall he had erected between them.  “To you as well, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Hyacinth wouldn’t allow herself to be left out for too long.  “You were such a beautiful bride!” she gushed.  “It is a shame Daphne never got to wear her dress.”  Her older sister glared at her.

“Hyacinth!” Colin scolded, embarrassed at the tactless way his sister threw out a compliment.  “She’s right, though, Pen.  You were very-”

“Eloise told me of Lord Berbrooke’s scandal,” Penelope said quickly, interrupting him before he could affirm his sister’s observation. 

A shadow passed over Lady Bridgerton’s face.  “Daphne is fortunate Lady Upside-Down decided to publish the gossip when she did.”  She allowed herself one moment of reflection, before resuming her perfect hostess voice.  “Agatha, please forgive this unruly display.  I have no intention of making you stand in the doorway all evening.  Come and join us in the drawing room.”

“Violet, I am familiar with your enthusiastic children and am not offended.  I am pleased to see Penelope so warmly embraced.”

“As am I, Lady Bridgerton,” Simon added, smiling at the viscountess encouragingly.

The hostess led the group further into the house.  Eloise grabbed Penelope’s arm and pulled her down next to her on a settee.  Hyacinth did the same thing with Simon, as Gregory abandoned his marbles game to join them on the duke’s other side.  Agatha and Violet positioned themselves near each other, and the other Bridgertons scattered around the room.

Benedict had been in his own world, sketching a portrait of Francesca at the pianoforte.  When she stopped playing, he realized they had company, and more importantly that he was the oldest male in the house, and sprang to his feet to act as host.  “Lady Danbury, Lord and Lady Basset, welcome,” he said smoothly, bowing towards the countess.  “Brandy, Simon?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please let us know if you require anything before supper.”  He resumed his seat and his drawing, hoping his retreat would be tolerated as long as he remained in the room.

“Benedict,” Penelope called out, putting a hand on Eloise to stop her running commentary for a moment.  “We were hoping to commission you to paint our wedding portrait.”

“I do not feel like I am up to the challenge.  You have seen my drawings- they are not very good.”

“You are the most talented artist we know,” Penelope argued kindly.

Benedict gave them one of his signature bashful faces.  “I need to introduce you to more talented ones, then.  Henry Granville has become a recent friend of mine, and I am sure he would paint your portrait.”

“We’d appreciate the introduction,” Simon said with a nod.  Benedict promised to send a note to his friend later that evening for a meeting at Danbury House in the morning.

“Francesca, dear,” Violet called out, “please play something for us while we wait for supper to be served.”

The shiest Bridgerton had been sitting on the piano bench, her fingers itching to play again.  If she had to be present in the crowd, she preferred to be hiding behind her music.  With a relieved smile, she graciously said, “I would be happy to play, Mother, if Penelope joined me.”

The duchess startled a little at the sound of her name, but replied to Francesca kindly.  “I have not had any time to practice.  Perhaps you could share with us what you have been learning?”

“You play?” Simon asked with gentle curiosity.

Penelope flushed again.  Her husband’s single raised eyebrow was charming, while his question disarmed her.  Although her musical abilities were known to everyone else in the room, it felt strangely intimate to disclose it to him.

“Pen is a very accomplished musician,” Colin bragged, his pride for his friend evident in his voice.  “Both Daphne and Francesca enjoy playing duets with her.”

“I hope I get to hear you someday soon.”  Simon smiled sweetly at his wife, while the dowagers exchanged a hopeful look.  Daphne took the bench beside her sister, and they began playing together.

“How was your meeting with the queen?” Lady Bridgerton whispered to her friend, glancing at Penelope with a worried frown.

“Her Majesty was most gracious and even spent time showing Penelope her collection of exotic animals.”  Lady Danbury smiled.  “Our queen has mercifully allowed Simon to keep his head.”

“Oh, my!  Was that in question?”

Agatha dropped her voice even lower.  “Her Majesty took the assault as a personal attack on the Crown and her débutantes.”

“How is she?”  Violet did not name the subject, but darted her eyes towards Penelope.  The excited chatter of her children hid the more serious conversation nicely.

“She has been lonely, and he has been hiding from her.  They are adjusting, but neither knows how to fit the roles expected of them.”

“Poor girl.”

“I have every confidence that they will find their way.”

“I want a pony, too, Lord Basset!” Hyacinth yelled over the din of her siblings, her voice slightly whiny.  “It is not fair that I do not get one if Gregory does!”

“You cannot ride a pony- you are a girl!” Gregory taunted, leaning over Simon’s body to fight with his sister.

“Gregory!” Eloise scolded him from across the room, her ears perking up when he insulted her gender.  “Girls most certainly can ride ponies.”

“No, you cannot!” the little brother countered haughtily.  “It is not ladylike.”

“Like you know anything about ladies!” Hyacinth snapped at him.

“I know you cannot fight.  Colin says only men have swords, and girls do not.”

“Colin Bridgerton!” his mother yelled, a flush of red appearing on her cheeks.  “I hope you have not been encouraging improper conversation!”

Lady Danbury grinned wickedly, thoroughly amused by the Bridgerton siblings.

“Lord Basset, will you teach me how to sword fight?”

Simon looked a little embarrassed by the innuendo and the children’s attention.  “Do you not think your older brother will teach you?”

“No!” the boy huffed indignantly, looking at Benedict dismissively.  “He is a fop.”

“Gregory Bridgerton!  Apologize to your brother!”  All Violet wanted in the world was to have a quiet conversation with her friend and her children kept ruining it.  She sighed with exasperation and mouthed an apology to Agatha.

“Sorry, Benedict,” Gregory mumbled.

The older brother lifted his head towards his youngest brother and hummed in confusion before returning to his art.  He hadn’t been paying attention to their conversations and didn’t know what his brother was referring to with his apology.

“Anthony says I am too young to fight with them,” the boy added dejectedly, hanging his head.  No matter what the older brothers were doing, Gregory always got left behind with the girls.

“You are not too young to learn pugilism,” Simon said, giving the boy a smile.

“Really?” the child asked, perking up hopefully.

Simon spent a few minutes showing the boy how to make a fist and swing a punch.  “Never use your fist on your sister or any other woman,” the duke warned sternly, earning a nod of agreement from the dowagers

“You should ask Anthony to show you how to plant a facer.”  He rubbed his jaw, remembering those punches, while looking over to his wife.  She was unobtrusively making a fist in her lap, while Eloise chatted in her ear about something she had read recently.

“Simon, you are friends with Will Mondrich, are you not?” Colin asked, reaching for another biscuit and taking a bite.

“Yes, I am one of his sponsors.”

“Do you know when he is fighting again?  Maybe we can attend together before you leave town?”

“Can I come, too?” Gregory begged, looking between the two men with puppy eyes.

“We will ask Anthony,” Colin replied, grateful to have a big brother to deal with all the uncomfortable conversations.  As the youngest of the older brothers, he knew his brother would probably be denied the outing, but at least he didn’t have to be the one to disappoint him.  “Perhaps we can have our own match in the garden.”

Simon ruffled Gregory’s hair, surprising himself with his affectionate behavior.  “With that settled- Benedict, may I have one of your papers?  I need to see about procuring a pony for Miss Hyacinth.”

“Of course.”  He handed over one of his sketches full of scratches and scribbles that he planned to put in the fire.

Captivating his audience, Simon began to fold the paper into an origami horse.  “What will you call your pony?” he asked, smiling at the young girl.

“Midnight,” she replied confidently and quickly.

“Did you know- that is the name of one of my racehorses?”

“Do you have many racehorses?” Gregory interjected, unwilling to be left out of the conversation.  “Can we visit them some time?”

Simon laughed at the children’s enthusiasm.  “You must all come out to Clyvedon after the season ends.”

“Can we, Mother?”  Hyacinth bounced with joy as she looked towards Lady Bridgerton expectantly.

Violet smiled towards her spirited children and the no longer stoic duke.  “We must ask Anthony, darlings.”

“I heard my name,” a familiar voice called out as his youngest siblings yelled his name in greeting.  The viscount breezed into the room.  “I'm sorry I was not here to greet you,” he apologized, bowing to Lady Danbury.  “My business kept me later in town than I expected.”

His mother frowned at him knowingly, suspecting he had actually been with his mistress.  “Dinner is in a few minutes.”

Anthony sat in the empty spot next to Colin and smiled cheekily.  “So, what did I miss?”

“Lord Basset has invited us all to Clyvedon to see his racehorses,” Hyacinth bubbled out all at once, tripping over the words in her eagerness.  “Can we go?”

“Are you sure you want all of this chaos descending upon your quiet, country retreat?”

“Please bring your chaos!” Simon pleaded, making everyone in the room laugh.  “It is been too long since that old castle has seen any life!”

“What about you, Penelope?  Are you as eager for company as your husband?”  Anthony directed his question to the settee where the duchess was conversing with her friend.  Rather, Eloise was droning animatedly about the perils of marriage or some such thing, while Penelope leaned against her arm, her eyes heavily lidded.

At the sound of her name, Penelope jerked awake, embarrassed to have been caught dozing.  “I'm sorry, Lord Bridgerton.  What did you say?”

“I was just asking if you wanted to host us in Clyvedon this summer.  Do not feel obligated to answer now, though.  Mostly, I was teasing your husband about the chaos we will bring his way if we visit.”

Violet studied her guest, noticing the dark rings under her eyes, the paleness of her face, and her low energy.  “Penelope, darling, are you feeling alright?”

The younger woman blushed under the scrutiny of every person in the room.  “I am just tired, Lady Bridgerton.”  She offered a small smile, hoping to convince them to turn their attention away from her.

“You poor girl!  I should have realized how taxing your morning with the queen would be for you and rescheduled our dinner party for later in the week.”

“I am happy to be here, Lady Bridgerton!” Penelope quickly amended.  “Bridgerton House has always been my favorite place.”

Violet smiled at her words, seeing for a moment the little girl who first skipped across the street to visit them.  “You are always welcome here, Penelope.  You as well, Simon.”

The duke gave the viscountess a sincere head bow.  “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton.”

Gregory suddenly remembered that he had something very exciting to tell his brother.  “Lord Basset taught me how to punch,” he blurt out, making a fist and then looking at it to ensure it was formed correctly.

The abruptness of the conversation made the entire room laugh.  “We will have to take you to Will’s training center next time we visit.”  Anthony made his own hands into fists and pummeled the air for a moment.

“No fair!” Hyacinth protested!  “I want to go!”

“Men only!” her brother taunted, counting himself as one of them, despite only being eleven.

The youngest Bridgerton clenched her hand and launched toward her brother, intending to punch him.  She was thwarted by the duke, who caught her by the wrist.

“Hyacinth Bridgerton!” Violet scolded, then glared at Colin and Benedict who were snickering.  “Sit beside me.”

“He started it,” she pouted.

“Hyacinth.”  Lady Bridgerton’s voice had a warning all her children understood and knew to heed.

With a huff, the girl walked across the room and fell onto the settee beside her mother.

Embarrassed by her offspring in front of their company, Violet suggested with exaggerated sweetness, “Agatha, perhaps we can move our dinner party to tomorrow evening?  I do not want to tax Penelope when she is so clearly struggling to stay awake.”

“Please, Lady Bridgerton, do not cancel your party on my behalf!”

“I insist.”  Violet smiled at the duchess reassuringly.  “It is a little matter to change the date.  I do not want you to become ill from exhaustion.”

“I agree, Violet,” Lady Danbury said with a nod of assent.  “Penelope should rest, and we will return tomorrow.”

“I also agree.”  Anthony knew that the women in the room didn’t really care what he thought about the subject, but as head of his household, he felt it was his right to comment on the matter.

“Daphne, please inform Mrs. Wilson of the changes.”

“Yes, Mother.”  The fourth Bridgerton sibling quickly left the room to pass along the message as the rest of the room began bidding farewell to their guests.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Fop mean dandy with the connotation of a fool

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

When the couple was sequestered in their room at Danbury House again, Simon invited his wife to join him in a brief conversation before they slept.  Taking a seat at her dressing table, he put as much space between them as possible.  “Which of the queen’s animals was your favorite?” he asked nonchalantly.

From her place on the furthest end of the chaise, she studied him closely, anxious about his goals for the evening.  The marriage bed waited in front of her like a bear trap.  “Her Majesty was quite proud of her zebra collection.  She likens them to her marriage with the king.  Have you seen them?”

“No, very few are invited to view the royal menagerie.  What are they like?”

“A bit like horses, only black and white striped.”

“How unusual.  Black with white stripes or white with black stripes?”  He smiled a little, feeling more confident in his ability to talk with his wife.  In general, he didn’t enjoy idle conversation with women, but he knew he needed to try for her sake.  They had been welded together by the bonds of marriage- the least he could do was be friendly with her.

Penelope giggled a bit.  “I do not know.”

“What other animals did you see?”  He sat back the in chair and tried to maintain an open and welcoming posture, but she still looked as if she wished to bolt from the room.

“The elephant, of course.  Another black and white creature, this time from the Americas, called a raccoon.  A bear from Russia.  A strange, lankly animal called a giraffe.  Oh, and some small, chattering monkeys from the Orient.”  Her eyes sparkled as she recited her list, forgetting for a few moments the tension between them.

“It sounds like quite the adventure.”

“I much prefer the noisy, busy menagerie that is the Bridgerton House.”  She smiled at her own joke.  “It is overwhelming to be in their proximity sometimes, but they always know how to lift my spirits.”

“They are good friends.  I am glad we have an excuse to return there again tomorrow.”

“You are not upset with me about ruining your plans?”

“Of course not!  I would have been a very poor husband if I had insisted we had stayed when you were so clearly suffering.”

“I was not suffering,” she contradicted very quietly, watching his face for anger.

“You were not feeling your best.  Lady Bridgerton didn’t mind rescheduling the meal, so you must not worry about it either.”

He sounded so understanding and accommodating that Penelope allowed herself to relax a tiny amount.  “I have missed them,” she confessed longingly.

“They missed you as well.  I do not believe there is a single Bridgerton that does not wish you still lived across the street from them.”

“They are very fond of you as well.  Gregory and Hyacinth were especially enraptured.

“I am sure they accepted me because of my relationship with you, not for my own merit.  They were babies when I left on my Grand Tour and would not remember knowing me previously.”

“You were very patient with them.  I know they can be a handful.”

Simon laughed, shaking his head.  “They are not nearly as wild as Anthony, Benedict, and I at their ages.”

“That was them on their best behavior,” she quipped with a smile.

“Poor Anthony.”

“Oh, the stories I could tell!” she teased.  After the stress of the day, it felt so good to fall back into the friendship they’d had at the beginning.  His relaxed countenance encouraged her to be more at ease.

“Go on, then,” he coaxed.

She thought for a moment, then began.  “Gregory and Hyacinth have a game at any supper involving peas where they try to throw them into another person’s glass without that person noticing.  One time, they got five peas in my cup before someone else at the table scolded them.”

“I must be extra vigilant tomorrow, then, if Lady Bridgerton serves peas.”

“Another time, Gregory dumped a handful of beetles into Hyacinth’s soup, which he only told her about after she had eaten.  She got him back with salt in his tea.”

“I had no idea I was entertaining such menaces to society!”  When he noticed that she had yawned for the fourth time in as many minutes, he stood up and announced, “You should go to bed, Penelope.  Forgive me for keeping you up this long.”
 
He took a few steps towards her, which caused her to stiffen in fear as if they hadn’t been enjoying each other’s company previously.  His heart sank, wondering if there would ever be a time when she would trust him not to hurt her.  “Do you need anything before we sleep?”

“No, thank you.  May I sleep on the chaise again, Your Grace?”

There it was again, that slight tremble in her voice that indicated she was afraid of what he would say or do next.  Simon ran his hands through his hair as he stepped away from her.  “You can sleep wherever you are most comfortable, Penelope.  I will never force you to share the bed with me.”

“Thank you.”  She made up her bed on the chaise and laid down, falling asleep immediately.

He watched her face relax as she slept, allowing a wave of protectiveness to wash over his body.  His fists clinched when he thought about someone taking advantage of her, including himself.  He jumped when she cried out.

She thrashed and fought in her sleep, and he was paralyzed from helping her, afraid of how she had reacted to him the night before.  Although the conversation with the queen had hopefully ended the speculation about his involvement in her assault, the event still hung between them like a thorny vine.  He knew she didn’t trust him and would probably receive no comfort from his presence.

He wandered out of their room in search of a footman and found one patrolling the downstairs.  “Please send Lady Bassett’s maid to her,” he ordered quietly.  When Ruby arrived, he explained to her about her mistress’s nightmare.

“Her Grace has had them every night since I met her,” she added.  They walked up the stairs together, and Simon opened the door for her to enter the bedroom.

Ruby rushed to Penelope’s side.  “Wake up, Miss Penelope,” the maid urged, kneeling beside the chaise and stroking her mistress’s hair.  “You are safe.”

Penelope’s eyes flew open.  “Ruby!” she sighed in relief.

“I am here, My Lady.”  She lightly rubbed the back of the duchess’s hand that she held gently.  It was clear from their movements that the maid had comforted her mistress many times in this exact way.

The candles cast shadows in the walls, flickering and moving menacingly.  Penelope screamed as one of those shadows came towards her.  She shook with fright, her eyes wide.

“Penelope,” Simon whispered, pain evident in his voice, “I will not hurt you.”

Ruby continued to stroke her mistress’s hair like a mother comforting a child.  “You are safe with your husband, My Lady.”  She looked up at the duke, “Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but could you please bring me a wet cloth?”

Grateful to have a way to help, Simon quickly did as she asked, moistening a linen washcloth in clean water and bringing it to her.  “Thank you for your help.”

The maid used the cloth to wipe the tears and sweat from Penelope’s face and neck.  Simon turned his back from her administrations as the moment felt too vulnerable and intimate for his eyes.

“Try to sleep, My Lady,” Ruby encouraged as she tucked the blankets around the duchess.  “I will stay with you.”  When Penelope closed her eyes, the maid lightly ran her fingers across her eyebrows, soothing her like a baby.

Simon watched her in complete awe.  The maid’s level of care was completely foreign to him, and he made a note to himself to increase the servant’s pay.  He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so tenderly and he found himself longing for such gentle caresses.  For far too many years, his only touches had been lust-filled carnal encounters or testosterone-fueled combative bouts.  He wondered if Penelope would ever allow him to run his fingertips along her face, or even more daring, if she would ever touch him so lovingly.

<><><><><>

Lady Danbury allowed the couple to take over one of her sitting rooms the next morning for their business with the famous artist.  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Mr. Granville,” Simon began.  

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.  I am honored that you have chosen me.”  The flattery rolled easily off the artist’s tongue, practiced as he was in dealing with peerage.

“I know it is a bit sudden, but my wife and I are only planning to be in town for about a week.  Would you prefer to schedule our sitting for another time?”  Aside from sharing a bedroom with his wife, which was regrettably still awkward, Simon wouldn’t have minded having a reason to avoid Clyvedon Castle.  Waiting on their appointment with the painter was as good of an excuse as any.

Mr. Granville smiled confidently.  “You will only need to be present for just a few hours over a day or two so I can get the portrait started.  I will fill in the details and complete the background at my leisure without requiring any more of Your Graces’ time.  Are you available tomorrow?”

Simon looked to Penelope with a question in his eyes.  When she didn’t object, he answered for them both.  “Yes, that would work well.”

“Excellent, Your Grace!  I look forward to seeing you.”  The artist extracted a card from his pocket and handed it to the duke.  “This is the address of my studio.  Would ten in the morning be amiable to you?”

Again, Simon checked with his wife.  “Yes, it should.”

“Do you have questions for me?”

“I have a request,” Penelope said meekly.  Both men looked at her, which caused her to shrink into herself.  She felt vulnerable under the perceptive eye of the artist, nor was she confident in her husband’s reaction to her question.

“Go on.”  Simon gave her a small smile of encouragement.

Penelope looked at her lap.  “I was wondering if Benedict could join us for our sessions.”

“Benedict Bridgerton is a friend of ours, and I believe you know him as well?” Simon explained, slightly confused by his wife’s question.

Mr. Granville put his hand to his face contemplatively.  “I am newly acquainted with Mr. Bridgerton.  He is an artist, is he not?”  

“I have known Mr. Bridgerton my entire life, and he spends most of his days drawing or painting.”  Penelope’s confidence was growing a tiny bit as she focused on helping her adoptive family.  “He has a very low view of his abilities, though, but I think it would encourage him if you showed an interest in his work.”

“He seems to have a very discerning eye.  It surprised me when he stated that he did not have any paintings on public display.  If His Grace does not mind, I will extend the invitation.”

“Of course not, and we shall brag that we have two artists in our employ!”

“Thank you, Mr. Granville,” she finished shyly, her eyes cast downward.

After the artist was escorted from the house by a footman, Simon turned his attention to his wife.  “Can we speak for a few moments?”  The instant look of fear that flooded over her face made him regret their upcoming conversation.  He lead her back to the sitting room and encouraged her to sit, taking a spot near her but not too close as to make her more uncomfortable.

She waited for him to start speaking, a knot of anxiety building in her stomach.  When he leaned forward to grab a biscuit, she flinched.

“Penelope, I am not upset with you,” he said quietly, taking a moment to eat a bite of biscuit before continuing.  “Lady Danbury reminded me that you might want to visit your family while we are in town.  Would you like to see them today while I’m with the Royal Treasurer again?”

“I….”  She felt guilty about vocalizing the truth and wasn’t sure how he would react to her answer.  Looking at her lap, she bit the inside of her lip and waited.

Simon suspected he knew what she wanted to say, so he gently coaxed her in that direction.  “I stayed away from London for years because of my father.  It was easier not to see him.”

“My family is unkind to me,” she confessed, feeling the weight of their disapproval settle over her.  She thought about the cruel things they did to her like burning her novel, their mean words, and withholding love and affection.  Now that she was a duchess, they were trying to leverage her new position in their favor.

He didn’t need to her elaborate, since he had seen their behavior for himself.  “We do not need to see them, if you would rather stay away,” he suggested, but then amended his statement quickly in case he had misunderstood her.  “Or you can see them every day if you would like.  We will make time in our schedule to grant you as much time as I am able.”

“Perhaps we can visit them on our next trip to London?” she answered carefully, watching his face closely.

He smiled at her to show that he approved of her decision.  “We will be too busy this week.”

“Much too busy,” she agreed saucily, matching his smile.

He checked his pocket watch and tucked it back into his pocket.  “I am due back at the palace soon to meet with the Crown’s treasurer.  Will you be alright staying here while I am gone or would you like to accompany me?”

“I will stay.  I thought I might nap before our dinner with the Bridgertons.”

“Be sure to tell Lady Danbury’s staff if you have needs.”

Penelope struggled to tell her own lady’s maid what to do and could not imagine giving orders to someone else’s servants, but she nodded her head in agreement.  “I will.”

He smiled at her as he stood.  “Rest well.”  He reached for her hand and bowed over it formally as she blushed prettily.

The moment he stepped out of the sitting room, Lady Danbury was waiting to confront him.  “Simon, a word,” she ordered, grabbing his arm with a slight pinch and dragging him into another room.  Closing the door to prevent the servants from overhearing them, she frowned at him.  “I know everything that happens in my household,” she reminded him, “so do not bother lying to me.”  She hadn’t spoken to him in this tone since he was a teenager.  “Did you call a maid into your room last night?”

“Penelope had another nightmare-”

“I do not care what excuse you have for the liaison, it is highly inappropriate!”  She whacked him in the leg with her cane.

He winced.  “It was not a liaison.  I needed Ruby’s help to comfort Penelope.”  He hated that his voice sounded a bit whiny, but Lady Danbury always knew how to make him feel like a child again.

“It does not matter, Simon!  All anyone knows is that you summoned a maid to spend time with you after the rest of the household was asleep.”

“Nothing happened!”

“Appearances matter.  You cannot appear to be seeking female company outside of your wife, especially not this early in the marriage.”

“I am not spending time with other women!”  Realizing he was nearly yelling at her, he took a deep breath and tried to speak more evenly.  “This would not be an issue if you allowed me to sleep in a different room.”

“No!” she exclaimed sharply, banging her cane on the floor, then pressed her lips together firmly.  “I know it does not feel like it, but I am trying to help you, Simon,” she reasoned with forced tranquility.  “You need to step up and be the husband that your wife needs.  Learn how to comfort her.  Find what makes her smile.  Grow closer together one moment at a time and someday you might find happiness.”

“She is afraid of me,” he confessed quietly, exposing his own pain.  He never wanted any woman to feel scared around him, and he especially didn’t want his Sweet Penelope to fear him.  The Duke thrived on making people afraid of him, but Simon wanted his relationships to be different.  When she looked at him with terror in her eyes, he felt like the monster he dreaded becoming.  It was easier to avoid her, but his godmother wasn’t going to allow him to escape.

“You can make a diamond out of this trial, but you must not give up.”  With her final benediction, she left him alone to ponder her words.  She hoped he finally understood the importance of her rules.  Despite her harshness, she was genuinely trying to help them both. 

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The moment they were announced by the butler, Penelope found herself flooded by Bridgertons.  She laughed at their playful banter and tugging of her arms as they jockeyed to spend time with her.

“Mother,” Eloise began, raising her voice to be heard above the din of her siblings “May I take Pen to my room?  It has been so long since we have had a good chat!”

“You cannot take her!” Hyacinth argued.  “Pen must help me defeat Gregory in marbles.”  It was well-known among that family that Penelope could be as competitive as any Bridgerton sibling.

“I wanted Pen to look over the plans for my Grand Tour.”  It made more sense for him to share his ideas with Simon, since he had actually been outside of the country, but Colin missed his friend and wanted to hear what she thought of his plans.  For many years, it had been as natural to tell things to Penelope as it had been to share them with his sisters.

“I have a piece of music I would like Pen to play with me,” Daphne added.  Several of the sisters were proficient at pianoforte.  They, along with Penelope, often gave impromptu concerts for the family throughout the years.

Gregory thought he had the best reason of them all to need the duchess’s attention.  “I need Pen to help me with my Latin.”  Against her mother’s wishes, Penelope had excelled in academics, easily able to go toe to toe with any of the university educated brothers.

“I can help you with that,” Colin reminded him with an exasperated eye roll.

Lady Bridgerton put her hand up authoritatively, instantly silencing her brood, as Simon’s mouth dropped open a bit.  He had only seen a few lords with as much power over a crowd as this mother.

“You may spend a few moments in the garden, but only a few, Eloise,” her mother warned.  “Supper will be served soon.”

Penelope turned to her husband to ask, “Do you mind?”

He smiled at her softly.  “Enjoy your time with your friend.”

The two girls linked arms and hurried out to the house, while Benedict grabbed Hyacinth around the waist to keep her from joining them.  The youngest sister stomped on his foot, but he didn’t let her go.

“You are quite indulgent,” Lady Danbury commented, deadpan.  It was not clear who she was addressing, so both Simon and Violet looked sheepish.

“Can I steal Simon away too?” Anthony asked with a charming grin.  “What do you say, Basset?  Drinks?”

The viscountess gave him a sharp look.  “After supper.”

Ignoring her, the viscount ushered their guests into the sitting room, directing Simon to the liquor cabinet.  The group naturally parted to different parts of the room by widows, men, and children.  The only exceptions were Francesca, who sat at the pianoforte and fingered melodies without making a sound, and Daphne, who sat near her sister reading.

“Penelope seems better today,” Violet commented, handing her friend a cup of tea.  “More relaxed.”

Agatha smiled.  “Their first meeting with the painter went well, which seems to have made her more confident.”

“Thank you for rescheduling this supper party, Lady Bridgerton,” Simon said from his side of the room where Anthony was serving snifters of brandy.  “I hope it did not cause too many issues for your staff.”

Violet noted the alcohol in her guest’s hand and sent her oldest son a pointed scowl.  He nodded at her aristocratically with a big grin and handed a drink to Benedict.  “It was my pleasure,” she replied.  “Any excuse to spend more time with the three of you is fine with me.”

“I am very pleased to be here as well.”  Lady Danbury raised her teacup in a salute to the men, who matched her with their own beverages.

“Francesca, would you play something for us, dear?”  Even with all of the people in the room, Violet thought it was too quiet for the personal conversation she wanted to have with her friend.  “Perhaps one of the lively dance numbers you were practicing yesterday?”

“I would be happy to play, Mother.”  Francesca thumbed through her stack of music and selected the piece her mother had requested.

Violet waited until her daughter filled the room with music before turning her attention back towards her friend.  Quietly, she asked, “Did she sleep better last night?”

“She had nightmares again, but Simon insisted she rest this afternoon.”  Agatha matched the viscountess’s volume, leaning towards her friend in a confiding way.

“Oh!” Violet breathed, her eyes softening with motherly compassion.  “I wish I could help her.”  She had been dealing with her own nightmares since the night in the garden, replaying the scene over and over, sometimes with her daughters in Penelope’s place.

“I think she may need time.”

“Poor girl.  I cannot imagine how difficult this has been for her.”

“At least she has a supportive husband,” Agatha said defensively, “even if he is a bit inept.”  They both glanced towards Simon, who looked uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

“They all are at the beginning,” Violet replied with a fond laugh as she remembered her own husband’s faltering attempts at comforting her in the beginning of their marriage.

“At least he is making an attempt these days!  He seemed almost afraid of her when I arrived.”  She shook her head, imagining a mastiff afraid of a kitten.

Violet sneaked another glance at the duke, who was participating in a loud debate with the other men.  “That seems surprising for such a renown rake.”

“He is a rake, but this is not the type of transaction he is used to having with women.  Other than your daughters, he has not spent a lot of time around ladies.”

“None of them were women when he knew them ten years ago.”  Daphne, the oldest of the girls, would have been only nine or ten the last time they saw the duke.

“I have them sharing a room,” Agatha whispered, mindful of the intimate nature of their conversation.  “Simon is quite vexed with me about it.”  She laughed under her breath.

“It is important, though,” Violet insisted, agreeing with her friend.  “There can be no question.”  Should Penelope find herself pregnant, everyone had to believe the child was Simon’s offspring, or they would be shunned by society.  Encouraging them to sleep in the same room, and ideally the same bed, helped sell the lie.

“I do not think it has occurred to either of them.”  Despite usually being the pragmatic one, Agatha didn’t want to remind Simon of the possibility.  He never wanted children and would probably react badly to even the suggestion.

A worried look darkened Violet’s face.  “Perhaps it will not be necessary.”

Agatha sighed.  “By the time anyone knows, it will be too late.”

“It is good you are helping them,” Violet encouraged with a soft smile.  “I imagine they are quite overwhelmed with simply living right now to think that far into the future.”

“Penelope is going to need you.  We certainly cannot count on Portia to support her daughter during that time!”  Both ladies shivered.

“Simon has invited us to Clyvedon this summer, but let me know if she needs me earlier than July.  Anthony and Benedict can handle the children without me for a week or so.  Especially with a full staff to help them.”  The women laughed, knowing they wouldn’t be able to manage without their servants either.

<><><><><>

The moment they sat on the garden bench furthest away from the house, Eloise began asking questions in her typical blunt way.  “Pen, you must tell me- have you found out how a woman comes to be with child?”

Penelope blushed.  “El!”  They had both been wondering about pregnancy and childbearing since becoming women a few years ago.  Their curiosity was renewed just before Pen’s debut when they heard rumor of an unwed maid losing her job.

“I asked my brothers, but they would not tell me anything.  Colin asked me if I had ever visited a farm, which did not make sense. What does a wheat field have to do with babies?" She threw her arms up dramatically.

"Mother called it an improper conversation and forbid them from talking about it.”  Eloise sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I do not know, El.”

“Now that you are married, you must find out so you can tell me.  I cannot fall pregnant!  I have accomplishments to acquire!”

“It would not be proper,” Pen whispered, really hoping that no one, not even a maid, could hear their conversation.

“Does it have anything to do with marital relations?”

“What do you know about marital relations?”

“Just what some married women were saying at a ball.”

“El!  You should not intrude on private conversations!”

“It did not make sense and sounded very unpleasant.  Is it?”

Penelope wished she could die right on that bench.  “What?!?!” she choked, her entire face and neck flushed red.

“Becoming with child.”  Eloise’s mannerisms and tone were completely opposite of her friend.  To the unmarried woman, everything between men and women was a puzzle to solve.  While Penelope didn’t understand the mystery any more than her friend did, she had the added embarrassment of feeling like this was something she should understand by this point in her life.

“Maybe it has nothing to do with marital relations.” El continued relentlessly.  “That maid we heard about last summer was unmarried and yet she was dismissed from service for being pregnant.”  Her face scrunched with confusion.

“Please, El!  Can we stop talking about this?” Penelope begged.  The conversation reminded her that she and Simon were expected to do something in the scary marriage bed that awaited her at Lady Danbury’s house.

Eloise looked at her friend for the first time, noticing her shame and discomfort with the subject.  “Sorry, Pen.  I got overwrought.”

“It is alright.  We should go back inside soon.  Quickly, tell me what stupid thing Colin has done lately.”  Penelope took several deep breaths and focused on slowing her heart rate and cooling down her face as she listened to her friend prattle about the unfairness of men’s Grand Tours.

<><><><><>

Penelope thought her face had returned to a normal color by the time she and Eloise returned to the sitting room, but Lady Bridgerton noticed the change in her immediately.  “Pen, darling, are you alright?”

Instantly, all the eyes in the room were on the duchess, causing her to flush red again.  Simon set down his brandy and went to his wife.  Very aware of his adopted family’s attention, he asked, “Did you get too warm outside?”

It was easiest for Penelope to agree with him, so she did.  “A little, Your Grace.”

Her husband put his hand behind her back without actually touching her and guided her to an open seat near the other women.  “Sit down and rest.”  He poured her some now cold tea and handed it to her before retiring to the other side of the room.

“You should have stayed inside and looked at my maps, Pen,” Colin interjected, glaring at his sister for upsetting their friend.  Meanwhile, his two oldest brothers exchanged a look.

The two siblings argued for a few minutes before their mother had reached her limit.  “Eloise, go check on supper, please.”  Colin counted his mother’s order as a victory for himself and stuck his tongue out at his sister.  She pretended like she didn’t see him and left the room.

<><><><><>

During supper, Penelope allowed the conversations to swirl around her, enjoying the warmth of being surrounded by a large, loving family.  They shared news with each other, exchanged barbs, debated issues in society, and speculated about the identity of Lady Upside-Down.  Seated beside her husband and her best friend, she easily reverted back to being a wallflower.

“Penelope, are you staying for our Forget-Me-Not Ball?” Hyacinth asked, her eyes dancing with excitement as she drew the duchess into the conversation.

“I do not know.”  She looked to Lady Danbury for an explanation or answer.

“You are welcome to attend, of course,” Lady Bridgerton said graciously, her smile directed to both Bassets.

“I would rather not face the Ton,” Penelope said quietly, twisting her gloves under the table anxiously.

“You have returned in triumph, Lady Basset,” Lady Danbury announced, echoing her words from their earlier conversation.  “You have nothing to fear from the Ton.”

“I went from being unknown to marrying the pick of the season almost overnight.  The Ton will have plenty to say about it.”

“They would not dare speak ill of a high ranking member of the peerage.”  Lady Danbury’s confidence was boosted by her own power in the Ton.  “The queen is planning to remind them of her favor towards you at the Ball.”  She had received a personal correspondence on the subject from Her Majesty just that morning.

Penelope blanched as her stomach churned while everyone else at the table fluttered with delight.  Simon glanced over at her and noticed her distress.  “Are you alright?” he whispered, leaning towards her.  He frowned when she nodded at him.  “We do not have to stay for the entire night, just until the queen retires,” he said in an attempt to reassure her.

“What if he is there?”

It took Simon a moment to understand what she was asking.  “If you recognize him, tell me, and I will have him arrested.  You will be safe.”  He thought about reaching for her, but caught himself when he remembered how she pulled away from him whenever he got too close.

“Save me a waltz, Pen?” Colin asks cheekily, shocking everyone over age sixteen with his boldness.  After he had missed out on dancing with her at the Vauxhill Gardens, he wanted the opportunity to rewrite his memory and assuage his guilt over that night.

“Colin,” Anthony warned, his voice deep and slightly threatening.  As viscount, he was often annoyed when his younger brothers exposed their immaturity and brought any hint of reproach against the family.

“I mean, Lord Basset, may I please have the honor of dancing with your wife?” he amended, grinning his most charming smile.

“Colin, it is not appropriate to ask such a question,” his mother scolded.

“Please, Your Grace, Pen has always been my favorite dance partner.”  His persistence surprised no one.  As the most winsome of the brood, he was used to talking and charming his way into getting what he wanted.

Simon returned his smile and looked at his wife.  “What do you say, Penelope?  Would you like to dance with a Bridgerton again?”

“I suppose it would show our support of her,” Lady Bridgerton mused, turning to her friend.

“Indeed.  The host family should stand up with her at least once.”  Lady Danbury flashed a mischievous smile.  “Perhaps the viscount?”

“He is head of the family,” Eloise said, needling her slightly older brother.

“And the host for the event,” Benedict added casually without a hint of teasing.

Penelope knew her friend well and could see his frustration mounting.  “I will dance with you, Colin, but not a waltz.”  To her great relief, the conversation moved past her again, and she was left to battle her emotions alone.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- In this universe, Pen doesn’t know about Marina’s pregnancy since she would have been out of the house already when it was discovered.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

At the end of the meal, the three youngest children were sent to bed, while the women retired to the drawing room and the men ensconced themselves in Anthony’s office.  The viscount poured snifters of brandy for his brothers and friend and sat down behind his desk.  They drank and discussed topics they would not dare to bring up in front of the women.

“Marriage seems to be agreeing with you,” Benedict observed.  All three of the unmarried brothers were curious about what their friend had to share with them about life on the other side of the alter.

“In truth, I find myself quite overwhelmed.  I never expected to marry and now I have a bride who fears me.”  Simon stared into the amber colored drink.

“Have you given her something to fear?” Colin demanded, anger blazing in his eyes as he bristled in his desire to protect Penelope.

“Colin!” Anthony scolded.

Simon stared at the younger boy.  “NO.  I.  HAVE.  NOT.”  His tone of voice and eyes held a warning.

“I am sure she will learn to trust you in time,” Benedict said warmly, heavy with tender encouragement.

“Yes, it is still early days,” Anthony added with his optimistic assurance.

“I have no idea how to be a husband,” Simon began, “but I am glad I was the one who found her.  I do not regret marrying her.”

“Have you told her that?” the artistic, romantic brother asked, looking sentimentally at the duke.  Although he had never been consumed by love, Benedict was an avid devotee of it and cheered it on wherever he found it.

“No,” Simon replied, “we have not spoken much.”

Colin threw up his hands, frustrated at having to explain the obvious.  “That might be a good place to start.”

“Show her parts of your life,” Benedict added.  “Invite her into your world.”

“I am rubbish with romance, but I can help with the management part of leading a household.”  Anthony poured more brandy into each man’s glass.  “For example, tomorrow I will gift each of my sisters their pin money for the month.  Eloise is planning to take Penelope shopping, and they will probably go to the bookshop, the modiste, and wherever else young women spend their money.”  He gave a condescending smile.  “The ladies must have their indulgences.”

Lifting up his glass filled with expensive brandy, Benedict replied wryly, “Of course, men never indulge,”  

Simon smiled and sipped from his own snifter.  “I am sure Penelope will enjoy her outing and it will be good for her to spend time with her friend.  I fear we have been a bit isolated since our marriage.”

Benedict raised his eyebrow at the accidental double entendre and covered his smile with his glass.  Anthony frowned at him, but the younger one paid little attention since disapproval from his brother was normal.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping,” the viscount continued, “but I told you of the girls’ plans so you can provide your wife with some pin money as well.  When I was a new viscount, I hadn’t realized that refilling the accounts at the local shops and providing an allowance to my mother and sisters was part of my responsibilities.  I made a mess of things and inadvertently looked incompetent.”  Looking silly or unqualified was Anthony’s biggest fear.

Simon appreciated all the wisdom his friend had to pass along to him.  “Our account books have been such a mess that I have not even thought about ensuring that Penelope has everything she needs.  Is it better if I start accounts at the places the girls frequent?”

“I have found that monthly billing at the modiste, haberdashery, and milliners are helpful, as those are the shops with the largest expenses.  For the bookshop and tea shops, the girls enjoy having a bit of change to pay for their purchases themselves.  It makes them feel important to hand over their coins.”

“Lady Danbury brought Penelope’s new trousseau a few days ago, so I do not think she will be purchasing anything from the modiste for a while.”

“You wish,” Benedict mumbled under his breath.

Simon ignored him.  “How much would you suggest for pin money?”

Anthony named an amount.  “You mentioned your account books are a mess?”

“The solicitor that The Duke hired to manage the estate appears to have completely made up every entry in the records to hide his theft.  I have no idea where to begin reconciling them.

“Did you bring them with you?  I am not an expert, but perhaps I can look over them?”

“I appreciate it, Bridgerton.  The crown’s accountant filled in some of the gaps this afternoon, but there is still much to uncover.”

<><><><><>

Penelope found herself in a cheerful, relaxed mood after an evening with her favorite people.  She had an opportunity to observe Simon’s interactions with the Bridgerton family, which made her feel safer around him.  It helped that Anthony and Benedict trusted him around their sisters.

She and Simon spent some time chatting lightly about their evening and retelling parts of conversation after Lady Danbury dismissed them to their shared bedroom.  Although they sat closer to each other, they were still on separate chairs.  Penelope was surprised how much she enjoyed being in his presence.

“You could sneak out to rake about town with the Bridgerton brothers,” she teased in a whisper.  “I will not tattle on you to Lady Danbury.”

Simon’s eyes got large as his jaw dropped- he had never heard a woman of the Ton speak so frankly about men’s indiscretions.  “Rake about town?”  He wondered if she even knew that the phrase meant.

“Lady Under-Down has named the three of you as the biggest, capitol-R Rakes in society.  I thought you might want to join them tonight.”

“The gossiper does not know everything,” he said, a hint of conspiracy in his voice.  “For example, I am not a rake.  Well, not in the traditional sense.  I earned the title by being unattached to a wife for so long and uninterested in finding one.  My international travels over the past seven years or so have added to my unsavory reputation as well.  I have known women-” he bragged, and then had the decency to look embarrassed when he remembered his audience.  “I enjoy the company of women,” he amended, “but mostly I keep to myself.”  He finished with the well-practiced grin that most girls enjoyed.

Penelope’s heart fluttered a bit, confusing her.  The only other person who had ever made her react that way had been Colin.  “What did you do during your travels?”

“I trained with swordsmen in Spain, Olympians in Greece, pugilists in Ireland, equestrians in Austria, and archers in the Ottoman Empire.  In between countries, I worked on boats as a sailor.”

She blushed thinking about how he carried her the night of the assault.  “I wondered how you got so sturdy,” she commented honestly, then placed a hand to her mouth as she realized what she had said.

Simon smirked at her bright red face, unable to resist teasing her a little.  It felt so good to be friends.  “You wondered, did you?”

She ducked her head, unsure why she was feeling so embarrassed.  After a moment, she composed herself enough to ask, “And the Bridgertons?”

“Not nearly as sturdy.”  He shook his head with false pity.

“Simon!”

“Alright-” he put his hands up in surrender, subtly flexing for her benefit.  “Here’s another secret,” he whispered, reveling in her rapturous attention.  In all the mess and trauma of their marriage, he had forgotten how much fun it was to have a woman focus solely on him.  “Anthony is not a rake either!”

“Really?”

“Nope.  He spends all of his spare time with his mistress to whom he is loyal.  I think he would marry her if society permitted.  He mostly earned his reputation by being handsome, wealthy, and wholly uninterested in marriage.”

“What about Benedict?”  She was leaning towards her husband, delighting in the gossip.  After knowing the family next door for most of her life, she found it fascinating that there could be things she hadn’t been permitted to know.

“Well, Benedict actually is a rake.”  Simon shrugged his shoulder.

The change in tone was so shocking that Penelope laughed.  “What?”

“He prefers widows from the Ton and occasionally working class girls, but not usually prostitutes.”  He realized what he had said, and quickly apologized.  “I should not have used that word in your presence.”

She frowned at him before commenting casually.  “My father frequents brothels, and my mother talks about the type of women who work there.”

Now it was his turn to frown.  “I'm sorry you were not protected from that knowledge.”

“It is good that I know that men stray from their marriages, and I am better prepared to accept it when you do as well.”

“You expect me to frequent brothels?”  He was shocked and a bit horrified to hear her speak so forthrightly about infidelity.

“My mother raised all of her girls to have low expectations for our marriages.  If you do not beat me, I will count myself most fortunate.”

Simon could not believe the direction their conversation had taken.  “I would never!” he stated loudly and forcefully, causing her to recoil from his intensity.

“Then I am fortunate.”  The strong muscles that had reminded her of rescue a few minutes ago now made her think of her assault.  Although she fought her attacker, she was no match for his determination and strength.  “You could overpower me quite easily.”

“Penelope, I have no desire to harm you, nor have I ever hurt a woman in my life.  Please do not be scared of me,” he begged, softening his voice.
 
“Lord Bridgerton told me that as well.  Did he tell you that I asked him about your character before our marriage?”

“No, he did not mention it.”

“Anthony has been like an older brother to me for years, and I knew he would want to protect me.  I asked him if you were the one who assaulted me.  He assured me, as your friend, that it was not possible.”

“Penelope,” he said earnestly, “I need you to know that I did not violate you, and I never will.  If we ever share the marriage bed, it will be because you have wished for it.”

Her eyes darted to the imposing bed in the middle of the room.  “I would prefer to sleep on the chaise again,” she said quickly, pulling her arms and legs tight against herself in defense.  She looked to her husband, expecting him to contradict her.

Knowing she was worried about his reaction, he spoke gently and tried to help her feel safe.  “Or you may have the bed as it is more comfortable, and I will take the chaise.”  

“It’s unnecessary,” she replied, not trusting the so-called marriage bed to be anything but dangerous.  Ever since her conversation with Eloise, a nagging thought kept itching in her mind that something was supposed to have happened that hadn’t yet.  She feared that acquiescing to sleep in the bed would be used to trick her into doing marital duties, whatever that meant.  

Simon nodded to her with a kind smile and fetched her pillow and blanket.  “I'm sorry we have been forced to sleep in the same room.  Lady Danbury has forbidden me from sleeping anywhere else.  I would like to help you when you have nightmares, though.  What would you like me to do?”

“I do not know,” she replied weakly, worrying her bottom lip with her fingers.  “I do not think you can help me, as my dreams are often about you.”

A jolt of desire shot through him at the thought of occupying her dreams.  He smiled rakishly, but her next words melted the happiness from his mind.

“Sometimes you are chasing me through the Dark Walk, reaching and grabbing for me, calling my name.”  Her eyes took on a blank, haunted look as she recalled her memories.  “Other times, you are on top of me, holding me down and hurting me all over my body.  I do not even understand what you are doing to me, but it turns my stomach and makes me feel worthless.  You call me names and spit on me.  Sometimes, whatever it is you do happens in front of the entire Ton, with them mocking and laughing at me, and other times we are in isolation where no one can hear me scream.  You-”

“Penelope, I am so sorry,” he interrupted, unable to hear her terrors any longer.  He had no idea how to help her, but he knew he would never be able to as long as she saw him as the villain of her nightmares.  Abruptly, he stood and marched out of their room.  “Please fetch Lady Basset’s maid,” he ordered the nearest footman.

“Simon,” Lady Danbury scolded from the doorway of her bedroom, her voice holding disappointment.

Her godson strode over to her, rising to his full height.  “This is what is best for my wife,” he informed her curtly.  As long as his wife feared him, he could at least give her the comfort of a chaperone.

She scowled at him and returned to her room, shutting the door firmly.  As soon as she was alone, she allowed herself a tiny smile.  Although it wasn’t proper to have another woman in a married couple’s bedroom, she was proud of her godson for his decisiveness.  He cared about his wife and was actively working for her comfort.

Ruby entered the bedroom and stood beside her mistress, waiting for orders.  Her uniform was a bit sloppy from donning it again so quickly when summoned.  She fiddled with it while she waited, pulling it neat and straight as expected.

Simon shut the door, enclosing the three of them in a cocoon of privacy.  “Thank you for coming, Ruby.  I realize this is highly unorthodox….”  He clamped his mouth down and frowned, unsure how to express his strange request.  Taking a breath, he tried a different approach.  “As you know, my wife suffers from nightmares.  Rather than call for you in the middle of the night, I have decided that you should sleep near her.”

“I do not mind being called upon, Your Grace,” the maid assured him, trying to guide him away from the current plan without being impertinent.  The new arrangement was sure to draw attention from the other staff and might lead to questions about the duke’s marriage.

“Penelope, you should sleep in the bed and Ruby can have the chaise.  I will sleep on the floor in the dressing room to give you ladies your privacy.”  Simon hoped the sleeping arrangement would make it a little less awkward.

“I am content on the floor, Your Grace,” Ruby explained, not bothering to hide 
the horror she felt about the duke’s plan.  It was improper to have a powerful nobleman sleep on the ground, while she, a lowborn maid did not.  She wanted to protest further, but her mistress had taken up the cause.

“Will you force me to sleep in the bed?” Penelope asked, her eyes wide with terror.  Although Simon had stated that he would be in another room, she still wanted to avoid the dangerous marriage bed.  Inexplicable things happened in that place, horrors only described in euphemistic phrases which grew more frightening by the day.  The fact that Simon hadn’t yet forced her into the bed was an indicator of his patience.

Simon looked over at his wife and was shocked to see the fear in her eyes.  He didn’t understand what had made her so frightened of the bed, but he wasn’t going to make her comply.  “No, Penelope,” he said gently, squatting down to look in her eyes.  “I will never force you to do anything you do not wish to do.”

“Your Grace, forgive me,” Ruby spoke softly, knowing she was crossing a line.  “I will sleep in the dressing room, Your Grace, and you should have the bed.  I will still be close enough to hear my mistress should she need me during the night.”  The arrangement made sense to her and kept the married couple in the same room as Lady Danbury had decreed.

“Is that alright with you, Penelope?”  When his wife nodded weakly, the duke stood and issued his orders, “Here is a blanket and pillow for you, Ruby.  Please make yourself a pallet in the dressing room until your mistress requires your help.”  Slowly, so as to not scare her with his sudden or aggressive movements, he helped Penelope make her bed on the chaise and tucked her in.  “Good night, Penelope,” he whispered, stepping away from her.  When the two women were settled for the night, he blew out all the candles and went to sleep himself.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next morning, Ruby carefully dressed Penelope in the same beautifully tailored gown as she wore to meet the queen a few days previous.  “Are you excited to have your portrait made, My Lady?” the maid asked cheerfully as she applied a light layer of rouge to her mistress’s cheeks.  Like most lady’s maids, she made her own cosmetics and toiletries for the duchess to use and spent time studying the latest styles and hairstyles.  Penelope’s grooming and fashion directly related to how well Ruby did her job, and an exemplary maid was a valuable member of the household.

“I would rather we did not, but it is the common thing for newlyweds to get done.”  She tried to sit still while her maid prepared her, but she couldn’t stop moving her hands and feet in anxiety.

“You are beautiful, My Lady, and the duke is very handsome.  You will make a pretty picture together.”  She gently coaxed her mistress to the chair near the fire where she had several hair curling irons waiting.  Moving quickly and carefully, she plucked one tool out of the heat and began curling the duchess’s hair.  When the first iron cooled, she switched it out for a different one and kept working.  She couldn’t become too distracted during the process or she might burn herself or even singe her mistress’s hair!

“It is kind of you to say, Ruby, but I know it is not true.”  Her mother was always eager to remind Penelope of her flaws and was quicker with a criticism than a compliment.

“It is true, My Lady!  I always thought you were lovely, but these new garments bring out your beauty.”  Ruby flattered her mistress as her position in the household was dependent on keeping her happy, but she was also sincere.  “I have even caught the duke looking at you in a new way.”

Penelope ducked her head, blushing, which pulled her hair away from Ruby’s hand unexpectedly.  “Oh, My Lady, sit still please!” the maid fussed, recovering from the near disaster with only a slight fumble.

“His Grace is not looking at me in any certain way, Ruby,” Penelope corrected her firmly, only allowing a tiny fraction of hurt to mar her voice.  “He feels pity for me, nothing more.  It’s alright.  I do not expect anything more.”

“It is right that he should look at you differently from other men,” the maid explained gently, overstepping her place by several miles.  “He is your husband, My Lady.”

“He is my jailer, although, that does not make him free.  He is as much leg shackled to me as I am to him.”  She bit the inside of her bottom lip, using pain to push down the desire to cry.  With a sigh, she continued resolutely, “He did not want a wife, and I do not expect him to treat me like one in any sense of the word.”

The maid finished curling and styling her mistress’s hair in silence.  She wasn’t sure if she would be able to help the couple in any way, but she vowed to herself to try.  Life was too long for them to live as prison mates.

“Thank you, Ruby,” Penelope said quietly when the maid finished her toilette.  She started to stand, but the servant put her hand out to stop her.

“One more thing, My Lady.  Lord Basset sent up a parure of sapphire and diamond jewelry to compliment your dress.  He will expect to see you wearing it.”  She opened an ornate box and began extracting a tiara, necklace, earrings, bracelet, and ring.

The duchess gasped.  She had only seen these types of costly sets on other women in the Ton, never dreaming she might own a set one day.  The sapphires matched her dress perfectly, while highlighting her blue eyes.  “Am I to wear all of them?” she asked because she could not think of anything more appropriate to say.

“For your marriage portrait- of course.  You are making a statement about your position in society and the Hastings family wealth.  It would be shocking for you not to frost yourself with them for the painting.  Later, you can wear just certain pieces for different events, but the entire parure will be a lovely heirloom to pass down to your oldest daughter.”

Penelope blushed at the mention of children.  Surely the maid knew there was no chance of pregnancy as long as she avoided the marriage bed.  When she got over her initial horror, though, she did daydream for a moment about a little redheaded girl trying on the tiara and giggling, her face sandwiched next to Penelope’s own in the mirror.  

<><><><><>

Simon and Penelope entered the Granville home just ahead of their scheduled appointment, perfectly coiffed and ready to be memorialized in a painting.  Butterflies danced in Pen’s stomach, but her husband seemed as calm and in control as normal.  She was very excited to see her friend already waiting for them and approached him happily.  

“Benedict!  Thank you for coming!”  With feigned nobility, she offered him her hand, which he bowed over and kissed with grave dignity.  The entire moment was so out of character for them that they both began laughing.  A small part of Penelope’s stress relaxed.

Leaning close to her, he said conspiratorially, “Am I to understand that this is all your doing?”  Simon had invited him the night before at Bridgerton House, but Benedict hadn’t spoken to Penelope about it.

“Do you mind?  I thought it would be a good opportunity for you.”  Her face betrayed her worry that she had overstepped.

“Who can deny a summons from a beautiful duchess?” he teased, stepping back from her a bit to admire her ensemble from head to toe.  “Is this one of your new trousseau gowns?  The dark blue suits you very well.  Lovely.”  He finished with a nod of approval.

Penelope smiled at him shyly, embarrassed by his casual compliments.  “You already saw me in this dress a few days ago,” she reminded him.

“You are even more beautiful today.  A diamond of the first water- or should I say sapphire,” he said cheekily, making a slow circle around her body to appraise her from every angle.  As he turned, he noticed Simon didn’t look pleased at the extra compliments Benedict was giving his wife.  With his signature charm and easy, lopsided smile, he brought Penelope back to her husband.  “Good morning, Your Grace.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” the duke responded curtly, stepping between Benedict and Penelope possessively.

Sensing the tension and hoping he hadn’t made a mistake including the younger man, Mr. Granville swiftly cut into their conversation.  “If you are ready, Your Graces, we may begin.”  He led them to a chair in front of a painted background.  “Lady Basset, please sit, and Lord Basset, you can stand next to her,” he instructed.

Penelope did as she was told, feeling very self-conscious.  “Does this look right?”  She chewed the inside of her bottom lip nervously and twisted her fingers in her lap.  The thought of immortalizing her flaws for all time on canvas horrified her.

As the guest, Benedict probably should have stayed back and allowed the professional to do everything, but he noticed his friend’s anxiety and stepped near her.  “I know it is difficult, but try to relax, Penelope.”  He gently moved a few of her curls into a more aesthetic position, amusing the artist and frustrating her husband.  “Mr. Granville is one of the best artists in England, but even he will have trouble capturing your full essence.  No matter what he paints, it will never match your beauty.”  Winking at her flirtatiously, he retreated to his easel.

Penelope giggled at her friend’s impropriety, reminding her of the silly, teasing things he used to say to her and Eloise when he practiced sketching them as children.  He always knew just what to say to make her feel comfortable and safe.

The fury currently filling his body as he watched Benedict flatter and smile at his wife shocked Simon.  He glared at the artist aggressively, flexing his fists to warn the other man away, but Benedict seemed unbothered by Simon’s posturing.  Suddenly, Simon heard his wife’s giggle, and it was like a wool blanket over his fiery temper.  Her laughter was like a jewel, precious in its rarity, and he found himself relaxing beside her.

Meanwhile, Mr. Granville had already began sketching the outline of the couple onto his canvas.  Penelope and Simon settled into their positions, trying to hold as still as possible, while the two artists worked in silence.  For over an hour, the only sound in the room was the soft scraping of pencils on canvas.

“Your Grace,” Mr. Granville called out, his voice loud after so much quiet.  “Perhaps you can place your hand on Lady Basset’s shoulder?”

Simon had positioned himself away from his wife and stood with his hands behind his back stiffly.  “May I?” he asked her in a whisper, mindful of her trauma.  He hadn’t touched her, except in the most formal settings, since he’d carried her to the carriage on that awful night.

Feeling the panic rising up, Penelope looked to Benedict.  “It would help with the composition,” he replied casually, walking towards her again.  Crouching to her level, he said quietly, “I will not let anything happen to you.”

Appreciating Benedict’s efforts to help her feel safe, Penelope ignored the weird tension between the men and smiled at her friend.  She took a deep breath, and said, “Alright.”

Benedict gave her another encouraging smile and retreated, ignoring the venom Simon was shooting into the back of his head.

The duke waited until Benedict had resumed his place behind his canvas before he relaxed and tried to look less intimidating.  “Thank you for trusting me, Penelope,” her husband replied, gently laying his hand on her shoulder.  “Are you comfortable with this position?”

“I’m alright,” she said, looking up at him to show that she was trying to trust him.  His eyes looked at her softly, similar to how he looked the night they danced together, which Penelope found calming.

“The very picture of devotion!” Mr. Granville praised, smiling at them before returning to his work.

The couple broke eye contact and faced forward again.  They remained in position for a few hours, until Mr. Granville dismissed them for the day.

Standing and stretching his muscles, Benedict moved towards Penelope.  “You were perfect, Pen,” he reassured her with a smile.  “Are you well?”

“I did not realize it would be so difficult to sit still!” she exclaimed.  “When you painted or drew Eloise and me previously, we did as we pleased.  This was much harder!”

“Easier for the artist, though.”  She joined him in a laugh.

“Thank you for coming, Benedict,” Simon said, patting him on the back, his anger towards the younger man forgotten.  He had spent the painting session thinking about how advantageous it had been for Penelope to have her Bridgerton big brother in attendance.  He was relieved to have him around for his own benefit as well.  In most moments of his life as a husband, but especially the ones involving her emotions, he felt completely lost.  “You are welcome to join us again tomorrow.”

“I will,” he smiled, returning to his easel to begin cleaning up his supplies.

“Would the same time tomorrow work, Your Graces?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“My footman can show you out.  Mr. Bridgerton, I wondered if you might like to stay for tea?”  Mr. Granville walked the duke and duchess to the door, before returning to the studio with an inviting smile towards Benedict.

<><><><><>

Later that day, after Penelope had spent some time resting, Lady Danbury and the Bassets shared a carriage to the viscount’s house.  Agatha intended to help Violet with the ball preparations and readying the house for the queen’s visit.  Graciously, Anthony volunteered to go through the Basset account books and help Simon puzzle out what to do about that mess.  Penelope and Eloise would head to the shopping district to see what they could find.

“Penelope,” Simon said, his voice calm and inviting, “Do you have anything specific you are hoping to find today?”

“Last night, Eloise told me about a new book written by ‘A Lady.’  It sounded very interesting.”

“What is the author’s name?”

“She is writing anonymously, simply as ‘A Lady.’”

“Have you read her other book?”

Penelope looked up at him with surprise.  “You know about ‘Sense and Sensibility?’”

“Only by reputation.  Did you enjoy it?”

“It is one of my favorite books.”  She gifted him with one of her rare, sunny smiles, while Lady Danbury watched their interaction with soft eyes.

Simon dug in his pocket and pulled out a small bag of coins, suddenly feeling a little unsure of himself.  “I wanted to give you some pin money for today.”

“Alright?”  She put out her hand, expecting him to set a few coins into it like her father used to do when she lived at home.  Her heart tightened in fear, hoping he wouldn’t touch or grab her.  The anxiety made her want to pull her hand back before he could do anything.

He put the entire bag in the middle of her palm.  “Please let me know if you need more.”

“This is too much!” Penelope complained, staring at the bag.  When Lady Danbury discretely cleared her throat, the duchess amended her protests quickly.  “I mean, thank you, Your Grace.”

“You must let me know when you need more.  I am inexperienced with women’s purchases and do not know how often you will need new gloves or a treat at the ice shop.  I am hoping you will buy some sheet music today, now that I know you play pianoforte.”

“I look forward to playing again.”

“Buy several books as well.  Remember, we have an entire vacuous castle to fill up,” he finished with a smile.

“Is there anything you would like from the shops?”

“No- this is your money to spend as you would like.  Enjoy your day with Eloise.”

<><><><><>

“Woah!” Eloise exclaimed, watching Penelope open her bag of coins at the bookseller.  “I knew the Duke of Hastings was wealthy, but I had no idea he would be so generous!”

“Eloise!” her older brother and official chaperone for the afternoon, Colin, hissed under his breath.  “It is impolite to speak of money.”

“If I had this much spending money, I would buy out the entire bookshop,” she continued, ignoring her brother’s correction.

The shopkeeper eyed Penelope’s one book, causing the duchess to feel guilty.  “I do not know how long I must stretch this amount, El,” her friend explained, still uneasy about the duke’s generosity and instructions.  She was the careless man’s careful daughter, and she knew the importance of being economical.

Eloise bought her own bound copy of the book, and Colin added a stack of travel books on Greece.  He gathered up everyone’s purchases and passed them to a footman to carry.  “Where next, Ladies?” he cheerfully asked, offering both of them his arms.

“Perhaps we should walk the open air market?” Eloise suggested, nodding towards a fashionable boutique a few blocks away.  “I am not ready to return home yet.”

“Thank you, Colin, for escorting us today,” Penelope said, looking up at him trustingly.  She wondered if she would ever feel as safe with Simon as she did with her childhood friend.

“How could I say no to my two best girls?”  He discreetly pulled both women a little more securely towards him.

“Colin!” the duchess scolded, always slightly scandalized by how casually this gentleman treated her.  However, she didn’t step away from him.  The streets were busy and threatening, and she instinctively sought his protection.

“Just ignore him, Pen,” Eloise quipped.  “I do.”

<><><><><>

When they were alone in their room that night, Simon offered his wife the bed again, but she chose the chaise.  He sat on the edge of the bed, allowing her to join him or not as she desired.  “How was your shopping trip with Miss Bridgerton?”

“It was very nice of you to allow me to spend time with my friend.  Thank you.”  She spoke carefully, each word measured and weighed, betraying her uncertainty.  “It almost felt like before.”  When they were just debutantes.

“Good,” he replied warmly.  They were seated across from each other, but he could feel the tension in the room.  “Did you find the book you wanted?” he asked, trying to put her at ease.

“Yes, it is called ‘Pride and Prejudice.’”

“What other books did you buy?”

“I only bought the one.”  She wrung her hands, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Alright, what else did you purchase?  I do not see any new packages or boxes.”  He looked around the room in vain for items he may have missed.  Perhaps a servant already packed them into their trunks.

“I hope you do not find me ungrateful, but….”  She allowed her request to trail off, afraid of angering him or upsetting their delicate friendship.

“What is it, Penelope?” he asked, slightly disturbed by her allusiveness.  “You do not need to be afraid of asking me for anything.”  It pained him to see her so reluctant to talk to him, and he wondered if he had become as scary as his father without realizing it.  The revelation terrified him.  He vowed to react gently no matter what she told him.

“I have been thinking all day about our tenants.”  She finally burbled out everything at once.  “Ruby told me about some of the hardships they have been experiencing.  It did not feel right today to spend the money on silly things when the children are hungry.  I know our finances are a mess, but we still have much more than the villagers.  They need things.  I just want them.  I can give up the rest of my pin money and maybe sell some of my old dresses- although I do not know why anyone would want to buy them.  My books are worth a little money as well, not as much as if they were new, but they would be easier to sell.  I do not have much jewelry-”

“Penelope, stop,” Simon ordered, causing his wife to shrink into herself and physically get smaller.  He immediately felt guilty for the way he addressed her and he gentled his voice as he had promised himself.  “You are sweet to worry about our people.  I confess that I have been so concerned about our accounting books that I did not hear the tenants when they told me of their troubles.  You do not need to sell your treasures, though.  Our finances are not are dire as it seems.”

“Are you sure?”  She walked to her trunk to retrieve the money bag and offered it to him.  “You should have this back.”

“Absolutely not,” he said with a scoff, ignoring the bag.  “It is your money and I insist that you spend it on the most frivolous things.”  He raised an eyebrow at her in mock seriousness, daring her to refute him.  “I am not dismissing your concern, though, and I think we can work together to solve it.  We can begin discussing our ideas on the journey home.”

She assumed he meant that he would tell her what he planned to do, so she nodded her head and dropped the bag into the trunk again.  “I am sorry I have necessitated another shopping trip,” she said quietly, resuming her seat.

“There is nothing to forgive, Penelope.  We had a misunderstanding- that is all that has happened.  I look forward to shopping with you tomorrow.”  Like most men, he would much rather be doing nearly anything else besides trailing along behind her all day while she went from shop to shop, but he knew better than to mention it.  He would enjoy spending time with her.  Perhaps he might even gain some hints into the types of things he might buy her as gifts throughout their marriage.

“Shall I call Ruby up?” he asked her after a moment, standing and walking towards the pull cord.  “Are you ready to sleep?”  She nodded, so he summoned the maid, then helped Penelope make her bed on the chaise.  After a few minutes, he answered a quiet knock on their bedroom door.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Ruby bid, curtsying to the duke.  She had already been up to ready her mistress for bed, so she only dipped her head towards Penelope.

A few people downstairs had commented or teased Ruby about the new sleeping arrangement, but the butler shut them up with his threats.  He made it very clear that gossip about their employer’s family would not be tolerated.  It was an easy choice for the staff to hold their tongues, lest they found themselves out of the house without a reference.

“You may go to bed, Ruby,” Simon ordered, feeling a bit foolish.  “Thank you.”

“Good night, Your Graces.”  The maid bowed again and slipped into the dressing room, closing the door behind her.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next morning, Penelope felt more confidant as she took her position in front of the artificial background in Mr. Granville’s studio.  After her discussion with Simon, she was tentatively hopeful that they could be a good team.  She also felt more comfortable in the sapphire dress she had now worn three times.  It may seem tiny to others, but wearing a color of her choice made her feel more confident.

“Good morning, Your Graces,” Benedict said with his usual carefree tone, breezing into the studio a few minutes late.  “Thank you for including me again, Mr. Granville.”  He went to his canvas and began preparing his paints and brushes for the day.

“So, I did not scare you away yesterday, Benedict,” she teased, sending her friend a big grin.

The Bridgerton brother gave her a goofy smile back and said flirtatiously, “Never, Penelope.”  When Simon narrowed his eyes at him in warning, Benedict put his hands in the air in surrender, turning his attention back to his painting.  Hidden behind his canvas, he smiled to himself, pleased to have gotten such a jealous, protective reaction from the duke two days in a row.

<><><><><>

“Simon and Penelope, I am so pleased to see you again!” Lady Bridgerton called out, as the butler showed them into the drawing room.  “Would you join us for tea?”

“No, thank you, Lady Bridgerton,” Simon replied, clutching his wife’s arm.  “Penelope and I are headed back to the shops today.  We only stopped by to see if any of the ladies would like to join us.”  He smiled at each of the Bridgerton daughters warmly, including all of them in his offer.

Hyacinth jumped up and ran to the couple.  “Oh, yes!  I would love to go!”  She bounced on her toes, dancing around them excitedly.

“I suppose I can put down ‘Pride and Prejudice’ to accompany you,” Eloise sighed with a sarcastic eye roll.

Penelope smiled at her friend’s antics.  “I have not had an opportunity to begin it.  Is it good?”

“Delightful!”

“No one wants to hear about your book, Eloise,” Gregory taunted, purposefully provoking his sister, who stuck her tongue out at him.  “Lord Basset, are you coming to the gymnasium with us?”  He bounded over to the duke and looked up at him imploringly, giving him the wide-eyed, puppy stare that always worked on his family.

Simon laughed.  “Perhaps someday, Greg.”

“Anthony has demanded that we spend brotherly bonding time this morning at Will’s boxing ring,” Benedict explained in a bored tone as he stretched his stiff shoulders.

Colin added condescendingly, “You are not going to get better unless you practice.”

“I do not want to get better at violence.”  The second born brother felt much more at home in an art gallery than a sporting event.

“I thought I heard extra voices,” Anthony announced as he strolled into the room.  “Simon, good to see you!”  He slapped his friend on the back before dipping his head to Penelope.  “You as well, Lady Basset.”  They greeted him and exchanged pleasantries for a few moments before the viscount asked, “My brothers and I are heading to Will’s gym- would you like to join us?”

Simon looked at his wife.  “I had plans to shop with Penelope.”

“I will go in your stead,” Benedict volunteered quickly, then realized what he had just suggested.  “I mean that I can chaperone my sisters for Lady Basset.”  He hoped the use of her formal title would smooth over the earlier faux pas, especially with the jealousy the duke had been displaying lately around him.

“Do you mind, Penelope?”  Simon’s face showed that he really hoped she would give her consent.

“No, of course not.  I told you a couple nights ago that I thought you should spend time with your friends.”  She smiled at him with a wicked glint in her eye, causing him to lift an eyebrow in astonishment that she would reference that conversation in public.

“I need to put in a few orders for the ball, so we should make it an official girl outing,” Lady Bridgerton said excitedly.

“Please, Mother,” Francesca’s soft voice cut into the fray.  “May I stay home while all of you are gone?”  Of all the siblings, she valued the quiet the most.  Her mother had promised to send her to her widowed aunt next season, and Francesca was already looking forward to the silence.

Before Lady Bridgerton could reply, Penelope said, “Fran, I was hoping you would help me pick out some sheet music.”  She smiled at the shy girl invitingly, from one wallflower to another.

Francesca returned the smile.  “Alight.”

“Daphne, you can help me with the decisions for the ball,” Lady Bridgerton suggested.  When her daughter nodded, she announced to the room.  “It is settled, then.  John, please have two carriages prepared.”  Although the duke’s carriage was also available, the Bridgerton ones were larger and would be more comfortable for the taller men.  “We shall meet back here later for tea.  Now, children, get yourselves ready.  Hurry!”

After the majority of the Bridgertons had scattered throughout the house, Simon bend down to whisper in his wife’s ear.  “Penelope, remember what we decided upon last night.  You must spend your money on frivolous things only.  I expect to see Robert staggering under the weight of parcels and books.”  He forced himself into a stoic expression, but his humor could still be found in his eyes.

His gentle breath on her ear made her blush as her eyes widened.  “Yes, Your Grace,” she replied quietly, her voice betraying her uncertainty about his connotation.

He pulled away from her slightly in astonishment and studied her face.  “I want you to have fun,” he insisted.

Instantly, her mood changed as she realized he had been teasing her as she had done to him a few minutes previous.  “I will do my best to spend all of your money, Husband.”

It was the first time she had addressed him as such and it caused a warm glow in Simon’s chest.  “That is all I am asking,” he finished with a wink.

<><><><><>

Following her husband’s directives, Penelope strove to spread her bag of money throughout the shopping district.  She had never spent so much all at once, perhaps not even in her lifetime, and she found it quite challenging.  Fortunately, the Bridgerton daughters were practiced at shopping for luxuries and soon Robert and John were overloaded with packages.

As she had promised, Francesca and Daphne showed their friend all of the best piano pieces and helped her chose several to purchase.  Bach, Mozart, Vivaldi, and Beethoven all found their way into her collection, as well as several folk songs.  The fourth and sixth Bridgerton siblings snagged a few compositions for themselves, which Penelope gladly bought on their behalf.

While they were in the bookstore, Eloise piled her favorite books into Pen’s arms, imploring her to buy all of them.  Treatises on the rights of women, essays about government, and several novels made the list.  Just like with the other sisters, Penelope purchased a few books for her friend.  She also found some almanacs and management books for learning more about being a landlord.  Lady Bridgerton added a few ladies’ manuals, including a guide for entertaining and one on etiquette.  By the time they walked out of the store, the footmen’s arms were full.

“My lady,” John asked, “may Robert and I return to the carriage and stow the purchases?”  The driver had remained with the vehicle, so there was little risk of the items being stolen.

“Thank you,” Lady Bridgerton replied with a smile.  “We should be fine with just Benedict.”

“If I am to be the only male for a while, then, I get to pick the next shop,” the second Bridgerton said cheerfully.  He led them directly to a store specializing in art supplies, which caused all of his sisters to groan.

Secretly, Penelope had wanted to try watercolor painting, but there was never extra funds for her to buy supplies.  Happily, she indulged her fantasies and allowed Benedict to pick out specialty papers, expensive brushes, and a few pallets of paint for her to experiment with.  As a gentleman, he insisted on carrying her belongings, alongside his own gifts of fancy paintbrushes.

Finally, Hyacinth took a turn guiding the excursion straight to Gunter’s Tea Shop.  She skipped over to the counter with the tall jars of sweets and began excitedly narrating for Penelope what everyone in her family enjoyed.  With a giggle of lighthearted indulgence, Pen instructed the shopkeeper to bag up everything Hyacinth mentioned.  Although, she didn’t know what he would prefer, she also added some Pontefract Cakes for Simon.  She chose some peppermint sticks for herself and three bags of barley sugar for the staff.  The ladies distributed the treats between their reticules, teasing the men about carrying the heavier burdens.

Shopping had made the group hot and tired, so they decided to stay in the confectionery for a refreshing dish of ice cream.  Penelope happily treated everyone to their favorite flavors, choosing peppermint for herself.  Without surprising anyone, Benedict picked the unusual combination of Parmesan, coriander, cinnamon, and cloves, which was shaped like a wedge of cheese.  The girls decided to choose less strange flavors: jasmine for Daphne, lemon for Eloise, rose for Francesca, and cherry for Hyacinth.  Lady Bridgerton decided on violet, which was tinted purple and shaped like a flower.  Refreshed and rested, they continued with their busy day.

Lady Bridgerton took advantage of Eloise’s good mood to herd the group towards the modiste.  While Hyacinth picked out handfuls of ribbons, their mother forced her grumbling fifth child into the dressing room for measurements.  Penelope helped her friend choose fabrics for new dresses and bought her a new reticule large enough for a novel.  Lady Bridgerton checked on the progress of their dresses for the ball before leading everyone to the florist.

Penelope inhaled deeply as she entered the shop, breathing in the heady aroma of flowers.  While Lady Bridgerton and Daphne talked with the florist, Benedict and the other girls wandered around admiring the blooms.  The artist helped his little sisters pick out a flower for their hair, then insisted on buying one for Penelope as well.  Eloise refused to wear hers, but helped her friend weave sweet peas into her coif.

 The ladies exited the store and met up with the footmen before deciding to take a quick promenade around the park.  They chatted and gossiped happily, enjoying the cool breeze on their faces and the companionship between them.

Suddenly, Penelope froze in place, her heart pounding and her breath shallow.

“What is wrong,” Eloise demanded, getting the attention of her mother.

“Penelope, darling, what happened?”  Lady Bridgerton brushed the hair from the duchess’s face and became even more concerned when the girl startled at her touch.

“Did she get stung?” Benedict suggested, the trauma of his family’s past never far from his mind.  Eloise gaped at him with wide eyes.

“I-I-” Penelope gasped between breaths.  “I heard him!”

“Him?” Hyacinth demanded, confused and a bit annoyed at the interruption to their perfect day.

“Do you mean…?”  When Penelope nodded her head, Benedict understood what he needed to do.  “Stay with the ladies,” he ordered the footmen, charging into the crowd.  He swiveled his head to look all around them as he wandered, looking for anyone suspicious.

“Come here, darling,” Lady Bridgerton invited, pulling the trembling girl to her chest.  “You are safe in my arms, Penelope.  Breathe with me.”  She took exaggerated breaths, rubbing Penelope’s back soothingly.

The four sisters watched the scene in front of them with various layers of horror, comprehension, and fear.  Meanwhile, John and Robert stood with their backs to the ladies and kept watch for any movement towards their charges.

After a few minutes, Benedict returned.  “I did not see anyone out of the ordinary.  No one who looked as if they did not belong.”  He hoped his sisters felt reassured, but Eloise would not allow him any comfort.

“Of course he looks as if he belongs here!” she replied sarcastically.  “He is probably a member of the Ton, one of you.”

“Me?”  His sister’s accusation stung.  He didn’t want to believe he could be counted among those who treated women so violently.

“A gentleman.”

“What do you mean, Eloise?” Francesca asked sweetly, running a silk ribbon through her fingers to calm her anxiety.

Quickly, Benedict realized that not everyone in his group knew about the assault and he really hoped to keep them ignorant of the world for a little longer.  He glared at Eloise to force her silence, then said, “Penelope was hurt a few months ago, and something reminded her of that day.”

“Perhaps she should have a sweetmeat?” Hyacinth offered, pulling her treats out of her reticule.  “Sugar plums always make me feel better.”

Benedict drew his youngest sister into a side hug while he addressed the footmen.  “John, fetch the carriage.”  As quickly as he could, the second oldest Bridgerton secured them into the locked vehicle and brought them home.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Pontefract Cakes are licorice disks stamped with a castle

- Barley Sugar is hard candy made with barley water and sugar

- Sugar Plums are sugar covered nuts or fruit, like a Jordan almond

- Read more about the Gunter’s Tea Shop on the Jane Austin’s World website

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope sobbed against Violet’s side the entire drive back to Bridgerton House.  When they arrived, the youngest girls were quickly passed off to their governess with Daphne accompanying them for support.  Eloise held onto her friend tightly, fiercely protective and glaring out at the world for hurting Penelope.  “Take her into my private sitting room,” Lady Bridgerton instructed to her daughter.

Benedict hovered near the ladies.  “What would you like me to do, Mother?”

“Join us.”  She smiled at her son and turned towards the butler.  “Please inform me the moment my sons return and have cook prepare a hearty tea for the family and two guests to be served in the family room.”

“Of course, my lady,” Humboldt agreed with a small bow.  “Did you want refreshments now as well?”

“No, thank you.  Please see that we are not disturbed.”  She waited for his acknowledgment and then followed her children to her private room.

Eloise and Penelope held each other on the settee, a steady stream of tears still falling from Pen’s eyes.  Looking both frustrated and uncomfortable, Benedict had taken a chair across from them, his gaze focused on the floor.  Violet sat on Penelope’s other side and put her arms around the young woman as well.

“What do you remember about your attacker?” Benedict asked, his voice gentle.  It bothered him that the villain had been so close to them, and they didn’t know his identity.

His mother shot him a harsh glare, upset with his choice of words and the insensitive way he had broached the subject.  “My son is trying to help, Penelope,” she explained.

“Well, she remembers his voice,” Eloise added in the brash, factual way that she always saw the world.

“Yes,” Penelope said hesitantly, “I can recognize his voice.”

“Is there anything about it that stood out to you?  An accent or particular vocabulary?”

“He did not say much.”

Eloise had a low opinion of society, so it was easy for her to ask, “Was he a member of the Ton?”

“A gentleman would not have done this,” Benedict snapped defensively.  Although he didn’t know every man in the Ton, he could not imagine any of his peers being so violent towards a lady.

“You are so sure?” Eloise poked, easily falling into competition with her brother.

“I remember that he smelled of horses,” Penelope added.

Benedict looked thoughtful.  “So, perhaps a footman or a groom?”

“Or a gentleman,” his sister accused.  “You boys often smell of horses.  I do not think it narrows down our suspects.”

“Vauxhall Gardens is a public space,” Violet reminded them.  “Anyone can access the grounds.  It is only the ballroom and clubs that require proper dress for admittance.”

“We will find him,” Benedict promised, earning himself another silent scolding.

“Mother!” Gregory yelled, bursting into the room.  “I got to punch a real prizefighter, and he punched me, too!”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

The Viscount kissed her forehead with a grin.  “It’s alright, Mother.  Will was very gentle with him.  Mostly, we trained on the bag.”

“Mr. Mondrich has a son almost my age and he said we could spar one day!” Gregory continued excitedly, completely ignoring the distressed look on Penelope’s face or his mother’s disapproval.

“A long time from now,” Anthony corrected, winking at Colin and Simon.  The four boys continued to tell stories and brag on each other, competing lightly for Violet’s attention.

Simon, observing the closeness between the women on the settee and the tears on his wife’s face, strode over to Benedict and whispered to him, “What happened?”

After moving to the other side of the room, Benedict replied, “While at the park, Penelope recognized her attacker’s voice.”

Instinctively, Simon stood taller, squared his shoulders, planted his feet, and balled up his fists, ready for a fight.  “Did you identify him?”

“No.”  Benedict hung his head, feeling like he had failed to protect her somehow.  “She was unable to match the voice with any particular person.  I'm sorry.”

Simon let the apology hang in the air, pondering the incident and how he should respond to it.  Finally, he asked quietly, his face grim with worry, “How is she?”

Smiling sadly, Benedict replied, “You should ask her.”  He walked towards the rest of the family, catching his mother’s eye.

“I am sure you have all earned a large appetite from your adventures,” Lady Bridgerton called out to her brood.  “Cook has prepared a hearty luncheon for us in the family parlor.”

Gregory took off running, which caused his family to laugh at his enthusiasm, but the rest of the brothers weren’t far behind.  Eloise followed at a more leisurely pace, reluctant to leave Penelope.

“Darling,” Violet began, tucking a coil of Pen’s hair behind her ear, “you are welcome to join us when you are ready.”  After hugging her adopted daughter, she stood and put her hand on Simon’s arm.  “Take as much time as you need.”

Her motherly touch disarmed his warrior response, and he could feel himself relaxing.  His fists unclenched as he bowed his head to her.  “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton.” 

The viscountess squeezed his arm lightly before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Simon looked down at his crying wife, unsure what he was supposed to do.  Just moments before, the room felt too small and roared with a cacophony of voices, now it was cavernous and deathly silent.  Penelope was curled into herself, and he wondered if she was intimidated by him towering over her.  Slowly, he lowered himself onto the edge of the settee next to her, carefully leaving space between them.

“Benedict told me what happened.  Do you want to talk?”  He spoke quietly and calmly, but his mind droned with questions and accusations.

“There is nothing to say.”

He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her.  “I'm sorry I was not with you.”  He felt guilty for choosing an enjoyable activity with his friends instead of being by her side when she needed him.

She accepted his token and used it to wipe her face, willing herself to stop crying.  “It would not have mattered.”  Her accusation hung in the air and neither of them knew how to continue.

“We should join the others for tea,” he reminded her, anxious to help her the only way he knew how- by bringing her to the Bridgertons.

“Can we stay here, please?  In the quiet?”  She looked at him with her red eyes and splotchy face, and his heart melted.

“Yes, of course, dear.”  He had never used a term of endearment with her before, but it felt natural in the moment.  “I will request refreshments, as I am sure Lady Bridgerton will not mind.”

“I am not hungry.”  She had struggled with the desire to eat since that night in the gardens, and her lady’s maid, Ruby, usually had to coax her.

“Would you prefer tea or something else to drink?”  He still struggled to converse with her, but he could succeed in this small way.

“Tea is fine.”  She wrung his handkerchief in her hands as fears danced in her head.

“Penelope,” he whispered, reassuringly, “you are safe in Bridgerton House.”  Uncertain what more he should do or say, he left for a moment to find a maid.

They discussed Benedict’s art and other light topics until the maid arrived with their tray.  She placed it near them with a curtsy, then timidly said, “Excuse me, Your Grace, but Robert was asking if he should pack Lady Basset’s purchases into the carriage.”

Simon raised an eyebrow at his wife.  “Purchases?”

Blushing, Penelope bowed her head.  “As Your Grace commanded,” she replied cheekily.  She was feeling more relaxed after Simon’s purposeful efforts to distract her with other topics, ready to tentatively trust him a little.

The duke smiled at her encouragingly, astonished to see her teasing him and daring him to play along.  “Yes, he should load the carriage.  Also, inform my staff that we will be departing in a half hour.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  She curtsied to him.  “Can I fetch you anything else?”

“No, thank you, but please tell Lord and Lady Bridgerton of our plans.”  He nodded his dismissal and turned his attention to Penelope.  “How do you take your tea?  I never thought to ask,” he commented, surprised by his lack of knowledge.  

She smiled at his puzzled expression.  They had been married a month and hadn’t yet had tea together.  “Sugar and lemon, please.”

He fixed her a cup and handed it to her, then made tea for himself.  “Now, tell me more about these purchases.”  He leaned towards her with a warm smile that crinkled his eyes and a playfully raised eyebrow.

<><><><><>

When they returned to Danbury House, Simon reminded his wife, “I have a meeting with a potential estate manager at Whites.  Would you prefer I reschedule?”

“We were also supposed to attend the opera tonight with Lady Danbury.”

“I will tell her what happened.  I know she will understand if we cancel.”  He couldn’t do a lot for his wife, but he could face down the Dragon of the Ton and deliver disappointing news on her behalf.

“I do not want to linger in London any longer than necessary, so you should go to your meeting.  I will probably stay in our room and read.”

“Lock the door if it makes you feel safer.  I will instruct Anderson to give a key to Ruby.  Would you like me to walk you upstairs?”  She declined, so he went to find Lady Danbury and Anderson to inform them of his plans.

A few minutes later, he entered the masculine sanctuary of White’s Gentlemen’s Club, the dark wood paneling and smoky interior contrasting with the softer, brighter spaces occupied by women.  He looked around the room, then asked a waiter if he had seen Mr. Wolfington.

The solicitor hadn’t arrived yet, so Simon wandered around the room for a little while, greeting the other lords, discussing horses, parliamentary proceedings, and societal gossip.  He observed a dice game involving Lord Featherington, and frowned as the desperate man lost repeatedly.

“Your Grace, a Mr. August Wolfington for you,” a waiter informed him, bowing and stepping aside to present a fresh-faced young man with ink stained fingers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wolfington,” Simon began, inclining his head to him politely.  “I am Lord Simon Basset.  I believe your mother knows Lady Danbury?”

The solicitor bowed to acknowledge the duke’s superior rank.  “Yes, Your Grace.”

Simon addressed the waiter.  “Two whiskeys, neat.”  He waved off the servant, while gesturing for the younger man to join him at a table in the corner.  “You come highly recommended,” the duke said as the two men settled into their seats.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”  Mr. Wolfington tapped his heel anxiously, causing his entire leg to shake and threatening to knock the table.

Ignoring the annoying quivering of the floor under his feet from the solicitor’s nervous habit, Simon instead sought to put him at ease.  “Tell me about yourself.”

Mr. Wolfington listed his family history, schooling, job history, habits, and more to the duke, carefully outlining the barest facts.  Simon continued to ask him questions for another half and hour or so before sticking out his hand and hiring him on the spot.  As soon as he could make arrangements, the solicitor would follow the duke and duchess to Clyvedon to be their new land manager.

<><><><><>

“Come on, Dove,” a voice in the night coaxed.  “Nice and quiet for me.”  A soft, clean hand pressed against her mouth, but she managed to let out one short scream before he plugged her nose and mouth.  “Oh, you naughty girl,” he taunted, his voice light and seductive.  She clawed and swiped at him, trying to get his weight off of her.

The edges of her world were already starting to go black when he put his other hand to her throat and released her nose.  “No noise,” he warned darkly, tightening his grip on her windpipe as he removed the hand over her mouth.  She nodded desperately, tears in her eyes.  “Good girl,” he praised as he loosened her throat slightly, allowing her to gasp for air.  He fumbled with his pants one handed, keeping the other hand on her throat threateningly.

Without warning, he squeezed her neck again, cutting off her air.  He didn’t stop until she passed out completely and woke up in pain.  Just as she opened her mouth to scream, he tightened around her throat again, holding her just on the edge between consciousness and darkness.

Simon woke to Penelope panting and choking on the settee.  Springing out of bed, he rushed to light a candle and dashed to her side, frantically searching for the reason for her distress.  When he realized she was sleeping, he gently knocked on the dressing room door to summon the maid.  “Please help her,” he begged, his voice breaking with fear as he handed her the candle.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but perhaps you should step outside the room for a while.  I worry your presence might scare her more.”

He nodded distractedly, watching his wife battle with monsters in her sleep.  “I will wait in the dressing room.  Please, go to her now.”  Breaking with protocol, he took her by the shoulders and pulled her into the bedroom which turned into a push as he moved past her into the closet.  As soon as she cleared the space, he closed the door, engulfing himself in darkness.  Through the door, he could hear the maid’s soft voice tending to her mistress.

“-It was only a dream, my lady.  You are safe.”

“Where is he?”  Penelope’s panicked cry broke Simon’s heart.

There was some quiet discussion that he couldn’t hear before Ruby said, “Lord Basset cares about you, my lady.  He wants you to be well.”

“He was choking me.  I could not breathe.”

“You are safe, my lady.”

“He hurt me.”

Simon couldn’t stand it any longer.  Bursting through the door, he fell to his knees beside her bed.  “Penelope, please believe me.  I did not hurt you and I never will.”

The moment the door to the dressing room opened, Penelope screamed and scampered against the settee.

“I told you to stay away!” Ruby scolded, risking her position in the house with her impertinence.  Her desire to guard her mistress took prescience over everything else, even her own wellbeing.

Undeterred, Simon pushed again.  “Penelope, look at me.  I am not the voice from the park.  I am not the man of your nightmares.  I am your husband.  Please, do not be afraid of me.”  He had never cared about anything as much as he cared about the words coming out of his mouth in the moment.  Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes, as he silently pleaded with her to let him be her hero.

“Do not touch me!” Penelope screeched, pulling her body into a ball in defense.  “Go away!”

“Penelope, it is Simon.  Please let me help you.”

“Go away!  Do not hurt me!  Leave me alone!”

Simon rocked back as if she had hit him.  “I am here, Penelope.”

“No!”

Hanging his head in defeat, he stood up, handing Ruby his flask.  “Give her a little in her tea.  Perhaps it will help calm her.  I am leaving.”  Looking at his wife sadly, he shook his head and left the room.

<><><><><>

The butler at Bridgerton House had dealt with plenty of messes and near scandals in the middle of the night, but a soaking wet duke at the door was new.  “May I help you, my lord?” he asked with a dignified, haughty tone.

“Lord Simon Basset.  May I come in?”

Humboldt stepped aside and allowed the guest into the foyer.  “Shall I fetch Lord Bridgerton, Your Grace?”  In the candlelight, the duke’s attire was even more puzzling.  He appeared to be wearing a nightgown with trousers and house slippers.  

“There is no need to wake the household.  Perhaps you could direct me to a guest chamber, though.”  Simon hadn’t been thinking about the destination when he set off on his march in the rain.  He just needed an escape from the impossible situation at Danbury House.

“Are you well, Your Grace?”  Humboldt frowned as he asked the question, confused as to the purpose of the nobleman’s late night visit.

“Humboldt?  Is everything alright?”  Anthony had heard the voices from his study, where he had been working late, and decided to come out to see if he needed to intervene.  Upon seeing his friend, he rushed over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  “Simon?  What is the matter?  Is something wrong with Penelope?”

Uncharacteristically, Simon fell onto his friend’s shoulder, weeping quietly.

Anthony stiffened for a moment in surprise before wrapping one hand around the other man’s back.  Addressing the butler, he ordered, “Please bring down one of my nightshirts and see that we are not disturbed.”  He encouraged Simon to join him in the study, pouring them both a snifter of brandy.

The men sipped their alcohol in silence for a few moments, before Anthony tried to find out why the duke was here.  “Is everyone well in Danbury House?” he asked with dread, fearing the answer.

“Everything is fine.  I just thought I would take a midnight walk in the rain,” Simon replied sarcastically, not wanting to talk about his issues with his wife.

Anthony let the moment sit a little longer, knowing from experience that his friend would speak when he was ready.  “How can I help you?” he said quietly after a few minutes.  As big brother, head of the household, and Viscount Bridgerton, he was most comfortable solving problems.

“There is nothing to be done.”  Simon tipped back the rest of his brandy and stared into the empty glass like perhaps it held the answers to his marital problems.

“You will spend the night.  I am sure things will look better in the morning,” Anthony said with confident cheerfulness.  He still didn’t know what bothered his friend, but he wasn’t worried about it.  The couple probably had a disagreement, one that would be easily resolved in the freshness of a new day.

The viscount pulled the bell near his desk, summoning the butler.  While they waited, he poured another finger of brandy for them both.  “Penelope is a sweet, kind girl.  I am sure she will forgive you for whatever you have done.”

Simon ignored his friend, unwilling to explain how far off Anthony was in his understanding of the situation.  In truth, he was ashamed that Penelope feared him so deeply.

“Humboldt, please escort Lord Basset to a guest bedroom and see that his needs are met,” the viscount ordered, standing from his desk.  “I will see you in the morning, Simon.”  Anthony patted his friend on the back and went upstairs to his own room.

The next morning, Simon was gone before the scullery maid lit the first fire.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next day, the Bridgertons, the Bassets, and Lady Danbury joined the Ton at Somerset House for the opening of a new gallery.  Benedict was excited to discuss the paintings with Mr. Granville and a few other artists, while Daphne was hoping to see Prince Fredrick again after meeting him the previous week.

Hyacinth and Gregory, under strict instructions to behave, bobbled their heads up and down to take in the towering display of paintings.  Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton went off together to gossip, leaving Anthony in charge of chaperoning his siblings.

After their difficult time the day before, neither Simon or Penelope was eager to be among their peers.  They both sported dark rings from a sleepless night, but Lady Danbury insisted they appear in public together.  She reminded them how important it was to maintain the image of a happily married couple, no matter how they actually felt.

Simon clung close to Penelope, his eyes darting over the crowd anxiously, hoping to protect her from another encounter with her attacker.  The press of bodies overwhelmed him, so he guided her out of the main gallery and into one of the alcoves.

“Come!” Simon said with fake excitement for the Ton’s benefit.  “I want to show you our family’s paintings.”

“You have artwork here?”

“No, paintings that our family owns.”  Although he wasn’t an expert on his wife’s moods, he felt like today was going well.  She held his arm without flinching, smiled at him openly, and seemed relaxed.  Perhaps she was just good at pretending.

The rise from unimportant third daughter of a baron to respectable duchess still caught her by surprise daily. "Is that your name above the door?"

“Our name, Penelope,” he insisted with a smile.

“You must show me your favorite painting.”  The shadow of her nightmare still lingered close to her consciousness and she was worried about meeting her attacker again, but she determinedly ignored her feelings for Simon’s sake.

“I am not sure I have a favorite; although, I can point out which one Lady Danbury claims was my mother’s favorite.”  He led them to a landscape featuring a misty and moody grove of trees.

Penelope whispered, “I can see why she loved it.  It reminds me of our woods near Clyvedon.”

Simon watched his wife’s face as she studied the painting, her eyes dreamy and peaceful.  “Would you like to bring it home with us?”  He wished he was an artist himself, so he could capture the look on her face.  Hanging the painting where she could see it every day might allow him to see her relaxed countenance more often.

“Does it not belong here?” she asked, confused.

“We own it, so we can do whatever we wish with it.  Besides, we can send a different picture in its place to fill the empty spot.”

Penelope could sense that her husband wanted her to agree.  “Since the painting was one of your mother’s favorites, then perhaps we should put it in the Music Room?”

Her compassionate suggestion warmed his heart.  Smiling at her gently, he said, “I will find a curator to organize its transfer then.”

Simon’s enthusiasm was almost contagious, but the threat of abandonment made her anxious.  “Please do not leave me alone.”  

Her switch in tone from strong and lighthearted to weak and sorrowful happened so quickly, it caused Simon to stop his own plan to help her.  He stepped in front of her, sheltering her with his larger body.  “Are you alright, Penelope?”

“What if I hear him again?” she whispered, pushing her body slightly closer to him for his protection.  Although her nightmares colored Simon as her villain, she instinctively knew he was safe and consciously fought to convince herself of it.

“Would you like to be left with a Bridgertons while I make the arrangements?”  He wasn’t keen on depositing with one of the men, but he knew they would guard her as one of their sisters.  “Or would you prefer I bring you with me?”  It wasn’t common for men to involve their wives in business, but as a duke, he could tend to the eccentric without consequence.

She dipped her head down and raised it up with a mask of respectability.  It looked fragile, like it might crack under strain, but it would function to get them through the day.  “Let’s find Daphne.  I heard she has a new interest, but I have not had a chance to ask her about it.”  Her eyes twinkled with excitement at the prospect of talking romance with a Bridgerton, distracting her from her worries.

Matching her tone, he teased her, “Are you turning into a matchmaker already.”  

“I am a matron.  It is what we do.”  She laughed lightly, trying to ignore the panic that was rising up in her like a cloud of mosquitoes.

Proudly, he guided her around the room towards her friend.  “Heaven help those Bridgerton boys!”

“Yes, where should I begin?”

“Anthony,” he said dryly.  “He will need all the help he can get!”  The couple looked to the viscount, who had an arm around Gregory and Hyacinth, steering them away from the more risqué pieces of art.  They both laughed.

“Simon, Penelope, you seem to be having a good day,” Daphne observed, greeting them with a smile and a questioning look.

Penelope returned her smile, glad that her disguise was working.  “We were just discussing your eldest brother’s marriage prospects.”

“Is there someone in the running?”

“Not yet, but I have set Penelope onto the task of finding him a match.”  Simon grinned wickedly, imagining how much his friend would balk at a parade of débutantes vying for his attention.

“Perfect!  And I shall help you,” Daphne replied, a gleam of mischief in her eyes.  “Come, Penelope, let's put our heads together and make a list of suspects.”  Daphne grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her from her husband.

Simon bowed his head in farewell.  “I have a task to accomplish and will catch up with you ladies later.”

“Who do you have in mind for my brother?” Daphne asked, looking around the room.  Her eyes caught Prince Fredrick entering the museum with his aunt, Queen Charlotte, and she quickly turned her back to them.

Penelope observed the awkward way that the débutante responded to the royalty, confirming the rumors she had heard.  Teasingly, she whispered, “No one yet, but tell me more about the prince?”

The débutante smiled.  “We have only met, but he was very kind.  He complimented my dress.”  Daphne blushed thinking about the joke she had made to Benedict about how the prince told every women at the ball the same thing.  Fortunately, the royal had seem charmed by her faux pas.

“I am happy for you.”  The girls talked for a little while about other gossip, enjoying a rare chance to speak without being interrupted by any other Bridgertons.  Penelope watched the prince circle the room with his aunt, receiving compliments and greetings from every guest.

Prince Fredrick finally broke away from the queen’s management and approached the women, his eyes trained on Daphne.  “Miss Bridgerton,” he said warmly, nodding in greeting.

“Your Highness,” Daphne replied with a graceful curtsy.

His Prussian accent betrayed his country of origin and made him seem even more foreign and alluring.  “I was hoping to see you today.”

“Were you?”  She tried not to let her excitement creep into her voice too much, but she was flattered by his attention.

“It seems the art is not the only beautiful thing on display at present.”

Penelope winced at the awkward compliment, but Daphne blushed and dropped her eyes demurely.  Perhaps she didn’t mind being compared to a statue or painting.

He turned his attention toward the other woman in the group.  “And, who is your friend?  I do not believe we have been introduced.  I am sure I would have remembered a handsome redhead.”

Now, it was Penelope’s turn to blush, as Daphne introduced her to the prince.  “Your Highness, may I present Lady Penelope Basset, Duchess of Hastings.”

Penelope bowed and smiled, a bit intimidated by the exchange.  “Pleased to meet you, Your Highness.  Are you enjoying your time in London?”

“It has always been one of my favorite cities.”

“How lovely to hear that from someone who has traveled so widely,” Daphne enthused, easily drawing the attention back to herself, not that Penelope was surprised by the change.  After all, the Bridgerton girl wasn’t the Diamond of the Season for no reason.

Prince Fredrick smiled at her.  “Have you traveled much?  I think you would love the music of Vienna.”  In the courtship game, he had just upped the stakes by inviting her to his home city.

“Daphne is an accomplished musician, Your Highness,” Penelope bragged, falling into the role of marriage-minded mama quite easily.

“So my Tante has told me,” he agreed, looking over to Queen Charlotte, who smiled approvingly.

“I do enjoy playing,” Daphne conceded, “but so do several of my sisters.”  Daphne had made a place for herself in the family with her pianoforte skills, but Francesca quickly overtook her and was now considered the best in the family.  She rarely felt special, so she had been thrilled when she received attention from Queen Charlotte at her presentation.

The prince fiddled with the button on his coat nervously, trying to remember what else his aunt had told him about the family.  “There are a great many of you, are there not?”

“I have three sisters and four brothers, Your Highness.”  Several of those brothers were hovering nearby, watching the exchange while pretending to be admiring the artwork or engaging in other conversations.

“Would it be possible to meet your father, Miss Bridgerton?”

A cloud passed over Daphne’s face, but she refused to let it change her countenance.  “Unfortunately, Your Highness, my father died when I was very young.”

“I'm sorry.”  The prince scolded himself in his mind for not remembering that very important detail.  “Is there a Lord Bridgerton with whom I may speak?”  He glanced around the room, noticing all the curious nobles, who were watching his every move while pretending to not care.

“I can fetch your brother,” Penelope suggested bravely, too caught up in the romance to remember her fears.  She found Anthony a few feet away and brought him to the prince.

“Your Highness,” Anthony clipped, nodding his head respectfully.

Daphne smiled at him adoringly.  “Allow me to introduce my eldest brother, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lord Bridgerton.  Your sister is a credit to you,” the prince flattered, interested to see how the man would respond to his test.

“My sister is wonderful despite me, I assure you, Your Highness.”  Brother and sister exchanged a loving look, their relationship stronger than ever after the disaster with Berbrooke.

“The Viscount is underestimating himself, Your Highness,” Penelope interrupted, anxious for the prince to think well of the family she adopted as her own.  “I have known the Bridgertons for most of my life, and they are the most honorable, loving, and respectable family in the Ton.”

“High praise indeed, Lady Basset,” the prince agreed, smiling at Penelope.  “My Tante has said the same.  Lord Bridgerton, may I have permission to court your sister?”

Anthony raised an eyebrow at his sister, asking for her opinion.  When she nodded almost imperceptibly, he said, “I would never dream of speaking for her, Your Highness, but I will not stand in her way.”

Penelope smiled at how far he had come since the beginning of the season, when he thought he knew what was best for every person in his life.

“I would be honored, Your Highness,” Daphne replied, blushing prettily.

Prince Fredrick offered his arm to her and led her to a gallery wall to continue their conversations.  Every débutante in the museum noticed the shift.  Anthony tucked Penelope close to him protectively and followed behind the couple to chaperone.

Leaning close to her, Anthony whispered, "Benedict told me about yesterday.  How are you?"

His familiar voice and gentle words brought tears to Penelope’s eyes. "I cannot speak of it."

He frowned and squeezed her hand against his arm.  "Please let me know if I can be of service to you."

"Thank you."

"Simon cares about you, too, Penelope."  His friend’s strange behavior the night before had bothered him and reminded Anthony that the couple had much to work through.

<><><><><>

Later that afternoon, Simon sent Lady Danbury and Penelope back to the house, while he walked to Will’s gym.  “How is your wife?” the boxer asked as he drove his fist towards the duke’s face.

Simon danced around the ring and jabbed at his friend a few times before answering.  “Confusing.”  He tried to pass it off as a lighthearted statement, but his heart wasn’t into it.

Will laughed.  “That is just marriage.”

He shook his head with defeat.  “She is terrified of me most of the time.”  He turned his back to his friend, holding onto the ropes as despair overwhelmed him.  “I haunt her nightmares, and she worries I will hurt her again.”  For some reason, it was easier to admit these problems to Will than to Anthony, perhaps due to the prizefighters age and experience as a husband.

The boxer hung back, unsure how to help his friend.  Although he was confident the duke wasn’t the villain in the girl’s story, he was disturbed that the accusation was still hanging over Simon’s head.  “Poor girl.  I hope you are being gentle with her.”

“Of course I am being gentle with her!” Simon roared, frustrated that everyone assumed he had anything to do with his wife’s trauma.  “I have not touched her!”

“You must show her that she can trust you.”  Will offered his advice without confidence, as he didn’t have any special insights about marriage to someone who feared you.

“I am trying!”  The duke smacked himself in his head with the boxing glove.  “I do not know what else I can do!”

“She is your wife, Simon,” Will insisted, refusing to let his friend run from this problem.  “You cannot stop trying.”

“My wife,” he whispered tenderly.  “We are trapped together in this life, but sometimes we make a connection, and I- I just want… more….”  He put both gloves to his head, frustrated with his thoughts.  “It is like the clouds part and all her grief and fear melts away, and for a few minutes I see her real self.”  It haunted him.

“She is smart and kind and passionate,” Simon continued.  “I can see why the entire Bridgerton family loves her.  When I see her smile, I think about what it would be like to wake up next to her each morning, to truly claim her as my wife, despite the vow I gave my father.”  He faced his friend again, his shoulders drooping with guilt and defeat.

Will put his gloved hand on the duke’s shoulder.  “There is hope, my friend.  Give her time.”

Tapping his glove on the boxer’s shoulder, Simon asked mockingly, “Alright, marriage expert, what should I do?”

With a grin, Will shrugged the duke off his body and hit him in the jaw.  “Teach her to punch.”  He socked him again, blocking Simon’s fist with his other hand.  “Maybe I need to teach you first.”

Simon laughed and reengaged in the sparring match, landing a few good blow himself.  The two friends continued to converse as they circled around each other, the tone lighthearted again.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” a female voice interrupted, breaking into their masculine space.  They instantly forgave her when they saw she brought them drinks and snacks.

“Thank you, Alice,” Simon said, pulling off his gloves and moving towards the refreshments.

“Thank you, dear,” Will agreed, bending over his wife and pecking her forehead quickly.

“Uh!  Will!” she complained, swatting at him playfully.  “You are greasy and sweaty!  I am going to get pimples!”

The boxer laughed, the current conversation a familiar one in their many years of marriage.  “And you will still be just as beautiful,” he flirted, giving her a meaningful look.

She blushed, and then remembered they had company.  “Are you sponsoring my husband in the prince’s exhibition, Your Grace?  Perhaps you can open your purse strings a bit more and show the other men your confidence in him.”

“Alice!” her husband scolded her, feeling embarrassed by her boldness.

“What?  You did not marry me for my meekness.”

Simon laughed, enjoying their banter.  “I am, but only if you call me Simon.  I insist.”

“Perhaps you can get your friends, the Bridgertons, to invest as well,” she suggested.

“Alice!” her husband snapped again, but there was no bite in his comment.

“I am only thinking about putting food on your children’s table, Will.  The duke knows how important his sponsorship is to our family.”

“The Bridgerton girl is courting the prince,” Simon informed her casually, picking up a slice of meat, “so the brothers may feel obligated to commit to his man.”

“Oh, I did read about that in Upside-Down,” Alice added with a smile, instantly caught up in the romance.  “What a catch for our diamond!”

Will smiled at her fondly before addressing the duke.  “Our children’s bellies are full, even without the extra sponsors, Simon.  Please do not worry about us.”  Both men hated to be reminded of the disparity between their classes and wealth, yet it was a reality they had to face.

“They were asking for bedtime stories,” Alice reminded her husband, subtly hinting at the late hour.

“I'm sorry, Simon, but I cannot disappoint the princes.”  The father smiled, finishing his drink.

“Wait a moment,” Alice ordered, dipping a cloth in some water.  “Sit down.  You cannot go to your children with blood on your face.  You will frighten them,” she scolded him into compliance, grabbing his chin in her hand and wiping his face.  When she got to his split lip, she gently dabbed at it, setting tiny kisses on the opposite side of his mouth.  “Does that feel better?” she asked with a smile, setting aside the cloth.

The couple got lost in each other’s eyes, having an entire conversation without speaking.  For them, the rest of the world did not exist.  It was terribly romantic for them, and incredibly awkward for Simon.

“This seems like a good time for me to leave,” Simon announced, gathering up his clothes and fleeing out of the room with a laugh.  “Good night,” he called over his shoulder.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“To Madam Morrible’s,” the duke commanded his driver as he climbed into his carriage at Will’s gym.  After witnessing the affectionate display between the boxer and his wife, Simon felt restless, depressed, and lonely.  He made a vow to his father to deny himself that type of loving companionship and had married a woman who pulled away from him.  With a heavy heart, he sought out the one type of relationship he understood.

When the vehicle stopped on Fleet Street, he hopped out of it excitedly, having used the journey to the convince himself that this was how he wanted to spend his evening.  It had been too long since he had been in a School of Venus, and he looked forward to all the sensual delights he would find there.

Confidently, he strode up to the door, greeting the bouncer and paying his entrance fee.  Lower class brothels didn’t require money at the door, but the nicer establishments used it as a way of filtering their clientèle.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” the bawd said with a smile and a curtsy.  “You are very fortunate because tonight we have a special display for you.  My girls are showcasing their bodies with scenes from classic Greek mythology.”  Madam Morrible led him to a settee with a good view of the exhibition and motioned discreetly for one of her girls to approach him.

In a parody of good breeding, a young miss swayed towards him, purring out her question, “Can I get you a drink, my lord?”  She wore a bright yellow dress in the latest fashion, and could easily pass for a member of the Ton in a different setting.  Her pretense of respectability was part of what made Schools of Venus so appealing to upper class rakes.

“Brandy,” he ordered without looking at her.  His eyes were focused beyond the tableau to the wall behind them.  From his periphery, he could see the other men and misses engaging in various activities, but he found it difficult to feel comfortable in this familiar setting.  Before marriage, Madam Morrible’s was one of his favorite places to spend an evening.  For reasons he didn’t understand, tonight it felt hollow.

The miss returned and draped herself on the couch beside him, passing him the alcoholic drink.  “My name is Abigail, my lord.  You must let me know what else I can do for you,” she cooed, pressing her body against him.

Simon sipped the brandy, but it tasted like vinegar.  He gagged.

“Is something the matter, my lord?”

“The brandy seems to have gone off.”

Abigail pouted sympathetically.  “Oh, no, my lord!  Allow me to fetch you something else.”  She took his offensive glass from him and returned it to the refreshment table.  A moment later, she brought a flute of champagne and a few strawberries.  “I think you will find these much more to your taste, my lord,” she promised, tucking her legs underneath her and leaning against him.

He took a sip of the champagne, but it also burned his throat.  “This does not taste right either.”

“Here, my lord.  Try it with the strawberries.”  She delicately held the berry between her fingertips and pressed it against his mouth.

“No, this is not working,” he complained, pushing her off of him as he stood up.

“Please, my lord,” she whispered, her voice desperate.  “Tell me how I can satisfy you.”

Simon looked down at the young prostitute, studying her face for the first time.  A dark bruise blossomed on one cheek, covered carefully by layers of makeup.  He saw the same fear reflected in her eyes that he often saw in his young wife.  In the yellow dress, she even looked like his bride.  He swore as Penelope’s face flooded his mind.

“Is something the matter, Your Grace?” Madam Morrible inquired soothingly, approaching the duke with a large smile.  She glanced at the soiled dove with an accusing frown, the reproach easily readable in her eyes.

He straightened to his full, aristocratic height and put on an air of condescension.  “I just remembered that I am late for a business meeting at White’s,” he lied, checking his pocket watch.  “However, Abigail has pleased me, and I am paying for her entire night.  I will be back later and I expect to find her asleep in her own bed.”  He pulled out his coin pouch and extracted a few coins.  “Here is her payment for the night.  I will double it in the morning if Abigail is waiting for me when I return.”  He had no intention of following through on his promise, but he also didn’t want the young miss to be punished for displeasing him.

“Of course, Your Grace.  She will be ready for you whenever you return.”

“Call for my carriage,” he ordered, handing his drink to the bawd as if she were his personal servant.  He turned to the miss and put out his arm.  “Walk me out.”

She nodded, a bit surprised by the turn of events.  When they were outside and away from the doorman, she whispered, “I will be waiting, my lord.”

“I am not returning tonight,” he explained, pressing another couple coins into her hand.  “Sleep well, Abigail.  It is my gift to you.”

“Thank you, my lord, but Madam Morrible will blame me when you do not return.”  She tried to hand the coins back to him, but he refused them.  “Please, my lord, she will beat me.”

Simon swore, frustrated that his good deed was so complicated and wishing he was away from this neighborhood already.  “When you go back inside, tell her that I had you against the wall and am satisfied.”  He gave her a few more coins.  “Very satisfied,” he added, a hint of old rakish pride seeping out.  “However, tell her that I may return tonight and will still expect you to be alone and sleeping.  Will she be gratified with that explanation?”

“Yes, my lord.  I think that will be acceptable.  Thank you, my lord.”  She tugged on the waistband of his pants, pulling him towards the wall.

When Simon realized that she intended for him to get his money’s worth out of her, he protested, “No!  I do not expect anything from you.”  The libertine part of his brain couldn’t believe he was refusing her offer, especially after being celibate for so long, but the newly formed honorable part just fought harder.

She dropped her hands with a knowing smile.  “Ah, you are one of those, my lord.  Do not worry, your secret is safe with me.”  She winked at him and sashayed back into the building.

<><><><><>

The Danbury House was quiet when Simon entered and crept to his room.  He slipped through the bedroom door, hoping his wife would already be asleep.  Only a few candles were left burning.

He lowered himself slowly to sit on the bed, his muscles stiff with fatigue.  His workout with Will had been a bit more intense than normal, plus his extra stop at the brothel had left him feeling drained.  He pulled at his cravat to untie it, his arm protesting as he lifted it.

His awkward motions caught the attention of his wife, who looked up from her book to see him struggling.  “Are you alright?”  She studied him compassionately, intrigued by the exhaustion in his face.

“Just a little sore.”  He finally managed to free himself from the long piece of fabric and threw the cravat onto the bed.  With a look of defeat, he stared at the ground, wondering if he had enough energy to call for a bath.

She closed her book and walked towards him.  “You are bleeding,” she observed, looking down on him with concern.

He looked up at her, noting that she was close enough for him to touch her.  In her concern, she didn’t seem to have realized it herself.  Very slowly, he touched his fingers lightly on his cut.  “It is a minor scratch.”

She stepped a tiny bit closer to him, and he held his breath, afraid that he would scare her away.  He wondered if she would touch him tenderly and knew he would be unable to stop himself from nestling into her hand if she did.  They stared at each other.

The desire to reach for her became nearly irresistible.  She was so close to him, standing between his knees, her perfume filling the air between them.  For a few seconds, he forgot everything that stood between them, her age, her trauma, her distrust, and he just saw her as a woman, his wife.  He clasped his hands together tightly to keep himself from pulling her towards him.

The movement of his hands startled her from her contemplation.  With a gasp, she tripped backwards, away from his reach.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, although he wasn’t sure why he was apologizing.

Shaking her head, she went over to the wash basin and wet a cloth.  “You need to wash your wound,” she instructed practically, her movements stiff and purposeful.

His heart leaped with hope as she approached him again.  He daydreamed about her gently nursing him, imagining her small hands caressing his cheeks.

She held the cloth out to him, stretching towards him while keeping her body out of his reach.  He took it from her and dabbed at his cut, trying to look nonchalant instead of disappointed.  “Thank you.”

Her mission complete, she fled into the dressing room, closing the door.  Her hands trembled as tears streamed down her face.  She didn’t understand what had just happened, what she had almost allowed to happen.  He was her captor, the monster from her dreams, a threat to her.  Wasn’t he?  She could see in his eyes that he wanted to draw her closer to him, and she had nearly allowed him.  Once again, he had the opportunity to harm her, and he had chosen to give her the lead.

There was something alluring about him that drew her close to him, something that made her want to believe his claims of safety.  However, when she stood close, she noticed that he smelled like her father on nights when he stumbled home late.  After promising her that he had given up his rakish ways, he had visited a brothel.  Fortunately, she had a lot of knowledge about how to treat a husband who behaved like her father.  Her mother had taught her well.

A soft knock on the door had her wiping her eyes frantically.  “Penelope,” he called out quietly, a slight hesitation in his voice.  “Please come out.”

She opened the door and stepped into the room, noting that Simon had retreated away from the door.  Before he even had a chance to address her, she opened the bedroom door and gave orders to his valet.  “Miller, prepare a bath for His Grace.”

Surprised by her unusually commanding voice, the servant bowed and left to do as she asked.

“Penelope, please sit,” Simon implored her.  He was also confused by her sudden confidence, almost as if she had donned a mask.  “We can talk about what happened tonight.”

“You do not need to explain anything to me,” she said coldly, every word measured, as she lounged on the chaise.  Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were hard and judgmental.

He studied her for a moment, wondering what happened to the unassuming débutante he married.  “I am not upset that you did not touch me and I would not have been upset with you if you did.”

She nearly laughed aloud at his explanation.  With her mouth turned into a sneer, she jabbed at him.  “As if I would touch you.”

“Why are you being mean to me?” he asked in a hurt voice.  Not only had no woman ever rejected him so thoroughly before, but he had also never had one talk to him so frigidly.  Simpering, flirting, and crooning were all female expressions he could comprehend.  The cold indifference was not.

“You are the capitol-R Rake.  Figure it out.”

Unsure what else he could say, he went quiet.  Over and over, he reviewed the moments since he had returned home trying to figure out what he had done incorrectly.  This was decidedly worse than her sadness, which at least had a cause that he understood.

After a moment, she opened her book again, completely ignoring him.  They sat in silence until Miller arrived to inform him that his bath was ready.  “Go and wash,” she ordered the duke haughtily.  “The cheap perfume is giving me a headache.”  Subconsciously, she had channeled her mother with perfect accuracy, down to the exact intonation.

“Penelope,” he tried one last time, sounding exactly like Lord Featherington after a bad night at the gaming tables.

“Good night,” she bid him dismissively, not taking her eyes off the book.

Defeated, the duke left for his bath, puzzling about their interaction.  She had called him a rake- perhaps that meant she was disappointed that he hadn’t reached out to her when she stood so close to him- he wondered with a frown.  Or maybe she was upset that he had missed dinner with herself and Lady Danbury.  He had often heard of other men complaining about their wives’ hormones- perhaps she was not herself because of them.  Maybe this was normal, and he would just need to get used to the storms.

As soon as the door closed, Penelope curled into herself and cried.  She never wanted a marriage like her parents.  Although her own had started rough, she had hoped that they would find happiness together.  He had promised her faithfulness just a few days ago, and already he had gone back on his word.  At least now she knew what to expect from him, and she could stop hoping for something better.

She rang for Ruby, who made up her mistress’s bed on the chaise.  “You may retire when His Grace returns from his bath,” Penelope instructed her maid.

When Simon entered the room again, he found his wife asleep, or at least pretending, and her lady’s maid standing over her like an angel.  “Thank you, Ruby,” he whispered to her, dismissing her for the night.  With one last look at his wife, he blew out the candles and went to bed.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- School of Venus is a house of prostitution, headed by the head mistress (madam), called a bawd.  A miss is a prostitute, also called a soiled dove

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope’s iciness towards Simon continued the next morning.  “Will’s boxing exhibition against the prince’s man, Gillespie, is today,” Simon informed his wife after breakfast.

“Were you expecting me to attend with you?” she asked, glaring at him and daring him to challenge her.  It was still an act, a farce of her mother she was using as armor against him.  The anger made her feel stronger than the grief she had been drowning in for weeks, and she found it addicting to hold power over someone else for a change.

“Did you want to attend?”  He was surprised that she asked, as ladies didn’t usually go to pugilist matches, but there were always a few who came with brothers or husbands.

“Do you want me there?”  She stared him down.

“I-I-”  Her countenance made him nervous.  “If you would like to attend, I would be happy to introduce you to Will.”  He tried to keep his voice light, but he was still very upset that she could treat him so callously.

“Lady Danbury and I are expected at Bridgerton House to help with the ball preparations,” she said flippantly.  “We will probably be gone most of the day.”  With Daphne attending the exhibition to support the prince’s boxer, Lady Bridgerton needed more helpers.  Since Lady Danbury was training Penelope to fulfill her role in the Ton, the upcoming ball provided an excellent opportunity for a plethora of lessons.

Simon smiled warmly, hoping the time away from each other will help her thaw.  “I hope you enjoy yourself.”

“Say hello to your left-handed wife for me,” she quipped, breezing out of the room.

<><><><><>

Will’s Boxing Club teemed with gentlemen in morning suits, boisterously chatting with each other and loudly making proclamations about the outcome of that day’s match.  Simon sauntered among the crowd, greeting as few men as possible on his way to the betting table.  Jostling, arguing, and boosting accompanied their wagers with a bit of side betting and competition thrown in for fun.

“Lord Basset!” a man called out to Simon over the cheerful din of male voices.

The duke turned his head to see Penelope’s father pushing through the crowd towards him.  “Good morning, Lord Featherington!”

“Who’s your money on, Your Grace?” the baron yelled, his eyes hungry for a win.  He had already put sixty shillings on the prince’s man, but he wondered if he should hedge his bet.

“I always bet on Will,” Simon replied cheerfully, looking towards where the boxer was getting ready for the fight.

“He is your friend, is he not?”

“Yes, he and his wife.”

Lord Featherington looked confused.  Will Mondrich was not the type of man that a duke would normally count as a friend.  “How unusual,” he mused, wandering back towards the betting table.

“Good day,” Simon bid out of habit, although, the baron probably couldn’t hear him anymore.  It made him sad that Penelope’s father hadn’t thought to ask after her welfare, intent as he was on gambling.  Simon didn’t plan to tell her about the conversation.

He wandered over to Will’s side of the boxing ring, standing near Alice to guard her from the rough men who frequented these types of events.  Directly across from him, he saw Prince Fredrick and Daphne sitting a respectable distance apart, their heads turned towards each other in conversation.  The three Bridgerton brothers sat a few levels up from their sister, keeping careful watch over her like avenging warriors.  He smiled at them, but only Anthony noticed and gave him a nod.

“Is it true you have been training with the duke,” a nobleman asked Will, assessing Simon critically.  Betting on the match hadn’t closed yet, and all the men were eager to get insider information on who to back.

Simon threw his hands in the air self-deprecatingly.  “Let us not exaggerate my role, Gentlemen.  I am a just his student, mostly used for target practice.”  He valued his friendship with Will and didn’t want to share him with others.  He recognized it was selfish, but he didn’t care, especially not with the sourness in his marriage.

“His Grace is modest,” Will said soothingly with a bit of humor.  “He is one of the least pitiful pupils I have ever trained.”  The gentlemen laughed at his joke, just like he was hoping they would.  “You would do well following his lead and wagering on me today.  Is that not right, Hastings?”  He noticed the pained look on his friend’s face when he addressed him by his title, but it was the name he claimed among the peerage.

After taking a moment to recover from the shock of hearing his father’s name, Simon replied enthusiastically, “He is the smart bet.  The prince’s man is intriguing because he is new, but Monderich is a local.  We should support our own against the foreigner.”  He looked over at where the prince was sitting, which brought Daphne into his line of sight.  With a shock, he realized that in another life, he may have been a competitor with the royal for the Bridgerton girl’s affection.  She gave him a warm smile, and he responded with a nod.

Prince Fredrick noticed her attention had drifted towards the duke, a man he didn’t yet know, and frowned.  “I had hoped your brother would allow you to come today, so we could spend more time together.  I admit that I am surprised to see you, though.”

Daphne turned her attention to him, blushing.  “With three older brothers, Your Highness, I am quite comfortable in a traditionally masculine setting.  I have even been known to beat my eldest brother in a horse race.”

“You are close to your family, are you not?”  He glanced behind them to the vigilant brothers, who were all too absorbed in the fight to pay attention to his courtship.  A small mercy, he was sure.

“They are the dearest thing to me in all the world.”  Her biggest hesitation in encouraging the prince’s suit was his foreignness.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to be separated from her family for the rest of their lives.

“Although I do not have siblings, I grew up around my cousins.  I hope that my own children are allowed the same privilege.”  He brought up the possibility of offspring almost shyly, nervous about approaching that subject too early.

Daphne’s heart soared when she realized the prince had no desire to isolate her from her siblings.  “With seven brother and sisters, I imagine there will be plenty of cousins available for all sorts of mischief.”  She looked backwards towards her brothers and was surprised to find Anthony missing.

A few minutes previously, Anthony caught the eye of his former mistress, Sierra.  She locked eyes with him, sending him invitations of longing with her gaze.  Matching her intensity, he stared at her.  Loudly, he announced to his brothers that he was going for a beer and slipped under the bleachers.  A few minutes later, Sierra joined him.

Simon watched Anthony duck out of sight and wondered if he was hoping to spy on the prince and his sister from below them.  When he saw the woman join the viscount, he understood the real reason.  He smiled to himself, reveling in his friend’s rakish behavior.  Someday soon, these days of public congress with his left-handed wife would be over, because he would have a legal wife to which Anthony planned to remain faithful.

With sickening clarity, he realized why his wife was upset with him.  He swore vilely, which fortunately was not out of place in the setting.  Technically, he did not cheat on her last night, but Penelope wouldn’t know that.  She only saw him return home late, smelling like cheap perfume.  He needed to get back to her and explain, but he couldn’t leave during the match.

The second half of the boxing exhibition dragged on, as the two opponents pummeled each other for prize money.  All Simon could think about was his wife’s tear-stained face and cold voice.  He had no idea how he was going to make it up to her, but he knew it had to be meaningful.

When the final bell rang, Anthony reemerged out from under the bleachers and made his way over to Simon.  “Congratulations, Monderich!” he enthused, clapping the pugilist on the back.  “Jolly good fight!”  He turned towards his friend.  “I thought we could look over your books together this afternoon, Simon, if you are amendable.  I believe your wife and Lady Danbury are at the house as well, so we can make a party of it.”

Perhaps if he and Penelope could get a moment alone, he wouldn’t have to wait until evening to confess to her.  “Thank you, Anthony.  I will see you there.”  He turned his attention back towards Will and promoting him to the gentlemen crowding around him.

<><><><><>

While the men were watching a blood sport, Ladies Danbury and Basset were assisting Lady Bridgerton in the far more dangerous activity of planning a ball.  Even for a well-established family such as the Bridgertons, a poorly attended or badly orchestrated event could harm their reputation or even discredit them in society.  This ball was even more important because the queen planned to attend with her entourage and use the evening to elevate her latest pet project, Penelope Basset.

Under the expert guidance of the dowagers, Penelope learned how to instruct and supervise servants as they polished silver, repainted floors, dusted banisters, trimmed wicks, rearranged furniture, hung garlands, and arranged flowers.  The house was a swirl of organized chaos with every person moving meaningfully and quickly to do Lady Bridgerton’s bidding.  After a month of isolation, Penelope found it quite dizzying.

“Are you alright, my dear?” the viscountess asked, laying a motherly hand on Penelope’s arm.  Her adopted daughter had been acting a bit strange all morning, but now she looked pale and weak.

“Forgive me, Lady Bridgerton.  I am feeling a bit lightheaded.”  She had always sneered at women who passed out in public, assuming they were looking for attention.  Now, she was the one teetering on her feet.

Violet wrapped her arm around her for support and lead her into her private sitting room.  “Please do not apologize, Penelope.  You are still recovering from your trial, and I have pushed you too hard.  Let us sit and have tea for a few minutes.  I am sure you will feel better soon.”  She nodded to a maid, who curtsied and hurried out of the room.

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, but you do not need to sit with me.  I know you are very busy.”  Lady Danbury remained in the ballroom to oversee the preparations, and she was more than capable, but Penelope felt unworthy of Violet’s uninterrupted attention.

“You are a married woman now, Penelope,” the viscountess said with a smile.  “Call me Violet.  I meant to tell you earlier this week, but I never felt like we had time to chat just the two of us.  Benedict tells me your painting sessions are going well.”

“Yes, both artists are very skilled.”

Lady Bridgerton scrunched her eyebrows at Penelope’s polite, but impersonal answer.  Perhaps the new duchess was trying to seem more mature, not quite comfortable in her new role yet or sure how she should relate to a peer of the realm.  “What did you think of the queen’s menagerie?  I know Her Majesty adores her zebras, but I thought the giraffes were most interesting.”

“It was kind of our queen to share her collection with me.”

Another overly polite, flat answer.  Violet searched her mind for something that would draw her daughter into the conversation.  “How is Clyvedon?  Are you settling in well as mistress of that big castle?”

Clyvedon made Penelope think of Simon, which reminded her of their disagreement.  “Lord Basset has given me a suite of rooms to myself, which is where I spend most of my time.”

Startled by the duchess calling her husband by his title, Lady Bridgerton placed her hand on the younger woman’s knee.  “Penelope, I know I am not your mother, but I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything.”

At that moment, the maid returned with a tea cart of treats, and Penelope was saved from having to answer Violet’s gentle inquiry.  “My lady, the cook has sent up samples of tomorrow’s hors d’oeuvers for you to taste.”  The maid arranged the food in easy reach of both women and prepared their tea.

“Thank you, Harriet,” Lady Bridgerton said, dismissing her with a smile a few minutes later.  “Do not worry about being polite today, my dear.  We need to take at least one bite of everything here, so we can give our approval or disapproval to the cook.”  She waved her hand at the food with a smile, then picking up a small egg tart.  Just as she instructed Penelope, Violet nibbled a small bite, chewed it thoughtfully, and set it back on her plate.  “Very well done.  What do you think, Penelope?” she asked, urging the duchess to enjoy the spread.

Penelope chose her favorite, a strawberry fancy.  She turned it over in her fingers a few times, admiring the beautiful pink frosting.  When she finally tasted it, she couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face.  “Delicious.”

“I remembered that strawberry was your favorite, so I asked the cook for a few options.  Please tell me what you think of the tarts.”

A lump formed in Penelope’s throat.  She couldn’t remember a time when someone had made an effort to provide something just for her enjoyment.  Her fingers found the jam dessert, a perfect combination of last summer’s sunshine on a crisp buttery crust.

“It warmed my heart to see Simon doting on you the other night at dinner, like my late husband used to treat me, so tender and obliging.”  Lady Bridgerton’s face grew soft as she remembered the loving relationship she had with Edmund.  Their tragic romance tended to paint everything Violet saw with rose-colored spectacles, causing her to see similar feelings where none existed.

Penelope knew that Simon was pretending to be an attentive husband to make everyone, but especially Lady Bridgerton, believe that their relationship was more stable than in reality.  She hesitated only a moment before shattering the illusion.  “He went to a brothel last night.”

Violet choked on her tea.  “With Anthony?”  She wouldn’t have been happy with her son if that was the case, but the peer pressure and desire to spend time with friends would have been more understandable from Simon’s side.

“I did not ask.”

The viscountess wasn’t sure where to take the conversation from this point.  Edmund never frequented brothels during their marriage, but he was a rake before their wedding.  She expected a similar pattern from her sons, including Simon, but she didn’t know how to advise Penelope if her husband had decided not to give up with rakish ways.  “I still believe what I told you the day of your wedding.  Only you can take your broken quill and write your story.  Do not give up on your happily ever after, my dear.”

“Do I smell food?” Gregory asked hopefully, sticking his head into the room.

Lady Bridgerton laughed.  “You are getting more like Colin every day.  Come in, Son.”

The lanky teen started to grab for the food, but a small sound from his mother’s throat stopped him in his tracks.  “Good afternoon, Lady Basset,” he greeted shyly as he bowed, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks.  He sat next to his mother and hoped the ladies would ignore him.

“Hello, Gregory.”  Penelope smiled at him, appreciative for the distraction.  “I am surprised you are not at the boxing match with your brothers.”

The boy swallowed a cucumber sandwich in one bite and replied with a frown, “Anthony says not until after I have started at Eton.”

“Just a few more years, then,” Penelope added optimistically, handing him a strawberry tart, which made him blush again.  Although she thought of him as a little brother since she remembered when he was a toddler, he had a bit of a crush on her as one of the few women in society that paid any attention to him.  She thought it was sweet.

“Right now, your focus needs to be on your studies, dearest.  How are your Latin lessons progressing?”

Gregory looked at his lap.  It had been a hard morning, and he was feeling very discouraged about his schoolwork.  “It is fine, Mother.”

Penelope honed into her adopted brother’s mood.  “It is alright if Latin is not your strength, Gregory.  You have other subjects to which you will excel.”

“I do find math to be easy, and I enjoy learning about botany.”  He hoped it wasn’t bragging to inform his crush of his talents.  In a family with so many gifted siblings, he struggled to find something that was uniquely his own.

She smiled at him encouragingly.  “What have you learned about plants lately?”

Popping another sandwich in his mouth, he swallowed quickly and became animated as he explained seed germination.  He was excited for the end of the social season, so he could spend more time with the gardener at Aubrey Hall and study plants outdoors.

“Did I tell you he ruined my gloves digging for worms?” Eloise interrupted, flouncing into the room and plopping on the settee next to her friend.

“I did not!” Gregory argued, making a face at her.  “Beside, they were Daphne’s gloves!”

“Ha!  Then you admit it,” she screeched, jabbing her finger in his direction.

“Eloise,” Lady Bridgerton interjected with a strict calmness, “Anthony told me that you ruined Daphne’s gloves digging for worms.”

Penelope covered her mouth to hide her smile.  Some things had not changed.  “Did you finish Pride and Prejudice?”  Just as she predicted, the question launched her friend into a monologue about the book and its themes.

“Excuse me, Lady Basset, Mother.  I must return to my tutor now.”  The ladies bid him well as he bowed to them, grabbing a handful of treats for the walk back to the schoolroom.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- Left-handed wife is a Regency term for prostitute

- a fancy or fancies is a petit four or bite sized cake

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

When the men arrived back at Bridgerton House, Simon was disappointed to discover that Penelope had already returned with Lady Danbury to rest.  His friend ushered him into his study to work on the Hastings’ accounts after they spent a few moments greeting his mother and sisters.  Anthony’s experience as head of his household had proved helpful to Simon, but the records were still a tangle.

At the advice of the Bridgerton solicitor, the men decided to completely start over, using the old books as a guide.  It was a tedious process as they made lists of assets, liabilities, properties, and expenses that all needed to be researched and updated.  Simon appreciated his help, but he realized with dread how much work still needed to be done when he returned to his estate.

Tears running down her face, Hyacinth burst into the room and ran straight into Anthony’s arms, which seemed to open to accept her automatically.

“What is the matter, Hy?” he asked her softly, rubbing her back with one hand and cradling her head with another.

She sobbed against his chest for a few moments before sputtering, “Gregory… put… a mouse… in… my room!”

Her big brother held her a little longer and allowed her to cry as Simon watched with fascination.  He wondered if comforting an adult woman was as easy to console as a child.  Noting the placement of the two siblings’ bodies, he observed how relaxed she became in her brother’s arms and how tenderly he cradled her.

After her sobs quieted a little, Anthony released her and handed her his handkerchief.  “Why do you think Gregory put a mouse in your room?”

“Well,” she hesitated, but she knew her brother wouldn’t allow her to leave until she confessed.  “I hid his Latin book, and he was scolded by his tutor.”

“Hyacinth,” Anthony said firmly.

“I gave it back.”  She held out the handkerchief pinched between her thumb and fingers, offering it back to him with the exact motion that she had used on Gregory earlier that day.

“You and Gregory are always teasing and joking.  Perhaps it has gone too far?”  Both of the youngest siblings added a lot of levity to the family, but their rivalry with each other also added a lot of chaos to the household.  Heaven help him if they ever figured out they could work together.

“I will just have to think of better ways to get him back,” she said resolutely as Simon hid a grin behind his hand.

“Remember, Hyacinth, Bridgertons are good natured in their jesting, not mean-spirited.  You must ensure that the other person will find the joke funny as well.”  He stood and began walking her to the door.  “Run back to your governess, and I will see you at dinner.  Alright?”

“I love you, Anthony!” she exclaimed, ramming into him for a quick hug before skipping out of sight.

When she was gone, the viscount stepped out of the room in search of his staff.  “Please have Gregory brought to me and set a mousetrap in Hyacinth’s bedroom.”  He returned to his study, pouring himself and Simon a snifter of brandy.  “Sorry for the intermission.  This is the part of being the viscount that most people rarely see.”

“I am enjoying the break.  My head has been swimming with numbers and all the things I still need to uncover.”  Simon sipped his drink, relaxing into the chair contentedly, ready for act two.

“You wanted to see me?” Gregory asked, entering the study confidently and standing before his brother.

Matching the boy’s energy, Anthony sipped his brandy casually.  “How are you doing in Latin?”

Instantly, Gregory’s face fell.  “I am not very good at it.  My tutor is always scolding me for not trying, but I do try!”

“We can only do our best.”  He leaned towards him, turning his body away from Simon to create a confidence.  “Can you keep a secret, Brother?”

“Yes!”  Gregory’s eyes lit up with excitement, wondering what his oldest brother would tell him.

“I was not good at Latin either,” he whispered, shaking his head with regret.

“But you are the viscount.”

Anthony laughed.  “Unfortunately, my title did not come with language learning skills.  Colin seems to have been particularly blessed in that category.”

“What did you do?”

“I kept working at it and I muddled through.  However, if your Latin tutor is not kind to you, I will get you another one.”

“He was very angry today that I did not have my book.  He threatened to whip me.”

Anthony drew his brother in for a hug.  “No one is going to whip you.  I will speak with him.”

“Thank you.”  The relief on Gregory’s face was obvious.

“Now,” his brother began in a serious tone, “there is one more thing we need to discuss.  Did you put a mouse in Hyacinth’s room?”

The boy looked confused, unsure if his brother was teasing him.  “No?”

“Your sister thinks you did.  Do you know why?”

“Probably because of the mess with my tutor, but I did not do it.  Perhaps the mouse found the biscuits that she sneaked into her room.”

Anthony pinched his nose for a second in exasperation, making a mental note to speak with Hyacinth and her governess about the pilfered sweets.  He sighed- it was always one thing after another, in an unending line.

“Alright.  I had hoped you had not done something so mean.  I know you and your sister like to tease each other, but a mouse would have been too far.”  Anthony glanced at Simon, bringing him into their manly circle.  “Ladies get frightened by things like mice, and we must never frighten a lady on purpose.”

“Your brother is right,” Simon added, speaking for the first time.  “Sometimes protecting a woman means not doing things that scare her.”

The viscount nodded.  “Hyacinth was very upset.”

“Even though I did not put the mouse in her room, may I check on her before I return to my studies?”

“I am sure she would appreciate it, Gregory.  Thank you.”  Anthony gave him one final hug before walking him to the door.

As soon as the door shut, Simon declared, “How do you do it, Bridgerton?”

“I parent them the way my father dealt with his children.  Gregory and Hyacinth have only known me as the head of the household, so they accept my authority easily.  The older ones struggle with it the most, but it is part of my job to lead them well.”

Simon had never wanted children, but being around the Bridgertons this week caused him to consider the possibility.  He never expected to have a wife, perhaps a family might be in his future as well.  Watching Anthony tenderly guide his siblings made Simon forget for a while his vow to never father an heir.  “Your father would be proud.  You make it look so natural.”  

“Are you trying to make me cry again,” the viscount scoffed.  “This cannot become a habit.”

Simon laughed.  “Back to the dusty numbers, then.”

<><><><><>

“I have been trying to be alone with you all day,” Simon announced with relief in his voice when he found his wife in their room.  “Can we talk?”

Penelope looked up from her book.  “Do you not have somewhere you would rather be tonight?” she sneered, trying to ignore the stab that hit her heart when she realized he could leave her.  Part of her wanted to run up and grab a hold of him and plead with him to stay with her, but she feared he would spurn her hopes and leave her desolate.  Dropping her eyes back to her book, she pretended to read.

He watched all the emotions flicker across her face.  “I want to be here, Penelope.”

She bit the inside of her lip, willing herself not to cry.  “I am not sleeping in the marriage bed,” she stated, stubbornly.

His eyebrows scrunched downwards, confused by her obsession and apprehension with his childhood bed.  “I am not asking you to do so; although, you can take the bed whenever you would like.  I can sleep elsewhere.”

“Yes, I know,” she snapped pointedly.

He sighed, sitting on the other end of the chaise.  “Penelope, we need to talk about what happened last night.”

“I know what happened.  I could smell it on you.”

“Will you please let me explain?”  He rubbed his eyebrows and took another deep breath.  “I did go to Madam Morrible’s last night, but-”

“Did you see my father there?”  She still had her face directed at her book, unwilling to look at him even if he had forced them to share the same space.

An arrow of understanding hit Simon between the eyes, as he remembered the conversation they had previously about rakes.  “No, I did not, but I want you to know that nothing happened.”

“You do not have to pretend with me.  I know men have their needs.”  She didn’t actually know what the phrase meant, but she thought it had something to do with the women at the brothel and what they did there.  Her mother often used it as an excuse for her father’s indiscretions.

“I did go there with the intention of fulfilling my… needs, but I left without doing anything.”

“I smelled her on you, Simon!”

“I sat next to a woman, but we did not kiss or hug or…”  The libertine duke found himself uncomfortable talking about this subject with his innocent wife.  He stammered a little while avoiding her face.  “O-or anything else.  I-I left without going to her bed.”

She frowned as she looked at him in surprise.  Although she didn’t understand what he mean exactly, she thought she understood enough.

“I was going to just leave, but then I looked into her face.  She had a bruise on her cheek and fear in her eyes, and I knew I could not walk away.”

“Why?”

“She looked like you did the day I came to propose to you.  She was even wearing a yellow dress.  Penelope,” he pleaded with her with his eyes as well as his voice, “I am so sorry.”

“You promised,” she whispered, her icy exterior breaking apart as the sadness flooded back over her.

“I know.  I am so, so sorry.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “I paid for her entire night.”  As tears streamed down his wife’s face, he knew he had to find a way to fix this brokenness between them.  “I did not touch her, Penelope.  I swear to you.  The money I gave her bawd allowed her to spend the night asleep, without the company of any men.  A night off from work, I guess you might say.”

“Did you break our marriage vows?” she spat out, her voice sharp again.

He could see her fortifying herself, ready for him to break her heart.  “No, Penelope,” he whispered gently, “I did not.”  To his shame, he had planned to stomp right over them and he came close to breaking his vows, but he didn’t cross the line.

“I am so sorry for making you think that I did.  I'm sorry for not coming home to you last night.  I'm sorry for breaking my promise to you.  I'm sorry that it took me so long to figure out what I had done wrong.  I'm sorry-”

“What was her name?” she demanded, unmoved by his impassioned apology.

“What?”  He wasn’t expecting that question.

“What was her name?” she asked again.

“Abigail.”

Penelope nodded slightly as if he had just confirmed something for her.  “She came with us to the country one summer.  Mother told us to stay away from her, but I managed to have a few conversations with her.  She is very nice.”

Horror flooded Simon’s body as he registered what her words meant.  “Are you sure?  Abigail is pretty young to be a kept woman.”

“Abigail from Madam Morrible’s whorehouse?  I am sure she is the same person- I recognized her perfume.  My father still visits her sometimes.  She is about the same age as my oldest sister, so she must have been about sixteen that summer.  My father even gave her a few yellow dresses, castoffs from my sisters and I.”

She babbled out the story without comprehending the context of everything she said.  Her mother didn’t like Abigail, of course, but Penelope thought it was just because her parents were fighting all the time.  She did think it was strange that Abigail shared a bedroom with her father, but she didn’t know what that signified.

Simon knew exactly what Penelope meant.  With a hand on his mouth, he ran out of the room to cast up his accounts into the chamber pot.  In all of his years as a rake, it had never occurred to him that the women he encountered existed for any other purpose than his pleasure.  He certainly never thought about the other men who had also been with them.  Of course, he wasn’t stupid- he understood that other men used the women the same way he did.  He just didn’t think about it.

His reaction to her story surprised her.  She followed him into the retiring room, hovering near the doorway as he got sick.  Guilt washed over her as she watched the effects her words had on him.  She knew her father had never reacted this way when confronted about his indiscretions.  Despite herself, she felt compassionate towards him. 

He continued retching until his stomach was empty, but he couldn’t stop.  Abigail’s face swam before his eyes.  Slowly, he became aware of a small hand gently rubbing his back.  “I'm sorry,” he repeated over and over, tears in his eyes.

“Simon, tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it.”

He raised his head to look in her eyes, as she withdrew her hand quickly from fear.  It stabbed him to see how she stood poised to run from him.  “Thank you.”

“Let’s go to sleep.  Tomorrow will be a difficult day.”  She wasn’t sure she trusted him or even forgave him, but Lady Bridgerton’s words were echoing in her head.  Her happiness was in her own hands, and she knew she had to find a way to make their marriage work.

Weakly, he nodded and followed her back to their bedroom.  He gathered her bedding and set to work making her bed, a silent act of contrition.  He knew it wasn’t enough, but it would need to suffice for the night.

Meanwhile, Penelope got a clean linen cloth and wet it, wringing it out slowly.  Her heart was pounding with the anticipation of what she was going to do, but she would not allow herself to falter.  “Sit down, Simon,” she ordered quietly, her voice strained with anxiety.

Confused, he stepped away from the chaise and lowered himself to the bed.  He tucked his hands under his legs, hoping to appear less threatening.  She seemed so afraid of him that his heart pinched, and he hung his head in shame.

With trembling hands, she lightly gripped his chin with one hand, tipping his face up to look at her.  Gently, she began wiping his mouth with the cloth, erasing all traces of his illness.  Her stomach felt sick from the vulnerability of the moment, and she wondered if she would also cast up her accounts.

His wife’s tender, forgiving caresses cracked Simon’s armor.  Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.  Never had anyone touched him so gently, so openly.  “I do not deserve you,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough with emotion.

She dropped her hands from his face and stepped away from him.  “I cannot give you any more.”

Driven by a confusing flood of emotions, he slipped off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling in front of her.  “Then, allow me to give you all you deserve and more.”

Something crackled and flashed in the air between them, as they froze in position looking at each other.  After a few minutes, Simon slowly moved his hand to the hem of her nightgown, playing with the fabric and watching her face for permission to continue.  Neither of them breathed.

Her hand made contact with his face before she even realized she had slapped him.  “Oh!” she exclaimed, fear paralyzing her as she wondered how he would react.

The lust burning in his eyes instantly cooled.  “I deserved that,” he admitted, putting a hand on his reddened cheek.  “In fact, I probably deserve more than one.”

Penelope nodded gravely and hit his other cheek.

Simon laughed aloud, as she began sobbing at the shock of what she had done.  “It’s alright, Penelope.  Let’s try to sleep now, and we can talk more in the morning.”  Standing, he moved towards the pull cord, calling for Ruby to help his wife prepare for bed.

🌸 🌸 🌸

- “tomorrow is a new day” quote from “Anne of Green Gables” movie (1985)

- the flatback snap mouse trap that we commonly use today was not invented until the 1890s

- “I do not deserve you” is a nod to Hamilton the musical.  “There are moments that the words don’t reach.  There is a grace too powerful to name….”

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Simon didn’t sleep a wink the night after the boxing match as he thought about how to reconcile with Penelope.  He wanted to do something big and memorable that showed his earnestness and contrition.  Flowers were too simple and disposable.  Jewelry seemed too cliche.

He wished he had an older, married man he would speak to for advice.  Definitely not his own father, but maybe someone like Anthony’s father.  He briefly thought about asking Lady Bridgerton, but he felt embarrassed to admit his flaws to her, and avoided Lady Danbury out of pure self-preservation.

By the time his wife was getting up from the chaise the next morning, Simon had the beginning of a plan.  “Penelope, I will be away from the house for most of the day.  If you would like, you could take a long bath before you need to get dressed for the ball.”  Discouraged when her eyes widened in fear, he explained in a low whisper, “You can relax without worrying that I will barge into the room."

His offer warmed her heart a little.  “That does sound nice,” she sighed, smiling wistfully.

“You should bring your book and stay in the water for hours,” he suggested teasingly.  “You must continuously call for more hot water to be brought to you, because you are my spoiled duchess.”  He leaned daringly close to her, while still giving her plenty of space.  His fingers itched to bop her nose playfully.  He held his breath, hoping she wasn’t still angry at him.

“Hey!  I am not spoiled!”  She crossed her arms over her chest and scrunched her nose.

He leaned a little closer so he could whisper against her ear.  “Then I have not been doing my job.”

Her breath hitched, forgetting for a moment why she was upset with him.  “Save your pretty words for your pretty mistresses,” she snarled, afraid of the temptation he offered in his voice.

He barked a short, unaffected laugh.  “I will be back with plenty of time to get ready for the ball.”  With a quick head bow, he dashed out the door, knowing that if he waited another second he might have done something irreversible like ask to join her in the bath.

<><><><><>

The first stop on Simon’s list was a high end perfumer called Floris. From the first moment he walked into the luxurious store, he was surrounded by thousands of competing fragrances.  He was immediately intimidated.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” the salesman chirped eagerly with a warm smile and a respectful bow.  “How may we help you?”

“I am looking for a perfume for my wife.”  He wasn’t sure why, but it made him proud to call Penelope his wife and to announce it so boldly.

“Do you know what she likes?”  The salesman lead the duke to the perfume sales counter and began hovering his hand over porcelain bottles.

“Orange blossom is her favorite.”  A jab of fear hit his chest when he remembered the mistake he made with the yellow jewelry.  He really hoped she liked the scent she always wore.  The panic was enough to nearly cause him to give up his entire plan.

The salesman watched fear cross the nobleman’s face and smiled.  It was a common response to the overwhelming nature of picking out such a personal gift as a perfume.  Unstopping the first bottle, he waved it under the duke’s nose.  “What do you think of this one?” 

“It is similar to the one she wears now.”

“Your wife has good taste, Your Grace,” he flattered, recapping the bottle.  He hesitated over a few more bottles before selecting one to show his customer.  “This one is similar to the other, but it is a bit more sophisticated.  The Prince Regent favors gifting this one to his mistresses.”

Simon smelled the perfume dutifully, but winced at the mention of mistresses.  “I was hoping to find something unique.”  The implication being that he didn’t want to gift his wife the same scent as several other women, even if they did have associations to royalty.

Without realizing it, the duke had said the magic words.  Smiling even larger, the salesman offered, “If you are looking for a scent as incomparable and elegant as your wife, we can create such a fragrance in our perfumery.  Our experts will help you select the scents that best fit and craft a custom perfume just for her.  We keep ledger books of recipes to assure that we can remake your specific scent whenever you would like.  Of course, we can make perfume, but we can also add your blend to soaps, hair powders, creams, or whatever else you may wish.”  He finished his speech by taking out a small book and ink pot from a drawer and preparing to take notes.

“Could you have it ready in a few hours?  I can pay extra,” he said eagerly, excited about gifting Penelope a scent that would only belong to her.

“Of course, Your Grace.  Would you like to pick it up or should we deliver it?”

“I will come by for it.  Just the perfume for now.”  The two men talked for a little longer about Penelope’s preferences and some ideas for fragrances.  Very satisfied with his progress, Simon thanked the man and headed to the next stop on his plan.

<><><><><>

“Perhaps we can tell them I am sick?” Penelope asked weakly, while Ruby curled and arranged her hair for the Bridgerton ball.  She did feel ill, but the color her maid had added to her cheeks and lips made her appear less pale.

“You cannot ignore a summons from Her Majesty, My lady,” Ruby reminded her.

“Perhaps I can run away?” Penelope suggested desperately.

Boldly, the maid continued to contradict her mistress.  “You will anger her.”

“The dungeon would be preferable to society,” Penelope stated morosely. “I am a wallflower, Ruby!  Fated to be a spinster before I even debuted.”

“You are not a spinster, My lady,” the maid reminded her with a cheeky smile.  “You are a duchess and must step away from the wall.”

“I like the wall,” Penelope pouted.  “I always get the first glass of lemonade and to hear the gossip from the footmen.  I know who the best dancers are and which couples are really in love, sometimes before they even announce their courtship.  No one bothers me or makes fun of my dresses.”

“Your new dresses are splendid, Your Grace.  I am sure no one will bother you about them except to add compliment upon compliment.”  Ruby turned the conversation towards some chatty downstairs gossip to distract her mistress while she continued the preparations.

Just as the maid was adding the last pins to her mistress’s hair, a knock sounded at the door.  She answered it and quickly bobbed a curtsy.  “Your Grace,” she greeted formally, blocking Simon’s entrance with her body.

“May I come in, Ruby?” he asked her graciously, stepping back to not intimidate her.  His valet has ensured he was perfectly attired with a tailored suit, crisp cravat, and waistcoat the exact shade of his wife’s dress. They were guaranteed to make a striking pair.

“My lady?”  The maid looked to Penelope for her approval, then opened the door further to admit the duke.

“Good evening, Penelope.”  He smiled as he walked towards her, a couple velvet boxes in his hands.  “I hope I am not interrupting your preparations, but I have gifts for you.”

“For me, Your Grace?”  Penelope lowered her eyes, biting her lip and wringing her hands.  She battled anxiety all day long, but her husband’s presence often made it worse, especially when he did something unexpected.

“Yes, you are not the only one who went shopping this week,” he said teasingly.  He handed her the box, which she opened and took out a necklace of diamonds and emeralds with matching earrings.  “Precious gems for my duchess!  And not yellow this time,” he teased, hinting at his misguided wedding gift.

“It is too much, Your Grace!” she protested as Ruby tied the necklace in place.  The green jewels complimented her dress and contrasted nicely with her red hair, but she felt unworthy of his attention.  Her mother’s voice screamed in her head angrily, reminding her that she was ugly.  The ring of gems drew attention to her neck and over-sized decolletage, two parts of her body she wished she could hide.

“Nonsense!  You look beautiful.  Do not believe a word to the contrary.”  He looked at her proudly, studying her costume from the top of her perfectly coiffed head to her dainty slippered feet.  She really was lovely.  He forced himself to return his gaze to her eyes.

She put her hand to her throat and held onto the necklace as if it was choking her.  “And you think this disguise will convince the Ton that I am one of them?”

“You have always been one of them, but now you are a duchess.  There are few who outrank you, and no one who will look down on you.  Be brave, Penelope.”

Penelope knew her husband meant well and seemed sincere, but she could not agree with his words.  She knew it was easy for him to stand bravely when he was naturally tall and easily commanded a room.

Despite her high rank, many people would be gossiping about her and speculating about her quick marriage.  Simon was unlikely to hear any of it, since men were protected by a special bubble of privilege.  She dreaded facing Cressida and her other bullies, who she knew would be waiting for their opportunity to pounce on her.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said after a few moments hesitation, her face a grim mask of apprehension.  Reluctantly, she fastened the earrings onto her ears and studied her appearance in the mirror.  Ruby had done well.

“Are you ready, Penelope?” Simon asked gently, mindful of her anxiety.

When her mistress didn’t answer, Ruby replied, “I am finished, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Ruby.  You may resume your other duties.”  He waited until the maid left before kneeling down beside his wife.  “I have one more gift for you.”

“You do not need to buy my forgiveness, Your Grace.”

“I am not,” he protested, his voice low and earnest.  “I am spoiling my duchess.”  He handed her the second box.

Penelope ran her fingers over the gilded coat of arms on the lid of the box, her mouth falling open when she recognized the brand.  Reverently, she opened the box to reveal a porcelain bottle of perfume and a handmade ivory comb.

She pulled out the comb first, running her fingers over the smooth teeth and admiring the engraving along the top of it.  “It is beautiful,” she whispered.  She had never owned an ivory comb, only wood, and she smiled as she gently laid it down.

The comb had been a gamble for Simon, as he wasn’t sure how a practical grooming item would be received as a gift.  He enjoyed watching her face as she explored the comb.  For a moment, he allowed himself the indulgence to imagine running it through her hair himself.

Next, she took the perfume bottle in her hand, turning it over and admiring the pastoral scene painted on it.  She opened the lid and pulled out the glass stopper.  Delicately, she waved the bottle under her nose and smiled joyously.  “It is astounding!  I smell orange blossom, jasmine, and sandalwood.”  She smelled it again and sighed, “Oh, I love it!”

Simon let out his breath as the stress he had been feeling melted away.  She liked his gift!  “I had it crafted especially for you,” he explained, matching her smile.  “It is completely, uniquely your own blend.  No other woman in the world will wear this exact scent.”

She looked at him in disbelief.  “No one?”

“None.  This is exclusively Lady Penelope Basset, the Duchess of Hastings’ personal scent.  Will you wear it tonight?”  His excitement over her initial reaction stilled as he waited for her answer.

Instead of responding, she fished the glass stylus out of the bottle and ran it across her wrists before rubbing them together.  With another smile, she smelled her skin.  “It is perfect.”

He picked up the stylus from the dressing table and dipped it into the bottle before applying it to his own wrist.  “And, I will smell like no other woman again,” he promised, looking into her eyes to show his sincerity.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t allow them to fall.  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“We must leave now or we risk upsetting the queen.  It is time to show everyone your power, Lady Basset.”  He stood and offered his hand to help her to her feet.  “Please allow me to escort you to our carriage.”  He held out his arm, so she could cling to him as they descended the stairs.

“There you two are!” Lady Danbury huffed the moment she spotted them.  “Hurry along!  We must not keep Her Majesty waiting!”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- Floris of London is a family-owed perfume company that has been operating since the 1600s.  They have recipe ledgers of exclusive scents for many famous and wealthy people throughout history.  They also specialized in ivory combs and other toiletries.

- Floris started as an ivory comb specialist.  Ivory not only had to be imported from Africa, but it also required a delicate hand to carve it into a useful object.

- Stephanotis is a current perfume line made by Floris of London from their Regency era recipes.  You can read the full description of the scent on their website.

- Also, we’re going to pretend that Simon isn’t the type of man to buy the same perfume for this mistress as his wife.  He will learn from this mistake!

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Lady Danbury spent the short journey to Bridgerton House reminding Penelope of all the protocol she should remember.  Proper manners were even more important now that she was a high ranking peer.  “And for goodness sake, my dear, think before you curtsy!”

Penelope looked shocked by the countess’s harsh tone, but Simon explained it to her gently.  “You bow to only a few now, Lady Basset.”

Sitting next to her husband, sweating with nerves and nauseated with anxiety, Penelope pleaded with them, her voice choked with tears, “Please, take me home.”

“Steel your spine, Lady Basset,” Lady Danbury encouraged her firmly.  “Make them fear you.”  It wasn’t that she was unsympathetic towards her young friend’s distress, Agatha just knew it wouldn’t help to cower.  Only the fearless survived in their society, and the countess would not give up until the duchess was as formidable as she.
 
“You are my wife, Penelope,” Simon said quietly, his unflinching confidence filling the carriage.  “If anyone wants to disparage you, they will have to answer to me.  I will not leave your side.”

“All will be well, my dear,” Lady Danbury agreed with a nod of her head and a bang of her cane.  

A few minutes later, they stood at the doorway of the ballroom, waiting to be announced.  A footman removed Penelope’s cloak, exposing her to the harsh judgment of the Ton.

“Lord and Lady Simon Basset, Duke and Duchess of Hastings,” another footman cried out, as all the eyes in the room focused on her.

“The hardest part is over,” Simon whispered encouragingly, squeezing her arm against his body when he felt her start to tremble.  “Now, we greet the queen.”  He led her over to the platform where the monarch had her makeshift throne and waited to be addressed.

“You look flawless, Child,” Her Majesty said with a smile as the couple bowed to her.  “I am most eager to introduce you to my Ton.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”  Penelope hung her head demurely, hoping the queen could not see the terror in her eyes.

“Lady Bridgerton, I hear that our Lady Basset is of particular importance to you,” the queen commented, inviting the hostess of the ball to join the conversation.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Violet agreed, smiling gently at her adopted daughter and curtsying to the duke and duchess respectfully.  “Penelope grew up in my home, alongside my children.  She is very special to our entire family.”

“I can understand why.  Brimsley?”  The queen’s man stepped towards her and extended a small box.  Her Majesty opened it and took out a delicate crown.  “You are an emerald, my dear.  Forged under pressure, but shining more beautifully every day.”

Simon gazed down at his wife with admiration.  “She does indeed, Your Majesty.”

“Lord Basset, perhaps you can adorn your wife with this token of my blessing?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.  I would be honored.”  Simon took the emerald encrusted diadem from her and turned to place it on his wife’s head.  “Chin up, Penelope,” he reminded her softly.  “You wear the queen’s favor.”  He set the crown onto her head with a proud smile.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”  Penelope curtsied, mindful of the extra weight on her head.

“Beautiful,” Lady Bridgerton added with teary eyes.

“Now, I think it is time for my Sparkling Gem to dance with her husband,” the queen suggested.

They bowed to her one more time before descending the stairs to the ballroom.

Colin intercepted them at the bottom of the staircase.  “Pen!  You look so beautiful tonight!  You have not forgotten your promise to dance with me, right?”

“Good evening, Mr. Bridgerton,” Simon said with polite firmness, stepping just slightly closer to his wife and looking at the Bridgerton boy like he was a foolish puppy.

The criticism hardly registered as Colin continued.  “Thank you for coming, Lord Basset.  The men are in the billiards room, where you can find tobacco, hard liquors, and gambling.”

“Thank you, but I plan to stay with my wife this evening.”  He gazed down at her with an affection he was only beginning to feel and a possessiveness that surprised him.

Colin recoiled a bit when he heard his friend referred to as a wife, but responded with enthusiasm.  “You will save a spot on your dance card for me, though, will you not, Pen?”

“I already told you I would, Colin,” Penelope replied, slightly annoyed by his persistence.  She wanted to do the minimum and leave.

“Now, Wife,” Simon said with an emphasis on her title for the other man’s benefit, “it is time for our dance.”  He held out his hand to escort her to the floor, dismissing the younger man with a haughty look.

She took her position in front of him for the waltz, her heart pounding in fear.  “Are you sure you want to be seen standing up with me?”  Her eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal.

“I am honored to dance with my duchess.”  He inclined his head in a bow before throwing her a confident smile.  “It is just you and I in the room.  No one else matters.”

“I believe the queen would take offense at that,” she joked grimly as the music began.

“Look at me, Beautiful,” he coaxed smoothly, falling easily back into his rakish charms.

She blushed.  “Please do not say things you do not mean.”

“Of course I mean it- you are beautiful.  I have never lied to a woman about her beauty and I am not going to start now.”  His eyes were locked onto her face, forcing out everyone else from his sight.

“With so many women in your life, I imagine you got quite skilled at judging their beauty.”  Her tone was melancholic at the thought about his past.

“Which is why you can trust my assessment,” he teased, missing the emphasis in her comment.  

She felt unremarkable in a crowd, and his casual, flirty compliments were coming off as insecure.  “We do not need to pretend that you would have given me a second glance if you had not literally ran into me.”

Simon scrunched his face, confused at the turn in the conversation.  “We waltzed that night, too.”

“Because your godmother ordered you to dance with me.”  Penelope was finding the argument to be quite distracting for her nerves, while the crush of the crowd gave her courage to address things she never would have said in private.

“You are a very good dancer,” he said smoothly and arching an eyebrow at her, daring her to contradict him.

“You were not the first person to bump into me, you know.  Cressida and her friends have made it into a game.”

“I'm sorry for thinking that you were trying to force an introduction that night, but I do not regret bumping into you.  I am very glad to have met you, Penelope.”

“As long as you do not have to acknowledge me in public though, right?”

He looked at her bewildered by her accusation.  “I am dancing with you in public now.”

“Do you even know you rode right past me in the park or was I invisible to you?”

“I saw you, but it was out of respect for you that I did not address you.”

“Respect!” she replied loudly, drawing the eyes of the dancers nearby.

Embarrassed, Simon whispered, “Please, Penelope, people are watching.”

“I never asked them to watch.  I was perfectly content being a wallflower until you dragged me into the center of the room.”

His eyes lit up in merriment, secretly enjoying this feisty, prickly side of her.  “You have always belonged at the center of the room,” he whispered against her ear, taking advantage of their married status to be scandalously close to her.

“To answer your question,” he said in a conversational tone, “I did not want to give you false hope of a connection between us, since I had no plans to marry.  Besides, I think Anthony would have strangled me if I so much as smiled at you.  He is very protective, you know.”  He smiled at her, hoping she would mirror him, but she frowned instead.

“Why did you allow yourself to become trapped, then?”  Fortunately, she remembered to speak quietly when she revealed such a scandalous story.  “You could have just left me that night.  No one would have faulted you.”

His eyes got dark at the memory.  “No, I could not have walked away.”  He meant to add more details, but the music stopped.

“I need to go,” Penelope declared, pulling away from him.

He snatched at her, but with little effort, afraid of drawing too much attention to his fleeing wife.  Instead, he followed her, pretending like they were heading the same direction.  His head buzzed with fragments of their conversation.  It was the first time she had fully expressed her doubts and feelings to him.  He wasn’t sure what to do with the revelation.

“I suppose you are too grand now to visit your family when you are in town,” Lady Featherington accused loudly, dragging her other daughters behind her.

“Good evening, Mother,” Penelope replied reluctantly, cowering slightly before her family’s judgment.

“You must introduce your sisters to your husband’s friends,” she demanded with threatening tone.  “It is your duty as a duchess.”

“I do not know any of his friends.”  Except Lord Bridgerton to whom they were already acquainted.

“You ungrateful girl!  Selfish child!”  Portia sneered at her youngest daughter, hissing her accusations.

Simon appeared behind his wife, standing over her like an avenging angel.  “A girl who has the blessing of the Crown,” he snarled, his eyes blazing.

“Your Grace,” Lady Featherington responded with syrupy sweetness.  “How wonderful to see you tonight.”

“I am less than enthusiastic to see you.”

Penelope turned and looked at her husband in surprise.  Awkwardly, she reminded him that she still needed to use the retiring room.  He nodded, and she walked off alone.

“Lady Featherington, my wife is no longer a pawn you get to manipulate.  She has become a queen and she will decide what role you will have in her life.  Focus on your other two chess pieces, but leave my family alone.”  He threw them a sarcastic head bow and marched away from them.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- In chess, the lowest character on the board can become a queen, the most powerful piece, by crossing the board without dying

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Overwhelmed from the noise in the ballroom and upset by her conversation with her family, Penelope wove through the crowds to the women’s retiring room.  She wasn’t paying attention to her environment as she allowed the Ton to glide past her.  Her ears rang with sensory overload, and she thought she might be sick.

“Careful, Angel,” Cressida sneered quietly, intercepting her victim.  “Do not fly too close to the sun.”

Penelope tried to step around her and into the safety of the retiring room, but her bully followed her.

“Or perhaps you have already fallen,” the débutante suggested the moment they were alone.  “Everyone knows you prostituted yourself for money.  Your father gambled away your dowry and sold you to the duke for a couple thousand pounds.  Your family did not want you.  The duke does not want you.  No one wants you, Baggage.”

Throughout the assault, Penelope shrunk down further into herself until she was sitting on a dressing stool and allowing Cressida to tower over her and rain down insults.  Everything the débutante said were things Penelope had already been thinking about herself for weeks.

“You should be thanking me for spilling my drink on you that night,” Cressida continued, a triumphant boast in her voice.  “I gave you the perfect excuse to trap the duke.  Everyone knows that a sow like you could not have gotten him any other way.  He never wanted a wife and he will never love you.”

“Enough!” a male voice boomed, throwing open the door.  Simon had been standing outside the room waiting for his wife and had heard the entire conversation.

“Lord Basset, you should not be in here!” Cressida scolded, pretending to be scandalized.

“Get away from my wife!” he commanded, stepping towards them threateningly and putting his body between the women.  Picking up the diadem from the floor where it had fallen, he waved it in front of the débutante’s face.  “Do you know where Lady Basset received this crown?”

“My lord, it is most inappropriate for you to be in the women’s retiring room,” Cressida continued, ignoring his question.

“Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte, bestowed it on my wife just this evening.  A sign of her favor.  How do you think our sovereign would react to your accusations and threats against her Emerald of the Season?”

“Come now, Lord Basset, you know I speak true.  Penelope is an ugly whore who tricked you into marrying her because she would not have gotten a husband any other way.”

Simon’s hands balled into fists, while he forced himself to remember the lesson he had taught Gregory early in the week.  He must not hit her, no matter how much he wished to avenge his wife.  “Where is your husband, Cressida?” he asked with barely controlled rage.  “Perhaps you should try lifting your skirt and trapping your own man?”

“How dare you!” she growled.

He ignored her anger, turning toward Penelope, gently lifting her chin and staring intimately into her eyes.  “Lady Basset did not trap me into taking her hand.  She graciously agreed to marry me, bestowing upon me the greatest blessing of my life.  I am honored to call her my wife.”  For the second time that night, he gently laid the crown on her head.  “Be brave,” he mouthed to her, helping her stand beside him and twining their arms.

Standing tall and glaring down at the débutante aristocratically, Simon said, “Miss Cowper, you are the only daughter of untitled gentlemen.  My wife is a duchess, friend of Lady Danbury, and favorite of the queen.  You will never speak to Lady Basset in a disparaging way again, or I will see that you are shipped off to New Holland.  Better yet, do not say my wife’s name again.”  He put his other hand over the duchess’s and squeezed it lightly.  “Now, curtsy to my wife to show your recognition of her superior title.”

Cressida looked up Simon to see if he meant what he said and was met with steely resolution.  Swallowing hard, she gave the smallest bow.
 
Now leave,” he commanded, pointing his finger at the door as if she was nothing more than a dog.  No longer acknowledging the débutante, the duke smiled indulgently at his wife and said, “I will wait for you just outside, dear.  Please, take your time.”  He left the room so she could attend to her personal issues and get a few moments to compose herself.

A small crowd had gathered by the door to listen to the fight, and they stared openly at the couple as Simon and Penelope passed through them.  “Do not give into them,” he warned in a low tone, leading her towards the dance floor again.  “You must rise above their gossip.”

“Pen!  It is time for our dance!” Colin announced, hand outstretched in a grand, performative gesture, ready to rescue his friend from whatever had distressed her.

She wanted nothing more than to curl up and sob until she no longer had a voice.  “I am ready to go home,” she whispered, pleading with them to show her mercy.  Both men could see the exhaustion in her face, but they knew the importance of the next few moments.

“The queen has been asking about you,” Colin said quietly.  “She wanted to know where her Sparkling Gem had gone.”  His implication was clear, one did not disappoint their sovereign.  The queen was expecting to be entertained, and tonight the main performer was Penelope.

“And Her Majesty will be watching you now,” her husband reminded her.

“What do you say, Pen?”  Colin gave her a goofy, charming smile and bowed to her.

“Show them that you do not wilt under pressure,” Simon whispered, passing her off to the other man’s waiting hand, pushing down his feelings of dread.

“Thank you, Lord Basset,” Colin said with a nod, before turning his attention to his friend and leading her onto the dance floor.  “Look, there is Daphne with Prince Fredrick!”  He gestured minutely toward his sister and her partner, who were also preparing to dance.  The débutante wore a heavy diamond necklace, rumored to have been a gift from the prince.

Penelope appreciated the distraction.  “Daphne deserves every happiness.”

Simon moved to the refreshment table, hoping a lemonade would cool his blood.  He thought about retiring to the billiards room to obtain a stronger drink, but he didn’t want to leave his wife for even a few moments.  Although he knew he could probably trust Bridgerton to protect and honor Penelope, he didn’t like how enthusiastic Colin had been to get near her.  Instead, he watched the younger man very closely, warning blazing in his eyes.

“I have missed you,” Colin said, as he gripped his friend a little closer than was proper.

“I miss spending time with your family,” she replied, carefully blocking his intimate inquiry.  She twirled away from him and into the arms of another man.

The moment she was back in his arms, he asked, “Are you happy?”

Penelope recoiled from his bold question.  “It does not matter if I am happy.”

Guilt from his perceived role in causing his friend’s marriage drove him to continue.  “Is he kind to you?”

“Simon is my husband- it does not matter if he is kind to me.”  She hoped he would stop interrogating her and finish the dance in silence.  The dance pulled her out of his arms again.

“Is he cruel?” he asked as they faced each other again.  “Pen, you must tell me,” he pleaded, his eyes soft and earnest.

She looked at him incredulously.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“I will tell the viscount.”  Colin often bucked against his brother’s leadership, but he still believed Anthony could solve any problem and right any wrong.

Penelope knew better.  “What would your brother do?”  She moved into another man’s arms for a few measures.  When she returned to her friend, she added, “I am married now, Colin.  You can never be my knight in shining armor again.”  Once again, she was finding that arguing distracted from her overwhelming feelings of fear and sorrow.

“But, I want to be your hero,” he pouted sadly, feeling the loss of her greater than he had previously.  Since the first day they met, he was the knight or the prince in the stories Penelope acted out with his sisters.  He fought dragons for her, climbed towers to rescue her, and carried her to safety.  When he imagined his future, he always pictured her in it.  His greatest failure of his life happened that April night in the Vauxhall Gardens when he did not protect her.

Disappointment and remorse fell over Colin as he processed all he had lost.  They finished the dance in silence, before he passed his friend back to her husband.  “Thank you, Lady Basset,” he said formally, bowing to her.

“Good night, Mr. Bridgerton,” she replied, dipping her head at him.

Simon glanced up to the balcony.  “Her Majesty lingers still.  I'm sorry, Penelope.  Perhaps we could enjoy some lemonade while we wait?”  He watched his wife’s face closely, trying to gauge her state of mind.

“A drink would be lovely.  Maybe we could find a quiet place to hide for a few moments.”

“You do look a bit flushed.”  The duke held out his elbow to lead his duchess away, leaving Colin alone on the side of the ballroom.

<><><><><>

Marina had watched the entire dance between the Bridgerton boy and her cousin unfold.  She saw his dopey, hopeful expression at the beginning and his melancholic, disappointed conclusion.  Making a beeline to him, she greeted him enthusiastically, “Mr. Bridgerton, I am so glad to see you. I need your help.”

Instantly, he pushed down his dark thoughts and depressing emotions and turned on his charming smile.  “How can I help you, Miss Thompson?”

“It’s so loud and overwhelming in the ballroom.  Do you know somewhere quieter I can go?”  She daintily placed her hands over her ears in a way that emphasized her décolletage. 

Colin noticed the change to her body, but turned on his heel quickly to avoid looking at her.  “Of course.  Come with me.”  Ever the gracious host, he led her out of the ballroom, down a hallway, and into one of the smaller rooms of the large house.  “Is this better?” he asked, his forehead creased with concern.

She smiled at him for a moment before frowning.  “It is still a bit too loud.  Could you close the door?”

Colin did as she asked without thinking about anything but her request.

“Thank you!  I was quite overwrought.”  She brought her hand up to her face and caressed across her cheek and lips.

His eyes lingered on her lips.  Catching his thoughts, a horrified expression manifested on his face.  “We should not be in here!” he exclaimed, starting for the door.

She hastened to his side and grabbed for his hand.  “It is alright, Colin.  I want to be with you.”

“You do?”  After Penelope’s rejection, he lapped up her praise.

“Would you kiss me?”  She stepped towards him and lifted up her face, her eyes trusting and needy.

Colin leaned towards her, staring at her lips.  “No!” he suddenly yelled, jumping away from her like she was on fire.  He remembered that in every fairy tale, the kiss was the most powerful thing, given by the hero at only the proper time.  “I'm sorry, Miss Thompson, but I cannot kiss you.”  He dropped his eyes, feeling ashamed of himself for his weakness.

“Yes, you can.”  She smiled at him alluringly, trying not to let her annoyance show.

“I will not dishonor you further by taking liberties,” he said firmly, taking another step back.  Even with two Rakes for big brothers, Colin knew there were certain lines one must never cross with a lady of society.  His voice was much more emotional as he continued, “I am very sorry for compromising you, Miss Thompson.  I will do the honorable thing and marry you.”

“You want to marry me?”  Marina dipped her head modestly, trying to hide the look of joy and victory in her eyes.

He grabbed her hand, smiling gleefully.  “Come, let's announce it before the queen leaves!”  Exuberantly, Colin dragged her into the ballroom and directly towards the bandstand.  The moment the song ended, he tapped a spoon onto a glass to get everyone’s attention.

Spotting the couple, Portia rushed to stand near them, a triumphant smile on her face.  Earlier in the week, she had given Marina an ultimatum, entrap the man she wanted to marry and get a proposal or be married off to an undesirable man of Lady Featherington’s choosing.  Honestly, she didn’t think the girl had the gumption to snag a Bridgerton boy, but she was thrilled to gain the powerful family as allies.

Colin beamed at his fiancé and yelled out, “Your Majesty, Esteemed Ton, I am very pleased to announce my engagement to Miss Marina Thompson!”  Polite applause rang out as a few of their friends moved forward to congratulate them.

With a glower of annoyance, bordering on anger, Anthony hissed at his mother, “Did you know about this?”  As viscount, head of the household, and big brother, there were few things he hated more than a surprise.  It was usually meant a mess he would need to clean up.

“Keep smiling, Dearest,” Lady Bridgerton warned him, her eyes shifting self-consciously.  “People are watching.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- “Baggage” is a Regency word for a fallen/ruined woman or prostitute

- New Holland was the name for Australia in this era. The name changed in 1817, so just a few years after my story. It was already a penal colony.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

As soon as Simon led her to the side of the room after her dance with Colin, Penelope allowed her mask to drop off as her strength left her body.  She sagged and stumbled, but her husband caught her with an arm around her back.

“Penelope, are you alright?” Simon whispered, watching her face.

She gasp for air, her breaths coming rapidly and shallowly.  “I- I-”  Her body somehow felt hot and cold at the same time, while her skin felt clammy.

“Breathe,” he commanded, his heart racing with dread.  “I have you, Penelope.  Breathe!”  Part of his brain knew that his words were illogical and ineffectual, but he didn’t know what else to say or do.

Benedict caught Simon’s panicked expression and Penelope’s distress and rushed over to them.  “How may I help?”

“I- I- I do not know,” the duke replied, his fear causing him to stutter while his eyes pleaded with the Bridgerton brother for guidance.

“Bring her into the servants’ hall,” Benedict instructed as he brushed aside a curtain and motioned for the couple to follow him.

The moment they were hidden, the last of Penelope’s puppet strings snapped and she fainted into her husband’s arms, her emerald crown hitting the tile floor.  “This is my fault,” Simon said plaintively, scooping her into his arms.  “I pushed her too hard.”

“Everyone expected too much from her.  It was not only you.”  Benedict was thinking of the queen and her impossible expectations for a woman still in recovery after a trauma, but he wouldn’t voice those opinions aloud, of course.  “She can rest in my mother’s private sitting room.  No one will bother you.”

“Thank you, Benedict,” Simon replied, his impeccable manners serving as a shield.  Once again, he followed his friend through the house and gently deposited his wife on a chaise.

The second born Bridgerton stepped out to give instructions to the staff, resulting in a small parade of maids entering the room.  Within minutes, a fire had been lit, refreshments brought, and a wet cloth applied to Penelope’s forehead.  “Is Mr. Dorset in attendance tonight?” Benedict asked a footman, ordering the doctor be brought to attend her.

Simon paced the floor, unsure what he should do in this moment.  When the other man arrived, the duke confronted him, “What is wrong with my wife?”

Mr. Dorset patted the duke’s shoulder and knelt down by Penelope’s head.  “It appears she fainted, Your Grace.  It is a very common issue with women at balls.”

“Has this happened to her before?” Simon asked, looking at Benedict.  It bothered him that he didn’t know the answer, but he also recognized the shared history between the Bridgertons and his wife.

“Not that I recall.  It does not mean there is cause for concern, though.”  Benedict shoved a snifter of brandy into his friend’s hand with a look of sympathy.

“Quite right.  Now, I imagine in a household with this many females that you probably keep smelling salts in stock?”  Mr. Dorset smiled at the Bridgerton brother.

“I have some in my pocket, sir,” a maid replied, stepping forward with the offering.

The surgeon took it from her and opened the capsule.  “She should rouse momentarily,” he commented, quickly waving the foul smelling substance under her nose.

Penelope woke with a cough and a violent sneeze, embarrassed when she saw all the eyes upon her.  “What happened?”

“You passed out, Your Grace,” Mr. Dorset said gently.  “Have you been ill lately?”

Confusion crossed her face as she replied, “No, sir.”

“Then, you probably just ate too little and danced too much.”  The doctor looked up at Simon.  “Did she hit her head?”

“No, I caught her before she fell.  Will she be alright?”

Benedict smiled softly at the obvious concern Simon was showing.  He’d been worried about the couple, but perhaps some fondness was beginning to grow between them.

“She should rest for a few moments, then return home for the night.”

“Please do not tell my mother,” Penelope begged, darting her eyes between the three gentlemen in the room.

“We will not,” Simon reassured her, looking to the other men for affirmation.

“Of course, we will keep your secret.”  Benedict put his finger to his mouth and pulled a silly face to make her smile.

Simon felt himself relax a tiny bit as his wife gave her friend a weak smile.  “Please tell Lady Danbury that we intend to depart soon.”

“I will let my mother know what happened as well.”  Benedict handed Penelope’s emerald diadem to Simon.  “Hold what is precious to you closely,” he whispered poetically.

“Thank you, Benedict.”

“Send for me at any time if you become concerned again,” Mr. Dorset said, bowing to the duke before heading back to the party.

When they were alone, Simon moved to sit near her feet on the chaise.  He knew they needed to go back to the ballroom, but he wanted to give her more time to recover.

“He’s here!” Penelope whispered, after a few minutes of silence.

It took him a moment to understand what she meant.  “Did you see him?”  He sprang to his feet, his senses on alert, ready for a fight.  Although he knew they were alone, he looked around the room nervously, as if the attacker might jump out at any moment.

“I heard him again.”

His head swam with questions, but he knew they wouldn’t soothe his panicked wife.  “You are safe with me, Penelope,” he promised.  He had been too late the first time, but he wouldn’t let anyone harm her again.

“I want to go home.”  Tears choked her voice.

“I know.”  She had been asking him all evening to release her from this obligation, and he had kept pushing her to perform.  He wished he could grant this simple request, but they were favored nobility and couldn’t snub the queen by withdrawing early.

She looked so vulnerable laying down, so he offered a hand for her to grab.   “Do you think you can sit up?”

She delayed a moment, staring at his hand before deciding to trust him.  When she had pulled herself into an upright position, she closed her eyes as dizziness made her head spin.  “I am still quite out of sorts.”

“We can sit for a few more moments.  Would you like some refreshments?”  The Bridgerton maids had prepared a tray for them, so he fixed her a cup of tea and a plate with a few savory snacks.

She sipped the tea, wrapping her hands around the cup.  “I feel so foolish.”

“No,” he reassured her, sitting down with his own plate, “I am the fool for pushing you to perform.  It was too much.  I should have been more protective of you.”

“The queen summoned us and made me her emerald.  We had no choice in the matter.”  She lightly set her hand on his arm for a moment, intending to comfort him, then pulled it back when she realized what she had done.  “Please do not blame yourself.”

“I will never allow anyone to hurt you again, including myself.  I swear on my honor.”

She wanted to believe him, but she felt that building a wall between them was safer.  “We should go back to the party,” she reminded him, setting aside her refreshments and standing up slowly.

Simon caught her as she faltered a little, steading her with a hand on each arm.  He fought against the desire to rub up and down her arms soothingly or do something even more foolish like kiss the crown of her head.

“You are Lady Penelope Basset, Duchess of Hastings, the Emerald of the Season, and favored by Her Majesty the Queen of England.”  He gently placed the tiara on her head for the third time that night, the burden of it weighing heavily on them both.  “You look down to no one.”

They arrived into the ballroom just as the music stopped.  “Your Majesty, Esteemed Ton, I am very pleased to announce my engagement to Miss Marina Thompson!” Colin’s voice rang out proudly, turning the attention of the queen and her peerage towards himself.

“This is our chance to leave,” Simon whispered to her, ignoring the cheers of the crowd.  With his eyes scanning the party for Penelope’s attacker, he brought her up the stairs to bow before the queen.

“Lord and Lady Basset,” the royal said peevishly, irritated to have not gotten more excitement and entertainment from her chosen lady.

Simon dipped his head, stepping slightly in front of his wife to shield her.  “Your Majesty, Lady Basset is feeling ill.  May we please retire for the evening?”

“I had noticed my Emerald had lost her sparkle.”  The queen looked annoyed, but she waved her hand to dismiss them.  “Permission granted.”

Simon turned towards a footman and asked for his carriage to be brought around.  Lady Danbury decided to remain at the party for a while longer, so the couple bid her good night, as well as giving farewell to the Bridgertons.

Since Lady Danbury wouldn’t be sharing their carriage on the return trip, Penelope and Simon sat opposite of each other.  “I am so proud of you, Penelope!”  It had been a horrible evening, but it was over now.  “I hope you do not mind, but I asked the driver to take us home through the park.  I thought you might appreciate the quiet.”

Penelope didn’t reply, but after a moment, Simon heard a tiny sob escape from her lips, exactly like she did their first night in Danbury House.  Although his first instinct was to freeze when he realized she was crying, he tried to remember what Anthony had done with Hyacinth.

“May I hold you?” he asked, expecting rejection, perhaps even anger, especially after their rough past few days.

“What?”

“You are crying.  Would you let me hold you?”  He held his breath in anticipation of her answer.  The moment felt weighty.  Gallantly, he held out his hand to balance her in the rocking vehicle.

She started to cross the center of the carriage to the other bench, then seemed to hesitate.

“I will not hurt you,” he reassured her, upset that he needed to say it.

She bit her lip and decided to trust him.  Taking her place next to him, she waited for him to grab at her or touch her.

He knew the next moment had to also be her decision, so he awkwardly draped one arm around the back of the bench behind her.  “Come here, Penelope,” he invited gently.

Stiffly, she leaned towards her husband, ready to dart away from him if necessary.

As if hugging a porcupine, Simon slowly brought his arm from the bench to lightly envelop her.  “It is alright,” he said quietly, his voice hardly a breath on her cheek.  “I have you.”

His arms around her felt like home in a way she had only experienced with the Bridgertons.  Her body quaked violently as it released all the tension it had been hording.  Immediately, she grew soft, molding her body into his sturdy one.  Her sobs quieted.

As she relaxed, so did Simon, who drew her a little tighter to him.  “Try to rest, Penelope.  I will not let anything happen to you.”  He felt her take a few deep breaths, before she went completely still. 

With his wife asleep in his arms, Simon experienced unfamiliar sensations coursing through his body, feelings he could not name.  No one had relied on him for comfort before, nor had he held a woman as she slept.  He hoped he was doing it correctly and wished he had asked Anthony more questions.

He was afraid to breathe lest he disturb her, and he wanted nothing to upset this moment.  Even with the longer detour, it wasn’t long before the carriage pulled to a stop.

“Penelope,” Simon whispered gently, trying to awaken his wife without startling her.  He thought she might have roused when the vehicle stopped, but she continued to lean against his side and sleep.

In response to his soft, rumbling, whisper of her name, Penelope snuggled in closer to his body, humming contentedly.

Panicking at the flutter of affection that danced through his stomach when she moved towards him, he darted his eyes towards the open carriage door.  He tried shaking her a bit as he said her name again.  “Penelope, we are at Danbury House.  Time to wake up.”

When she still didn’t awaken, Simon decided to carry her to their room.  It was a challenge to get out of the carriage, but once they were free of the vehicle, he discovered he rather enjoyed the feel of her in his arms again.  Carefully, he laid her in the bed, where she stayed asleep until morning.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- I’m giving Mr. Dorset an honorary degree based on his interest in Indian medicinal practices.

- “You look down to no one” is another Easter egg.  Where is it from?

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope opened her eyes as fear choked her throat.  She didn’t recognize where she was laying, then panicked even more when she realized she was in the marital bed at Lady Danbury’s house.

Slowly and quietly, she raised her head up slightly, confused to find that she was still dressed for the ball, all the way down to her slippers.  Whoever had placed her in the bed the night before hadn’t bothered to undress her at all.

Biting her lip, she began to analyze her body, head to toe.  Her eyes felt gritty from tears, but that wasn’t a new development.

The corset pinched her in strange places, having shifted a bit while she slept, and she looked forward to taking it off and adjusting it properly.  Her arms and legs didn’t hurt and squeezing her fingers and toes also didn’t bring discomfort.

With dread, she thought about the other places she had pain after her assault, but those seemed to be unharmed as well.  She took a deep breath and released much of her tension and fear.

Having determined that her person was unmolested, Penelope turned her attention to finding her husband.

Timidly, she slid her hand across the bed, but she seemed to be alone in it.  She sat up and could not stop the smile that sprang onto her lips when she saw Simon sprawled uncomfortably onto the chaise, his long arms and legs draped awkwardly over the arm rests.

She felt a surprising glow of fondness for him, as she realized how he had prioritized her comfort above his own.  He could have easily taken advantage of her yesterday, but he chose to protect her instead.

She thought about how safe and warm she had felt nestled in his arms after the disastrous ball and wondered when he would hug her like that again.

“Good morning,” Simon said, a second after his eyes opened.  He looked rough after sleeping in such a miserable location, but he smiled at her as he began to stretch and flex his muscles.

“Morning, Your Grace.”  She ducked her head demurely, slightly discombobulated by the change in their relationship this past week.

She had enjoyed their closeness, but she didn’t know if he felt the same way.  She didn’t quite fear him as much anymore, but she also wasn’t sure if she was entirely safe with him.

Perhaps he was just waiting for the right moment to attack her, especially since she was already waiting for him in the marriage bed.  Using his title put a bit of a wall between them, which felt like a necessary protection this morning.

He scrunched his eyebrows for a moment, displeased by her use of his honorific.  After she had fallen sleep in his arms, he thought they might at least now be friends.  Trying not to let the hurt show in his voice, he announced, “I would like us to return to Clyvedon today.”

“Today?”  She expected they would have made plans in advance for such a trip and was surprised with the spontaneous nature of his command.

“I have done what I can from London and need to get back to our tenants and the rest of my records.  I see no reason to stay.”

“If I may summon my maid, Your Grace, I will begin packing.”

Simon frowned again at the formal, meek way she was addressing him.  After the closeness he had felt to her last night, her current stiffness pained him.  “Penelope,” he said tenderly, unsure what he planned to say next.

“Yes, Your Grace?”  Her hands were folded on her lap, waiting for his permission to move.  A part of her brain told her that she didn’t need to behave in this way, not with Simon, but it was overwhelmed by her desire for self-preservation.

“Thank you.”  He knew that wasn’t the right thing to say, but he didn’t know how to cut through her armor.  “Please allow me to ring for help, and then I will make our arrangements.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.  I will tell her to hurry with my packing so as to not delay you any further.”

“Take as much time as you need, Penelope.  We will leave when you are ready.”  He pulled the cord on the wall to summon her maid and disappeared into the dressing room to change his clothes for the day.

From all his years of travel, he didn’t require assistance to dress and chose to go unshaven since they would be on the road all day.

Fortunately, the dressing room had a door to the hallway, so he was able to escape their suite without bothering his wife again.  He immediately went to find his staff to inform them of their imminent departure.

<><><><><>

An hour later, despite Lady Danbury’s protests, Simon and Penelope began the journey back to their castle in the countryside.

There was much between them from the previous week and now that they were completely alone in the carriage, he thought they should talk.  “Penelope, can we start over?”

She had been staring out the window, but startled when she heard her name.  “What do you mean, Your Grace?”

“I did not treat you correctly in these first few weeks of marriage.”  He spoke confidently with his hands folded as if he was reciting a practiced speech.

“There are many reasons why I avoided you, but I will not give you any excuses.”  It sounded contrite, but his statement also allowed him to avoid exposing his feelings and fears to her.  

“You have been kind and gentlemanly.  I told you that I expected much worse.”

“I neglected you when I should have put more effort into making you feel at home in our castle.  You deserve more from me, and I intend to do better.  I want you to find your happiness in our marriage, not just contentedness.”

“Your Grace, please do not trouble yourself!”

“I also feel terrible about Abigail.  I want to be a faithful husband to you, even if we never share a marriage bed.  Do you think you could forgive me?  I do not want a wife, but I would like us to be friends.”

“But, I am your wife?”  She bit her bottom lip and frowned, looking as if she might cry again.

He immediately realized his mistake.  “Of course, you are, Penelope,” he rushed to reassure her.  “You are my duchess, but I do not expect us to share a marriage bed.  I should have explained this on our wedding day."

He locked his eyes on her hoping she would understand his sincerity.  "You do not need to be afraid of me.  I will never force you or hurt you."

Instead of comforting her, Penelope’s body went rigid as he vocalized all her fears.  “I am your wife, so you can do all those things.  Society and the law has given you permission.”

“You are my wife, so I will never to those things.  I have not spent enough time building your trust, but I will prove it to you.”  He allowed the weight of his words to linger in the air, then took a deep breath.  “You are safe.”

“I must confess something to you as well,” she said quietly, wringing her hands.

Simon could not imagine anything his young wife had to tell him being as bad as her countenance indicated, but her anxiety made him nervous.  “You can tell me anything, Penelope.”

“I-” she hesitated a moment.  “I do not know how to be a duchess!  I mean, I know some household management things, mostly practical things like how to start a fire, but I have no idea how to be wife to a duke!  I have never managed servants or organized a ball!  I cannot lead society or be friends with the queen!  I-”  She was interrupted by her husband’s deep belly laughs.

When Simon’s laughter faded, he shook his head.  “I do not know how to do any of those things either.  I have been traveling for the past seven years and before that I was in university.  My own father taught me absolutely nothing, except what NOT to do.

“Honestly, it is why I have been avoiding you.  I am trying to figure out my role as a duke, and I thought I could wait to learn how to be a husband.  Lady Danbury reminded me that I was not being kind to you.  Now, I am thinking that perhaps we can learn how to be duke and duchess together.”

He spoke quickly, surprised by how easily his words came when he conversed with her.  Normally, he weighed his words more carefully and occasionally tripped over his stutter when speaking to others.  The only other person in his life that brought him such freedom was Anthony.  He wondered if this was a sign that his wife could become a friend as well.

“Lady Danbury gave me some instructions while we were in London.  I believe she plans to visit us again for more lessons.”

“Good, perhaps she would be willing to teach us both.”  They laughed together lightly.

“Was Lord Bridgerton helpful with the accounts?”

“He told me to make sure you had your pin money for the shopping trip.  I had no experience with such a thing and would not have known it was expected without his instruction.”

Penelope bit her lip again, suggesting she had something she was reluctant to say.

“What is it?” he asked her gently, feeling slightly proud of himself for knowing her nonverbal clues so well.

“I really do not expect such an allowance to be a regular occurrence.  I appreciate your generosity- of course, I do.  I just- well- I am used to getting by with a lot less.”  She didn’t want him to think that she was a spendthrift and expected new books and clothing constantly.

“Penelope, you do not need to worry about money any longer.  Once we get our estate settled again, we can revisit this topic and set up accounts at all the shops you frequent.  In the meantime, please tell me of your needs and wants.  I mean it.”  He looked at her sternly, but his tone was warm and open.

She blushed under his gaze.  “Alright.”

Sensing she had been pushed far enough into the impolite conversations of money and intimate confessions of their fears, he casually asked, “Since we are starting over, perhaps, we can begin with something simple?  Please use my name.”

“As you wish, Lord Basset-” she began, but he interrupted her.

He raised one eyebrow.  “You know that is not what I meant.”

“Duke Hastings.”  She knew he despised the title and bowed her head with fake submission as her eyes danced with humor.

“Penelope,” he said in mock exasperation.

“Simon,” she whispered in a sigh.  It was the first time she had used his Christian name.

Their names hung in the air a few moments.  Something drew them towards each other as their eyes locked, and Penelope could feel a crack forming in her protective wall.

“So, Penelope, can we start over, a new day with no mistakes in it?”  He gave her a flirty smile, perfected after years of being a rake.

Her heart warmed, whether from the charming smile or because he remembered and quoted her words.  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Simon.” 

He wasn’t sure why, but his name on her lips did something to him.  He stared at her, memorizing her features as if seeing her for the first time.  A slight bump in the road broke the spell.  “Have you been enjoying ‘Pride and Prejudice?’”

It took Penelope a moment to comprehend his subject change, distracted as she was by a strange flutter in her stomach.  “I have not started it yet.”

“Did you bring it with you?  Perhaps you would like to read for a few hours while we have daylight?  I thought I might review the lists Anthony helped me create and formulate a plan for when I get back to my desk.”

“I am quite worn out from our busy week.  Some quiet reading time sounds very lovely.”  She smiled gratefully, feeling nurtured by his understanding of her needs.  Little did she realize, Simon was as introverted as she and looked forward to the silence as well.

She opened her reticule and extracted her novel, then grinned when she spotted the other book she packed.  “I thought you might want a break from your account books, so I bought this for you.”

Simon raised one eyebrow in surprise and took the book from her.  “Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry,” he read aloud.  “You bought me a manual on how to be a good husband?”

“You did admit to me a few minutes ago that you have not been a very good one.  Perhaps you need lessons, Simon” she teased, the anxiety from the previous conversation melting away.

He felt his shoulders relax at the casual way she said his name.  “I should get started then.”  He stretched his legs out in front of him, opened the book up very seriously, and set his face to a dour frown, but it only lasted a few seconds before they were both laughing.

She watched him for a moment before wiggling down into the bench cushion to read her novel.  After about an hour, she closed her book and dug in her reticule.

“Oh, Simon, I forgot to give these to you, and, well, I was not sure what you would like.  There is so much about each other we do not know.”

She chewed her lip, afraid of upsetting him.  She desperately wanted to feel safe with him, but she didn’t know him well enough to trust him.

He looked up from his book.  “What is it, Penelope?”

“I bought you some Pontefract Cakes when I was shopping with the Bridgertons.”  She thrust the brown bag towards him, then quickly withdrew her hand.

“Oh, I have not had these since Eton!  Anthony and I used to sneak them into class, and we got in trouble more than once when the teacher noticed our black teeth.”

He laughed under his breath.  “The paddling was not enough to make us stop, but eventually the thrill of hidden candy gave way to other adolescent vices.”  His eyes glazed over a moment as he thought about those school days with his best friend.

Abruptly coming out of his memories, he stammered.  “Th- Thank you for thinking of me.  What is your favorite sweet?”

“Peppermint sticks.”

“I hope you bought them.  If you did not, we will have to rectify the situation immediately.”  He meant to tease her about their previous money discussions, but her facial expression told him that she felt censure instead.

Spontaneously, he knocked on the roof of the carriage and yelled out, “We must head back to London!”

Surprised by his silly proclamation, she giggled as the horses stopped abruptly.  “No, Simon, it is alright.  I have some peppermint in my reticule,” she explained, showing him the bag as evidence.

“Good, because it is a long ride back to London.”  He smiled at her as the footman knocked on the carriage door.

“Is something the matter, Your Grace?” Miller asked, his face grim with concern.

“I thought we had a peppermint emergency, but Lady Basset assures me that everything is fine.”

“A peppermint emergency, Your Grace?”  The confusion in his voice caused Penelope to giggle again.  “Do we need to return to the city?”

“No, Miller, thank you.  Now that we are stopped, though, we will have our tea.”  Simon exited the carriage and helped his wife climb out.

“Ruby, please take Her Grace on a short walk while the footmen set up our meal,” he commanded, releasing Penelope to her maid.

“Oh, Simon,” Pen exclaimed, “look at all these flowers!”  As far as they could see, the ground was carpeted by blue, pink, purple, and yellow wildflowers.  “It is like a scene out of a fairy tale!”

Glowing from his wife’s spontaneous use of his name, he bent down to pick a yellow flower, forgetting in his joy that she didn’t prefer the color.

“A flower for the Queen of May!”  For a moment, he thought about tucking it into her hair, but he handed it to her instead with a courtly bow.  “Take some time to enjoy the day, my lady.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Corsets were not the torture devices that they are often depicted in media. They were just undergarments, the same as a bra. Regency corsets were never tight-laced. You can read more here.

- “500 Points of Good Husbandry” by Thomas Tusser, published in the 1500s (link to Project Gutenberg book here).  A bit out of our timeline, but I thought the title was funny.  It’s interesting to look at the book and see what things were being taught.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

After tea, the traveling party resumed their journey, and Penelope returned to her novel.  She happily sucked on her peppermint sticks and read about the drama surrounding the Bennett family.  The interactions between the siblings reminded her of the Bridgertons, and she spent quite a while daydreaming of them as characters from the book. 

Looking up from his ledgers and lists when he heard her giggle, Simon asked, “What is on your mind?”

Penelope blushed, embarrassed at being caught pondering such silly thoughts.  “Oh, it does not signify.”

“Please?”  He set down his work to focus on her, hoping it would encourage him to talk.  They had been quiet for some time, and he discovered to his surprise that he missed hearing her voice.

“I was thinking about Lord Bridgerton and imagining him as one of the main characters in the novel.”

“Anthony?  Which character?”  Of course, he hadn’t read the novel himself, but he was amused by his wife’s enthusiasm and gentle blush.  It was certainly more interesting than his ledgers.

“Mr. Darcy.  He is prideful, glowering, and inflexible.”

A loud guffaw erupted from Simon’s mouth.  “A perfect description!”  When his laughter settled, he asked, “So, does Mr. Darcy eventually find his match?”

“I believe so; although I have not finished the book.”

“You must keep reading, then.”

She turned back to the pages for a while.  “Are we almost to the inn?” she interrupted, putting her finger in the book and closing it.  She leaned forward to look out the window.  “I do not remember being in the carriage for this long during our last trip.”

“I should have told you that we are doing the entire journey today.  The weather is good and the roads are dry, so we have been able to keep a steady pace.  We are only a few hours away from our castle now.”  He was unaccustomed to discussing his itinerary or thoughts with anyone, but he recognized that he needed to be more mindful of his wife.

“I am glad we will be home tonight.”

Simon’s heart pinched to hear her call the old, haunted castle ‘home.’  To cover his discomfort, he asked, “Do you need to take a walk?”  When she shyly nodded, he immediately tapped on the carriage ceiling, alerting the driver and footmen to his request.

<><><><><>

After a couple of hours, they stopped at an inn for supper.  Simon handed each of the servants a few coins to buy their own meal, then escorted Penelope inside.  “We are almost to Clyvedon, but I thought you might appreciate a warm meal before it gets too late.”

She looked around the boisterous room nervously.  “Thank you, Simon.  It is nice to be out of the carriage.”

“It has been a long day.  Perhaps we should have taken two days for the trip.”  The innkeeper’s wife came to their table for their order, and Simon chose the same thing for both of them without even considering that Penelope might have wanted something different.

“It would have made the trip longer, though.”  She jumped when someone slammed their empty beer stein on the table.

“Penelope,” Simon whispered, leaning close to her, “I will keep you safe.”  She nodded, so he began asking her questions about her childhood with the Bridgertons.  He distracted her through the meal, the noise of the busy inn fading into the background.

“… And that is why Lady Bridgerton no longer has a large China vase in her entryway,” Penelope finished, a look of delight on her face.

“I was wondering what had happened to it!  Taken down by a cricket ball.”

“Anthony is still quite embarrassed that he was the one who bowled it.”

“So I should definitively bring it up next time I see him, right?”  When their laughter had subsided, Simon motioned with his hand and brought over one of his footmen.  “Robert, are we ready to resume our journey?”

“Yes, Your Grace.  Everything is prepared for our departure.”

“Since it is dark now, I want you to hire four link boys to guide the carriages.  They can take turns in pairs being in front of the horses or riding with the other servants.”  Simon retrieved his money bag and handed the footman several coins.

“I will see that it is done, Your Grace.”

Simon lead Penelope out of the inn.  As they were getting into the carriage again, Simon pulled out a pillow and blanket for his wife.  “I thought you may wish to rest a little.”

The air had gotten chilly as the sun descended, so Penelope was grateful for the extra warmth.  She put the pillow between herself and the carriage wall, arranged her body with her legs tucked under her, and covered herself with the blanket.

“Comfortable?”  He looked at her softly, pleased to see her relaxed and seemingly feeling safe in his presence.  It had gotten too dark for them to read, so it was a natural time to begin a long discussion.  “I would like to hear your ideas regarding our tenants.”

“I am inexperienced.”

“As am I, Penelope, remember?  I know you care about them, and I am sure you have many ideas.  Please share them with me.”  In an effort to appear open and nonthreatening, he sat back and folded his hands.

She bit her lip and wrung her hands for a few moments, gathering the courage to tell him her thoughts.  “We cannot understand what our people need until we meet with them and discuss their issues.”

“I agree.”  He smiled encouragingly and waited for her to continue.

“Perhaps we could make gift baskets for each family and distribute them together,” she suggested tentatively, watching his face for disapproval.  “It would be good to give them some meat, if our cold larder can spare it.  Maybe we can add some vegetables for a stew; although, it is too early in the season for harvest.  Do you suppose we might have some to share?”

“Mrs. Colson should know.”  Simon relaxed into the carriage seat, content to watch his brilliant wife bubble out her ideas.

“Yes, I suppose she would.”  Penelope frowned for a moment, thinking about the controlling housekeeper.  Lady Danbury had taken time to instruct her on household management, but she was still untested.  As quickly as the cloud covered her face, it departed, leaving her sunny countenance to shine again.

“We should hire the town baker to make a loaf for every family to have with their soup.  Oh, and we must bring honey for the children!  It is not the right time of the year for honey collecting, but I would be willing to go without fruit preserves or honey for a few months.  Would you not?”

He watched her grow more animated with excitement and was surprised to realize that he would do anything to see that look on her face again.  “Yes, we can forgo honey or jam in our own household if necessary.  We can always buy some more if we decide we require it.”

“We must continue to think of things we may add to the baskets.  I know it is a small, temporary help, but I believe it will show our people that we care for their well-being and wish to help them further.”

“Anthony introduced me to a few lords who also have country houses in our area.  They gave me some ideas of other ways we can profit from the land and help our tenants.”

“Midsummer Day is in a few weeks.  Our tenants will be expecting you to collect their Quarter Day rents and taxes.  Maybe we could allow them a respite now and encourage them to invest their coin in additional opportunities.”

“You are so clever and compassionate!” Simon exclaimed loudly, frightening her a little with his enthusiasm.  “These are lovely gestures of goodwill, and I will ensure you get all the credit for them.  Everyone will know the kindness and generosity of Lady Penelope Basset, the Duchess of Hastings!”

She ducked her head.  “I do not know if it is best for our estate.”

“Our taxes to the Crown are paid, and we have plenty for our household expenses.  Investments in our tenants and our land will benefit us in the future.  You must also think of any improvements you would like to make to the castle itself.  Remodel anything you would like.  As you know, I have no attachment to any of it.”

“I will speak to the painters at once about installing “Featherington Green” on every surface.”  After growing up surrounded by the sour fruit colors of lime, yellow, and orange, Penelope never wanted to see those shades again.  However, she could not resist a chance to poke at her husband, a test to see how he would respond.

Simon shuddered.  “Please, no!”  He glanced over at her to see whether she meant her words.  Although the light in the carriage was dim, he thought he saw a sparkle of mischief.  Grinning at her, he replied, “I think yellow would suit much better.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Despite the late hour, their staff turned out to greet them when they arrived.  Penelope felt welcomed by the familiar faces and relieved to be back at her own estate.

“Thank you, Everyone,” she announced with a smile.  “Please return to your duties.”

Simon looked at her with pride on his face, astonished how easily she had taken charge with their servants.  “Well done.”

“I hope I did not overstep,” she whispered, instantly regretting her boldness.

“You are lady of this estate, Penelope.  Everything you do is right.”

She rolled her eyes at him playfully.  “You know that is not true.”

Putting his finger to his lips, he said in a quiet voice, “I will not tell them if you do not.”  To his great relief, she laughed at his silliness.  

Louder, he called out the butler, “Johnson, the link boys will need accommodations for the night.  Feed them well tonight and again in the morning, and then send them home in my carriage.  Oh, and pay them each a day’s wages.”

“You are very generous, Your Grace!” the butler replied, his voice hinting at his disapproval.  Most employers would have turned the urchins out into the cold without any of the resources the duke was offering.

“I am building a reputation, Johnson, showing the community that I am nothing like my father.”  Simon didn’t owe his servant any explanation, but he also wanted to spell it out for Penelope’s benefit.

After their long discussion in the carriage about their tenants, his mind was focused on ways he could make the lives of all the people under his dukedom better.

The butler happened to like the old duke and his pragmatic, unfeeling way of relating to those under him, but Johnson wasn’t going to contradict the new duke and risk his job.  “I will see that your wishes are carried out, Your Grace.”

When the servant left to do his bidding, Simon turned to his wife.  “May I escort you up to bed, Your Grace?” he asked playfully, continuing their easy companionship from the trip.  He immediately rued his words when her eyes grew large and frightened.

“Bed?” she squeaked.

“Penelope,” he whispered with gentle confidence, “remember what I told you in the carriage.  I know it is hard, but trust me.”  He held out his arm to her in a courtly manner.

“Alright.”  She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her upstairs.  Her lady’s maid and his valet followed them, ready to serve them however they requested.

Simon brought her to the door of her bedroom.  “Good night, Penelope,” he bid, bowing his head to her.  “I will see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, Simon.”

“Tomorrow begins our new life,” he promised.

<><><><><>

Ruby bustled into Penelope’s room the next morning, cheerfully pulling back the curtains and guiding her mistress through her morning ablutions.

She dressed her in one of the new morning gowns and set her up in her private sitting room with breakfast and a book.

As Penelope munched on her toast and sipped tea, she remembered her first morning in the castle when she had spent all day dreading a visit from Simon.  Now, she was cautiously hopeful that he would come for her as he had promised the night before.

She didn’t think he would purposefully neglect her again, but he might get caught up in some business related mess and just get distracted.  Pointedly, she turned her mind away from such worries and decided to enjoy her novel instead.

She was so absorbed in her book that she didn’t notice her husband’s entrance until his shadow fell over her.  Dropping the book, she shrieked and covered her mouth, then felt foolish for her reaction.  “Lord Basset- Simon- Good morning,” she babbled, flustered from the surprise.

Simon casually bent over and picked up her book, handing it to her with a smile.  “Good morning, Penelope.  Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.”  She matched his smile, then stood up to curtsy to him.

He thought about commenting on the needless bow, but chose to brush it off instead. “If you have room in your schedule, I would like to show you our castle.”

“Are you sure you have the time?” she challenged him with a raised eyebrow.

“I will always have time for you, Penelope.”

The warm intensity of his eyes made her stomach flutter strangely.  “Thank you, Your Grace.”  He cleared his throat pointedly, which caused her to amend her statement.  “Thank you, Simon.”

“Let's get started, then.”  He held out his arm for her formally and began walking them through the house.  Starting with the floor they already occupied, he showed her a few of the guest bedrooms, a private drawing room, a writing room, and a portrait gallery.

The upstairs was divided by a grand staircase.  As he walked her down the stairs, he pointed to the opposite side of the house.  “This castle is your home, so you can go wherever you would like, except the west wing,” he warned her cryptically.

“What is in the west wing?” she asked innocently.

“I will explain more later.  For now, consider it forbidden.”

“Alright?”  She didn’t understand his insistence, but she had no reason fight him about it.  The castle was sprawling, and she felt like there was plenty of space to inhabit in the few rooms he was showing her.

“All of my favorite rooms are on the ground floor,” he said, smiling at her warmly again, all the strangeness of the past few minutes forgotten.  As he had done upstairs, Simon passed many closed doors and only showcased a few of his favorites.

“Not only does this ridiculously large house have a separate ballroom,” he narrated as they walked, “it also has multiple eating areas.  This is our formal dining room-” he swung open the double doors dramatically- “which we need not ever use.”

“We could host the queen and her court in this room,” Penelope said with awe, bouncing her hand off the back of each chair as she walked from one end of the room to the other.  “I cannot imagine ever having this many guests.”

“I am not sure when this room was used last.  Perhaps when my mother was alive.  Lady Danbury told me she enjoyed holding country visits for the Ton.”

“I would enjoy hosting the Bridgertons this summer as we discussed, but I have no desire to invite other people just for the sake of impressing them.”

“It might be fun to rub their noses in your success though, right?”

“Simon!” she scolded with a laugh.

“Come, let me show you the family dining room.”  For ease of access to the kitchens, the two rooms shared a butler’s pantry near the servants’ staircase.

“This one is not much smaller!” she complained.  “I thought this was our formal dining room, because it is where we ate with Lady Danbury before the London trip.”

“No, sorry.  I told you, this house is ridiculously large.  And empty.  We do not need to use this one either.”

“You make me feel like I am too particular and perhaps ungrateful.  I do appreciate the estate and all the history it holds-”

“Penelope, it is alright,” he interrupted.  “I am the one who has been disparaging the sprawling, burdensome castle, while you have been merely agreeing with me.  We will save the rest of the frivolous rooms for another day.  For now, I would like to show you just two more that I think will be important to you.”

“I am finding myself longing for my bed.  Not because you are boring or I am not enjoying spending time with you,” she rushed to explain, watching his face for displeasure or anger.  “I am not sure why I am so much more tired since our marriage.  I wonder if it is normal for newlyweds.”

Simon flushed as an image of her in his bed filled his mind.  “It does not bother me that you feel the need to nap so often.  I understand that your life has changed quite a bit.  It is also alright with me if you need more time alone.”

“No, I enjoy spending time with you.”  Admitting her fondness for him felt too vulnerable, and she pulled away from him.

Without touching her or even pursuing her, he confessed, “I enjoy spending time with you, too.”

Surprised, she came back to his side.  “Thank you for showing me the house,” she said shyly.

He pushed open a door.  “This is our yellow sitting room, where you may entertain guests.”  He specified the color because they had several parlor-type rooms in their castle with different themes.

“Yellow?”  Unable to believe that she was mistress of this space, she looked curiously at the soft yellow, cream, and blue features.  She found the room very relaxing, but could not help teasing him.  “I thought we agreed on Featherington green for all public rooms?”

He grimaced, and she laughed at the face he made.  “I will call for the painters as soon as we are finished here.”

“You would not!”  Her face grew serious with dread, but her eyes betrayed her mirth.  “Simon, no.”  Her mouth pulled up on the edges as she tried to conceal a smile.

“I would if you requested it,” he conceded honestly.

“And if I did not request it?”

“This room will have to remain yellow, then.”

“As the duke commands.”  She curtsied low to him, holding her bow as if he were royalty.

He stepped toward her and placed a finger under her chin, guiding her upright again.  Staring into her eyes, he whispered, “As my duchess commands.”  The air shifted in the room as their gaze turned from teasing to something deeper, surprising them both.

The moment Simon realized the change, he dropped his hand and stepped away from her.  “I would like to show you where I have set up my study” he said quickly, already heading out the door.

Startled from her daze, she followed him down the hallway and into a room that suspiciously looked nothing like an office.  “This is where you work?”

It was true that the area did have a large desk with piles of papers, but it also featured a pianoforte rather prominently.

With a musician’s compulsion, she walked towards the instrument and caressed the keys without making a sound.

“Technically, this is the Music Room,” he announced, sounding a bit apologetic.  “The servants tell me it was the place my mother spent the most time while she was expecting me.  I chose it to feel closer to her, I suppose.”

“We could make one of the other sitting rooms into a music room instead and remodel this one to be more masculine?”  She wandered around, brushing her fingertips against marble statues and floral settees.

He approached the pianoforte and rested his hand on the top of it.  “I want to keep the instrument in here, especially now that I know you play music.  I am hoping you will practice while I work.”

Smiling at her, he plucked out a few notes, cringing at the dissonant sounds.  “We will need to get it tuned, but it should be ready for you soon.”

“Are you sure you want me making noise while you do estate business?”

“Positive.  You are like warm sunshine in this gloomy castle, and I want your warmth and light in as many rooms as you will grant me.”

He also hoped that her playing might silence the ghosts in his head and allow him some peace.

Penelope blushed, unsure how to respond to his flattery.

<><><><><>

After Penelope’s afternoon nap, she and Simon called the housekeeper into the blue sitting room for a meeting.

“Mrs. Colson, please join us,” she invited, gesturing to an empty chair at the table.

Mrs. Colson placed her notebook and pencil on the table and sat down.  “Good afternoon, Your Graces.”

She wondered why the duchess had chosen to include her husband in their conversation, as most mistresses handled the female servants and household matters themselves.

The maids had already provided refreshments, so the duchess handed the housekeeper a tea cup.  “We know you have many calls on your time, especially this late into the day, so we will not linger over pleasantries,” Penelope began, pausing to sip out of her own cup.  “The duke and I would like you to put together gift baskets for the tenants.”

“Gift baskets?  There are nearly two dozen families, Your Grace!”

Simon lifted his eyebrow, daring her to challenge him.  “We are well aware of the enormity of the task, but this is a priority.  As housekeeper, I expect you to oversee the project and ensure that it is done in a timely manner.”

“We would like to primarily use excess from Clyvedon’s pantries to stock the baskets, even if it means that we go without for a little while,” Penelope continued.  “A piece of salt pork or beef, root vegetables, honey, and maybe a few other things.

She looked to Simon for confidence, bolstered by his proud smile.  “We will need to contract the baker, but I would also like to include a loaf of bread to enjoy with the fruit preserves.”

“Your Grace!” the housekeeper scolded, “this is too generous!  It will deplete our stores greatly!”  She spoke down to her young mistress like a grandmother rebuking a child over frivolous spending.

“It is not as if we will starve,” Simon interjected sarcastically.  “If we need to purchase more food for the household, then we can afford to do so.  It is my command, however, that you begin preparation for these baskets immediately.  I expect reports on their progress at the end of every day.”

Faced with the direct orders from her employer, Mrs. Colson could only agree.  “As you wish, Your Grace.”  Quickly, she took notes in her book on the items the duchess had mentioned.

“Thank you, Mrs. Colson.  You are dismissed,” Penelope said, ending the conversation.  After the housekeeper curtsied and left, the couple stayed at the table, discussing their other ideas and plans for improving the lives of their workers.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next morning, Simon called at his wife’s sitting room door like a suitor, flowers in hand and a plan for the day.  “Penelope, would you do me the honor of promenading with me?

She cheeks colored to match the pink roses she took from him.  “You wish to spend time with me?”  After the long silence of their honeymoon, she wasn’t sure what his newfound attention meant.  She buried her nose in the blooms, hiding from him.

He knew he deserved her doubt.  “I do.  Please allow me to court you the way you deserve.”

“It is too late for that.”  She shook her head in protest.  “We are already married.”

“Then, I have no excuse not to court you every day of your life.”  He held out his hand to her like they were beginning a dance.

The part that had been hurt by a man, possibly this man, wanted to pull away from him, but the flame of her old self flickered and drew her towards him.  She hesitated just a moment before placing her hand on his own.

He bowed over her hand, releasing it as he straightened.  “Ruby, please help your mistress dress for a ramble outdoors.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  The lady’s maid dipped a quick curtsy, her mind already listing the things she needed to do for her mistress.

“Please take your time, Penelope.  I will wait for you downstairs.”  He nodded to her with a smile and walked away, feeling pleased with his progress.

<><><><><>

“Penelope, have you met Elise?  She is one of our chambermaids.”  Simon waved his hand towards a teenager, dressed in the light gray dress of a lower maid.

Elise curtsied to her mistress.  “Pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”

“I have asked Elise to accompany us today on our outing.  Does that suit?  Or would you prefer to ask your lady’s maid instead?”  He knew his wife was terrified to be alone with him, especially away from the castle.  At least for this first adventure, he thought she would appreciate a chaperone.

Penelope frowned in surprise, wrinkling her nose in a way that Simon found cute.  Without consciously thinking about it, he determined to see this expression on her face often.

“Elise is fine,” she conceded, smiling slightly at the maid.

Simon held out his arm for her to take, leading them out of the castle.  At first, he plowed ahead through their property, narrating for her all the interesting things he thought she might enjoy.  He didn’t want her to suffer through an awkward silence, so he just kept rambling, even though she never added her own commentary.

After several minutes of silence from her, he glanced down and noticed she was panting from the effort of walking beside him.  His long legs and athletic body had no trouble with the uneven ground, slight elevation, or pace.  He didn’t amble as much as he marched, covering with his one step twice or three times as much as she could manage with her own shorter legs.  Pulling them to a halt, he apologized.

When she caught her breath, Penelope replied, “I’m sorry for slowing you down, Simon.  Perhaps you would like to walk alone?”

“No!  I want to walk with you.  Allow me to try again?”

She giggled at his silly, hopeful expressing.  “Where are we going?”

“It is a surprise.”  He grinned at her smugly.  “Ready to resume?”  They begun walking again, with Simon making a conscious effort to watch his wife’s wellbeing and adjust his stride to match her ability.

“Ladies of the Ton are not allowed to exert ourselves,” Penelope explained, embarrassed and hoping her excuse would help him understand why she was so slow.  “Only the most sedate promenades in the park, nothing that might cause one to sweat.”

“I believe your friend, Eloise, would probably have something to say about the inequality of it,” he commented, pulling them back to safe ground by mentioning the Bridgertons.  Just as he hoped, a smile appeared on his wife’s face.

“A lot of somethings, I am sure.”  Feeling more relaxed, she began relaying some of those options to her husband, adding in memories of the Bridgertons to emphasize different points.  Like magic, the stories of their favorite family begun to weave them closer together.

<><><><><>

“Your Grace!” Finn exclaimed, running across the pasture to greet his master.  “I was not expecting you!  Is everything well?”

“I came to check on the lambs and to introduce you to my wife, Lady Penelope Basset.”

The shepherd took off his hat and bowed low with a bit of a flourish.  “Your Grace.”

“Penelope, Finn is our head shepherd.”

“Nice to meet you, Finn,” the duchess said sweetly, smiling at him pleasantly but not enthusiastically.  She had to stop herself from curtsying.  It was rare in her former life to not be a subordinate of the person she was meeting, but in this world, everyone bowed to her.

 Simon looked beyond the shepherd into the pasture, where the sheep were grazing on the bright green grass.  There didn’t appear to be any lambs without mothers, prompting him to ask, “How are the orphans?”

Smiling cheerfully, Finn replied, “They are doing well, Your Grace.  As you know, we ended up with five this season.  My men and I are taking turns feeding them.  My daughter thinks I have brought her a pet.”  He laughed indulgently.

The men continued their discussion about the sheep, lambing, grazing, and predators.  Without a land manager to oversee the farm work, Simon knew he needed to learn as much as he could about the animals.  He wasn’t even sure if the sheep were for wool or meat.

Penelope didn’t hear their conversation, because she was distracted by the fluffy lambs, frolicking in the grass and prancing around their mothers.  They reminded her of the youngest Bridgerton children in their carefree enthusiasm.  She thought about how they might react to the lambs when they visited later in the year.

“Papa!” a girl called out, breaking the serenity with her loud, happy voice.  She was quickly approaching the group with a small bucket in one hand and a tiny lamb cradled in the other.

“Forgive us, Your Grace.  This is my daughter, Juniper, with my midday meal.”  Finn felt guilty for the interruption and his lack of refreshments for their guests.  Of course, he was delighted to see his girl, but he wished she had arrived after the nobles had left.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Simon assured him, smiling at the girl before drawing his wife back into the conversation by moving closer to her.

“Juney, this is the Duke and Duchess of Hastings,” Finn informed her, taking the bucket.  For a moment, he panicked, wondering if his daughter would know how to behave.  He let out a sigh as Juney curtsied, a bit wobbly, but respectfully.

“Nice to meet you, Juniper.  Is your lamb well?”

The girl blushed a little from the attention of the duke and looked to her father for approval.  When he didn’t stop her, she enthusiastically told him about her pet.

“Yes, Your Grace.  Snowy is very well.  I just fed him before coming to see my father.  Mama says she has too many babies to take in another mouth to feed.  So, I told her Snowy was my baby.  He sleeps with me too.”

Simon glanced at the shepherd incredulously, but Finn just shrugged.  “It is only for a few months, and I needed the help,” he admitted.

“You look like a good Mama,” Penelope said, causing the girl to blush again.  She found herself unable to look away from the lamb, fascinated by the girl’s ease in handling it.  Farm life was a different world from the opulent ballrooms of Mayfair, and the duchess found the change refreshing.

Stepping closer to the duchess, Juney asked shyly, “Would you like to pet him?”

Penelope ran her fingers down the animal’s back experimentally.  It was even softer than she had imagined.  “Hello, Snowy.”

“Come, Your Grace!  Play with us!”  The girl walked several feet away from the men and plopped down on her bottom, nestling the lamb into her lap.

Finn started to correct his daughter, but stopped when he saw the duchess heading towards the girl.

“Wait, Penelope!” Simon exclaimed, then instantly regretted it when he saw his wife jump in fright.  She immediately and silently returned to his side with her head down.  He swore in his head, hating that he caused her to react that way.

Quieter, he amended his statement, “I did not want you to get your dress dirty.”  He unbuttoned his overcoat and laid it on the ground across from the girl.  She frowned in surprise as he held out his hand to help her down.

Meanwhile, Juney set her pet in the grass and allowed it to walk nearby her.  The moment the duchess was seated, the girl carried the conversation with easy, childish observations and questions.

Simon nodded to Elise to stay with Penelope, while he left with Finn to meet a few of the other shepherds.  There hadn’t been time for introductions when he helped with the sheep a few weeks ago.

He and Penelope had discussed knowing everything they could about the people under their employ, but he hoped she would forgive him for excluding her today.

“Your Grace, do you know how to make flower necklaces?  Do you not think Snowy needs one?”

Penelope had been listening to the girl’s banal chatter, allowing it to run over her soothingly like water over rocks in a stream.  Only occasionally Juney demanded her fuller attention.  “I agree with you- Snowy needs a necklace- but I do not know how to make one.”

“If I pick a lot of dandelions, do you think we could figure it out?”

“I think we can try.”  Penelope wished her smile wasn’t weighted down by the rock on her chest, because she thought Juney deserved to have her enthusiasm matched.

“What about you?” the girl demanded, craning her neck to look up at the maid.

Elise stood near her mistress, holding a parasol to shade her from the sun.  She waited until Penelope introduced her and invited her to speak before answering.  “I know how to make a flower chain, Your Grace.”

“Will you teach us?”  Juney didn’t wait for an answer before dashing into the field to gather flowers, her lamb following behind her like a loyal dog.

“Leave the stems long,” Elise yelled, her young age evident in her dancing eyes and bright smile.  “May I join her, Your Grace?”  When her mistress agreed, the maid handed the parasol to Penelope and joined the girl energetically.

Only a few minutes passed until they returned with armfuls of cheerful dandelions, which they dumped in front of Penelope in a riotous heap.  The girls sat cross-legged around the pile as Elise demonstrated how to chain them together.

The first necklace went to the lamb, since it was he who inspired the project.  “It is good Snowy is not older or he would eat the flowers,” Juney said with the exasperated sigh of a forty-year old mother.  “Sheep love dandelions!”

Seemingly unable to sit still for long, the shepherdess ran around the pasture and picked more flowers, returning often to add her collection to the pile in front of the older women.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” the maid commented as she wove another chain of blooms.  “I have not had this much fun since I left home.”

“Did you grow up in the village?” Penelope asked, curious about the people in her home.

“Yes, Your Grace.  I began three years ago as the scullery maid.”

“Do you see your family often?”

Elise hesitated, unsure what answer the duchess expected to hear.  “I miss them, Your Grace.”

The evasion in the maid’s reply caused Penelope to frown with concern, but she didn’t say anything.  Instead, the conversation turned to lighter topics, mostly driven by Juney’s neverending commentary on her world.

“You girls look like you are having a pleasant morning,” Simon announced, approaching them confidently with Finn beside him.

Elise and Juney scrambled to their feet and curtsied to him.  Feeling guilty for being caught playing instead of working, the maid took the parasol from her mistress, staring at the ground as if she expected to be scolded or worse.

“You all look lovely,” he teased, observing the flower crowns on each of their heads, “even the lamb.”

Finn shook his head at his daughter, laughing quietly.  “Very sweet, but Juniper, it is time for you to help your mother again.”

“Alright, Papa.”  She had to chase her lamb a little before she could pick it up, but did so without delay.  “Good day, Your Graces,” she bid politely, pushing her flower crown back onto her head after it slipped over an eye.  She curtsied, kissed her father’s cheek, and skipped back the direction she came.

“Charming child, Finn,” Simon complimented, watching her leave.  Like a lightning bolt, he was struck by the idea of someday having a daughter like her, pet lamb in one arm and a wild flower crown on her head.  He shook his head to dispel the thought and refocused on the task in front of him.

“Penelope, may I help you to stand,” he offered, holding his hand low for her to use.  “I have met the shepherds and checked on the animals, so I should get back to my ledgers.”

She allowed him to pull her up by her hand and only flinched a little when he took her other elbow to catch her when her feet got tangled in her skirts.  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

He remained frozen for a moment, one hand on her arm and the other gripping her hand, studying her face for the first time.  He noted her features, subconsciously mapping her freckles, taking in the contrast of the dandelions against her red hair, and staring into her blue eyes.  “My beautiful Spring Queen,” he pronounced, smiling at her flirtatiously.  With an exaggerated bow, he said, “At your service, my lady.”

Elise giggled, then covered her mouth with her hand.  Simon look at her with surprise having forgotten they had an audience.  When he returned his eyes to his wife, she was blushing.

“Come, allow me to squire you back to our castle.”  He offered his arm, which she took with a smile.  This time, he remembered to walk at her pace.  Elise followed behind them with the parasol above her mistress and a dandelion crown adorning her head.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Elise set down the serving tray with the last of the breakfast dishes, greeting the scullery maid warmly and passing along a few requests for the day’s menu to Mrs. Honey, the cook.

Just as she was picking up the laundry basket to gather the linens from the table, she was confronted by the housekeeper.

“Your button is loose,” Mrs. Colson observed sharply, pointing out the offending fastener on the maid’s sleeve. 

“I am sorry, Mrs. Colson.  It got snagged when I was working this morning.  I will fix it tonight.”  She ducked her head, hoping the stern woman would pick on someone else.

“No, you will repair it now.  You should be ashamed for appearing before his lordship in such a manner!”

“I will help you, Elise,” Ruby offered, giving the younger girl a sympathetic look.  “It will only take a moment if we work together.”

“Thank you,” the maid whispered, looking shyly at her rescuer.

“This is a proper house,” Mrs. Colson lectured, unwilling to let her subordinate relax, “The duke and duchess are setting the standard for the entire country, so there is no room for slippage of any kind.”

“Surely there is room for kindness, though, Mrs. Colson,” Simon interrupted with a gentle smile towards Elise and a raised eyebrow.  He proudly held his wife’s arm, intending to continue their tour of the house with the servants’ hall.

All the servants bowed, looking embarrassed to be caught standing around instead of working.  Mrs. Colson smoothed her dress and replied haughtily, “Of course, Your Grace.  May I help you?”

“What was the matter here?”

“Just a small disciplinary action.  Nothing to concern Your Lordship.”  The housekeeper really didn’t like the duke and duchess interfering in her running of the house or intruding on her domain.  After all, she had run this house for decades without their assistance.

Penelope had been studying her chambermaid’s face and frowned at the tear tracks on her face.  “Are you well, Elise?”

Swallowing hard, the maid looked up at her mistress and then back down at the floor.  “I am sorry, Lord Basset for appearing before you so slovenly.”

Simon scrunched his face in confusion and turned to his wife for answers.

“We are not offended,” Penelope said with a smile.  Without the details of what the prickly housekeeper was fussing over, the duchess soothed her maid’s injured pride.

“We understand that mistakes and accidents happen throughout the day.  Please do not think any more about it.”

“My lady, I will assist Elise in repairing her uniform.”

“Thank you, Ruby.  Now, Lord Basset and I would like to meet the rest of the downstairs staff.”

His heart swelling with pride, Simon grinned at his wife, squeezing her arm a bit closer to his side.  He nodded his dismissal to the two maids, and addressed the housekeeper, “Please show us around your domain.”

Her master’s words soothed her like magic.  “As you wish, Your Grace.  We are standing in the main corridor of the servants’ hall.  Those doors lead to the kitchen yard, where the water pump is located and the chickens are kept.”  It was also the location of the privies, but polite company wouldn’t mention those abominations.

“What is your name?” Penelope asked, bending down to talk to a young boy plucking the feathers off a chicken.

Simon smiled at his wife fondly, while Mrs. Colson scowled at the interruption.  “William, Your Grace,” he replied nervously.  The housekeeper hissed at him, causing him to spring to his feet, still holding the chicken, and bow to the duke and duchess.

“Are you well treated here, William?”  Penelope wrote his name and occupation in her notebook.  At probably around ten years old, the boy had the lowest position in the household.

The hall boy glanced at the housekeeper.  “Yes, Your Grace.”

“We want to know if you have any issues,” Simon interjected.

“I assure you, Your Grace,” I can handle any problems we may have with the boy.”

“We expect you to work hard and be obedient, William, but I will not tolerate abuse of my servants.”  He looked pointedly at the housekeeper, then crouched down and pulled a small bag of barley candy out of his pocket.  “Can you pass these around for me?”

The boy’s face lit up with joy.  “Thank you, Your Grace!”

“It was very nice to meet you, William,” Penelope finished with a smile.

<><><><><>

Mrs. Colson continued the tour through her kingdom, focusing proudly on the areas she directly controlled.  The housekeepers room featured a neatly organized desk with ledger books and writing instruments standing at attention.

Across from her office were the larders, each room packed with different types of food, one for dairy, another for breads and pastries, still another for meat, which was separate from the game meat storage, and one for salting to preserve meat. 

The still room, where alcohol was brewed, jams were jarred, candles were molded, and all other non-food substances were made, looked like an apothecary shop with all the chemicals, spices, herbs, and specialized tools.

As they moved through the downstairs, Penelope added several more names to her book.  They met a butcher who oversaw the meat cuts and preservation, several maids with different specialties, a few more footmen, and a distiller, who was in charge of the alcohol production.

The butler had scurried to join the party after someone informed him of the unusual visit by the duke.  He gladly showed off the parts of the kitchen he controlled- mostly things related to the presentation of the dining room.

The butler’s pantry contained the things he needed to do his job, including a locked closet for the silver and a cupboard of porcelain dishes.  He also decided which alcohol to serve with each course and kept inventory of the beer, wine, and spirits.

Next, the couple was introduced to the laundry staff, a team of three people who washed every fabric item in the house.  They were experts on stain removal, starching cravats and lace, handling different types of fabric, dyeing clothes, and more. 

Penelope couldn’t believe that after all they had seen so far, they still hadn’t made it to the kitchen!  She finally got to introduce herself to Mrs. Honey and meet her team of pastry experts, dairymaids, and undercooks.  The duchess knew they shouldn’t hover very long in the area as the servants were very busy, but she found it fascinating to watch them work.

When it appeared that the couple had seen every room and met every servant, Simon suggested, “We should allow them to get back to their duties, Penelope.”

He was eager to return upstairs to the areas that made up his home.  This underworld of steam and labor felt like another place altogether.

“Have we met everyone?” the duchess asked, running her finger down the lists she had made.

“Yes, Your Grace.”  Mrs. Colson wanted her domain back under her control and was very anxious to banish the nobles to their part of the castle.

Penelope frowned, searching the list again.  “Do we not employ a scullery maid?”

“You do not need to meet her, Your Grace.  She is the lowest member of your staff, hardly worth your time.”

Simon straightened up out of habit; although, the posturing wasn’t necessary given his authority as master of the house.  “We are meeting everyone,” he reminded her firmly.

“Fetch the scullery maid,” Mrs. Colson ordered, exerting her own power to control those around her.

A few minutes later, a nervous young teenager approached the group, wiping her hands on her apron anxiously.  She curtsied and waited with her eyes facing the ground.  At the housekeepers stern “ahem,” the maid dropped her apron, smoothing it out.

“I am Lady Basset,” Penelope greeted with a smile.  “I understand you are the scullery maid?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the girl whispered, her eyes darting up at the tall, formidable duke with fear before settling back to the ground.  “My name is Betty Tanner.”

“How old are you, Betty?” Penelope coaxed, stepping closer to the girl to box out the rest of their audience.

“Thirteen, Your Grace.”

“Is this your first time being away from your family?” 

“Yes, Your Grace.  I grew up in the village.”

“When did you last see your family?”  She had been thinking about the answer since talking about it with Elise a few days ago, but she hadn’t discussed it with her husband yet.

The duchess’s kindness made Betty feel safe.  She looked up and opened her mouth to speak when the housekeeper interrupted her.

“Scullery maids do not get time off, Your Grace,” Mrs. Colson snapped, causing the girl to recoil a bit.

Penelope looked to her husband for an explanation.  He shrugged.  “Everyone deserves time with their family, especially the youngest ones,” the duchess asserted.  “Betty is to be given every Sunday afternoon free.”

The maid’s eyes filled with tears.  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered, holding back tears.

“But, Your Grace.  Who will tend the fires and do the washing up?” Mrs. Colson protested, directing her complaint to the duke as a way of undermining the duchess’s authority.

“Hire someone else from the village for that one day or do the work yourself,” Simon ordered her impatiently.  He didn’t appreciate having his wife’s compassion dismissed and judged so easily.

“I do not care what you do, but Betty will get Sundays with her family.”  He smiled down at the maid kindly.  “Please let me know if you have any problems with the schedule, Miss Tanner.”

The maid flushed from the handsome master’s attention.  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“We should be thanking you,” Simon countered, nodding his head in a small bow.  “You work hard, and we appreciate it.  The rest of the staff have time off throughout the week as well- do they not, Mrs. Colson.”

"The senior staff," she replied haughtily, clearly annoyed at her employers but trying not to show it.

"She means your valet, my maid, the cook, the butler, and... herself."

Simon frowned.  "Hire additional staff in necessary, but everyone in this household, down to the Hall Boy, will receive at least one afternoon off a week."

"The youngest ones, William and Betty, should get an extra afternoon," Penelope suggested, smiling up at her husband.

He raised an eyebrow at his wife teasingly.  "Indeed."

Schooling his face to look serious and dignified, he addressed the housekeeper.  "Mrs. Colson, William and Betty are to have two afternoons off a week.  Everyone else is to have one.  See that it is done immediately."

He put out his arm for Penelope to take, feeling boisterous about their teamwork.  It made him very hopeful for their future as the duke and duchess.

“It was nice to meet you all!” Penelope said loudly so every servant could hear her.  “Thank you for working for us!”

Simon's heart melted at how enthusiastic and compassionate she was towards their people.  "I am so proud to be your husband," he whispered to her as they went upstairs, causing her to blush prettily.  "I will see you at supper, Wife." 

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- For more information about Regency servants, check out Sharon Lathon’s blog posts

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“The piano tuner came yesterday while you were napping, so I was wondering if you would like to play for me while I work today.  I do not think the weather will cooperate for our garden tour as I had hoped.”

He motioned to the nearest window to point out the dark sky and drizzly rain.  Perfectly normal for springtime, but still disappointing for them both.

“Perhaps there is a better time for me to practice,” she protested.  “I can play whenever it is convenient for you, so I do not disturb your quiet.”

“Penelope,” he said in a teasing, exasperated tone, “we already had this discussion.  I want you to disturb my quiet.”  He smiled at her most charmingly, using all the skills he had gained as a rake.  "Please."

“Alright, Simon.”  She put her hands on her hips in a playful scold.  “But, you must tell me if I become a nuisance.”

“Never,” he flirted, then caught himself.  Penelope was not like the other women he had known, and he needed to treat her with more honor.  He scolded himself for encouraging such games.  Abruptly, he turned on his heels and invited her to follow him into the music room turned study.

“I have not played in a long time.”  She thought about telling him that her father had given their pianoforte away to pay a gambling debt, but decided against it.  “I'm sorry if the music is not harmonious.”

“I had the maids bring your new music pieces from your room,” he commented, his tone casual but serious.  “They should be waiting for you on the stand.”

The couple separated as he went towards his desk, and she sat down at the pianoforte.  She studied the sheet music for a few minutes, trying to approximate in her head how the pieces might sound when played.

“Penelope, it's alright.  Please begin,” he invited, picking up a missive from his desk and reading it.  He had been watching her for several minutes before realizing that his scrutiny was probably making her nervous.

She hesitated for a second, then placed her hands on the keyboard exactly as she had been taught.  Slowly, she moved her fingers through scales, first one hand and then the other.  It was a bit rough, but she found that eventually her brain remembered how to control her movements.  She increased the speed, gaining confidence by the minute.

The moment she took a break, Simon spoke up.  “Do not stop.  It sounded good.”  The ghostly voices of mocking were silenced by her music, and he found it easy to work through the account books while she played.

“It was just scales,” she informed him with a bit of embarrassment.

“Well, you were playing with gusto.  Please continue.”  He waved his writing feather at her encouragingly.

She put her hands back into position and thought for a moment about what to play next.  “Any requests?” she asked, her mind a bit fuzzy with the anxiety of performing for the duke.

“I do not know much about music.  Play whatever you would like.”

Although she had learned several praiseworthy pieces to perform for a suitor, she never got the chance to play them for anyone.  She dug one of those songs out of her memory and played it, surprised that she remembered the entire composition.  The first song unlocked the next one and the next until she had played for over an hour.

“I had not realized how much I missed playing,” she exclaimed, rolling her shoulders back and bending her neck.  She forgot how tiring it could be to sit in one position, and continued to stretch a bit, senseless of her audience.

Simon found his eyes drawn towards movement in the middle of the room, as he watched his wife pull her arms over her head.  Remember the lecture he had given himself earlier about honoring as his wife, he quickly bounced his eyes to the classical statue on the side of the room.  “Thank you for sharing your music, Penelope.  Should we take a break and call for tea?”

Without answering, she stepped outside the room and spoke to Miller, who always hovered near his master to serve him as needed.  He passed on the message to a maid, who disappeared downstairs.

“I got a letter from the Bridgertons today,” she announced, joining her husband on a settee near the pianoforte.

“Only good news, I hope.”  He watched her face carefully, his teasing smile turning serious when he noticed her frown.

“Colin has eloped to Gretna Green with my cousin.”

A flash of jealousy flared up in Simon when he heard the way his wife said her childhood friend’s name.  “I thought both families were in agreement about the match?”

“Anthony did not look very pleased when the engagement was announced publicly, but I do not think he would have forbidden the match.”

“I wonder if there is more to the story.”

“Perhaps.”  She scrunched her face as she thought about her cousin and her friend.  She knew Colin could be impulsive and unrealistic, so she could see how he might think an unplanned trip to the Scottish border would be romantic.

Johnson, their butler entered the room.  “Excuse me, Your Graces.  Are you at home for visitors?  A Mrs. Henrietta Bailey and her daughters.”  He offered Penelope their calling card on a silver tray.

The duchess picked up the card and studied it.  “Are you familiar with them?”

Simon thought for a moment.  “Mr. Bailey called upon me before our London trip.  He is an untitled landowner in our area with a wife and five daughters.”

“My first visitors,” she said with a tiny squeal.  “Oh, I am so nervous!”

“Remember who you are, Penelope.”

She took a deep breath and smiled at him.  “Johnson, please show our guests to the yellow sitting room and have refreshments prepared.”

While they were in London, Simon had purchased a new tea service for her and today would be her first time using it with guests.  She waited a few minutes, bouncing her heels in anticipation.

“You are more than capable,” he reminded her, his hand itching to touch her arm encouragingly.  “Have a good afternoon, dear.  Enjoy your company!”

Simon smiled at his wife’s back as she skipped out of the music room.  His little drop of light had brightened his day just as he knew she would, and he was eager for her to invade his space again.

<><><><><>

Penelope entered the yellow sitting room as three pairs of eyes turned to her with curiosity.  A bit awkwardly, a middle aged woman and her two teen daughters stood and curtsied to her.

“Your Grace,” they greeted as they rose.

“Good afternoon, ladies.  Welcome to Clyvedon Castle.  Please be seated.”

The women took their places stiffly, trying not to appear as uncomfortable as they felt.  Each of them clutched their tea cups tightly.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Your Grace,” the mother began, looking anxiously at her daughters to see if they were behaving properly.  “I am Mrs. Henrietta Bailey and these are my daughters, Felicity and Samantha.”

Penelope took the cup of tea her maid handed her and quietly thanked her.  “I am pleased to meet you.  As you are no doubt aware, I am Lady Penelope Basset, the Duchess of Hastings.”  The words still felt strange in her mouth, like she was playing pretend.  She sipped her tea.  “My husband told me that you have five daughters, Mrs. Bailey?”

“Yes, Your Grace.  Felicity is the oldest, then Samantha next.  Elizabeth, Annabelle, and Molly are still at home.”  She spoke proudly of her offspring, which made Penelope smile.

“I look forward to meeting all of your daughters one day.  Which one of you is the reader?”  The duchess figured that in such a large family, at least one of them must be a bookworm.

“I am, Your Grace,” Samantha replied quietly, her head bowed as if in shame.

“I am, as well.  We must find a time to discuss the subject in more detail,” Penelope promised, earning a smile from the shy girl.  “What do you enjoy, Felicity?”

“I hope to marry well, so I have focused on the things that may earn a gentleman’s approval.”  She glared at her sister, taking away all the confidence Penelope had coaxed out of her.  “I sing, dance, speak French, and arrange flowers.”

“Her embroidery is very accomplished as well,” Mrs. Bailey interjected proudly.  “As you know, Felicity cannot be presented to the queen, but we are still hoping for a season or two in London.  Perhaps you could arrange a few introductions?”

The woman’s boldness surprised Penelope, but then she realized that Mrs. Bailey was just a Matchmaking Mama like every mother in the Ton.  “How old are you, Felicity?”

“Seven and ten, Your Grace.”

Penelope looked at the girl’s wide-eyed and innocent face and wanted to cry.  She swallowed a few gulps of tea to push the sorrow down, and replied, “Then, we are the same age.”

“I imagine you know many families with young men of suitable age, then?”  Mrs. Bailey arched her eyebrow in a dare, as relentless as a dog on point.  “Our country dances are attended by four and twenty families, but it is not grand enough prospects for Felicity.”

“Mama!” Samantha hissed, embarrassed by her family.

The duchess gave the girl as sympathetic smile.  “There are hundreds of families in the Ton.  I am sure Felicity will find a gentleman to her liking there.”  She discreetly motioned to the maid to refill everyone’s cups.

“It should not matter if there are a thousand families if we do not have connections to any of them!”  Mrs. Bailey selected a petit four and popped it in her mouth as if to calm herself.  “Perhaps you know of someone who would be willing to sponsor her?”

The implication heavily leaned in Penelope’s direction.  “I am not sure that Lord Basset and I will be returning to London next season,” she said honestly, while also gently letting down her neighbor’s hopes.

She steered the conversation to another, safer topic and successfully ended the visit.  Never in her life had she been so relieved that formal visits only lasted fifteen minutes.

When the maid escorted the guests to the door, Penelope crashed back against the chair, utterly exhausted from polite conversation.  She closed her eyes, feeling like she could nap again.  Sighing deeply, she smiled with satisfaction at having navigated her first social call as a duchess.

<><><><><>

Later that evening, Penelope shyly approached the Music Room, hoping to spend a little more time at the pianoforte.  “Is my husband within?” she asked Miller, although, his presence outside the door indicated that Simon occupied the room.  She had never purposefully sought him out, and her heart beat quickly with anxiety.

“He is, Your Grace.  Should I announce you?”

She felt silly about being announced in her own home, but contributed it to the unique way a duke’s house must be run.  Perhaps one day she would understand all the extra rules and stop being surprised by new ones.  “Yes, thank you.  I understand if he is too busy to see me, though.  Please tell him it is not important.”

“Just a moment, Your Grace,” Miller said with a respectful dip of his head.  With grave dignity, he entered the room to speak with the duke.

Penelope bit her bottom lip as she waited, fighting the urge to run back to her room and lock the door.  She wondered how her husband would react to her intrusion and hoped he wouldn’t feel obligated to entertain her if he was busy.

After a couple minutes, Miller opened the door and ushered her inside before shutting the door quietly.  He resumed his post with a slight smile on his face.

“Penelope!” Simon called out enthusiastically, standing to greet her.  His face beamed with joy as he rounded his desk and walked over to her.  “Do you need something from me?”

She looked at the floor, still biting her lip.  His eager welcome was a little intimidating.  “No….”

“No?”  His excitement fell off his face.

“I can come back if you are too busy,” she hedged, starting towards the door.

“Penelope,” he called sharply, reaching out to stop her.  “Please do not leave.”

She halted and turned back towards him.  “It is not important.”

“I do not believe you.”  He tried to add a bit of teasing levity to his accusation, but her face showed him that he failed.  Softening his voice even more, he asked, “Why are you here?”

Her face flickered through several emotions before she finally decided to confess to him.  “I wanted to begin working on my new pianoforte piece, but I do not want to bother you.”

“No!  Come!” he invited her happily, throwing his arm out to usher her towards the instrument.  “It has been too quiet in here, and I welcome the noise.”

He walked around the room, gathering candlesticks and lamps and placing them all over the pianoforte.  Then, he selected a spill from the holder on his desk and lit all the wicks, bathing the room in light.

“Are you sure?” she asked one last time as she sat down.

“Of course!”  He went back to his desk, watching her with a smile before reluctantly picking up his pen again.  “Quivering half-wit,” the ghost of his father sneered one final time before being banished by the first note of her warm-ups.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- “playing with gusto” is a movie quote from which movie?  Leave your guess in the comments.

- In Regency times, matches hadn’t been invented yet, so fire was transferred between sources with a stick called a spill.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next day, the sky was clear again, and Simon eagerly led her out of the house.  He was determined to discover her favorite flower, as he hadn’t had opportunity to learn much about her in their short courtship.

The late spring sun warmed the top of Penelope’s head in a relaxing, pleasant way as the couple made their way out to the garden.  She knew she should probably put up her parasol to prevent a fresh crop of freckles, but she realized that she didn’t care.  

For the first time in her life, she felt free of her mother’s censure.  She was a married woman, and despite the circumstances that got her there, she could make her own decisions.  Well, as long as her husband didn’t mind.

Simon had enjoyed sneaking glances at her as they walked, her peace and contentedness filling his own heart with joy.  She kept turning her face towards the sun, like the sunflower he imagined her to be when they first met.

It gave him hope to see these moments of felicity again.  He frowned as he watched as a shadow of unhappiness darkened his wife’s countenance.  “What is wrong, Penelope?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, surprised that he had noticed her mood.

He pulled them to a stop, so he could look into her eyes.  “Please?”  Tears formed in her eyes, and he wondered if he had done the wrong thing.  He handed her his handkerchief and waited for her to speak.

“I realized that I am only as free as you allow.”  She stared at her feet, fearing his reaction.  He had never hurt her or even threatened her, but she knew he was more than capable of it.  Despite how much they had been enjoying each other’s company lately, she still feared him.

“I do not understand.”  He was confused by her statement and by her tears.  “You are a duchess, one of the most powerful women in the kingdom.”  

“Your duchess.”

“Yes.”  He smiled warmly, thinking they were in agreement.

“Always under the control of a duke.  Never free.”

He scrunched his eyebrows, completely confused as to how their pleasant morning in the sunshine brought about this discussion.  “How have I limited you?”  He searched his mind for some area where he had neglected her or stifled her freedom lately.

“You could tell me to put up my parasol to protect my skin from freckles and I would have to obey you.”

He nearly laughed, but caught himself just in time.  “That is why you are upset?”  He looked towards the offending parasol.  It hadn’t occurred to him that she should be using it, since they were both wearing hats.  He wondered if he had been neglecting her by not reminding her to use the umbrella.

“I felt so free this morning, walking around in the garden with you, far away from Mama and the Ton.  I am afraid you will push me back into the cage right as I am starting to stretch my wings.”

“I will carry your parasol, if it is such a burden to you.”  He held out his hand for it and tucked it under his arm.

“You do not think I should cover my skin?  Mother says I will look like a bespeckled beggar.”

He searched her face, then cheekily added, “Nope, I like your freckles.”  Just as he knew it would, his flirtatious words caused his wife to flush red.

More seriously, he bent towards her and whispered, “I promise I will never put you in a cage, Little Bird.  I hope you continue to test your wings.”

Penelope wiped her eyes.  “Thank you,” she sniffled, embarrassed by her outburst now that she was calmer.  She never used to be this weepy before their marriage and was disconcerted how easily they came.  Especially since Simon had been so gentle with her from their very first meeting.

Tucking his wife’s arm against his body securely, he walked further into the garden.  “I am unfamiliar with flowers,” he commented, eager to turn her mind to happier things.  “You will need to explain them to me.”

“Explain them?  You struggle to comprehend their existence?”

Her nose scrunched adorably with confusion, and Simon had to stop himself from bopping it with his finger.  He was careful to maintain the boundaries that she had seemed to set with them, contact more befitting a courting couple than a married one.  Except for that one incident in the carriage after the ball, he had restrained himself from any intimate or casual contact.

“I do not know many flower names,” he lied, his eyes betraying his dishonesty with a flash of playfulness.  “Perhaps you can guide me?”

They had wandered into a section that appeared to be blanketed in rose bushes of every variety.  “I cannot believe that you do not know these flowers, Simon.”  She turned her face up towards him with a smile.

“You have given me an easy one to start.  These are roses.”  He nodded his head with proud self-satisfaction.

“Very good,” she praised, teasingly.  “Alright, what about those ones over there?”

He studied the small, pink, bell-like flowers on a tall stem.  “Those look like fox’s gloves.”

“I believe they are called foxgloves,” she corrected, sticking one onto her pinky finger and giggling.  He picked one for himself and tapped it against hers like a cheers, making them both laugh.

They walked a little further, and she pointed to a patch of yellow daffodils, their trumpet-shaped heads bobbing in the slight breeze.

“Narcissus, named after the tragic Greek hero, who fell in love with his own reflection.”

“Show off!”  She huffed into a mock pout.  They walked a while longer, discussing the flowers, their meanings, and random other subjects.

“Good morning, Your Graces,” a muddy uniformed gardener greeted, bowing low to them.

“I am Lord Simon Basset.  Can you direct us to the Head Gardener?”  He pulled on his jacket to straighten it as he drew himself up tall and formally.  It felt a bit uncomfortable after the lighthearted conversations he had been enjoying with his wife.

“I am he, Your Grace.  Mr. Tony Evans, at your service.  Please forgive my appearance, as springtime is a busy time of the year.”  He dug a gray handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his hands, although, it didn’t seem to make a difference.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Evans.  I am Lady Penelope Basset.  Thank you for your hard work.  I can tell the areas you have addressed.”

“The gardens have been abandoned for many years, Your Grace, but the foundations of a beautiful setting are in place.  May I show you?”

Penelope glanced at her husband, who nodded.  “Yes, thank you.  I was also hoping to meet the other men under your leadership.”

She took a moment to write down the gardener’s name in her book, as well as list out any observations she had made during their brief walk.

“We have been meeting all of our staff slowly throughout the past few weeks,” Simon explained when he saw the surprise on the other man’s face.

“I am sure they will be most pleased to meet you, Your Graces, but they are working in the Orangery today.  The storms from a few days ago blew a branch from a nearby tree into the building and broke one of the glass panels.”

Simon sighed.  The list of repairs for the estate grounds seemed to grow by the minute.  He fought an urge to gallop to the nearest port and take the first ship far away from his problems.

His wife’s fingers squeezed his arm gently, grounding him in reality and reminding him of her steadfast presence and duty as a duke.

“You may bring me a list of supplies that you require, and I will see about acquiring them.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.  We will need to send to London for the glass and borrow the blacksmith from the stables to repair the window.”

“Come to the house this afternoon with the measurements.”

The little group had been exploring the grounds casually as they talked, so it didn’t surprise Simon when his wife randomly exclaimed, “Oh, these are perfect for our gift baskets!”

“Lavender, Your Grace?” Mr. Evans asked, bending down to pick a few stocks and handing them to her.

Penelope smelled them daintily, smiling at the comforting scent.  “We should include bundles of dried lavender for our tenants, as the plant is so useful both hygienically and medicinally,” she explained, crushing the flowers between her fingers to extract the oils.

“We appear to have plenty to share,” Simon observed with a smile, gesturing to the riot of purple flowers growing everywhere in this part of the garden.

“My men and I will cut and prepare the bouquets whenever you would like, Your Grace.  If you want them dried, I will need a few extra days notice.”

Penelope made a note in her book about the lavender, adding it to her idea list for the gift baskets.  Although she wasn’t confidant in most aspects of being a duchess, she was finding the role of benefactress to be quite fun.  Her mind was constantly buzzing with ways to improve their tenants’ lives.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Evans.”  When the servant had bowed and hurried away from the couple, Simon turned to his wife.

“How are you feeling?  Do you need to stop for refreshments or a rest?  Perhaps you have just grown weary of my company and need some time alone?”

“Do not allow me to keep you from your important business,” she hurriedly replied, suddenly in a bit of a flutter at his suggestions.

“Important business?” he teased with one arched brow.  “I do not know what you mean.”

“Simon….”  She put her hands on her hips and stared him down.

He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.  She looked so adorable when she was trying to act serious.  After a moment, he huffed out a soft laugh and smiled.  “I asked my questions first, Penelope, so you must answer me first.”

“I do not require anything, but now you must tell me if I am keeping you from your work,” she insisted, pointing her finger at him.

“My work for the day is figuring out your favorite flower.  Since you have not told me already, then we must continue until we succeed.”  He held out his arm for her to take.

She placed her hand on his arm without hesitation, then teased, “Perhaps I should make you guess my favorite?  Shall I give you a hint?”

“Is it a flower in this garden or will we need to add them?”

She had already spotted them earlier, so she didn’t need to look their way to answer.  “Yes, they are here.”

Disappointed that his tricky question didn’t cause her to point her eyes in a certain direction, he demanded she give him a better hint.  He realized he sounded like a spoiled child, but he didn’t care enough to stop.

Her eyes sparkled with happiness and mischief, and he couldn’t stop watching her.

“My favorite flowers…” she stopped talking to smile at him, drawing out the reveal.  “are also the official flowers of my birth month.”

His face lit up for a second, then fell when he realized he still didn’t have enough information.  “But, I do not know your birth month,” he pouted.

She laughed.  “I will give you a clue.  I just had a birthday.”

Panic flooded his face when he realized he might have forgotten her birthday, the first one of their married life.  His dread just made her laugh harder.  “Uh, May?” he guessed, which was the month they were currently in.

“Nope.”

“April?”

“Now, what are the assigned flowers for April?”

He frowned.  “When was your birthday?”

“Uh-uh,” she taunted, “we have to save some mysteries for a different day.”

He thought about his knowledge of flower meanings and tried to remember what bud had been allotted to each month.  “Is it daisies?”

“Those are one of April’s flowers, but not my favorite.”

He looked over their vast garden.  There were still so many species they hadn’t visited yet.  “Um, black eyed susans… goldenrod… sunflowers… marigold… dandelions!”

She shook her head after each one, making Simon feel less confident every moment.  When he blurted out “dandelions,” she broke into delighted giggles.  “Those are all yellow flowers!”

“They are all Penelope flowers.”

She crinkled her nose at him.  “My favorite flower is NOT yellow.”

“You are making this too hard,” he whined with false pouting.  Anyone who knew the duke would not be able to imagine him capable of either the relaxed teasing or fake petulance.  With Penelope, he found it very easy to loosen up his normally straight back and take off his air of indifference.

It seemed to help his wife as well, which allowed him to cover over any hesitation he felt with a layer of duty.  He must flirt with Penelope, because he wanted her to heal.  It was quite noble, he told himself, and not at all related to his growing attachment to her.

“Come, I will show you.”  She grabbed his hand and drug him through the garden.  “It's sweet peas!”  She waved her hand towards them triumphantly.  Their garden had a riot of pink, blue, and purple flowers in a chaotic flood of color.

Simon was still in shock over her little hand in his large one to even register what she said to him.  Of course, she had put her hand in his to alight from a carriage, but this was the first time they had held hands.

He resisted the desire to caress her hand with his thumb.  Slowly, he pulled his eyes away from their joined hands and noticed that she was telling him a long story, which he couldn’t comprehend.  “Lovely,” he blurt out.

She stopped her story to frown at him in confusion.  “What?”

“The flowers.  Lovely.”

She blushed at his awkward compliment, then realized with horror that they were still holding hands.  Pulling away from him, she took a few steps backwards.  “I, uh, am quite tired… and, uh, I… Good-bye.”  She hurried away from him to hide in her room.

<><><><><>

When the maid came to change her for dinner, Penelope wasn’t sure she wanted to face Simon after their strange encounter that morning.  She needn’t have worried, though, because he seemed just as reluctant to talk about anything important with her either.  As they often did when faced with moments that felt too weighty to address, they kept their focus on the Bridgerton family.

“… It was meant to be a jape, but it got out of his control quickly.  It ate pages out of a classmate’s Latin textbook and left a trail of… well, uh… manure everywhere he ran.”  He chuckled at the memories, shaking his head.

She laughed as well.  “You want me to believe that stuffy Anthony Bridgerton, Mr. Responsibility himself, brought a goat into your dormitory?”

“Yes!  And who do you think had to help him get the loathsome creature back outside?”  They laughed a little more before he added, “He was always getting me into trouble.”

“I do not believe you.”  She failed to keep a serious face as her eyes danced.

Suddenly, the mood grew heavy.  “He was a different person after his father died.  I wish you could have known him.”

“I remember seeing him change and not understanding why he was suddenly so rigid and stoic.”

“When the weight of his entire family crashed onto him that summer day, the only way he could stand upright again was to cover himself in metal armor.  Inside, he hid all of his grief, his insecurities, and his true self.  In many ways, the Viscount that you know is a facade.  I have worn similar armor throughout the years.”

“Your father?” she asked softly, tentatively.  “Will you tell me what happened?”

Simon shook his head.  “Not tonight.”  He sipped his wine and changed his tone.  “I have many more Anthony stories, which are much more interesting.”  He forced himself to smile.

“One year, Anthony ran across Lady Danbury’s ballroom right after the footmen finished painting the floor.  He not only left dirty footprints on the fresh, white design, but he also tracked paint.  Lady Danbury was so angry that she banished him from the house for the entire social season!  Fortunately, we were only home for Easter weekend, so he only had to endure a few days.”

His story reminded her of a similar one about Colin and soon the couple had filled their entire evening with laughter.  

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“What will you show me today?” Penelope enthusiastically greeted Simon the moment he entered her sitting room.  She bounded over to her husband, ready to follow him on another adventure.  Since returning to London, it had become their habit to spend the first hours of the day together.

“Good morning to you too, Wife,” he teased, smiling at her, while Ruby pretended not to be effected by their playfulness.

“Good morning,” she replied dutifully.  “Now, where are you taking me?”

“I would like to check in with the head groom on the state of our stables.  Would you like to join me?”

“Can I bring the horses some treats?”

“I think you must.”  He smiled at her indulgently before turning his attention to the maid.  “Ruby, please tell the kitchen to pack us a picnic as well.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  She curtsied and then stepped out of the room to pass the message to another servant.

Simon looked his wife over from head to toe, causing her to blush from his critical gaze.  “You need different shoes.”

“Yes, I am planning to change both my shoes and my dress when my maid returns.”

Now, he looked embarrassed.  “I'm sorry-”

“I am not upset, Simon.  Your suggestion was very practical.  Thank you.”

He cleared his throat and tried again.  “I will be in my study.”

“I should not be very long.”

“I will see you soon, then.”  He snapped a quick head nod, turned on his heal, and retreated to his desk to work until she was ready.

True to her word, it took Ruby less than a half hour to switch out Penelope’s morning gown to a walking dress, change her indoor shoes for practical half-boots, and add a reticule, hat, fan, parasol, and gloves.

By the time they finished, the kitchen had completed preparations for the picnic, and the footmen stood ready to set up their alfresco dining experience.

“Your Grace, Lady Basset to see you,” Miller announced, drawing the duke’s attention towards the music room door.

Simon plopped his feather pen into the ink and went to his wife.  “Much better,” he said with a nod of approval.  “Are you ready?”

She nodded, taking her husband’s arm without hesitation.

“Andrew and Nelson, please set up the picnic in the lilac grove.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” they both agreed, then Andrew asked, “My lord, the kitchens also sent a bag of apples for the horses.”

“Give them to me, please.”  With ease, Simon took the burlap bag of fruit and slung it over his shoulder.  “Shall we?” he asked, smiling down at his wife.

<><><><><>

“Simon!  Those are your stables?  They are astonishing!”  Penelope marveled at the large complex that housed the estate’s horses and everything related to their care.  The imposing structure appeared to be made in a classical style, with arches, pillars, and decorations that made it look very grand.

“My family is very serious about our horses,” Simon informed her with a slightly sarcastic tone.  “Do you ride?”

“I learned to ride as a child, but Papa gambled away our equestrian horses many years ago.  I remember enjoying it, though.”

Her husband smiled since riding was one of his favorite pastimes and modes of transportation.  “I do not know if we have an appropriate animal for you in our stable, but we can certainly purchase one.”

A well-dressed middle-aged man greeted them at the entryway to the complex, doffing his hat and bowing.  “Your Graces, allow me to introduce myself.  I am Harry Wheaton, your Stable Master.  How may I help you today?”

“Good morning, Mr. Wheaton.”  Simon smiled at his employee.  “My wife and I were hoping for a tour of your facility and an introduction to the horses and staff.”

Although he would have preferred to spend all of his time alone with the estate’s record books, the duke realized that he would learn a lot more by engaging with his staff and seeing the property for himself.

“I would be happy to guide you.  Please follow me.”  The stable master waved his hand towards the inner courtyard and began walking as he narrated.  “We currently have thirty-four thoroughbred racehorses, six carriage teams consisting of sixteen total, and seven equestrian horses.”

Mr. Wheaton motioned for the stable-hands and grooms currently in the vicinity to approach the duke and duchess for introductions.  “As you can see, we use this open area as a training yard.”  

Penelope smiled at them as they bowed to her, uncomfortable with the deference, but hopeful that she was presenting herself well.  From her reticule, she extracted a small book and charcoal pencil to write down details she learned, including all staff names.  She knew it would take time, but she wanted to be able to identify every servant and call them by the correct name.

Mr. Wheaton showed them the hay storage areas, tack and harness room, blacksmith shop, servant’s quarters, farrier’s shop, and carriage house as well as introducing them to every person they encountered.  It was clear that this was his kingdom, and he knew every detail of how it operated.

The stables for the racehorses was the largest and best appointed area of the complex.  With their scrubbed brick floors, polished wood, and gleaming metal fixtures, the horses lived better than the majority of the English population.

While a clearly engrossed Simon chatted with the Stable Master and head groom about the bloodlines, schedules, and diets of the animals, Penelope wandered away.

“Hey, there,” she said calmly, placing her hand on a horse’s back flank before moving towards its head.  All of the animals were positioned with their heads towards that walls of their stalls, so Penelope had to get entirely into the cage to pet its nose.  “Good boy.”

A lad about her age or slightly younger slipped into the stall on the other side of the horse.  He wore the gray uniform of the stable-hands rather than the smarter black clothes of the grooms and upstairs servants.  Placing his hand on the horse’s neck and patting it, he said, “This is Copper.  She is one of my favorites.”

The duchess blushed when she realized she had called the animal by the wrong gender.  “She is very lovely.”

“Yes, you are,” he whispered, careful to speak softly enough that no one else could hear him.  He stared at her boldly, while he continued to pet the horse.

“You are Petey, right?”  She had noted him since he also had red hair.

He smiled at her and dipped his head.  “At your service, Your Grace.”

“How long have you worked for Mr. Wheaton?”

“Only a few months, but I grew up in the village.”

“Do you enjoy working in the stables?”

“I like the horses.  They each have a different personality.  For example, Copper seems sweet and gentle, but she has a wild streak.”

“I am so happy to see how well the horses are being maintained.  I look forward to spending time with them.”  She took a step towards the back of the horse and the exit, noticing how close the stable-hand had gotten to her.

“I can take you riding anytime,” he suggested quietly, his eyes darkening slightly.

“Who is your new friend?” Simon asked, entering the stall and stepping close to his wife.  He noticed her discomfort with the other man and glared at him arrogantly.

Penelope knew both men expected her to say the stable-hand’s name, but she replied instead, “Copper.  Is she not beautiful?”  She rewarded her husband with a sweet smile, grateful for his intervention.

“Petey!” Mr. Wheaton snapped.  “Back to your duties!”

The stable-hand bowed to the nobles and quickly moved to the other side of the building.  Meanwhile, Simon casually handed his wife an apple from the bag, his eyes never straying from the young servant.  She fed the horse as he whispered protectively, “Was he bothering you?”

“I am alright,” she replied, mindful of her husband’s temper.

In an effort to cut through the tension, Mr. Wheaton announced, “Copper is one of your broodmares, Your Grace.  She birthed your champion, King’s Ransom, a few years ago, and has recently been put to sire with Rapscallion.  Perhaps she will give us another winner in a year.”

Penelope bowed her head in embarrassment at the casual way the Stable Master was discussing breeding.  Despite her recent trauma, she was still very naive to the concept of reproduction and blushed like a débutante.

Simon took his wife by the elbow and led her a few stalls down to a massive black horse.  “Do you remember the name Hyacinth picked for her pony?  This is Midnight.”

“He looks exactly as I would expect,” she commented with a smile.

He laughed.  “Yes, he was aptly named.  I won him in a gamble last year.  He came in third at Ascot, and I am hoping to race him again.”

“You won him?” Penelope asked, withdrawing into herself.  Her father was an infamous gambler in Mayfair, who had thrown away the family fortune including her and her sisters’ dowries.  She was horrified to think that her husband might do the same.

Simon watched his wife grow pale, not fully comprehending why.  Seeking to distract his staff from Penelope’s reaction, he asked, “Mr. Wheaton, do we have any horses suitable for a lady?”

A flicker of panic crossed the Stable Master’s face.  “No, Your Grace.  We do not have the horse or the tack for a woman.”

“Next time I am in London, I will visit Tattersall Market to purchase one for her.  In the meantime, order the appropriate tack from the leather manufacturer in the village.  Penelope, do you have a riding habit and boots?”

Penelope scrunched her nose while she thought about all the new things Lady Danbury had purchased for her.  “No, I do not have either.”

“We will send a missive to order them for you from the modiste and shoemaker, then we can pick them up when we are in the city.  Now, we require a gig.  Please see that one is available for us soon.”

“Do you need a driver, Your Grace?” Mr. Wheaton asked, unsure of the duke’s skills steering a gig.  The vehicle only seated two people, so it was usually driven by the owner.

“No, thank you.  We do not require any additional staff.”

“It will be done as you ask, Your Grace.” the servant bowed his head quickly, then motioned for one of the groomsmen to prepare the horse and vehicle.

The men discussed a few more items of business before the groom informed them that their carriage was ready.  “Thank you for your time this morning, Mr. Wheaton,” Simon bid, putting out his arm for Penelope to take.

“Yes, thank you for introducing me to everyone.”  Penelope curtsied shallowly out of habit, then flushed when she realized she shouldn’t have done it as a duchess.

The Stable Master walked them to their two-wheeled, lightweight carriage.  A tall, neatly uniformed groom waited, holding the bridle of the horse.

Simon helped his wife into the seat, carefully folding her skirts away from the wheels, then climbed up next to her.  The groom handed him the reins, as the duke thanked both of the men.  With a flick of his wrists, the gig began rolling.

<><><><><>

“I am not your father, Penelope,” Simon announced gravely after they had driven in silence for a few minutes.

“You are similar, though.  Both of you are gentlemen of the Ton, prone to whoring and gambling.”  After the incident with Abigail in London, she struggled with comparing her husband to her father.

He frowned and winced as her assessment hit him.  “I have given up on the rake lifestyle and I could easily give up gambling as well.”

His statement felt too easy.  She knew he was sincere, but she didn’t think he would follow through on his promise.  “What will you do about your race horses?”

“I will still race them, but I will not place any side bets on their outcome.”

“Will other gentlemen not find it strange?

He turned to her with a grin.  “I will simply tell them that I have already won the largest bet and no others can compete.”

A pleased smile curled her lips slightly as she blushed.  “I thought you gave up your rakish ways,” she scolded playfully.

“Not entirely,” he whispered, his eyes darkening for a moment before he looked away.

A warm glow settled in her stomach, confusing and comforting her.

She straightened her spine and took control again.  “No horse betting?  No cards?  No games of luck?  No wagers of any kind?”

“All gone.”  Part of him regretted his vow, but the part of him that was trying to coax Penelope to trust him won out.  “I am not your father,” he repeated, staring into her eyes so she could read his earnestness.

His voice grew warmer and deeper as he leaned into her just slightly.  “For one thing, I am a lot more handsome than your father.”

She bit her bottom lip, unsure what to do with the feelings he was stirring in her.

“Richer, too.”  He winked at her, then withdrew back into his own space.

“Simon!” she exclaimed, hitting him flirtatiously.

Feeling victorious, he laughed, and flicked the reins to increase their speed a little.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“I want to show you my favorite place in our garden,” Simon said as pulled the horses to a stop near a grove of lilac trees.  Excitedly, he pulled her into a hidden room created by the bushes, where the footmen had arranged their picnic.

Penelope looked around wide-eyed and took a deep breath through her nose.  With a happy sigh, she smiled, her shoulders dropping as she relaxed.  “It is enchanting!”

In the middle of the grove, the footmen had built a small table, covered in a perfect white tablecloth and arranged two chairs facing each other.  It was intimate, but in a picturesque, magical way.  She felt a flicker of her old, romantic self warm at the scene.

“Thank you, Robert and Nelson.  Everything is well done,” the duke complimented, smiling at them.  “You may return to the house for your tea.”  The two servants bowed and left them alone.  “Please sit, Penelope.”  He tucked her into her chair, then joined her.

She began preparing their tea, but kept getting distracted by the beauty around her.  “I can see why this is your favorite place.”  It felt like a fairy garden made real, if she still believed in happy endings.  Instead, she had to force herself not to fear being alone with Simon.

Simon shooed a bee away from a jelly cake and placed it on his plate.  “I rode past here one day and was surprised by the memories it invoked.”

“You said you did not have any good memories of Clyvedon.  I am glad you were wrong.”  She selected a cucumber sandwich for herself while the tea brewed.  “Tell me what you remember,” she urged with a gentle smile, hoping his stories would distract from her feeling of dread.

“When I was a little boy, before Lady Danbury took me to live with her, my nanny used to bring me to this grove to play.  This little room made of trees was my sanctuary, hidden from my father’s critical gaze and cruel hands.  Mrs. Colson said my mother planted the trees when she was first married to create a special place to read.”

“It sounds like I might have liked her.  We seem to have a lot in common.”  She put a few strawberries on her plate, exclaiming her delight at their inclusion on the table.

“My nanny took me into the garden and taught me the names of the flowers.  She made up stories for me about each of them, giving them personalities and lives.”

Penelope giggled, feeling more relaxed.  “I knew you had more flower knowledge than you disclosed,” she scolded around a smile.  Every flower bouquet he had chosen for her during their brief courtship had been thoughtful and meaningful.  From the pink China roses of early friendship to the daffodils signaling their new beginning.

He said he didn’t know about flowers as an invitation for her to instruct him, a way for them to connect, but he felt guilty about deceiving her.  “I am sorry for lying.”

“To make it up to me, I need to hear the flower stories,” she demanded, her tone taking on a haughty air.  She picked up another sandwich and stared at him expectantly.

“No.”  He was a grown man, a powerful duke, not a stuttering, cowering child.  Flower stories were silly, and he wasn’t going to tell her any.

“Please?” she asked sweetly.

“I do not remember,” he said, crossing his arms.

She matched him and crossed her own arms in a playful pout.  “Simon.”

“Penelope.”

“Simon.”

They stared at each other for a couple minutes before he gave into her request.  “Alright, I will tell you one.”

She clapped her hands with glee, then folded them demurely, grinning with anticipation.

Leaning towards her, he whispered, “You know, wallflowers are actually quite beautiful.”  Her face colored, encouraging him to continue his observation.  Smoothly, he added, “Although it seems like they should cling to walls and hide, the wallflower stands tall in the middle of the garden, strong and assured.”

She dipped her head as a flutter danced in her stomach.  He smirked at her confidently, sure he had pulled her in with his rakish charms, until she complained, “That was not a story.”

“I am not the writer in this marriage,” he countered, leaning back in his chair.

“Simon, you promised.”  She crossed her arms over her chest and scrunching her nose.

He thought she looked adorable when she was vexed, like a growling kitten, and he instinctively needed to provoke her further.  “I did not promise.”

“Yes, you did.”  She leaned towards him, trying to be more intimating.  It didn’t work.

He resisted the urge to smile.  “No, I did not.”

She pressed back against the seat.  “Then, I will wait here all day until you tell me a story.”

“If you insist,” he agreed, reclining in the chair and staring at her.  With only the buzzing of bees to break into his thoughts, he began to notice the way her red curls danced in the slight breeze.  A new scattering of freckles dotted her nose and cheeks testified to their recent ventures in the sun and her newfound freedom as duchess.  Her lips were stained pink from the strawberries she had been enjoying.  He wondered if they would taste like strawberries as well.

Abruptly, he stood up and walked away from the table.  “I have to check the horses,” he mumbled, heading out of the grove.  For a moment, he had allowed his thoughts to wander, imagining kissing her or more.  He felt deeply ashamed for once again feeling attracted to her.  His attention was the last thing she needed as she recovered from her horrible ordeal.  She needed him to be friendly, but not familiar.

After petting the horses for a few minutes to get control of himself, he returned to his seat, trying to appear nonchalant.  “The horses are well,” he told her awkwardly.

“Good.”  She nodded her head.

“How are you feeling?  I had one more place I wanted to take you, but we could go another day if you would rather rest.”  He selected one last sandwich and ate it in two bites, just to have something to do.  He didn’t want her to feel like he was rushing her.

“It seems as if I am always tired these days!  Perhaps I will just need to get used to feeling worn out.  My curiosity is peaked, though, so I insist you continue with our adventure.”

He smiled at her warmly and stood up, offering his hand to help her up.  “Very well, my lady.  Come with me.”  They left the tea party mess for the bees and footmen and resumed their journey in the gig.  

<><><><><>

As Simon and Penelope neared a small stone cottage, three kids ran to greet them.  “Hello,” the duchess called out with a smile, stepping away from her husband to interact with the children.

“Good afternoon, my lady,” the oldest boy said, bowing.  His brother and sister joined him in their sloppy bows a moment later.

“What are your names?” Penelope asked sweetly, enchanted by the energetic, dirty siblings.

“I’m Willie,” the younger boy replied proudly, “and this is my brother, Miles, and my sister, Mary.”

“Pleasure to meet you.  I am Pen- Lady Basset, and this is my husband, Lord Basset.” 

Willie scrunched his face, as if trying to solve a puzzle.  “Are you the duke?”

“I thought The Duke was old!” Mary blurted out, which caused her oldest brother to grab her and place his hand over her mouth.

Miles looked at the powerful man with big, fearful eyes.  “Please forgive my sister, Your Grace.  She did not mean to be disrespectful.”

Simon smiled at them, hoping he looked friendly.  “No, she was right.  The Duke was old, but now he is dead.  I am the new duke.  Nice to meet you, Children.”

“You are so tall!” Mary observed, bending herself backwards to look up at him.

Penelope hid her laugh behind her hand and added dryly, “Indeed.”

“Children!” a man yelled, appearing from one of the outbuildings.  “Who are you talking to?”

“Daddy!  Come meet the duke!” Miles demanded, motioning him over with his hand eagerly.

The man jogged over to their group and bowed.  “Your Graces, I hope my children have not been bothering you.”

“They have been delightful,” Penelope reassured him, smiling at them as they glowed from her praise.

“Your Grace, I am your Game Warden, David Knolls.  How can I serve you today?”

“I am Lord Basset,” Simon told him, distancing himself from the Hastings title.  “This is my wife, Lady Basset.  If you have time, we would like to explore the property, take inventory, and meet all of our staff.”

“Of course, Your Graces.”  Mr. Knolls emphasized his deference with another bow.  He led the noble couple to all the outbuildings with his children following behind them like chicks.  Proudly, he introduced them to the staff and told them about the game available on the estate.  Between the stables and the kennels, Penelope added over fifty names to her notebook that afternoon, a mind-boggling number of people under their direction.

“Daddy, can we show Lady Basset the puppies!” Willie asked when the tour seemed to be ending, which set off his siblings to beg for the same thing.

The Game Warden gently touched his finger to his lips, and the children fell silent.  “The late duke did not hunt much in his later years, but he still maintained a kennel of hunting dogs.  I train them myself and occasionally take them out in the field.”

“What breed?” Simon inquired, wondering if the animals would be appropriate for the type of hunting he preferred.

“There are English Foxhounds, Cocker Spaniels, and Curly Coated Retrievers.”  A variety suitable for all the types of animals gentlemen liked to hunt.  

“Can we show Her Grace the puppies now?” Mary whined, causing her father to smile down at her fondly.

“Please?” Penelope added, looking up at Simon expectantly.

The duke laughed.  “Lead on, Child,” he commanded gently, putting out his elbow to escort his wife.

Mary waited until her dad nodded his permission before she began skipping towards one of the barns, her siblings following close behind her like a pack.  At the entrance to the barn,  she placed her finger to her lips and demanded, “Shh!  We have to be very quiet.”

The men exchanged a look of indulgence and moved to another area of the barn to talk about the dogs.  Meanwhile, Penelope followed the children into the whelping pen.  Checking the ground carefully, she sat down just as Mary thrust a puppy into her arms.

“Why, hello,” the duchess cooed, holding the brown, curly-haired dog to her body.  The wiggly animal danced in her arms, smelling and licking her.  She giggled lightheartedly, savoring the softness of the fur and the warmth of its little body.

The children played with the other puppies, chasing them around and winding them up.  Soon, the animals were yapping and the children were laughing, creating a merry hullabaloo.  The dog mom curled up in a ball and slept, grateful that someone else was keeping her offspring busy and out of her hair.

The duke’s heart warmed as he watched Penelope snuggle her puppy.  She giggled as it licked her face, and he smiled softly at how carefree she sounded.  Compelled by some force to be near her, he left the Game Warden mid-sentence and stood by his wife.

“Simon!  Look!” Penelope called out to him, twisting her body so he could see the animal better.  “Is he not just adorable!”  She laughed again, bubbling over with easy joy.

He leaned over the fence to scruff the top of the puppy’s head.  “He is very pleasing,” he agreed, while his mind dwelt on how adorable his wife looked at that moment.  She was happy and relaxed, and he would do anything to keep her that way.  Straightening, he addressed the Game Warden.  “How long until they are weaned?”

“They can be separated now, Your Grace.”

Simon smiled at his wife.  “What do you say, Penelope?  Would you like one as a pet?”

Her eyes grew large with excitement.  “Do you mean it?”

“Of course.  Pick out the one you would like.”

Without a thought, Penelope held up the one already in her arms before hugging him to her chest again.

“Excellent choice, Your Grace,” Mr. Knoll praised and then making a beeline to his supply area for a length of rope.  He handed it to the duke, who tied to loosely around the dog’s neck.

Penelope set her puppy down as Simon helped her stand up, then took the end of the rope from her husband.  “Thank you, Simon.”  Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck for a quick hug, surprising even herself.  She immediately hung her head and backed away from him a few steps, afraid of his reaction.

Her abrupt change and obvious fear of him did nothing to help Simon’s reputation with his Game Warden.  He wasn’t sure what prompted his wife’s reaction, so he didn’t know how to fix it.  To cover up the awkward moment, Simon directed a command to Mr. Knoll.  “Please send one of your dog trainers to the house to oversee the animal’s care.”

After bidding farewell to the servants and children, the duke and duchess headed for home in the gig, a squirmy puppy nestled in Penelope’s arms.  When they had ridden for a while, Simon realized his wife hadn’t spoken one word to him.  To be fair, he hadn’t said anything to her either, but he wondered if her silence meant something.

“Penelope, is something the matter?” he asked her gently, noting her tense shoulders and fidgeting fingers.  For a second, he felt a burst of pride in himself for recognizing her mood change.

Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to drown them.  “I'm sorry, Your Grace,” she whispered as the sorrow spilled onto her cheeks.

“For what?” he demanded sharply.  When she recoiled from him, he realized he hadn’t responded well.  “Penelope, you have done nothing worth apologizing for,” he said softly, trying to communicate his confusion again.

She began sobbing.  In between gasps, she managed to convey- “I- took- liberties- with- you!”

“What?”  He could not help the little laugh that bubbled out when he thought about what she admitted.  The idea that his naive, petite wife would have either the knowledge or boldness to force herself on him was humorous.  She appeared quite upset, though, so he asked, “When did you take liberties?”

“In- the- barn,” she sobbed out.

Simon searched his memories for everything that had happened that afternoon, especially what proceeded her change in behavior.  “Do you mean when you hugged me?”

She nodded, still crying.

“Oh, Sweet Penelope, you did not take liberties with me.”  He spoke softly, but firmly.  “You hugged your husband during a moment of happiness.  There is nothing to forgive.”

“Are you sure?”  She extracted her handkerchief from her reticule and began wiping her eyes.

“Of course.”  He smiled at her tenderly.  “I am glad that you are becoming free enough-” he emphasized the word to remind her of their previous conversation- “and comfortable enough with me to occasionally allow yourself a spontaneous display of happiness.”

“You are not upset?”  She wrung the cloth with her hands and stared at her lap.

“No.  Now, please, can we talk of happy things again?”  His tone hinted at a slight exasperation that made Penelope giggle.  “Have you thought of a name for your puppy yet?”

She smiled and relaxed again, scratching the animal behind his ears.  “What do you think about Buttons?”

Simon thought it was a ridiculous name for a hunting dog, but he remembered the animal had now been reduced, or maybe elevated, to a pet.  “It is your dog,” he laughed.  “What do you think?”

She bit her lip, unsure what he wanted her to say.  “I like it.”

“Then so shall he be,” Simon declared with fake arrogance, earning another giggle from his wife.  He gave a contented sigh, deciding that it had been a very good day.  They rode the rest of the way back to their castle in friendly conversation.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next day, Penelope kissed Buttons good-bye and left with her husband to visit the tenants.  After all their preparation, she had finally declared the baskets ready for distribution.  They brought along an extra wagon with their gifts, while they traveled in the Hastings carriage.

“When is your birthday?” Penelope asked him casually as they rode to the village.

“July eighteenth.  When is yours?”  Simon felt optimistic about their day and he was looking forward to meeting all his tenants and hearing their concerns.  Spending the entire day with his wife made it even better.

“April eighth.”

“You told the queen that you are ten and seven.”  He felt that familiar nausea that he got whenever he thought about the young age of his wife and all that had happened to her.

“Yes, I was presented to Her Majesty on my birthday.  My parents forgot, but it was a busy day, and my sisters demanded a lot of their attention.

Her words reminded Simon that an intact family doesn’t mean a healthy one.  “I'm sorry.”

“The Bridgertons remembered, though.  The Viscountess gave me a handkerchief she embroidered.”  She pulled it out of her reticule to show it to him, pointing out the fine needlework.  To Penelope, it signified the family’s support of her, especially during this worst time of her life.  She never used it, but she was also never without it.

“Birthdays are very meaningful to the Bridgertons, are they not?  The Viscount gave me a gift every year and his son has continued the tradition, even though we are really quite old for such celebrations.”  He smiled at the memories, as the two of them basked once again in their adoptive family’s love for them.

“They get it from Lady Bridgerton’s father, Lord Ledger.  He loved birthdays and used to make each person their own paper crown to wear on their day.”

“I recall those crowns!”

“I loved them.  They always made me feel so special.”

Simon scrunched his face.  “I think I saw you one year.  Anthony and I were in our last year of Oxford and had come back to Mayfair for Easter that year.  We were fencing in the yard when an adorable streak of yellow with a birthday crown ran past us with Colin and Eloise close behind her.”

“Anthony yelled at us for getting too close to the swords.  We were not anywhere near them!”  She defended herself and her friends with eyes that matched her fiery hair.

“He was just being protective of you.  I do not think he can help it.”

She smiled, won over by his logical explanation.  “He is a good big brother,” she agreed.

“I have learned a lot from him.”  Simon became quiet as he thought about the conversations he’d had with his friend in the last few months.

After a few minutes of silence, Penelope whispered, “My mother burned my hats.”

“The birthday crowns?”

“She said we were not the Bridgertons and should not expect a fairy tale life.”

“I'm sorry.  She should have let you have your fantasies.”

“Never in my fantasies would I have dreamed of being a duchess,” she replied with a shake of her head and a smile.

<><><><><>

The Hastings carriage stopped at the first farm house and a footman handed the duke and duchess out of the vehicle.  Penelope felt giddy with nerves and excitement, and she gripped Simon’s elbow a little too tightly, hoping it would ground her.

“It will be alright, Penelope,” her husband whispered to her with a warm smile.  “I am sure they will love you.”  They advanced on the house with his valet and her lady’s maid in tow.  Miller stepped in front of his master and mistress and knocked on the rough, wood door.

The door opened and a middle aged woman stepped out of her house, instantly falling into a low curtsy.  “Welcome, Your Graces.”

“Good morning.  I am Lord Simon Basset and this is my wife, Lady Penelope Basset.”

“Pleased to meet you.”  She curtsied again.  “I am your servant, Hetty Frost.”

“Is your husband home?  I would like to speak with him, please.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  He is in the fields.”  Looking self-conscious, she turned away from them slightly and hollered, “Nick, go fetch your father.”

Penelope smiled warmly at the farmer’s wife as they waited.  “We brought gifts for your family,” she announced, motioning for Ruby to present the basket.  “There is lavender for medicine, salted meat for stew, and a few other things.  I wish we could do more.”

“Oh, no, my lady!  This is most gracious!  Thank you!”  She clung to the basket and stared at the ground.  The former duke had never visited his tenants, nor did he send gifts.  Her stomach churned with fear over what the nobles might want from her family.

A few moments later, a teenage boy and man walked towards the group.  “Good morning, Your Graces,” he said with a bow, which his son copied.  “I am Carl Frost and this is my son, Nick.”

Simon introduced himself and his wife again.  “We are meeting every tenant family and are hoping to learn more about you and your needs.”

“Would you like to come in?” Hetty asked, twisting the handle of the basket nervously.

“We do not want to impose,” Penelope replied quickly.  She retrieved the blank book and pencil from her reticule and opened it authoritatively.  “Please tell me about your family.  Do you have more children?”

Simon watched her take charge of the meeting with an indulgent smile.  Since they returned from London, he had involved her in his work more often and was surprised by her capabilities.  Her efficiency and organization helped him make sense of the chaos in his mind, which made her a valuable asset as well as a pleasant companion.

“We only have the one son, Your Grace.”  The farmer and his wife looked at each other with sadness in their eyes.  “There were others, but they sickened last winter and died.”

Tears instantly sprang into Penelope’s eyes.  “I am so sorry.”

Guilt washed over Simon.  He didn’t know if he could have done anything to help the sick children, but he hadn’t been around last year to try.  “I'm sorry as well.”  He cleared his throat and asked, “How was the harvest last year?”

“Our main crop is rye and every year the yield has been getting worse.  Hetty has a small kitchen garden that has mostly kept us fed, but it has been hard.

“I have been researching modern farming methods.  It seems like your soil is depleted of nutrients and would benefit from a change.  I recommend either switching to cabbage or flax.  You may also benefit from allowing the field to lie fallow and putting grazing animals on the land instead.”

“I have been considering potatoes as well, Your Grace.”  Carl wanted to tell the duke that he could not afford seed potatoes or any new crop because the taxes have been too high lately, but he doesn’t want sound ungrateful.  At the end of the day, the tenants only had a house and farm because the nobles allowed them to stay there.  Complaining might cause them to become homeless.

Simon took a deep breath, unsure how the next part of his pronouncement would be accepted.  “I also understand that the taxes have been quite crushing for you.  We would like to give all of our tenants a break for this quarter.  Instead of paying us at Midsummer, we want you to invest the money into your farms.  Use the next few weeks to think about what you would like to change, and then I would like to hear your plans on Quarter Day.  We will have a meeting in the village for everyone to share ideas and resources.”

Carl and Hetty started at the duke in shock.  They could not believe he was willing to forgo collecting money from them as an investment into their future.  After a moment, Carl stumbled out, “Thank you.  Thank you, Your Graces.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hetty added, curtsying again.

“We want to be good landlords, so you must send word to us if you have problems,” Penelope said generously, which caused Simon to cringe inwardly.  All he could imagine was piles of missives on his desk every day with requests and complaints.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Simon clipped, nodding his head in a small bow.

“Thank you for your visit, Your Graces.”  Carl and his family bowed to the duke and duchess.

Simon turned his wife and smiled at her before leading them towards their carriage.  Miller helped them inside while Ruby resumed her seat on the back of the wagon.

As they drove away, Penelope stuck her hand out the carriage window and yelled, “Good bye!”

“Only fifteen more,” Simon announced with a sigh.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>
- Author doesn’t know squat about farming and googled everything.  Leave a comment to correct me, please.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

After a few more houses and a stop for a midday tea break, the couple resumed their visits with their tenants.  Each family had unique issues, but Penelope enjoyed learning about them and adding their names to her book.  Simon found himself overwhelmed by the stories and the weight of responsibility he felt for his tenants increased throughout the day.

The couple was discussing their observations about the people they’d met when a group of children ran towards their carriage.  In a panic, the driver pulled the horses back, yelling at them to be more careful.

Simon threw open the door and jumped down.  “What are you thinking?” he scolded.  “It is dangerous to go near a moving carriage!”  He towered over them, producing a rather frightening image.  “Where are your parents?”

“Is it true you have gifts for us?” one boy asked, ignoring the duke’s warning and question.  Word about the special visit had already traveled throughout the village, and the children knew to expect a treat.

“Are you a prince?” a younger girl added, her eyes huge as she attempted a clumsy curtsy.

“No, Dummy, that’s the Duke of Hastings.  See the picture on the carriage.”  Yet a different boy pointed to the family seal, drawing the children’s attention to it.

“Do not touch it!” Simon barked, shooing away a toddler who was petting the image.

“Simon,” Penelope rebuked gently as she climbed out of the carriage.  Her husband put his hand out automatically to help her while never taking his eyes off the children.  “Do not yell at the darlings,” she continued.  She smiled warmly at the children, holding her hands to her chest as if overcome by their cuteness.

“Are you a princess?” the girl from before asked, reaching her hand out to touch her dress.

Simon waved his hand at the little girl to discourage her, then rose to his full height and said aristocratically, “I am Lord Basset, the Duke of Hastings.  Please point us in the direction of your parents.”

“Henry, Katie, Johnny, Tommy- where did you go?” an exasperated woman called out.

All four kids looked towards the woman.  They were too interested in the visitors and the chance of gifts to consider departing, with the exception of the toddler who ran towards her mother.

“Ma’am,” Simon bellowed, “are these your children?”  A small part of his brain, and a petite hand on his arm, reminded him to be kind to his tenants, but he ignored it.  After hours away from his study, he felt drained of all patience.  He desperately needed a long horseback ride alone and a full day with minimal conversation.

The woman, who was obviously pregnant, reached the carriage with her toddler.  “Your Graces, I hope my children have not been too bothersome.”  She glared at all of them before curtsying to the duke and duchess.

“Please, don’t,” Penelope said sweetly, reaching her hand out to help her up.  “You should not be stooping in your condition.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.  My name is Mary Tanner and these are my children Henry, Katie, Johnny, and Tommy.”  She touched each of their heads as she spoke.  “My daughter, Janie, and I were working on the wash and did not realize the younger ones had wandered off.”

“It is very dangerous to leave your children unattended,” Simon lectured, looking down his nose at them.  “They could have been injured.”

“They were just excited about the carriage,” Mary replied flippantly, waving off his concerns.  “And they were not unattended.  There is just so much wash to do with seven people at home.  We are still adjusting to not having my oldest daughter around to help us, but we will get our stride again soon.”

“I have never seen a carriage pulled by four horses!” Henry exclaimed, moving towards the animals and petting one of their noses.  “My oldest brother says you have lots of racehorses, too!”

Simon opened his mouth to scold the boy, but Penelope squeezed his arm and asked, “How old is your oldest daughter?”

“Betty is ten and four, Your Grace.  She started working at the castle just before you arrived.  I hear she is your scullery maid.”

Penelope smiled.  “I remember meeting her!  She is a sweet girl who works very hard.  You must have done a good job raising her.”  The duchess hoped her praise would counter the duke’s gruffness.

“Thank you, Your Grace.  My oldest son, Petey, is also working for you as a stable-hand.”

At the name of the boy, Simon’s head snapped toward his wife, who shook her head at him slightly.  Looking at the woman again, he asked, “May I speak with your husband?”

“Henry, tell your Papa the duke wants to see him.”

While they waited, Penelope kept the conversation light, or at least that was the plan.  “So, Mary, how many children do you have?”

“Seven total, plus this one.”  She rubbed her belly and laughed.  “Only five at home, though.”

“My best friend in London was one of eight children.  I loved spending time with their family.”  It seemed Penelope could not even go one day without talking about her adoptive family.  She missed them every moment of her life, each one of them for a different reason.

“I hope Mama has another girl!” Katie interrupted, patting her mother’s belly.  “Then, there would be four girls and four boys in our family.  If my brothers get another boy on their team, then that would not be fair!”

Mary’s eyes twinkled with joy and anticipation.  “I imagine you will be wanting to start your own brood soon.  Yes?”

Penelope ducked her head and blushed, while Simon pretended not to notice the bold question.  “I am not sure,” she said quietly.

“I do not think it will be too long, Your Grace.  You already appear to be glowing!  Have you met the midwife yet?  Janie wants to apprentice with her in a few years.”

“She will be giving birth in London,” Simon interjected firmly, surprising both women.  His mother had stayed at Clyvedon Castle to have him and had died from the experience.  Of course, he wasn’t planning for Penelope to get pregnant, but he was resolved that she would have a surgeon in London if the need arose.

Instead of being reassuring, her husband’s response caused Penelope to pull away from him.  He had promised her that she would not share the marriage bed with him, so it confused and distressed her that he had been thinking about pregnancy.  She moved her hand off his arm, stepped away from him, and answered Mary’s question, “No, I have not met her yet.”

“You will love Cynthia so much!” the mother of seven gushed.  “She is so calming and knowledgeable.  I would not have a baby with anyone else.”

“High praise,” she choked out, becoming more upset every moment.  To distract herself, she cheerfully announced, “We brought gifts!”  Ruby fetched the basket and handed it to Mary while all of the children crowded around it to see what was inside it.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

In possession of such a large family, the basket looked small and insufficient.  Penelope felt bad that she hadn’t researched the families before they made the baskets to ensure they were better suited for each household.  “I hope your children especially enjoy the honey.”

Simon was relieved to see the father and son heading their direction.  “Thank you for taking a break from your day to meet with me.”

The farmer looked around at the merry chaos worriedly.  “Is everything alright?  Has something happened with Petey or Betty?”

Before Simon could answer, Penelope responded, “No, both of your children are very hard workers and a credit to your family.”

“Thank you for sending Betty home to us each Sunday,” the farmer said, addressing Penelope.  “It is very kind of you to give her time with her family.”

“Papa, the duchess brought us presents!” Johnny interrupted with a big smile, talking over his siblings who were also trying to explain things to him.

Impatiently, Simon ignored the conversation going on around him and addressed the farmer.  “I am Lord Simon Basset and this is my wife, Lady Penelope Basset.  Pleased to meet you.”

Mary bumped her husband.  “The duke and duchess of Hastings,” she whispered loudly.

The man took off his hat and bowed.  “Thank you for your gifts and kind words, Your Graces.  I am Gilbert Tanner.”

“As you know, I have newly inherited my title, so we are spending the day introducing ourselves to our tenants and talking with them about their needs.”  He took a deep breath as another child launched into a tangentially related topic of conversation.

“I really should get back to helping Janie with the wash,” Mary suggested, her voice betraying her desire that the duke would protest and insist she stay for the discussion.

“Yes, take the children with you.” Simon agreed. 

Mary looked to her husband in hopes that he would argue for her, but Gilbert nodded his approval.  He knew it would be much easier to focus on the duke’s words without his disorderly brood interrupting them every few seconds.  Reluctantly, Mary called to her children and headed back to the house.

Viewing the backs of the children caused Simon to visibly relax.  “How do you feed them all?” he asked exasperatedly.  He knew the Bridgertons didn’t have any trouble meeting all of their needs, but he didn’t see how it would be possible for a poorer family.

Penelope cringed with embarrassment at the rudeness her husband was displaying that afternoon.  Of course, she knew he could be quite arrogant and impatient, but she hadn’t seen him this agitated.

Gilbert laughed heartily.  “Pigs!” he exclaimed.  “We keep pigs, feed them on the refuse from the other farms, and feed their meat to my kids.  There is plenty to sell off as well, although, we do not usually have a lot of extra coins at the end of the year.”  The implication that the taxes were burdensome hit heavily at the end of his sentence.

As he had been doing all day long, Simon explained his plan, including the tax break in early summer.  While he was talking, the youngest Tanner girl, Katie, ran up to Penelope and presented her with a small bouquet of wildflowers.

“Thank you for the honey, Your Grace.”  Katie’s little voice pierced through the duke’s lecture as she did her best to offer a graceful curtsy.

Penelope took the gift with a big smile.  “Thank you for the flowers, Katie.”

The girl beamed with delight because the duchess remembered her name.  “Honey is so-o-o-o good!”

“Honey is good,” Penelope agreed, with extra emphasis to match the child’s tone.  “I hope you and your siblings enjoy it.”

“Do you have happy bees in your hives?  Mr. Mackenzie says happy bees make the best honey.”

“You will have to taste the honey and decide for yourself.”

Simon cleared his throat, inpatient to finish up the visits for the day and annoyed by the interruption.  “As I was saying, each family should have a bit of extra money this summer to make improvements on their farms or purchases for their families.  Perhaps you can use the surplus to buy shoes for your children.”  He looked down at the dirty and barefoot child to emphasis his point.

Gilbert tapped his daughter on the shoulder to hurry her back to her mother.  “Now, that is an idea, Your Grace!  Shoes in the summertime!”  He laughed again, not understanding that his practical solution of barefoot children during the warm months was unheard of among the nobility.

Simon frowned, irritated that his idea had been met with laughter.  “We will speak again on Quarter Day,” he clipped.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”  Gilbert bowed, while saying, “Good to meet you, my lady”  He waited until the duke and duchess had driven away in their carriage before turning his back on them and rushing to tell his wife the news.

<><><><><>

“Finally, we have rid ourselves of those urchins,” Simon said as he sat back against the carriage seat.

“They are children!” Penelope corrected him with an exasperated smile.

“They are dirty and ill-mannered.”

“Is that why you do not want any?”  While Penelope was very grateful that Simon wasn’t pushing her to consummate their marriage and start having babies right away, she wondered why he was so opposed to it.  Most noblemen wanted an heir to carry on their family line.  It didn’t make sense to her that Simon shunned it so adamantly.

“I made a vow to my father.”  He hoped she would accept his answer and allow him some quiet in between tenant visits.

“Why?  What could he have done that made you not want to have a family?”  She studied his face closely in a way she hadn’t felt comfortable doing before.  “From the moment I met them, I wanted a family like the Bridgertons.  Do not you feel that way as well?”

He scratched his head.  “Penelope, I do not want to talk about this with you now.  Of course, I admire the Bridgertons and have thought about having a family like theirs, but it is not possible.  I cannot have children!”

“I do not understand.”

“This might be something you are too young to understand.  We will not be having children.  I already broke one vow by marrying you, and I will not break the other one by giving my father a Hastings heir.”

“You should not have married me, then.  I never meant for you to break your vow.”

“I have told you, Penelope, I do not regret marrying you.  I am glad I was the one who found you that night.  Can you not just be happy that you are a duchess?  I cannot give you anything more.”  Simon finished his impassioned speech by hanging his head in shame.

With tears in her eyes, Penelope nodded.  “You are enough, Simon.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“Your Grace!” Mrs. Honey exclaimed, shocked to see her young mistress downstairs.  “May I help you?”  The cook hissed at her helpers to go back to work, waving a dirty wooden spoon at them like a magic wand.

Penelope looked around the kitchen like a hunting dog on a scent, sniffing the air in a daze.  “I smell strawberries.”

“The girls and I are making jam, Your Grace.”

Seated at a work table with a large bowl between them, two young maids hulled and sliced strawberries with silent efficiency.  Another maid stirred a bubbling mixture of strawberries, sugar, and pectin, closely monitored by Mrs. Honey lest she scorch it.  The scullery maid washed piles of jars, carefully lining them up on the counter in perfect rows.

Penelope stared at the marvelous dance happening all around her, fascinated by the process.  If you had asked her this morning, she would have told you that jam appeared on her table by magic.

“Would you like me to prepare a tea tray with a few strawberries, Your Grace?” Mrs. Honey asked, slightly disturbed by the mistress’s scrutiny.

“Yes, please,” the duchess replied with a big smile.

“With cream?”

Penelope scrunched her nose.  The cream hadn’t been tasting right to her lately; although, she wasn’t sure why.  “No, thank you.”  She took a seat on a bench opposite the maids as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mrs. Honey opened her mouth to protest, then shut it quickly, remembering whom she was addressing just in time.  She fetched a pretty glass bowl from the butler’s pantry and set it down next to one of the maids, who immediately began filling it.  “Would you like tea or lemonade, Your Grace?”

“Lemonade sounds wonderful.  Thank you.”  She happily observed the busyness of the kitchen, feeling more at home here than anywhere else in the castle.  Well, except for her suite and the Music Room.  Growing up, she had spent a lot of time with the servants, which was part of why she cared so much about them and valued knowing their names.

With the efficiency of someone who rules her space, Mrs. Honey prepared the lemonade and set it down in front of the duchess.  Then, she marched past the counter near the boiling pot of jam, grated some sugar from the cone over the cut strawberries.  She placed the bowl in front of her mistress and handed her a silver fork.

“Please,” Penelope said graciously, smiling at them, “go on as if I were not present.”

The maids looked to their boss, who shook her head at them covertly.  They knew to resume their work, but mind their tongues.

Penelope nearly cried when she ate her first strawberry slice.  Her mouth watered, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get her fill of them.  She had always liked berries, but she had never craved them as deeply as she had this year.  Perhaps living in the country and watching them ripen had caused her to desire them more.

To distract herself, she began asking the maids questions about themselves and their families.  At first, they hesitated to answer, but her gentleness caused them to relax.  Soon, they were all laughing and telling stories, the sounds echoing up the stairs in a way that would normally be unacceptable.

<><><><><>    

“What is happening in here!?!” Mrs. Colson yelled, thundering into the kitchen like a vengeful queen.  “Have you no decency!  Mrs. Honey, I expect you to keep better control of your staff!”

The young maids instantly fell silent, knowing their jobs depended on keeping the housekeeper happy.  Putting their heads down, they kept working, wondering when she would notice the duchess.

“Since you have all decided to make merry, you will not mind working on your afternoon off this week.  Perhaps as you are scrubbing the outside stairs, you will reflect on the decorum we expect in this household.”

Penelope stood up from the bench.  “Mrs. Colson, you will not be taking their holiday from them!”  Her eyes blazed with righteous fury, but her voice was moderated as she had been taught.

“Your Grace, you are not supposed to be down here!” the housekeeper scolded haughtily, exactly as she addressed her subordinates.

Ignoring the reprimand, the duchess focused on protecting her servants.  “I encouraged the girls to be energetic today.  They are still young and must be allowed the occasional revelry.”

“Absolutely not!  I run a proper, dignified, quiet household, without excessive noise or jollification, as is befitting the Duke of Hastings!”

Penelope wanted to tell their self-important housekeeper that Simon didn’t care a wit about his title, but she decided she shouldn’t disclose such things to their staff.  “The girls will not lose any privileges or pay because of their behavior today.”

It was clear from her face that Mrs. Colson didn’t appreciate having her mistress dictate to her how to do her job, a role she had possessed for decades.  “You need to go back upstairs and leave the downstairs business to me.”

Just as Penelope was opening her mouth to argue, Simon popped his head through the doorway of the kitchen.  “It smells good down here!” he announced with a smile, casually moving towards his wife’s side in silent support.

All the servants stopped what they were doing to greet him.

“Forgive me for interrupting your work, but I had to come down and see what you had cooking.  The aroma of it is filling the house.”  In truth, Miller had tipped him off to a potential conflict between Lady Basset and Mrs. Colson when the housekeeper charged downstairs.

“Strawberry jam, Your Grace.”  Mrs. Honey scooped a spoonful out of a nearby jar and offered it to him much too casually for Mrs. Colson’s comfort.

He took the spoon from the cook and put it in his mouth, smiling as the delightful, summery flavor hit his tongue.  “Well done.”  He gave her a smile and a slight head bow, bringing a flush of delight to the older woman’s face.  Smoothly, he turned to his wife.  “Have you been helping?”

Penelope wasn’t sure if he expected her to help and would be disappointed that she wasn’t working or if he would scold her for her involvement.  She stepped away from him a little and hung her head.  “No, Your Grace.”

Wondering if her reaction was related to him or the fight with the housekeeper, he frowned and started to reach his hand out to her.  He caught himself before actually touching her, realizing they had an audience.

Finally he looked to Mrs. Colson for an explanation, arching one eyebrow at her.  “Is everything well?”  He had stood in the hallway through most of the fight, so he knew there was much to report.

Instead of answering the question, the housekeeper apologized in the way that the late Duke of Hastings would have expected.  “I hope the excessive noise from the kitchens did not disturb your afternoon, Your Grace.” She glared at the kitchen girls.  “They have all been scolded and will be punished with a loss of liberty for their behavior.”

Simon frowned and shook his head.  “You will not punish them for a bit of happiness on a summer day.”

“But, Your Grace-“

The duke held up his hand, instantly silencing her.  “I wish that my staff was this merry every day.  Whistling at they sweep the stairs, joking as they wash floors, and dancing in the kitchens.  This old castle has been a place of fear and scolding for too long.  You must help me fill it with light and life, as my lovely duchess has done.”

The maids looked at each other in astonishment as Penelope blushed from his compliment.  “The silence has felt so unnatural,” she commented quietly, thinking of the lively Bridgerton house which never had a quiet moment.

“Exactly!”  He beamed at her, relieved to see that she smiled back at him.  “There are a dozen or so people in this house, and it is time that we heard from them!”

“Your Grace,” Mrs. Colson protested, unwilling to give up the fight, “it is not the done thing.  Servants should work invisibly and silently, floating like ghosts through their day and disappearing when you notice them.”

“There are enough ghosts in this house already, Mrs. Colson.  The maids shall not be among them.”

“Ghosts,” Penelope whispered under her breath, her eyes big.

Simon squeezed her fingers quickly before withdrawing his hand.  “You are safe,” he reminded her, leaning close to shelter her with his body.  Putting himself between his wife and the housekeeper, he addressed the maids.

“I expect you to use common sense and be respectful in your joviality.  No harsh language, shouting, or fighting.  Please, maintain your decorum when we have guests.”  He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “We do not want the Ton’s servants getting jealous when their lords start gossiping about my merry maids.”

The maids giggled at his dramatics, then sobered immediately when the housekeeper frowned at them.  “Thank you, Your Grace,” the chimed in chorus.

Feeling bolstered by his own generosity and the gratitude of his staff, Simon offered his wife his arm cheerfully.  “I hear your puppy whining in his kennel.  Shall we release him for a romp in the gardens?” 

Penelope took his arm as the maids sighed at the romance of it all.  “If you are not too busy.”

Very aware of his audience, Simon turned up the charm, knowing exactly how to make his wife blush.  “Never for you, my Sweet,” he conceded, feeling a glow in his chest when she reacted as he expected.

They stopped in the hallway to get Buttons, who snuggled into Penelope’s arm happily.  Simon looked at the dog jealousy, wishing his wife would press her body against his own.

Once outside, Penelope set the puppy down to run alongside their feet and took Simon’s arm, pulling him close to her.  “You are quite popular among the maids,” she teased, looking up at him to gauge his reaction.

“Of course.”  He grinned at her and continued arrogantly.  “I am powerful, wealthy, handsome, titled, charming-”

“Humble.”

He shrugged his shoulders as they laughed together.  When they grew quiet again, he turned her gently so he could speak to her honestly.  “Women have always been drawn to me, but you do not need to worry about any competition.  I am devoted to you alone.”

She ducked her head, overwhelmed by his intense words.  They felt too intimate, too heavy, for the early summer day.  She wondered if he expected her to reply with similar words.

He resumed their walk.  “I wanted to give the maids a little encouragement and support against our housekeeper.”

“She was so harsh with the girls today.”

“I know.  Mrs. Colson governs as my father wanted his household to be run- quietly, efficiently, and unobtrusively.  I want happiness to be the rule, even among our servants.”

“Do you ever get tired of being everyone’s hero?”

Her question set him back for a moment.  He frowned, unsure what she meant by her question.  “I only want to be your hero.”

He was looking at her intensively again, freezing her with his meaningful language and piercing eyes.  Instead of allowing him to drag her down into his deep discussion, she flippantly changed the subject.  “Where are you taking me?”

Matching her playful energy, he grinned.  “I am taking you to see the fairies.”

“Simon!”  She hit him lightly on the arm.  “Where are we actually going?”

“I told you- to see the fairies.”  He looked at her in disbelief, arching one eyebrow.  “You do believe in fairies, don’t you?”

She shook her head.  “Not anymore.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to her sad reply.  The girl he met at the Danbury Ball spoke like she lived in a world of magic, romance, and fairies.  He wanted to help bring her back from where she had been banished.  “Then, you will have to settle for wild strawberries instead.”

<><><><><>

At the edge of their woods, Simon laid down his overcoat and helped his wife sit.  
“Buttons!  Stop chasing the fairies!” he scolded, the playfulness in his voice undermining his words.

“Those are butterflies!” she corrected him with joyful exasperation, giggling.

“They have wings, so they are fairies,” he argued, watching her face as indignation set her eyes to dancing.

Her mouth dropped open.  “Are you saying every species with wings is a fairy?”

“No, of course not!  Only butterflies are fairies.”

“You just said they are butterflies.”

“Also called fairies.”  He could hardly keep a straight face during their silly argument.  Bantering with her was so much fun, and he loved watching her relax as she let down her guard.  He crawled over to her, not caring about the strawberries staining his pants.

When his face was close to hers, he whispered, “I promised you fairies.”  His eyes dropped down for a moment, landing on her décolletage.  He got distracted for a moment wondering if they had gotten bigger recently, then immediately felt ashamed for dwelling on her body.  Bringing his eyes back up, he finished, “And I always keep my promises.”

His words created a storm inside her.  They were too intense and intimate, so she reacted impulsively and tossed a strawberry at him, leaving a bright red mark on his white shirt.

“You little imp!” he cried, running away from her.  In playful revenge, he found a strawberry to toss at her.

She giggled as he missed, pelting him again with another red bomb.  While his head was down to pick more berries, she hit him in the back.

“I thought you were nice,” he complained, throwing a strawberry towards her gently.  It landed harmlessly in her lap.

She picked it up and bit into it, humming with delight and mischief.  “I’m very nice.”  She smiled to reveal lips stained with berry juice.

Simon’s head snapped her direction, caught off guard by the sound she made.  A familiar heat stirred in his belly.  He unconsciously licked his bottom lip.

She blushed when she noticed his attention and ducked her head.

The moment lingered, neither of them sure what they should do next.  Finally, Simon cleared his throat.  “We should get this shirt back to Miller before the stains set,” he reminded her awkwardly, jumping to his feet.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Natural pectin can be made by boiling apples with the skin and straining out the fibers.  The result is used to thicken jams and other desserts.  Just in case you were wondering how people made jam before store bought pectin was available.

- Sugar came in a solid cone or loaf until the early 20th century.  It had to be grated or scraped to make it usable for tea or baking.  “One lump or two” in reference to sugar wasn’t used until the late Victorian period.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“I have a surprise for you,” Simon announced when he came into Penelope’s sitting room one morning.  “I have been waiting for a rainy day to share it with you.”  He smiled at her teasingly, his eyes bright with excitement.

“What is it?” she asked, finishing her breakfast and offering a small piece of meat to Buttons.

“You will have to come with me and find out.”  He sat down at her little table and kicked his legs out in front of him.  Buttons jumped around his feet, demanding attention, so Simon picked him up and patted his head.

“Will I be alright in what I am wearing or should I change?”  She pinched off another piece of meat, giggling when the dog licked her finger.

“You are going to spoil him,” he said with an indulgent smile.

“He is a lap dog now, not a hunting dog.”  To prove her point, she plucked the puppy out of Simon’s arms and snuggled him tightly in her own.  “He is supposed to be spoiled.  Her Majesty’s dogs eat Russian caviar.”

He didn’t comment, but gave her an incredulous look before turning his attention to her previous question.  With discerning eyes, he observed at her from head to toe, marveling at how different she looked in her new dresses compared to when he’d first met her.

She no longer looked like a poppet, displaying someone else’s ideas of fashion.  Even her hairstyle had relaxed as she became more confident in herself as a woman and more comfortable in his company.

“Perfect,” he whispered before catching himself.  Clearing his throat, he amended, “You are appropriately dressed.”

Confused by his first comment, she frowned and finished her tea.  “I am ready.”

She put the dog down as he put out his arm to escort her.  It was completely unnecessary in their own home, but he had discovered that he enjoyed tucking her against his side as they walked.  They conversed easily as he guided them through the many corridors of the massive castle, Buttons at their heels.

At a set of imposing double doors, he stopped.  “Do you trust me?”

Something about that combination of words put Penelope on high alert.  She could feel her heart race as all of her muscles went rigid.  Her mind flooded with questions as she wondered what could be behind those doors.  Perhaps the mysterious marriage bed or some other form of torture device.  She looked up at him and remembered how much larger he was than her.  “Yes,” she croaked.

Simon heard her choke on the word and turned to face her.  “I wish you did not fear me, Penelope,” he said with sadness in his voice.  “I understand why you do, I just wish it was different between us.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, staring at the floor submissively, praying he didn’t hurt her.

He sighed.  “The surprise is in this room.  I wanted you to close your eyes while I led you into the room by your hand.  I promise to you that I will only do those two things, and you can open your eyes at any time.  Alright?”

She felt badly about ruining his surprise.  The Penelope of a year ago would have happily went along with the game, especially if Colin had been the one to ask her.  Simon had given her no reason not to trust him.  It was only her own fears and trauma that drove her to distrust him.  “Alright.”  She closed her eyes and held out one hand.

“Thank you, Penelope,” he said gently, taking her fingers lightly as he opened the door.  Slowly, he pulled her into the room, as Buttons ran into the room, intrigued by all the interesting smells.

The air was chilly and stale, but the familiarity of the leather and dust smell instantly relaxed her and brought a smile to her face.  She knew exactly where he had brought her.

He dropped her hand.  “Open your eyes,” he invited, his eyes trained on her face to catch her excitement and wonder.  Her little mouth formed a perfect O as her eyes darted around the room.

The area was filled with bookshelves along three walls, stacked to overflowing with tomes in every color of leather.  Ladders on either side of the room lead to additional shelving on a balcony, with those units arranged perpendicular to the ones below them.  Extra books lay in piles around the room and on tables, lending the room a chaotic sort of air.

“It is astounding,” she breathed, afraid to speak too loudly and disturb the sacred space.  

He smiled, feeling relieved that she was reacting exactly as he had expected.  It was much better than her upset in the hallway.  “You can touch them.”

She looked up at him with a question in her face.  At his nod, she stepped away from him to the nearest shelf and began running her fingers along the spines.  Buttons followed her, sniffing along the lowest shelves.

Taking advantage of her distraction, he stepped out of the room to order a fire built.  He hadn’t realized when he made his plans how the cooler day would effect the room.  A library should to be cozy to be properly enjoyed.

He watched her for several minutes as she wandered around the room.  “I do not even know what is in here, as I was never allowed in this room as a child.”

Penelope looked at him sadly.  “Some of the books appear to be quite ancient, but they are mixed in with newer volumes.  It needs some organization.”

“I happen to know someone who is very good at such things,” he suggested with a pointed smile.  “There is no rush to get it organized by a certain time, but you could make it a project if you would like.”

 A footman arrived with an armload of wood, while the hall boy followed behind with kindling and hot coals.  Together, they stoked a fire in the grate and got it blazing.  The additional warmth was noticeable almost immediately.

Penelope continued to marvel at the books, touching them reverently.  “I have never seen this many books in my entire life, not even at the Bridgertons!”

“I hope this becomes one of your favorite places, Penelope.”

“My mother always said reading would confuse my thoughts.”

“Clearly not!  You are one of the smartest people in the Ton!”

She shook her head, shrinking into herself.  “Please do not say things you do not mean.”

He frowned.  “I do mean it.  You are better educated and more well-read than most men in my Oxford class.  I think it is admirable.”

“Eloise and I would raid the library and gather piles of books to explore under a tree, eating biscuits and talking about what we had read.  We pushed each other as children to learn as much as we could, with her competitive nature always driving her to best her brothers.  She is the example of why women should be allowed to get a university education.”

“As are you,” he argued.  He could sense that his insistence on her intelligence was making her uncomfortable, so he decided to switch tactics.  “Please join me by the fire.  You can tell me about the latest book you have read.  Did you finish ‘Pride and Prejudice?’”

A look of unmarred joy lit up her face as she sat down on the opposite end of the settee.    “I did.  It was delightful, and I am sure I will read it again soon.”

Buttons jumped up, eagerly running back and forth between them before finally curling up closer to Penelope, who placed a hand on his back automatically.  Staring at him, Simon pushed down his feelings of jealousy towards the animal that got so much of his wife’s attention.

“And did that prideful character- what was his name- did he find a wife?”

“Mr. Darcy.  Yes, he did find a wife by the end.”

“Good, so there is hope for Anthony after all!”  They laughed at the viscount’s expense.  “What are you reading now?”  Once again, Simon astounded himself with how easily he conversed with his wife after spending his entire life without female friends.  He was discovering that a few questions were all it took to get her talking, and then he had only to listen.  He guessed correctly that a reader was always willing to discuss books.

“‘The Vindication on the Rights of Women’ which I believe has had a great influence on the author of Pride and Prejudice, as many of her themes are reflected in both that book and others by the same lady.  For example, Wollstonecraft writes often about sensibility, which A Lady has used in the title of her novel.”

“I am unfamiliar with either.  Sorry.”  He hoped this would encourage her to keep speaking, but she went silent.  The Vindication essay was considered radical literature, favored by bluestockings, but he had no intention of forbidding any subject of learning.  He looked down at her ankle, imagining a blue stocking peeking out from under her dress hem.

He pulled his eyes back to her face.  “Have you been working on your novel?  I would be interested in reading it if you would care to share.”  He didn’t enjoy fiction as a rule, but he thought that a good husband might offer to look over something a wife wrote as a way of encouraging and supporting her.  The side of him that rebelled against the Ton for years made him excited to have a notorious, literary duchess.

Her face scrunched in pain as her lip trembled.

He panicked, wondering what he had done wrong to create such a reaction.  “Your writing is your own, Penelope,” he amended quickly, hoping she could hear the earnestness in his voice.  “I make no claim on it nor will I forbid it.”  So much of her life and identity had been taken from her recently, he hoped she understood that he wasn’t attempting to steal her words as well.

She debated for a moment whether or not to confess her sorrows to him.  “It is gone,” she said flatly, her eyes staring blankly at the floor.

He thought he misheard her and rushed to meet her unspoken needs.  “You must let me know if you need more paper, quills, or ink.  I would be happy to supply you with whatever you want.”  He smiled encouragingly, determined to be a generous husband as well as a tolerant one.

His kindness and enthusiasm was almost more painful than just telling him the truth.  She didn’t know how he would react, but she was tired of carrying the secret alone.  Once he knew what happened, he would stop asking her about it.  “My mother burned my novel.”

Simon felt his rage flare up hot and instantaneous.  “What!?!”

Penelope scrambled away from him in fear, disturbing the sleeping dog and causing him to raise up his head.

Her reaction chastised him into tampering his anger.  He forced his hands to open out of fists.  “I'm sorry for scaring you, Penelope.  My temper is directed at your mother, not at you.  Please sit down.”

Afraid of what he might do if she disobeyed, she perched herself on the edge of the settee, her body poised to run again if needed.  Seeming to sense her distress, Buttons scooted up against her leg and nudged her hand for a pet.  She reached out to him, his curly fur soothing between her fingers.

Simon took a few deep breaths to calm himself and said, “When did she do this?”

“The day your footman came for my belongings.  She said that ladies do not have hobbies and interests that are separate from our husbands and houses.”

“I hope you have many hobbies, even ones that you do solely for yourself, ones that make you happy.  You have already showed a few of those to me, and I hope that you continue to share as you acquire more.”

“It is for the best that she burned it, and alongside it, all my foolish dreams of romance and love.”  Her voice sounded dispassionate, and she had yet to cry.  Within a few days of each other, everything she knew about herself and her world had been shattered.

His heart broke to hear her express such morose statements, and he fought against the instinct to reassure her of his love.  They both knew he didn’t love her, and it would have been cruel to pretend otherwise.  Instead, he said, “Perhaps you will make new dreams.”  They had already made some new memories in the place that haunted his life, so perhaps he could do a similar thing for her.

“All of my dreams are nightmares.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- “Rights of Women” written by Mary Wollstonecraft in 1792

- bluestocking was usually a derogatory term for a woman who pursues intellectual or literary interests

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“All of my dreams are nightmares,” she confessed quietly, ashamed to be afraid of the dark and tormented by monsters like a child.

“You said you were sleeping well.  Are you not?”  He knew, of course, about the nightmares she had when they were sharing a room in London, but he hadn’t thought about them since they returned.  He wasn’t sure how he could help, but he knew he needed to do better.

“It is not always the same dream every night, but I never sleep peacefully.  Most often, a man with your face and voice hurts me.”

“Penelope, I swear to you on-”  He searched his mind for something weighty enough-  “on my dead mother- I did not assault you.  I wish every day that I had found you and prevented it from happening.  I failed you,” he finished in a whisper.

She shook her head, afraid to contradict him aloud.

“Make a fist,” he ordered randomly, cutting through the silence.

“What?”

“I saw you practicing when I was teaching Gregory.  Show me your fist.”

She looked at him warily and curled her hand weakly.

“Push your fingers together more and tighten your fist.”  He held out his hand and demonstrated it to her.  “Tuck your thumb against your fingers.  You want to make sure your hand is not too tight or too lose as either way could cause injury to you.”

Without thinking about what he was doing, he moved closer to her, reaching over the dog to touch her hand.  Gently, he pressed his thumb against the gap between her index and middle fingers.

She froze at his touch, but didn’t pull away, curious about his actions and motivations.

“Does this hurt?”  He pushed a little harder.  “It is good that I cannot separate your fingers, but it is also possible to tighten your fingers too much which would be painful,” he explained.

She shook her head, staring at the place where he was touching her.

“Now, position your hand with the knuckles facing up.  Extend your hand out, but keep your wrist straight.”  He placed his hand under her wrist and guided her arm into position.  “Very good.  Your strength comes from your arm, so to punch you need to draw your arm back and then push it out again.”  He moved her arm back and forth a few times, correcting her form until it became natural.

Penelope watched his hands as he cradled her arm and manipulated her fist.  His touch was gentle and his grip light, so she didn’t feel like he was overpowering her.  She relaxed next to him, feeling a bit dreamy from the closeness.

Without realizing what was happening, the wonder of holding her arm became more important than teaching her to punch.  Absentmindedly, he rubbed her wrist with his thumb, as her arm rested in his hand.  Her skin felt silky under his fingers, and he became distracted thinking about tracing the softness up her arm.  He stared at her mouth.

Her hand opened as she relaxed and rested on his arm.  She forgot about her nightmares and her fear of him, reveling in the tenderness of his fingers on her arm.  It was the only thing filling her mind.  For several moments, they sat in silence, each in their own world.

Penelope sighed softly.

Immediately, Simon jerked his hand away.  “Forgive me,” he said quickly, shaking himself a little and moving away from her.  He was angry with himself for taking liberties, no matter how enjoyable he found it.  He’d let himself treat her like a woman, forgetting that she was still very young and naive with only the worst memories of sexual congress.  

She hung her head in embarrassment, unsure what had just happened between them.  His reaction made her think it was something awful; although, she thought it was pleasant.  Biting her inner lip, she waited for his judgment.

“Stand up, please,” he commanded, his voice tender but assertive.

She did as he asked, expecting him to punish her in some way.  Her mother had warned her that some men got physical with their wives, and she didn’t expect this large pugilist to be any different.

He moved so they were facing each other.  “Punch me.”

“Your Grace?”

Her use of the honorific alerted him that something was wrong between them, and he hoped his next plan would fix everything.  “Show me what you have learned- punch me.”

“I will hurt you,” she argued.  A part of her was afraid that he would use her aggression against him as an excuse to go after her.  Even though he had seemed horrified when she had mentioned the possibility of domestic violence previously.

He raised an eyebrow at her incredulously.  “I can take it.”  Holding his hands behind his back, he encouraged her, “Make your fist like I taught you and hit me.”

She hesitated, weighing what she knew about him with what she feared he might do.  Finally, she made a fist and brought it to his chest softly.

“Remember, mine is the voice in your nightmares.  Hit me harder.” 

She pulled her first back and punched a little harder.

“Keep your wrist straight.”  He smiled at her proudly as she hit him.  “Again.”  Punch.  “Again!”  Punch.  “Now, try using both fists.”

“Are you sure I am not hurting you?”

Truthfully, her little fists were probably leaving some bruises, but he didn’t want to discourage her from assaulting him until she was spent.  “No, I am alright.  Try again.”

She socked him with both fists, one right after the other.

“It is my face you see in your dreams- hit me harder!”  He had told her several times that he wasn’t her assailant, but her mind had convinced her it wasn’t true.  Perhaps fighting back against him would help her to feel empowered and maybe a little vindicated.  “Come on, Penelope!  Punch me!”

Something cracked in the petite débutante, and she began striking him over and over with both hands in quick succession.  The more she hit him, the more she wanted to hit him.  Eventually, rage caused her to lose her fists completely, and she slapped him with her open hand against his chest.

He stood with his hands behind his back, doing nothing to stop her, as he watched her with pity.  It felt right for her to punish him for not protecting her, for ignoring her for so long, for not knowing how to heal her.

After a few minutes, she crashed into his body and sobbed.  Loud wails erupted as her heart cracked open.  Leaning again the chest she continued to pummel, she pressed herself against him, unable to hold herself up any longer.

He wrapped his arms around her before he’d even realized he had moved.  “It’s alright, Penelope.”  He rubbed his hands on her back tenderly, drawing her closer to him.

“I hate you,” she cried, clinging to his shirt.

“I know,” he whispered.  “You should.”

“I hate you!  I hate you!”  One hand gripped his clothes tightly while the other pounded him with the side of her fist.

“You are safe, Penelope.”  He pulled her a little tighter to himself, holding her securely.  “I have you.”

She shook with the intensity of her sobbing, nearly collapsing from the depth of the emotions.  As her breathless gasps gradually slowed to hiccoughs, she became increasingly aware of the strength in the arms around her.  It felt like he was holding her up and keeping her grounded.

“Penelope,” he whispered when she had gotten quiet.  “Thank you.”  Before she could ask what he had meant, a knock sounded on the door.  Putting a hand over the back of her head to shield her from observation, he commanded the intruder to enter.

“Excuse me, Your Graces,” the dog trainer said, his eyes on the ground as he purposefully tried to avoid the intimate scene in front of him.  “It is time for Buttons’ walk.”

“What is your name?”  Simon winced inwardly when the question came out more forcefully than he had intended.

The young man had heard stories of the old duke, and trembled slightly as he spoke.  “James, Your Grace.  Mr. Knolls sent me here to look after Lady Basset’s dog.”  He added an extra bow, just to show special deference.

For weeks, Simon had been watching how easily Penelope interacted with their staff and how their people reacted to her care.  It was admirable and worth imitating, so he attempted to react similarly.  “Thank you for taking care of him, James.  Do you have any questions for me?”  

James wasn’t sure how to respond to the duke’s conversational tone.  “I, uh, no, Your Grace.”

Still speaking over the top of his wife’s head, he continued, “Please tell Johnson if you need anything.  I assume he has provided you with accommodations and acquainted you with the house?”

“Yes, Your Grace.  All of the staff has been very helpful.”

“You may take Buttons now.”  He winced at the silliness of the dog’s name.  “Thank you.”  As soon as the animal had been caught up in James’ arms and the door had closed again, Simon dropped his hands from his wife’s body, but stayed close to her.

Deeply ashamed of her outburst and confused by the feelings his closeness stirred in her, she stepped backwards away from him.  “Thank you for showing me the library, Your Grace,” she said demurely, curtsying.  Turning from him, she fled towards the door.

“Penelope, wait!” he begged.

“I cannot.”  She stopped for only a second before escaping the room, fear nipping at her heels as she wondered how he would respond to her rebellion.

He watched her leave and then fell onto the settee, pushing his fingers against his forehead.  In her absence, all he could hear was her ghost as it echoed continuously, “I hate you.  I hate you.”  He had pushed her to confront her anger against him, but he hadn’t expected her to express such venom.

When he called her back, he hoped they could have talked about her wrath, giving him a chance to tell her once again that he didn’t regret marrying her.  Instead, she had brushed him off and fled from him.  He stared at the dying fire and tried not to think.

Penelope made it about five steps outside of the library before she got sick on the floor.  “Your Grace,” Miller called out discretely, rushing to her side.  “Are you alright?”

“Please do not tell Lord Basset,” she pleaded, as the valet took her arm to lead her to a chair.

He frowned unhappily, looking towards the library door.  “I will fetch help,” he promised, dashing to the servants’ hall.  He returned with Penelope’s lady’s maid and a parlor maid with a bucket of wash water, who began cleaning up the mess immediately.

“May I help you to bed, My Lady?” Ruby asked, brushing her fingers against her mistress’s hairline soothingly.

“Thank you, Ruby.”  Penelope stood weakly, swaying a little. 

Miller stepped up to support her.  “Should I get your husband, Your Grace?”  It was insolent of him to ask again, but the duchess allowed it after noticing the look of fear on his face.

“Help me upstairs, Miller,” she ordered, putting her arm around his back.  With the valet on one side and her maid on the other, Penelope was marched up the stairs and into her room.

“Feel better, Your Grace,” he bid, bowing to her and returning to the duke.

“I will fetch some ginger tea for your stomach in a few minutes, My Lady,” Ruby said as she brought out a nightgown from the dressing room.  “Please allow me to help you change out of your dress.  How are you feeling presently?”

“Very tired.  My stomach seems to have settled for now, so we can skip the tea.  Please tell Lord Basset that I will see him in the morning.”  Her maid undressed her, put on her nightgown, and helped her into bed like a child.  She fell asleep quickly.

<><><><><>

“Miller, do you know the whereabouts of my wife?” Simon asked a few hours later, after the fire in the library had long gone cold.  In his mind, he had two choices after the events of the afternoon, pull away from her or pursue her.  He was determined to be as close as she would allow and continue trying to build a friendly marriage.

“She has retired to her room, Your Grace.”  Miller pressed his lips together, unhappy about keeping secrets from the duke.

“Is she planning on coming down for dinner?”

“I do not believe so, Your Grace.  Her maid reports that she is asleep.”

At first, Simon didn’t think think anything was amiss, since Penelope had been napping every day since their return from London.  However, his valet’s serious expression alerted him that something was wrong.  “Is everything well with my wife?”

Miller hesitated, unsure how to answer his master without disobeying his mistress.  “I do not know, Your Grace.  Perhaps she is just tired.”

A strange, lingering smell in the hall tugged at Simon, encouraging him to seek more answers, but he ignored it.  “Please see that the fire is built up in the music room and tell the kitchen to serve dinner in there.  Tell her maid that Penelope may join me there or not on her volition.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  He left to pass along the duke’s commands, leaving Simon to wander towards his desk on his own.

Simon ate his dinner alone and worked on estate matters late into the night, hoping Penelope would seek out his companionship.  As he passed her door on the way to his room, he thought about checking on her, but decided it was too late to bother her.  After their discussion that afternoon, he was even more committed to not scaring her by being too forward.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Special thanks to WikiHow for teaching me how to punch and helping me write this section

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Even before she opened her eyes the next morning, Penelope registered how ill she was feeling.  She laid still with her eyes closed and took a few cautious breaths, trying to see if the nausea would pass.

Her mind searched for clues about her sickness, rehearsing every moment from the day before.  She had taken a long nap after her emotional outburst, but her energy never picked up again.  Instead, she snuggled her puppy in her sitting room and read for the rest of the evening.  She felt bad about running out on Simon after their time in the library, but she didn’t have the energy to engage with him any more that night.

“Your Grace?” Ruby asked gently, entering her mistress’s bedroom.  “Are you awake?”

“I am going to be sick!” Penelope groaned.  Ruby thrust the cleaned chamber pot under the duchess’s head just as Penelope retched.

The maid helped her mistress sit up and handed her the bowl, then went to the wash stand and wet a cloth to wipe her mouth.  “Here you are, Your Grace.”  She cleaned the duchess’s face.  “How are you feeling?”

Penelope answered her by sticking her head back into the chamber pot.

“I will call for some ginger tea, Your Grace.  It will help settle your stomach.”  Ruby went to the hallway to pass her message to another maid.  With her arm around the duchess, she helped Penelope to her retiring room and back into bed.  She busied herself around the room, tidying her belongings and helping her mistress as needed.

After a few minutes, the maid arrived with the tea tray, escorted by Mrs. Colson.  “Your Grace,” the housekeeper began, “Elise tells me that you are under the weather this morning?”

Penelope nodded as her lady’s maid handed her a cup of ginger tea.  She took a small sip and promptly got sick again.  The only thing worse than being ill was having an audience, especially an unsympathetic one.

Mrs. Colson watched the duchess retch and smiled slightly.  “Has she been sick all night?”

“Once yesterday afternoon and again this morning,” Ruby replied, wiping the wet cloth across Penelope’s face and neck.

“Should we ask His Grace to call the surgeon?”  Elise asked anxiously, confused by the older woman’s elated expression.

The housekeeper looked sharply to Ruby.  “Does she have a fever?”

“Not presently, ma’am.”

“Then, there is no need for a surgeon.  I will instruct the kitchen to prepare beef tea and plain scones.  Keep offering them to her throughout the day, a little at a time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Ruby offered the ginger tea to her mistress again, encouraging her to drink, then held her hair as she gagged.

“Simon cannot see me like this!” Penelope demanded weakly, panic and fear in her voice.  “Keep him away!”

“I will speak with him, Your Grace,” Mrs. Colson said cheerfully, giving the smallest curtsy before slipping out the door to find the duke in his own sitting room.  “Please excuse the interruption, Your Grace.”  She bowed to him respectfully.

Simon frowned at being greeted by the housekeeper, as he usually didn’t have much interaction with her.  “Good day, Mrs. Colson.  How can I help you this morning?”

“I have been asked to pass a message from Lady Basset.”  When he nodded, she continued, “My lady has asked for her privacy today, Your Grace.”

He frowned in confusion and hurt, then schooled his face back into a neutral mask.  “Very well.  Thank you for telling me.”  He had been looking forward to showing her the oranges and other tropical plants in their greenhouse, but he resolved to work on the account books instead.  Distracted by his wife’s rejection, he nearly tripped over the brown ball of fluff in the hallway outside her room.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” the dog trainer begged, picking up the puppy and moving out of the duke’s way.

“It is alright, James.  I should have been watching my steps.”

“Do you know if Her Grace wants her dog this morning?”  The trainer looked at his feet, afraid the duke might be upset at his boldness. 

“I am not sure, but we can ask.”  He smiled at the yapping brown excuse to check on his wife himself.  Leading the way, he walked down the hallway to his wife’s bedroom and knocked on the door. 

“Your Grace!” Elise exclaimed, her surprise evident on her face.  She hoped his presence at the door didn’t signal a fight between the couple.

“James has arrived with Lady Basset’s dog.”

“Buttons!” Penelope said enthusiastically.  “Please bring him to me.”

James stepped forward to hand the puppy to the maid, who took him happily.  “I will return in one hour to walk the dog.”

“Thank you.”  Elise curtsied to the duke and nodded to the trainer before closing the door on the men.

From behind the door, Simon could hear the excited barking of the dog and the joyful voice of his wife greeting the animal.  Feeling dejected, the duke wandered away from the door and took up his place behind his desk.  He didn’t leave until late at night, after not seeing or hearing from his wife all day.

<><><><><>

The next morning, Simon lingered outside of his wife’s suite, unsure whether he should attempt to speak with her even though Mrs. Colson told him she didn’t want to see him.

He had spent the last two days wallowing in self-loathing and burying himself in busywork and wasn’t sure if she had even left her room during that time.  It reminded him of their honeymoon before Lady Danbury intervened.  He had promised to do better, so he waited in the hallway for an opportunity.

A maid gave a tiny squeak when she opened the door so see him hovering near it.  “Oh, good morning, Your Grace,” Elise said quickly, tripping a bit in her eagerness to curtsy to him.

He smiled at her in what he hoped was a friendly way.  It bothered him how many people on his estate seemed to fear him.  “Is Lady Basset ready for the day.  I wish to speak with her.”

“I'm sorry, Your Grace, but Lady Basset is still sick this morning.”

“What do you mean?” he demanded harshly, startling the maid in a way he had promised not to do.  He took a deep breath and lowered his volume, “How long as she been ill?”

“Since the day before last, Your Grace.”  She wondered why the duke looked so confused about his wife’s health, and ventured bravely to add details.  “She cannot keep food or even tea in her stomach most of the day; although, she does seem to get a bit better late at night.”

“Has a surgeon been called?”  Worries and questions flew around his mind as he thought about his wife’s sickness.  Just like with her tears, he felt completely helpless to help her.

The maid hesitated a moment, wondering why the master would be asking her about something for which she had no authority to enact.  “No, Your Grace.  Mrs. Colson says she does not need one as there is no fever.”  It wasn’t the housekeeper’s decision, but everyone in the castle behaved as if it was her role.

“Is she awake now?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Elise.  You may continue with your errand.”  She bowed and slipped away, while he knocked on Penelope’s bedroom door.

Ruby opened the door slightly, putting her foot against it to block his entrance.  Awkwardly, she curtsied, her movement hindered by the position of her feet.  “Good morning, Your Grace.”

Despite her efforts to shield her mistress from him, Simon could look over the maid’s shoulder to his wife, who was propped up in the bed with pillows.  She wore a clean, white nightgown and had a brightly patterned shawl over her shoulders.  Buttons was pressed against her on one side, and she ran her fingers through his curly hair.  She appeared to be well attended, and he appreciated that his staff hadn’t left her alone.

“Penelope, may I come in?” he asked her humbly from the doorway, fully expecting that she would ask him to leave.

“I am sick,” she replied weakly.

“I know and I have been worried about you.  May I please have ten minutes?”

“Alright.”

He fetched the chair from her dressing table and set it beside her bed.  As he pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat, he took note of her wane face and the chamber pot waiting near her.  “Ten minutes,” he promised, setting the watch on the bedside table where he could see it easily.

He picked up the book sitting on the table and looked it over.  “Oh, Pride and Prejudice,” he said with a smile, remembering the excitement when she bought it.  “Did you start it again?”  They had discussed her enjoyment of the book before everything went badly in the library.  He wondered if perhaps he could use the book to bridge the gap between them again.

“I cannot read now,” she replied sadly.  “The words dance across the page and make me more ill.”

“Can read to you?”  He waited and watched her face, then leaned forward to check the time.  “Eight minutes.”  It probably looked fastidious to the maid for him to be so exacting with the time, but he wanted to honor Penelope’s request and respect her feelings.

“It is alright if you are too busy, Simon.”

Simon realized that she had misunderstood his reason for referring to the time.  “You have granted me only ten minutes, but I will not encroach further on your time.  Besides, this is important,” he insisted, patting the book.

She arched an eyebrow at him.  “Pride and Prejudice?”

“It is important to you.”  He opened the book as he glanced at his watch one more time.  Seven minutes.  “It is a truth universally acknowledged,” he began reading, “that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.  However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.”

Surprised by the succinct way the Lady described his own life, Simon laughed aloud.  “Well, she certainly has the measure of things!”

“Indeed, she seems to have an uncanny understanding of our society.”

The duke checked his watch again and resumed reading.  After six minutes, he said, “Mr. Bennet was an odd mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character.  Her mind was less difficult to develop.  She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper.  When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous.  The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.”  Simon closed the book and stood up, prepared to leave her in peace.

“You can stay longer if you would like,” Penelope said, a slight hint of hope in her voice.  Nervously, she smoothed the blankets on her lap wondering what he thought of her after their revelation in the library.  She wished he would still want to be friends with her.

“Ten more minutes?” he asked carefully, leaving room for her to object.  When she nodded, he sat down again.  “How are you feeling?”

“I seem to be the worst in the mornings.”

“Excuse me, Your Graces,” Ruby interrupted, “but we should try some tea again.”  Elise had returned a few minutes before with a tray of light food for her mistress’s breakfast.  She already held the cup of lukewarm tea in her hands as she approached the bed.

Penelope began crying.  “No, I cannot do it again,” she pleaded.

“What are you doing to her?” he demanded protectively, his voice controlled, but snapping with anger.  He stood to block the maid’s access to his wife, easily intimidating her with his size.

Ruby turned to face him boldly and whispered, “Your Grace, Lady Basset has not been able to eat or drink without getting sick.  I worry that she may weaken if I do not keep trying.”  When the duke nodded and resumed his seat, the maid pressed the tea cup to her mistress’s lips.  “Please try, Your Grace,” she coaxed.

Still weeping, Penelope took a few sips of the drink and immediately reached for the chamber pot.

Simon turned his face away from her, unable to watch her get sick for his own sake and hoping to uphold a bit of her dignity.  While Ruby and Elise were helping her get cleaned up, he asked, “Do you have any more peppermint sticks?”  Penelope nodded, so he ordered the maids to fetch one.  “Try sucking on this, Penelope.  It might help settle your stomach.”  He smiled as she reached for it.  “My nanny used to give them to me when I was unwell, and they always helped.”

After sitting down again, Simon turned to the chambermaid.  “Elise, please tell Johnson to fetch the surgeon.”  He hoped it wasn’t showing on his face, but Simon was very afraid for his wife.  The maid curtsied and went to find the butler, while the duke looked at his wife anxiously.

Strangely, the worried frown on her husband’s face calmed Penelope.  She took the peppermint out of her mouth to ask him quietly if he would continue reading.

<><><><><>

A half hour later, Simon looked up from the book and realized his wife had fallen asleep.  Seeing her so relaxed in his presence caused a warm feeling to flood his heart.  He hoped she was finally learning to trust him.  Moving away from the bed, he spoke quietly to Ruby, “I will be in my sitting room.  Please fetch me when she awakens or the surgeon arrives.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  We will take good care of her.”

He nodded his appreciation and softly ordered the dog to follow him.  Buttons opened one eye and stared at his master for a moment before closing it again.  Shaking his head, Simon grabbed the dog and carried him to his own suite, where the duke shared his breakfast meats with him.

 Several minutes later, a commotion on the stairs alerted the duke to the arrival of the surgeon.  He marched out of his room to greet him just as the butler and surgeon stepped in front of Penelope’s door.  “Thank you for coming.”

“Good morning, Duke Hastings.  I am Dr. Thomas Cornish.”  The men shook hands.

Simon knocked on the bedroom door, addressing Ruby when she opened it.  “Is Lady Basset still sleeping?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied with a small, fond smile before noticing the company.  She dipped into a quick curtsy.

The surgeon eyed the maid critically.  “Is this Lady Basset's lady’s maid?”

“Yes.”  Simon motioned for Ruby to come out of the room.

“I will speak with her, then,” the surgeon ordered firmly.

A bit surprised by the surgeon’s statement, the duke covered over his upset with a smile and led the couple to Penelope’s sitting room.  Leaving them alone so Ruby could answer Dr. Cornish’s questions, Simon went downstairs to his study as he thought would be expected of him during such a visit.  He pretended to work while he fretted about the surgeon’s findings.

As soon as the surgeon gave him the report, Simon called for his butler.  “Send a footman to deliver this message to Lady Danbury immediately,” he commanded, every muscle in his body tense with foreboding.  Dipping his feather pen into his ink well, he wrote, “Penelope is sick with child.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- in Regency times, a surgeon was a less educated physician who had learned the trade as an apprentice rather than attending medical college and becoming a doctor

- the “ten minutes” idea came from this musical mashup on Youtube.  “Share your life with me, for the next ten minutes.”  There are many musical Easter eggs in the story.  Let me know how many you have found in the comments.

- the beginning lines and end lines from Pride and Prejudice by Janie Austin (A Lady), chapter 1

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Simon warned Ruby not to tell Penelope anything about the surgeon’s visit and rushed outside.  Although he knew his godmother would consider it undignified, he ran straight to the stables and saddled his horse, Zeus, too agitated to wait for help.  He swung up onto the animal and set off in a canter that quickly turned into a gallop.

While he rode, he tried to think about Penelope’s situation, but only one phrase kept repeating in his head.  “She is with child.”  Zeus’s gaited hooves hit the ground in pattern with the words- right hind (she), left hind (is), right front (with), left front (child).

It pounded against his body with the rhythm of his horse.  “She is with child.”  He couldn’t outrun it, but he kept pushing his horse further and further away from his wife.

A memory of her laying on the ground at Vauxhall Garden, beaten and exposed, appeared in his mind, and he instantly felt sick.  Rearing the horse quickly, he slid off the saddle and stumbled a few steps away.

When he finished, he wiped his face and staggered towards a fallen log.  Sitting down heavily, he hunched his body over and pushed his fingers into his eyes until they hurt.  “My sweet Penelope,” he whispered, choking on her name.

He roared in anger and agony, yelling a string of curse words into the void.  Zeus startled at the sudden sound and bolted, thundering away from him.  He cursed again at the loss of his horse. 

Without an audience, Simon finally allowed himself to cry.  Deep, heartbreaking sobs ripped out of him, tearing through the armor he had built around himself during a lifetime of self-reliance.  He couldn’t breathe or think.  There was only pain, squeezing his heart, choking his throat, hammering through his head.

He didn’t know how long he sat incapacitated by grief, but eventually, he lifted his head and wiped his eyes.  A heavy weight had settled over him when he was crying and now it pressed him into the ground, making every movement leaden.  He stood and began wandering in the direction he thought his horse may have ran.

“Zeus!” he called out, hoping their hours of training together would cause the horse to respond to his name and come towards him.  He scanned the area, looking for any signs of the animal, continuing to yell.

He found the horse nibbling on grass near a creek, content and cool in the shade.  “Sorry, I was not being very mindful of you today.”  He patted his horse’s neck.  “Are you feeling better, old boy?”

Sticky with tears and sweat, he walked upstream of his horse and drank from the water, running his wet hands over his face, neck, and arms to wash them.  He returned to Zeus, petting his nose.  “Let's go home.”

He mounted the horse while thinking with astonishment about that little word home.  He had never considered anywhere to be home before.  When he was a boy, Lady Danbury’s house was the closest he knew to such a place, but he knew it wasn’t his home.

Aubrey Hall with the large, warm Bridgerton family always made him feel welcome, but he didn’t really feel at home with them either.  It had been easy for him to travel after Oxford, because there had been nothing to pull him back to London, neither a family or a home.

For nearly a decade, he had wandered the continent, alone and rootless.  To his surprise, he realized that he felt at home with Penelope.

He tapped the sides of his horse to urge him into a canter, suddenly very eager to see his wife again.  A niggling of guilt poked at him when he realized he had left Penelope alone while she was unwell and vulnerable.  Not just sick- pregnant.

Sometime during that April night, a villain took what would never belong to him and left something of himself behind.  There was no way for anyone to learn his identity, and he would never be brought to justice.

Simon was haunted by the memory of his wife on the cold ground, her dress stained and ripped.  She had felt so small when he carried her, silent as a dead body in his arms.  The closer he got to home, the greater his anger grew.  

Simon’s blood pounded, his hands fisted tightly on the reins, as he spurred Zeus into a gallop.  At the stable yard, he swung off the horse and demanded one of the grooms hang a bag of feed for him to pummel.  The thunderous expression in his face and harsh tone had all of his staff scrambling to appease him.

The first punch to the grain sack exploded out of Simon the moment the bag was secured, even before the groom had run out of the way.  Several more hits came in close secession.

The feed bag was a poor substitute fo a punching bag from his gym, but the duke didn’t mind enough to stop.  His muscles rejoiced in the exercise, while his mind pictured a faceless monster.

He continued to punish the bag, landing blow after blow, until the seams on the sacking gave out and feed poured out all over the floor of the stable.  “Clean this up!” he bit angrily as he marched out of the stable.  He still felt frustrated and energetic and decided he had better attempt to work it out more before heading inside.

Marching in the general direction of his house, he swung out his arms and stomped his feet down the garden path, noticing a bit self-consciously that his servants all seemed to be giving him a wide berth.

In an effort to calm down, he thought about when he was last in the garden, the day he showed it to Penelope.  He smiled as the memory of her enthusiasm, despite the rage currently occupying his body.

He wandered the rows and tried to remember what she had said were her favorites.  Lavender?  No- that was the plant she included in their charity baskets.  Daffodils?  No, although it was the flower he associated with her.  Roses?  Tulips?  Daisies?

Just as he had hoped, he noticed his breathing and heart slowing down as he studied the flowers.  He had been away from her for hours and wanted to return with something to show for his absence.  His sweet Penelope needed every bit of cheering he could give her.  Sweet Penelope.  Sweet P!  He remembered!  She told him she likes sweet peas!

He ran to the area of the garden where the flowers were growing and began eagerly picking a handful of them.  Pink, blue, and purple buds joined his bouquet.  He could not remember if she had a favorite color, but he subconsciously added more pink as he found the color embodied his wife best.

Like an eager boy bringing flowers to his mother, Simon rushed through the house to knock on Penelope’s bedroom door.  “Good afternoon, Ruby.  Is she awake?”

 The maid curtsied respectfully.  “Yes, Your Grace.”  She moved aside for him to come in, then looked at him with a frown of confusion and concern.  His appearance was disheveled from obvious physical exertion, his hair was wild, his eyes were red, and there appeared to be grain seeds stuck in the seams of his clothing and in his hair.

She took the bouquet of flowers from him, smiling slightly when she noticed the roots hanging off of many of the plants.  “Elise, please put these in a vase for Lady Basset.”

“May I bother you for ten minutes, Penelope?”

She smiled and replied with fake haughtiness, “I suppose I can spare the time.”

Simon sat in the chair next to her bed.  Immediately, Buttons jumped off the bed, where he had been playing with Penelope, and dropped a length of rope at his feet.  The duke stared at the dog, who looked up at him longingly.

“He wants you to play with him,” Penelope explained, giggling at her husband’s confused look.

“Play?”  Simon couldn’t remember playing with a pet in his life.  All the dogs he’d ever encountered before had been strictly working animals, no different from a horse.  He picked up one end of the rope, Buttons grabbed onto the other end, and Simon dropped it again with an apology.

“He wants you to try to take it from him.  Or you can throw the toy, and he will bring it back to you.”

“If he is just going to bring it back, what is the point of throwing it?”

“Simon,” she said with a bit of playful exasperation that made him look at her.  “Just try it.”

He grabbed the rope again, not particularly enjoying the dampness of it, and tugged it away from the puppy.  Buttons yapped and chomped down on the other end, shaking his tail with glee.  Simon experimentally wiggled the rope as he pulled it, and the dog gave the tiniest growl and yanked it back.

Penelope giggled, her heart melting at the sight of the tall, serious duke and the little, fluffy dog.

Simon played with the dog for a few more minutes as the silliness of it helped him forget his swirling emotions and quiet the voices in his head.  Tossing the rope to the far side of the room, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better” she said with a smile.  “The surgeon recommended peppermint instead of ginger tea, and my stomach has finally settled.  I even ate half a slice of toast.”

“I’m so glad!”  He started to reach for her as it felt natural to touch her in some way after the good news, but he pulled his hand back quickly.  “Perhaps you are on the mend,” he said hopefully.

“Thank you for making a fuss about me and calling the surgeon,” she replied, suddenly shy.  “It was very kind of you.”

Simon almost scoffed.  “You do not need to thank me, Penelope.  I would have called the surgeon yesterday if I had realized you were sick.”  Buttons sat at his feet, thumping his tail on the ground, so the duke threw the rope again.

“You did not know?”  She looked at him askance, unsure if she believed his assertion.  After their fight- or whatever that was- in the library a few days ago, separation seemed like a natural consequence.

Seeking a distraction, he pitched the rope for the dog and watched him run away.  “I was told you did not want to see me.”

She could not meet his eyes.  “Oh, I did say that.”  It had made sense at the time to shield him from the unpleasantness, but she wasn’t expecting him to sound so upset about it.  They had been apart for almost a month during their honeymoon, and he hadn’t seemed to mind it.  She wondered if his concern meant anything deeper.

He stood up, believing himself to be unwanted even now.  “My ten minutes have ended.  Thank you for your time.”  He bowed formally, acknowledging the wall she built between them.

“You do not have to leave on my account,” she suggested timidly, holding her breath until he responded.

He stopped and turned towards her.  “Shall I stay another ten minutes?”

She smiled as she sighed, happy to feel the tiny thread of friendship reaching towards him again.  They would rebuild, ten minutes at a time.  “Perhaps you can read to me again?”  She handed him the book as he sat down with a smile.

“Only if you try to drink some beef tea.”

“I am afraid I will get sick again.”

He closed his eyes against the tears forming in her eyes, then reopened them again.  “It will help you get stronger,” he explained, clamping his jaw to keep himself from adding “for the baby.”  The thought pinched his heart.

When she nodded, he gave the order to Elise, who left immediately.  Ruby used the break in conversation to bring over the duke’s flowers, properly trimmed and arranged in a vase.

“Sweet peas!” Penelope exclaimed with a smile, burying her nose in the vase.  “You remembered!”  She passed them back to her maid, who set them on the bedside table.

“Of course, I remembered.  However, I forgot if you had a color your preferred.  I hope I have not sent you a bad or confusing message.”

She laughed at his charmingly worried frown.  “Nope.  Every color you chose is perfect.  Pink for youth, blue for calm, and purple for courage.”

“It sounds like the perfect bouquet to see you through your illness, then.  I almost brought daisies, as they have recently began blooming.”

“I love daisies, too,” she said shyly, remembering the advice she gave to Colin, hoping that he would bring some to her.

“I noticed that several of your old dresses featured them, but I did not know if that was your own choice or your mothers.”

She blushed, although, she wasn’t sure why.  “The best part of marriage is getting to pick my own clothes!  No more yellow for as long as I live!”

For some reason, it pricked Simon’s heart to hear her speak of their marriage so shallowly.  Of course, they weren’t a love match, but surely there was something better in their relationship besides a new wardrobe!  He smiled at her comment to hide his hurt.

Ruby approached her mistress with a cup of warm beef tea and offered it to her.  “Sip it slowly, my lady.  It is important for you to have as much as you can tolerate.”

“Just a little taste, my dear, and then I will begin reading,” Simon promised, nodding at her encouragingly.

Penelope slowly took an experimental sip.  It tasted rich and salty, soothing her raw throat.  She checked in with her stomach before taking another drink.  “This is very good, Ruby.  Please tell Mrs. Honey I appreciate it.”

“I will, my lady.  Do you need anything else?  Your Grace?”  She turned to Simon for further instructions and withdrew when he dismissed her.

“It may seem silly, but I am proud of you, Penelope.  You are being very brave.”  He picked up the novel they started together and opened it.  “Now, you shall have your reward.”  She giggled as he began to read.

After two chapters, Simon noticed his wife’s eyes growing heavy, so he closed the book.  “I will leave you to rest, My Sweet.”  He stood up and set the book down on the table next to her.  “Perhaps you will feel better in the morning.”

“Simon, wait!” she called out as he started to walk away.  When he turned and looked at her again, a questioning look in his face, she suddenly felt shy.

“You can ask me anything, Penelope,” he said softly.  “Please.”  He hoped that one day she would feel comfortable enough and trust him enough to speak her mind without hesitation.

“Will- will you hug me?”  She had been thinking about his arms wrapped around her for days and wishing to feel them again.  He had been so gentle and protective, holding her through the storm of her emotions and providing a calm haven for her.

Throughout her sickness, she craved his touch, convinced it would help her feel better.  She wasn’t sure when she started feeling safe around him, but somehow his strength had become sheltering instead of threatening.

Simon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “Are you sure?”  He was very conscious of her trauma and fears, and never wanted her to feel uncomfortable around him.  It wasn’t very long ago that she startled when he spoke to her.

“Please?”

“Alright.”  He stepped towards her and waited for her to nod her encouragement.  Slowly, awkwardly, he bent down and gently put his arms around her, holding the majority of his body away from her.

“I am alright, Simon,” she assured him, pressing her hands against his back firmly.

He took a tiny step closer to her and relaxed his body into her own.  Subconsciously, he lowered his face to the top of her head.  Orange blossom and sandalwood.  Home.  He nestled his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply.

Penelope had the opposite reaction when her nose made contact with his chest.  Her heart began racing as she realized what she was smelling- horses and sweat- the same scent as the man who assaulted her.  “No!” she screamed pushing against his chest and bringing her arms and legs against her body protectively.

“Penelope, what is the matter?” Simon asked as he scrambled away from her, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“Go away!” she gasped, trembling and staring at him with wild, panicked eyes.

Lowering his voice, both intonation and volume, he tried to get her to talk to him.  “Penelope, please tell me what is wrong.”

“Leave me!” she screeched, tears falling down her face.

Ruby appeared at her mistress’s side.  “I am here, my lady,” she whispered, putting a hand on Penelope’s shoulder.  It was inappropriate behavior for a lady’s maid, but Simon wasn’t going to intervene if she could help his wife.

“Take care of her,” he ordered firmly.  Defeated, he retreated to his own room.

<><><><><>

In the silence, The Duke’s ghostly voice flooded his head.  “You failed, Boy,” his father laughed.  “Just two promises to me and you failed them both!  You have a wife and now you will have a son!  You failed!  You failed!  You failed!”

Simon reached for the brandy bottle he kept in his sitting room, uncorked it, and took a long sip.  “A Hastings heir!” the voice continued to taunt.  “You cuckold!  You failure!  You idiot!”  The bottle touched his lips again, as it often did when he thought of his father.  “The dukedom you hate will continue through a bastard!  Halfwit!  My biggest disappointment!”

The bottle was nearly empty, but the voices hadn’t quieted.  Simon shook his head, trying to banish the ghost from his mind.  He called for his valet and demanded another bottle.

Miller replied dryly, “Celebrating, Your Grace?”  The entire estate knew the family news, everyone except Penelope.

“Just fetch it here.  Actually, bring two bottles.”

“Your Grace?”  Miller hesitated, looking towards the door that lead to the mistress’s rooms, where they could faintly hear her wailing.

“Now!” he roared, finishing his current bottle.

Simon knew he wasn’t an idiot for marrying Penelope.  Of course, as a man of the world, he knew a pregnancy was a possibility when he decided to marry her; although, he had forgotten about it as their marriage progressed.

He thought about the look of wonder on his wife’s face when he first showed her the library and the joyous smile when she demanded he look at the puppies.  Her piano playing banished the ghosts and brought him peace, while her compassion challenged him to be a kinder duke.

Since returning from London, Penelope filled up his life and mind more than he had ever dreamed possible.  He had even dared to imagine that she might someday hold his heart as well.  Even if this wasn’t the life he would have imagined for himself a year ago, he didn’t regret marrying her, but he wished it had happened another way.

Sometimes, he daydreamed about courting her properly.  Promenading with her at the park as the Ton gossiped behind their hands.  Taking her in a boat for a private conversation.  Showering her with jewelry and flowers and books until she begged him to stop.  Dancing with her a scandalous number of times at every ball, her beautiful blue eyes turned up at him with adoration.

An image of her tear-stained face flashed before his eyes, shattering his pleasant thoughts.  It has been such a common sight since that night at Vauxhall Gardens that he wasn’t able to pinpoint the specific moment from his memories.

He knew she had been completely innocent that night, unable to imagine either the dangers of the night or the consequences of such horrors.  She probably still didn’t fully understand.  He worried about how she would react to the news of her pregnancy.

Miller brought up a tray with two bottles of brandy, a large pitcher of water, and some greasy pieces of meat.  “If you are going to drink all night, at least eat a little first and have some water to balance it,” the valet advised, impertinently sticking his nose in his master’s business.

He got away with it by being the person Simon trusted the most in the world, the one who had served him for over fifteen years and who had seen him through many bad hangovers.

“Yes, Mother,” Simon replied sarcastically, pouring himself a glass of water and shooting it down.

“And now the meat,” Miller nagged.

“Termagant!”  Despite the insult, Simon still picked up one of the sausages and bit into it.  “Happy?” he asked dramatically.

“Always, Your Grace,” the servant said wryly.

“You are dismissed.  Please inform Mrs. Colson that Lady Basset is to be given the highest level of care, anything she desires.”  As the valet exited the room, Simon picked up the first bottle of brandy and opened it.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Tell me how badly I understand horses in the comments. I do know that the rhythm of horse hooves that I used is called gaited.

- Beef tea is essentially broth (watch a cooking video about it on Tasting History with Max Miller)

- Termagant is a nagging woman

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Several days later, neither the duke nor the duchess had been seen outside their rooms, leaving Mrs. Colson and Johnson in charge of the house.  “Your Grace,” Miller announced loudly, drawing back the curtains in Simon’s bedroom, “you have visitors.”

Simon raised his aching head off his pillow, squinting against the light.  “What?  Close the curtains!”  He dropped his head back down, too bottle-weary to get up.

The valet did as commanded, then explained, “Visitors, Your Grace.  The Ladies Danbury and Bridgerton.  They said you were expecting them.”

The duke cursed and attempted to sit up again.  “Prepare my bath and a shave.  Tell Johnson to admit the guest into the yellow sitting room and serve them tea.  Our guests will also need rooms prepared and their belongings unpacked for them.  If they have not brought their own help, please chose a few maids to be assigned for their comfort.”

The valet left to pass orders to the butler, maids, and footmen, while Simon looked around his room.  The floor was littered with evidence of his debauchery.  He had managed to keep himself just drunk enough for the last few days to forget about the reality of Penelope’s pregnancy.  Now that he was awake, all the emotions came flooding back with the addition of a horrible hangover.

He stumbled to his wet bar and searched the cabinet for any remaining alcohol.  Finding nothing to wash away the cotton in his mouth, he chose to drink the water that Miller provided when he arrived earlier.  He plopped back onto this bed and waited for his valet to return.

Miller entered again a few minutes later with a breakfast tray.  “Toast and fish for your stomach, Your Grace, and a small amount of whiskey for your head.”

<><><><><>

Nearly an hour later, Simon walked into the yellow sitting room.  The two dowagers rose to greet him.  “Thank you for coming.  Sorry about the delay.”

Lady Bridgerton pulled him into a warm hug, rubbing his back like she would her sons.  “How are you doing?” she said tenderly, her tone implying a much deeper question than the words normally meant.

“It has been hard,” he answered truthfully, moving towards his godmother.

Lady Danbury hugged him briefly before taking her seat again, frowning at his red eyes and obvious discomfort.  “Boy, you smell like a distillery!” she scolded, her disapproval of his behavior very evident.  “I see we have come just in time.” 

“Thank you for coming.  Both of you.”  Simon would not have been able to explain how deeply their presence effected him.  Despite everything, they would be alright because the mothers had arrived.  “How was the trip from London?”

“As arduous as ever,” the countess complained.  “I have been making this trip too often lately.”

“I am so grateful, and I know Penelope will be as well.”

“How is she?” the viscountess asked, her eyes soft.

The duke looked ashamed, as he hadn’t talked to his wife in days.  In his misery this morning, he had even forgotten to ask about her.  “I do not know.”

“Simon,” Lady Danbury said in that tone that always expressed her disappointment.

“I am sure it was a great shock to both of you,” Lady Bridgerton suggested soothingly, all softness to her friend’s prickliness.  “It is natural that you needed a few days to adjust.  “Nel?” she asked, addressing the maid who had been attending to them in the duke’s absence.  “Have the kitchen prepare a drink of three raw eggs and a clove of garlic for His Grace.”

The maid glanced at her master to see what he thought of the order, then replied, “Yes, my lady,” and went to fulfill the strange request.

“This hangover cure is the one Edmund introduced me to years ago, and I have passed onto my sons,” Lady Bridgerton explained.  “Now, what can you tell us about your wife’s condition?”

“When I spoke with Penelope last, she had been very sick for a few days, unable to eat or drink very much.  The surgeon switched her to peppermint tea, which she tolerates better than ginger.  She has been sleeping often this past month.”  Reciting her symptoms made Simon anxious, but the matrons just looked at each other knowingly.

Lady Danbury quizzed him strictly.  “A surgeon has been to see her?”

“Yes, Dr. Cornish from the village looked in on her and made a few recommendations.”

“Has the midwife been by for a visit?” the mother of eight asked, finding it very difficult not to run up the stairs to her adopted daughter.

“No?”  Simon looked lost, afraid he had missed an essential part of caring for his wife.

“A midwife can be a great comfort to a woman, especially early in her pregnancy,” Lady Bridgerton informed him, patting his arm comfortingly.  “We will take care of everything now.”

“I am having rooms prepared, and you are welcome to stay with us as long as you desire.  Please let myself or my staff know of your needs.”

“Does Penelope know of her condition?” the countess demanded, taking her cup from the maid.

“No, she does not know she is with child.”

“Simon.”  His godmother sounded so disappointed in him that it stung.

“I thought it would be easier to explain when she begins to feel better.”

“The poor girl probably thinks she is dying!” the viscountess huffed, siding with her friend against the duke.

“She has been told she will recover,” Simon added defensively.

The dowagers decided to skip over the duke completely and take matters into their own hands.  Addressing the maid, Lady Danbury commanded, “Please let us know when Lady Basset is awake.  We are here to attend her.”

With that settled, Lady Bridgerton turned the conversation to easier topics.  “Anthony mentioned you inherited a mess with your tenants and accounts.  Have you made any progress getting it sorted?”

“We were able to get quite a bit done in London, but the majority of the success is entirely because of Penelope.  She is so compassionate and clever.  With one plan, she soothed agitated tenants and refocused them on improving their own lives.  She has a book with every person under our employ listed with their relevant information and has been working on committing it to memory.”

“She has always had a good memory, even as a child,” the viscountess said with a smile, proud of Simon’s report on her and the enthusiastic way he described her ideas.  “She and Benedict used to challenge each other to memorize poetry and recite it without warning.”

Always the practical one, the countess asked, “What was her plan?”

“We will not be collecting rents this Midsummer, and will instead allow our tenants to invest that money into their own farms and families.  Then, Penelope had us bring them baskets of foodstuffs from our own kitchens as gifts, which endeared them to her further.”

Lady Bridgerton’s eyes got soft.  “She is such a sweet girl.”

“Your Grace,” Nel said in a curtsy, offering him a tray with a glass on it.  “Your special beverage.”

Simon picked up the drink, but eyed it warily.  “Thank you, Nel.  Please ask a footman to bring Johnson and Mrs. Colson to me.”  He took a tiny sip of the concoction in his hand and pulled a face.

“It does not get better, Simon,” Lady Bridgerton sympathized.  “Just drink it as quickly as you can.”

He chugged the beverage and chased it with two cups of tea.  His stomach revolted immediately, but settled quickly.  “That is vile!”  The ladies laughed at him knowingly.

“When Penelope awakens, Violet and I are going to speak with her,” Lady Danbury commanded in a firm tone, taking over the household.  “Simon, you may spend today nursing your hangover, but tomorrow you will be back at your desk managing your estates.  Violet will oversee Penelope’s care and ensure that her well-being is priority, while I will meet with the housekeeper and get this house running efficiently.”

“You should also spend time with your wife, Simon,” Lady Bridgerton advised.  “She will need you.”

He shook his head.  “She does not want to see me.”

“You must keep trying,” the countess ordered, almost without compassion.

“We will help where we can,” the viscountess assured him, “but you cannot give up.”

Simon didn’t want to force his presence on a woman, who didn’t want to see him.  She had already been a victim of rape, bore a child from the violence, and been forced into marriage with him.  If she desired to be left alone, he wanted to at least give her that much control.  He knew the dowagers would not agree with him, though.

When the butler and housekeeper entered the room, Simon introduced them to the visitors.  “My mother, Lady Danbury, will step in as mistress of the house and her commands will be treated with the same weight as my own.   Lady Basset’s mother, Lady Bridgerton, is here to attend her daughter.”  He exaggerated the relationship he and his wife had with the matrons, but it felt justified.  These women were family. “Are the rooms ready for our guests?” 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Colson said, eying the other women suspiciously.  She knew Lady Danbury’s relationship with the duke was important, but she wasn’t pleased to be usurped in her own house.  Perhaps Simon had forgotten that she had been the housekeeper here since before he had been born.  She put a fake smile on her face and answered the master, “They are in the Lavender and the Rose rooms in the east wing.”

“Very well.  Please escort them upstairs to Lady Basset’s suite.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Toast and fish for the hangover is based off of Will’s cure from season one.  It also references Colin’s drinking song he performs with Francesca at the piano in season one (and let the catch and toast go round!)

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Penelope was sitting up in her bed with her puppy laying on her lap when the ladies entered her room.  She smiled at them, pleased to have company.  “Lady Danbury!  Lady Bridgerton!  Thank you for visiting!”

“We are sorry to hear that you have been sick, Penelope” the viscountess said.

“Forgive for not rising to greeting you, ladies,” Penelope replied, motioning them to take seats near her bed.  The duchess sat against a pile of fluffy pillows, the coverlets pulled up to her chin.

“What an adorable puppy!” Lady Bridgerton exclaimed, reaching forward to pet his head as he faced them curiously.

Penelope smiled.  “His name is Buttons.  Simon gave him to me from his litter of hunting dogs.”

Lady Danbury looked at the wiggly dog with disdain.  She disliked all animals, including the queen’s beloved pomeranians, which might be treason.  Decidedly changing the subject, she asked, “Simon tells us that you have been seen by a surgeon?”

“I did not speak with him, but he met with my lady’s maid.”

The two dowagers glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.  “What are your symptoms?”

Penelope bit her lip, nervous about the serious looks on the older women’s faces.  “I am nauseated all day and night.  I struggled with holding down food or drink, but it has gotten better since I switched to peppermint tea.”

“Any fever?”

“No.  Mrs. Colson said I did not need a surgeon since I did not have a fever, but Simon overruled her.”

Lady Danbury frowned at the casual mention of the housekeeper’s power.  She leaned close to Penelope and whispered, “Forgive my impropriety, my dear, but have you had monthly bleeding since your arrival here?”

The duchess’s eyes grew wide, wondering why the older woman was asking such a question.  “No?” she answered with a puzzled question in her voice.  “I thought married women did not bleed?  My mother never talked about such a thing happening to her, just to myself and my sisters.”

“It seems we have much to discuss.”  The older women looked at each other again.

“First, I need to reassure you that you are not wasting away or dying,” Lady Bridgerton began gently.  “You will recover from this in a few months.”

Lady Danbury plowed ahead in the manner that she handled all bad news.  “We think you are with child, as does Dr. Cornish.”

“What!?!  How is this possible?  Simon and I have never… uh-” she bit her bottom lip as her cheeks flushed in shame.  “WeHaveNeverSharedAMarriageBed!” she spat out in one breath, eager to spill all the embarrassing news at once.

Lady Danbury raised her eyebrow in an expression that reminded Penelope of Simon.  “It is not necessary to share a marriage bed to become with child.”

“Then, how can it happen?  Lady Bridgerton said the marital duty between husband and wife done in marriage bed was what caused children to be born.”

Lady Danbury glared at her friend, who looked embarrassed by the discussion.  “I shall need drawing paper and charcoal,” she announced.

<><><><><>

A half an hour later, Penelope sobbed as she realized what had happened to her that night in the garden.  Lady Bridgerton moved to the bed and pulled her close.  “It will be alright, Penelope.  You are safe.  I am here, and I am not leaving.”

Penelope cried for a long time before lifting her head.  “My dreams were memories,” she said quietly, the revelation pounding into her again.  All the pain, humiliation, and fear that had been haunting her for the past few months had been real.  The truth of her past ripped a scream from her lungs.

Buttons jumped off the bed at his mistress’s distress, barking madly and running in circles.

“Take the dog out before he makes a mess on the carpets,” Lady Danbury ordered Ruby, pointing at the offensive animal with her cane.

Ruby nodded to Elise to catch the puppy and carry him down to the servants’ hall.  As Penelope’s guardian and advocate in the house, she felt it was important that she remain with her mistress.  

Hugging her adopted daughter tightly, Lady Bridgerton wept with her as she screamed and wailed.  She muttered useless, hollow assurances in her ear, trying to make everything right again.

“Ruby!” Penelope yelled out, abruptly pushing away from Violet.  Feeling hurt by the rejection, the viscountess released her at the exact moment that Ruby thrust the chamber pot under her chin.  When she finished casting up her accounts, the maid withdrew with the basin and fetched her a cloth for her mouth and a drink.

“Oh, Penelope,” Lady Bridgerton whispered.  “My dear girl.”

Tears continued to leak out of Penelope’s eyes as she drank the offered water.

“Would you like a peppermint stick, My Lady?”  Ruby took the glass from her mistress and offered her the sweet.

Penelope stuck it in her mouth and sucked on it, soothing herself with the flavor.  After a moment, she handed it back to her maid.

Lady Bridgerton glanced over at her friend, hoping she would have an idea to help the girl.  When Agatha continued looking at her with the same observant eyes that she assessed every problem in the Ton, Violet turned back to her daughter.  “May I hold you, Penelope?” she asked her gently, opening her arms.

The duchess hesitated for a moment before nodding as a fresh batch of tears fell down her cheeks.

Instead of leaning forward awkwardly as she had done a few minutes ago, Violet climbed off the bed to sit against the headboard besides Penelope.  Once she was situated, she opened her arms, welcoming her daughter again.

Penelope curled herself around her adopted mother’s body, snuggling against her as she sobbed.  Lady Bridgerton rubbed circles onto her back with one hand and petted her hair with the other.

Just as she had done with her children, she began shushing loudly and rhythmically near her daughter’s ear.  As Penelope’s cries grew quieter, Violet’s voice became softer as well.

With a shutter and a sigh, Penelope fell asleep on her mother’s chest, soothed by her heartbeat and nestled in her arms.

“Well, I shall attend to the household, then,” Lady Danbury announced, exiting out the door with a determined march.

Violet shook her head with slight amusement at her friend’s practicality.

Very quietly, Ruby approached the bed.  “May I fetch you anything, My Lady?”

“It is Ruby, is it not?”

“Yes, My Lady.  I am Lady Basset’s lady’s maid.”

“You should get some rest.  I think your mistress will need you soon.”

“Thank you, My Lady.  Would you like refreshments sent up?”

“No, I am alright.  Could you please hand me that book, though?”  She pointed to the novel sitting on the table beside the bed, seeking an escape from the grief that sad heavily over the room.

The maid passed over the book with a smile. 

“Thank you, Ruby.  You are dismissed.”

“Please let me know when she awakens, My Lady.”

Lady Bridgerton nodded her assent as the maid dipped into a respectful bob.  After Ruby left, Violet looked at the title of the book- Pride and Prejudice.  The name sounded familiar, but she was sure she had never read it.  Opening the book, she settled in for a long afternoon.

<><><><><>

The urge to run was strong in Simon so he followed it, taking off from the castle at a sprint as soon as the matrons went upstairs.  He had to get away from his wife’s pain, Lady Bridgerton’s pity, and Lady Danbury’s judgment.  His insecurities propelled him towards the stables, where he could get a horse and leave.

Once he stepped into the stable yard, though, he remembered the last time he had visited.  A few days ago, he had spilled a bag of seeds and required his staff to clean up his mess.  Lady Danbury had taught him better.

“May I help you, Your Grace?” Charlie asked, schooling his face to appear unaffected by the duke’s sweaty and disheveled appearance.  Life on the estate had been strange since the new Lord Basset had arrived, but the master hadn’t been unreasonable or cruel.  Just slightly eccentric.

After running, his cravat felt like a noose, so he untied and unwound it, stuffing the unwieldy cloth into a pocket.  “Please fetch me a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow.”  Simon removed his frock coat and waistcoat and draped them over a wooden rail, careless of the consequences to those garments.  Lastly, he rolled up his sleeves, just as the groom returned with the items.

After thanking Charlie, Simon steered the wheelbarrow towards the stables where his racehorses were housed.  Parking it at one end of the barn, he walked with the pitchfork to the other end and filled it up with dirty straw.  Carefully, he carried the muck to the wheelbarrow and dumped it inside before repeating the process.

Simon knew it would have been more efficient to put the cart closer to where he was working, but he wanted the extra effort.  After indulging in alcohol the past few days and sitting behind a desk for the last couple months, he was in poor shape physically, at least compared to his normal peak condition.

Mucking out stables was an excellent way to strengthen his muscles, clear his lungs, and get his blood pumping.  Every trainer he had worked with anywhere in the world had included it as part of their exercise routine.  The fact that hard work also purged him of his anger made it valuable as well.

A small crowd of grooms and stable-hands gathered to watch the duke, all of them either hiding or pretending to work in a nearby area.  They had never seen a nobleman so sweaty and dirty.  Some even found it unsettling.

“Your Grace,” Mr. Wheaton exclaimed, approaching the duke anxiously.  “Is everything alright?”

Simon dumped his shovelful of manure and accepted the lemonade one of the stable-hands presented him.  “Yes, thank you.  I am merely working off a hangover.  How are operations?”

The head groomsman shooed his staff back to work and updated his master on the racehorses.  They talked about possible racing opportunities and planned a few events.  He also confirmed Copper’s pregnancy, which reminded Simon again of his own news.

Simon knew he needed to get back to his wife.  “Please have someone saddle my horse.”  He ignored Mr. Wheaton’s protests and pushed the wheelbarrow to the muck pile and dumped it himself.  Then, he picked up his clothes and donned them again, minus the cravat, which he used to wipe his face.

Instead of riding straight back to the house, he took a longer trip.  Gradually, he began to feel guilty about neglecting his wife and guests.  “Give him water and take him back to the stables,” Simon ordered the first footman he encountered.

“Supper will be served in an hour, Your Grace,” Johnson informed him as his master strode into the castle.  “Shall I begin the process for a bath?”

“No, thank you.  A quick wash and new clothes are fine.  Where are my guests?”

The butler glanced up the stairs, where the wails of Lady Basset had finally quieted.  “They are still with Her Grace.”

Simon thanked him and retired to his own room, where he waited only a moment until Miller arrived.  The valet helped him out of his sweaty clothes and handed him a flannel to wash his body.  Knowing the dowagers would expect him to look smart tonight, he dabbed on some cologne and fussed with his stiffened cravat until it sat just right.

When Miller finally declared him finished, Simon exited his own room and walked the short distance to his wife’s bedroom.  The weight of responsibility pushed down heavily on him, and he only hesitated a moment before knocking on the door.

“Your Grace,” Ruby said with a demure smile, curtsying and opening the door wide to admit him.

“Come in, Simon,” Lady Bridgerton ordered from her place on Penelope’s bed.  Turning back to her adopted daughter, she whispered, “Sweetheart, your husband is here.”  She touched the younger woman’s hair soothingly before gracefully standing and moving away a few steps.

Feeling very disquieted by the matrons’ sentry positions near his wife, Simon approached the bed slowly.  “Hello, Penelope,” he said awkwardly, unsure what to do next.

She held her head down and angled away from him, unable to look at him or allow him to look at her.  Surely he would now be angry with her, perhaps blame her for something she didn’t know was possible.  She bit the inside of her lip, willing herself not to cry again.

Simon glanced back at the dowagers, who were subtly motioning for him to keep trying.  Slowly, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed, right where Lady Bridgerton had been sitting.  She visibly tensed and pulled away from him.  “Please look at me,” he pleaded, his fingers flexing with a desire to reach out to her.

Penelope shook her head.

“May I hold you?”  He opened his arms like he did in the carriage after the ball.

“Please do not hurt me,” she croaked with a tiny, rough voice.

“Never!” he insisted quietly, heartbroken about having his conversation yet again.  He wondered if she would ever separate him from her attacker.

Instead of comforting her like he had hoped, Penelope scooted further away from him and pulled herself into a ball.  Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Lady Bridgerton put her hand on Simon’s shoulder with all the compassion of a mother.  “Dear, perhaps you should give her a little time.”

He looked at his wife, begging her with his eyes to share her pain with him.  With a sigh of resolve, he stood.  “I will see you at supper.”

Lady Bridgerton dined with Penelope in her room that night, while Lady Danbury and Simon ate alone in the family dining room.  Each mother shared wisdom and comfort with her child and tried to help them understand their circumstances.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Simon sneaked out of his castle early the next morning and ran to the stables.  To the amusement and shock of his employees, he spent a few hours hauling feed sacks, lifting carriage wheels, and shoveling muck.  He found the work to be a good remedy for his frustration and restlessness.  Only when the sun was high in the sky did he return to the castle.

“Good morning, Simon,” Lady Danbury said pointedly, a notebook open in her hands as Mrs. Colson and a few maids followed her around the castle.  The dowager was taking her promise to put the house in order seriously and had already decided that many things needed changing.

Simon could tell by his housekeeper’s pinched face that she wasn’t pleased with the new leadership in the house, which made him smile.  “Good morning.  I trust you slept well?”

“Well enough,” she huffed,   “You should try visiting with your wife again”  She glared his unkempt appearance.  “After you clean up.”

He frowned with concern.  “How is she?”

“Simon, she is your wife.  Go ask her yourself.”  Lady Danbury’s scolding was gentle, but firm, and left no room for argument.

“Nel,” he said, addressing one of the maids clustered around the countess, “please put a bouquet of daisies in Lady Basset’s room.”  His godmother nodded her approval at his consideration, which he matched with a smile and a cocky nod.  He flagged down his valet to help him get cleaned up and waited to be admitted into his wife’s room.

“Simon!” Lady Bridgerton greeted him, hugging him warmly.  It had been a rough night for Penelope, filled with many nightmares, and the viscountess had held her through all of them.

He noted the dark rings under her eyes with a frown.  “Are you well, Lady Bridgerton?”

She nodded.  “I will just go freshen up while you visit with your wife.”  After patting his arm again, she glided out of the room, leaving the couple alone.

“Good morning, Penelope,” he whispered as he approached her bed slowly, hoping not to startle her.  As he got closer, he realized she was sleeping, so he sat on the chair beside her bed.

Her curly hair was tangled and spread out over the pillow, evidence of a restless night.  Tear tracks stained her cheeks.  Even in sleep, she body was scrunched into a tight ball, her muscles held in rigid tension.  She looked so small and vulnerable.

Simon felt his heart clinch with pain at the sight of her.

She was heartbreaking.  He longed to pull her onto his lap and cradle her close to himself, to keep her safe in his arms.

She was beautiful.  He wanted to lay beside her and kiss her fears away with tender and teasing pecks.  

She was his wife.  He would go to war to avenge her if he knew who to fight.

A quiet knock announced the maid’s arrival.  She carried a large, vibrant bouquet of daisies in a vase, just as he had requested.

“Thank you, Nel,” he said quietly, motioning for her to set the flowers down near the duchess’s bed.  He nodded to dismiss her and resumed his vigil alone.

Despite how quietly the maid closed the door, the tiny click was enough to wake up Penelope.  She sat up quickly, staring at the door with wide eyes.  Time seemed to stop as she stiffly waited to learn what had woken her up.  She hardly breathed.

“Penelope.”  He spoke softly, but his deep voice rumbled in the room, so unexpected after only hearing the dowagers and maids speak normally.

She jumped and scrambled against the headboard, closing her eyes against the monster now in her room.  “Go away.”

It broke Simon’s heart to see her so frightened of him, and he worried if the stress was bad for the baby.  “Penelope, I am your husband, Simon.  Open your eyes, my Sweet.”

“Stay away from me!  Do not touch me!  Go away!”  She screeched at him frantically, terrified that he had caught her in the marriage bed and would attempt marital duties with her.  Thanks to Lady Danbury’s explanations and drawings, she now knew exactly what was involved.  “No!”

Every instinct told him to flee from her, from the situation, from their castle.  He wanted to ride to the nearest port and get on any ship heading anywhere.  Anything to avoid having to see his young wife look at him with fear in her eyes.

Penelope’s desperate cries brought Lady Bridgerton crashing into the room.  “What happened?” she demanded protectively, looking to Simon for answers.  She rushed to her adopted daughter and sat on the bed beside her.  “Penelope, come here, Sweetheart.”

The younger woman collapsed into her arms, sobbing against her shoulder.  “Mama.”

“You are safe, Penelope,” the viscountess whispered against her hair.

Simon observed the scene for a moment, then fled the room.  Without much thought beyond escape, he hurried towards the garden.

“Heading out, Simon?” Lady Danbury asked loudly.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around guiltily, feeling like a teenage boy again.  “No, I was just headed to my study,” he lied, turning again and ducking into the Music Room quickly.

<><><><><>

When Penelope calmed down, she was buried under feelings of guilt.  She knew that Simon didn’t deserve her rejection, but she also feared his reaction should she allow him to speak with her.  Surely, he was angry with her over the pregnancy!  He never wanted a wife, and now he was forced into having a child as well.

Not only that, but thanks to Lady Danbury’s illustrations, Penelope understood what she should have been doing with her husband since the beginning.  She had failed as a wife in every way that it was possible.

No wonder he had visited Madam Morrible’s School when they were in London for the Bridgerton ball.  He had said that he hadn’t interacted with Abigail in the way Lady Danbury had described, but she did not understand why he hadn’t taken advantage of the option.

Neither dowager or her own mother made the marital act seem very appealing; although, Lady Bridgerton did blush at the drawings and seemed to have some happy memories attached to the process.  She trembled with fear to think about Simon ever wanting to do any of those activities with her.

And, yet, every man in her life pursued coupling outside of marriage- Simon, Anthony, Benedict, her father- so perhaps there was something about it that made it appealing.  The man who assaulted her seemed to also find it enjoyable.  She wondered if they all sought after it for the same reason and if the motivation of the man changed how the woman experienced it.

Lady Danbury probably thought she was answering all of Penelope’s questions, but she instead created many more.  The ones she had swirling through her head now felt scary, heavy, and forbidden.  She felt burdened by them and did not know how to express these new fears to her adoptive mother.

“Penelope, darling,” Lady Bridgerton said softly, caressing Penelope’s hair away from her face.  “How can I help you?”

The duchess shook her head against Lady Bridgerton’s chest without opening her eyes.  “There is nothing.”

“Would you like me to send for Eloise?” she suggested, desperate to provide any comfort for the girl.

“No.”  Penelope loved her friend, but she could imagine anything worse right now than being bombarded with her opinionated, naive, curious friend.  There wasn’t anyone she wanted near her, not even Lady Bridgerton.

The viscountess frowned with concern, gently rubbing circles on Penelope’s back.  “Is there anyone else you would like?  Shall we summon your mother?”  Lady Bridgerton was confident that she knew the answer to her second question, but she felt obligated to ask.

“No.”  Secretly, Penelope had considered calling for Anthony.  She remembered how safe she felt alone with him in the drawing room at Lady Danbury’s and how firmly he hugged her on her wedding day.  He was stuffy and pragmatic, but she also knew he was protective and would make a good shield between herself and Simon.

Of course, she would never ask the viscount to step away from his important work to attend to her bedside.  It wouldn’t be appropriate and might confuse Simon over her reasons for summoning him.

“I spent almost a year in despair after Edmund died, so I understand the pull of the darkness.  My children brought me back out again, and you will also find little things to let in the light.  I know it doesn’t feel possible to move past this moment, but your story is not done.”

Penelope wasn’t ready to hear cheerful, comforting words, and each one of them was like a needle prick.  “Can you ring for Button?” she asked, trying to distract the viscountess from her monologue.

“Of course, darling,” Lady Bridgerton obliged, pecking the top of her daughter’s head as she stood up and rang the call bell.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“My Lady, the midwife has arrived,” Elise announced, addressing the viscountess primarily.  The lady had hardly left the duchess’s suite since her arrival.

“Thank you.  Please bring her up.”  Lady Bridgerton took Penelope’s hand.  “The midwife will want to examine you a little.  She will be gentle and help you to understand more about your pregnancy.  I will not leave unless you ask, Penelope,” she reassured the duchess.

“I am afraid,” Penelope admitted in a small voice, sounding weak and fragile.

“Would you like Simon to sit with you?”  It would have been unusual for their class to have men involved with pregnancy, but Lady Bridgerton wanted Penelope to have whatever she needed to feel safe and comfortable.  She didn’t realize that the younger woman still thought of her husband as a threat.

The duchess shook her head.  “I am sure he is much too… busy to sit with me….  He has so much … paperwork to do… and numbers….”  She had trouble coming up with excuses to avoid admitting to the older woman how scared she was of her own husband.

“I am sure he would make time for you, Penelope,” the viscountess reminded her with a slight smile.  She remembered her own late husband and how he always was available to her or the children when they needed him.

“No, I am alright.”

Elise returned with the midwife, who carried a large carpetbag of supplies.  “Good day, Your Grace, My Lady,” the midwife said, curtsying to the two noble ladies.  “I am Cynthia, and I am pleased to meet you, Lady Basset.”

“Thank you for coming, Cynthia,” the viscountess replied warmly.  “I am Lady Bridgerton, the duchess’s mother.”

Cynthia had never attended to a noblewoman before, but she was very experienced dealing with anxious, pregnant women.  Taking a seat near the bed, she began chatting with Penelope and asking her questions.

Gently, she coaxed her into talking about the cessation of her period, the symptoms she had that first pointed to pregnancy, her morning sickness and what has helped relieve it, and any changes she had noticed in her body.  Every comment was met with a compassionate affirmation and no question was forbidden.

Without realizing it, Penelope felt herself relaxing.  The midwife’s voice was calm and authoritative and eased many of her worries.  She felt understood and safe.

“It sounds like you are progressing just as you should, Your Grace,” Cynthia praised, giving the duchess an approving smile.  “I will have a better idea of how your baby is doing, though, if I examine you.”

Instantly, all the warm feelings Penelope had about the midwife vanished and her body became stiff and guarded again.

Cynthia frowned at the duchess’s reaction and looked to the viscountess for explanation.

“Penelope, she only wants to feel your belly,” Lady Bridgerton explained.

“That’s right, Your Grace.  Leave your nightgown on and lay on the bed.  It will only take a few moments.”

Lady Bridgerton guided Penelope to the bed and helped her into it, sitting nearby to hold her hand.  “She will not hurt you,” she promised quietly.

The midwife hovered her hands above the duchess’s stomach.  “I am going to feel for your child.  May I touch you now?”

Penelope nodded her head as she bit the inside of her lip.

Gently, Cynthia set her hands on Penelope’s belly, moving her hands around deliberately to gauge how the pregnancy was progressing.  “I am pressing against your pelvic bone now.”  She walked her fingers up a few centimeters, feeling carefully.  With a smile, she announced, “And there is your child!”

Tears filled Penelope’s eyes as the midwife confirmed the matrons’ suspicions.  She was having a baby!  Her attacker had not only taken a part of her that night on the Dark Walk, he had also left something inside of her.  She placed her fingers where the midwife had touched, feeling for the child herself.  A scream clawed at her throat.

Cynthia and the dowagers discussed a few more things over her prone body, but Penelope didn’t understand any of it.  Eventually, the midwife concluded her checkup and the two matrons walked her to the door, leaving Penelope alone.

As soon as the door to her bedroom shut, an animal-like scream ripped out of Penelope’s throat and brought her hands to her stomach.  In self-loathing and grief, she clawed at her skin, digging into it with her nails and scratching long lines across her body, even through her nightgown.  She had to rip the little monster out of her belly and punish herself in the process.  Her life had irreversibly changed, but at least she could control this much.

Her eyes fell onto her copy of “Pride and Prejudice” sitting beside the bed.  She grabbed it, opened it to a random section near the end, and began ripping out pages angrily.  Sobbing, she threw the pages around the room.  The destruction felt cathartic, so she hustled into her sitting room and began pulling books off her shelf and tearing them apart.

When the floor was covered in pages, she stumbled to her desk.  With tears pouring down her face, she swept her papers off the surface, adding them to the mess.  One by one, she snapped every quill in half piling them up in front of her.  Exhausted, she collapsed into her chair and wept.

Eventually, she ran out of tears.  Numbly, she looked around the room at the hurricane she had created.  It was all ruined, just like her life.

<><><><><>

“My Lady!” Ruby exclaimed, hustling into the room a few minutes later.  “Are you well?”  She went straight to her mistress’s side, checking her over with her eyes to assess her condition.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Penelope said quietly, looking at the floor with shame.  “I will help you clean it up.”

“Elise and I will take care of it, Your Grace.  It will be alright.”

“It can never be alright, Ruby,” Penelope argued, a fresh batch of tears filling her eyes.  “Simon never wanted to be married or have an heir, and I forced him into accepting both.  He is going to hate me.”

With a familiarity rooted in compassion, the maid gathered the duchess into her arms as she had done several times over the past month.  “There.  There, My Lady,” she crooned.

When the latest storm of tears quieted into a gentle rain, the maid pulled back from her mistress to look her in the eye.  “Lord Basset is a good man.  He will not hate you.”  Ruby thought she even saw the first glimmers of love in his eyes for his wife, but she wasn’t going to mention it.

“I cuckolded him!”  Until a few days ago, she hadn’t realized what the word meant, but now she understood it too well.  “When people find out, he will be shamed!”

“No one will find out, My Lady.  It is part of why it was so important for you to marry right away.  Lord Basset knew what he was risking when he agreed to marry you.”

“He knew I could have a child from the assault?”

“Men are usually told about these types of things when they are much younger.  He chose you and your child.”

Penelope shook her head, unable to believe what her maid was saying.  “He does not want me or my bastard.”

Ruby’s heart pinched for her mistress.  If barriers between masters and servants were less strict, she would attempt to express these worries to the duke.  “His Grace is a man of honor, My Lady.  He will keep his promises.”

<><><><><>

That evening, Lady Danbury sat at Penelope’s bedside while Lady Bridgerton spent some time with Simon.  “I know the Ton thinks I am calculating, and unfeeling,” Lady Danbury began, “the dragon who takes pleasure in making others wither before my fiery gaze, but life has made me this way.”

“I do not want to become a dragon,” Penelope replied softly, remembering the conversation she had with the countess a few months ago about this subject.

Lady Danbury laughed.  “Oh, Child, no!  There can only be one Dragon of the Ton.”  Her face resumed its poised countenance.  “I told you while we were in London that my husband forced himself on me every day of his life.”

“Simon has never-”

“He had better not!  I raised him to respect women.”

Penelope smiled a little at the fire coming out of the countess’s eyes.  “I know, My Lady.”

“I will not be distracted by flattery,” she huffed in a serious tone while smiling at the younger women.  “I do not tell you about my marriage to frighten you, but to help you see that there is life beyond your immediate circumstances.”

“Lady Bridgerton called it ‘writing my own story.’”

“It’s a bit too romantic for my tastes, but she is correct.  I birthed four gigantic babies for my husband, every one of them created by force.  I never loved my children, viewing them as symbols of his control and lineage.”

“Simon does not want a lineage.”

The countess rolled her eyes, and continued her story.  “When my husband died, my son became Lord Danbury at only four years old.  I put so much pressure on him to maintain the title and fill his father’s massive shoes.  I could not separate him from his sire.”

“I am sure you did what you thought was right at the time.”

“I realized much too late that I could have loved them for who they were individually.  My son did not need to be viewed through the lens of his father- I could have seen him for the wonderful, eager boy that he was and the honorable man he became.

“My daughters, similarly, could have experienced a mother who focused on their needs rather than my own.  I left them all for days at a time in the care of others, until eventually they did not know me.”

Penelope was disturbed by the matron’s heavy conversation.  “Do you think it is possible to love a baby born from violence?”

In a rare show of affection, Lady Danbury put her hand on the younger woman’s arm.  “If you strive to truly see them and not their father.  Find joy in your child for their own sake… and yours.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- The midwife was searching for the fundus, which is the top of the uterus.  Throughout the pregnancy, the fundus will move higher in the woman’s body as the child grows.  Measuring the length between the pelvic bone and the fundus can help doctors and midwives to know how far along the baby is into gestation.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

The next few days progressed in an orderly fashion with each adult occupying their own sphere of responsibility.  Lady Danbury inspected the castle from the servants’ rooms in the attic to the servants’ hall on the ground floor, marshaling the staff to the highest standards.

Meanwhile, Lady Bridgerton rarely left Penelope’s room, supporting, encouraging, and helping her to process the pregnancy.  Penelope swung between happy acceptance, hopeless grief, and paralyzing fear.  Simon spent his mornings at the stables doing chores and every moment after that at his desk.

“Lady Bridgerton is asking to speak with you, Your Grace,” Miller announced, interrupting the duke’s work.

Simon nodded and set down his quill.  “Is everything alright?”

“It has been several days since we last saw you,” Lady Bridgerton stated as she entered the room.  “Are you well?”

“I have been busy,” he said a bit peevishly.

“You sound like Anthony,” she replied with a soft smile.  “I always know when something is bothering him, because he will bury himself in his work and hide from his family.”

“I imagine it also has something to do with being head of his family.”

A less experienced woman might have cowed to his gruff attitude, but Lady Bridgerton was a mother of eight, including three grown men.  “You make time for what is important to you, Simon,” she scolded.

“Every day brings a new problem with the tenants, the villagers, investments, or farms.  I still have not worked out all the issues with out finances and should probably make a trip to London soon to look into things personally.”  He looked like he was winding up to tell her more of his responsibilities and stresses, but she didn’t let him continue.

“And your wife?  Is she important to you?”

“Of course she is!” he bellowed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

She wasn’t backing down.  “How many days has it been since you visited her?”

Feeling embarrassed about raising his voice at a lady, he spoke more quietly, making a focused effort to be more controlled.  “She does not want to see me.”  

“Simon, you are her husband,” Lady Bridgerton reasoned gently.  “She misses you.”

“No, she does not.  She shakes when I am near her and screams at me to leave her alone.”

“She is volatile right now because of the pregnancy.  You must keep trying.”

“She thinks I am him!” he confesses with a desperate cry, rubbing his jaw in frustration.

Her confusion over his words completely derailed her argument.  “Who?”

“Her attacker.  Her rapist.  Her villain.”

Lady Bridgerton recoiled, stumbling backwards.  “Oh, Simon,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears.  Suddenly weakened by the horror of his confession, she fell ungracefully into the settee.

“I know you want to ask, so I will just tell you.  No, I have not done anything to make her fear me.  I treat her with the highest honor, never making demands on her.  I have been so careful, so accommodating to her, but I am tired.  No matter what I do, I cannot convince her to trust me.”

“You must keep trying, Simon,” she insisted, her beliefs in the power of love motivating her argument.

“Sometimes, we spend time together and converse easily.  It is like a glimpse of how our life could have been if we had been given a chance to court before marrying.  Oftentimes, though, our moments of closeness end with her pushing me away.”

“Where does she feel most safe?” the matron asked, determined to help them.

Simon thought for a moment, his mind quickly dismissing most locations as places where something triggered Penelope’s memories.  “She has been happiest in this room.  I work on my papers, while she plays the pianoforte.  Then, we break for tea together and talk.  It is almost a haven for us; although, I am not sure why this specific room has become so important to us.”

“I wondered why you made your office in the Music Room,” Lady Bridgerton observed with a smile, looking around appreciatively.

“One of the only things I know about my mother is that she enjoyed playing music.  My father never allowed anyone in here after she died.  Penelope encouraged me to bring my mother’s favorite painting from Somerset House to hang in this room.”

The viscountess studied the picture for a moment.  “It is lovely, Simon.  I am glad you have found peace here.”

“It feels fragile,” he confessed softly.

“It is a beginning,” she said encouragingly, smiling at him.  “I think it might help your wife to play music again.  May I bring her down?”

Simon was surprised by the suggestion and hesitant to agree.  “I spend time outdoors in the morning, so you may bring her then.”  He didn’t want to ruin a healing moment with his presence, but Lady Bridgerton argued against it.

“You cannot keep hiding from her.”

“I am not, but she needs time to heal.”

“You can help her.”

“She does not find my presence comforting,” he admitted, his voice strained.  “I do not want her to be scared in her own home.”

“Alright, I will bring her tomorrow, but I want you to be nearby.”  Confident that she had won the battle, Lady Bridgerton went back upstairs to Penelope’s room.

<><><><><>

“I have missed hearing you play, Penelope,” Lady Bridgerton pleaded, several minutes into a confrontation with the younger woman.

“I do not feel like playing,” the duchess replied, staring out the window at the gray skies.

“It will help you feel better to leave this room.  Just a few tiny steps at a time until gradually you find happiness again.”

“I do not want to disturb Simon’s work,” Penelope added, tossing out an excuse she thought the viscountess would accept.

“He is outdoors currently, so you will not be in his way.”  Lady Bridgerton was glad she and Simon had already discussed this issue the day before.  She hadn’t realized then how important it would be to Penelope.

It took a little more convincing, but the three ladies eventually alighted in the Music Room, with Penelope at the pianoforte and the matrons taking tea nearby.  At first, Penelope struggled to concentrate enough to play scales, but eventually her hours of practice took over.  Lady Bridgerton was right, it did feel good to lose herself in complex musical pieces for a while.

Simon hovered outside the door, listening to his wife playing pianoforte for the dowagers, feeling like an outsider.  Penelope didn’t look happy exactly, but she looked content, her forehead scrunched in concentration.  He smiled softly as he imagined walking confidently into the room and sliding onto the bench beside her, earning him a teasing smile.

“Do you need anything, Your Grace?” Miller asked softly, trying to figure out why his master had become so uncertain in his own home.

The concerned question shook the duke out of his daze.  Shaking his head, he stepped into the room a few paces, hoping to not draw attention to himself.  The matrons glanced at him and smiled, but Penelope didn’t look up from the pianoforte.

Lady Danbury tapped her cane against the floor deliberately and made her way over to him.  “Do not waffle by the door like a naughty child.  Come in and greet your wife!” she scolded, knocking her cane against his shoe to motivate him.

“I do not want to interrupt her moment of peace,” he whispered, hoping she would accept his explanation.

He should have known that the Dragon of the Ton would not allow him to retreat easily.  “Cowardice does not become you, Simon,” she said, putting her hand on his arm to drag him towards his wife.

The moment she spotted her husband, Penelope stood up from the piano bench quickly and scampered to the exit.  “Oh, I'm sorry, Your Grace.”

A sharp prick made him wince when he heard her use his honorific.  He grabbed her arm lightly to stop her.  “Please stay, Penelope.”  He felt her stiffen as her breathing became shallow and he immediately released her. 

“May I be dismissed, Your Grace?” she asked with a small voice.

“You are free, Little Bird.”  He wanted to beg her to trust him, to find her solace with him, to tolerate him for just a few minutes longer.

She broke away and rushed back up to her room.  “Let her be,” Simon commanded the two matrons, putting his hands up to block them from chasing after her.  “I will not force her in any way and neither will you.”

Both women looked as if they desired to contradict him, but he didn’t want to hear any more of their pity or advice.  He strode back outside to mount his horse and ride away from the heartache and challenges of his home life.

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

Anthony Bridgerton marched into White’s Gentleman’s Club with the carefree confidence of a man secure with his place in the world.  Managing the household and siblings in his mothers’ absence had been easier than he had anticipated, but he was looking forward to an evening in the all-male establishment.  He greeted several of his friends warmly as he made his way to the private room where Prince Fredrick asked to meet him.

Once both men had their drinks and they were alone again, the prince wasted no energy on small talk.  “Lord Bridgerton, thank you for coming.  I am sure you know what I wish to ask you.”  He paused to take a sip of his beer, surprisingly nervous to talk with a mere viscount.

Anthony smiled.  “You want to marry my sister.”

“I have been searching the continent for a bride, my princess, the woman who matches me in every way.  I found such a treasure in your sister.”

“Have you spoken to Daphne about your intentions?”  Anthony took a casual sip of his beer, leaning back into the chair and crossing his legs.

“I have not proposed to her yet, but I believe we are of the same mind in the matter.”

“As I told you in the beginning, I will not dictate to my sister whom she is to marry.  I nearly ruined her life earlier this season when I thought I knew what she needed over her objections.  However, if Daphne agrees to marry you, then I give you my full support.”

“Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,” the prince said simply, looking a tiny bit more relaxed.

“Daphne has a twenty thousand pound dowry set up by my father at her birth.  I would prefer to wait until my sister has excepted your proposal before signing the contracts, at which time you can receive the full amount.”  It was unusual to gift the dowry before the wedding had taken place, but Anthony offered it as a sign of trust between the two men.

The prince waved him off good-naturedly.  “I have no need of her dowry; although, I imagine you may want to use it for travel expenses for the wedding.  My parents will expect us to get married in Prussia, but Tante has gifted us a palace here in England for our home.”

Anthony was pleased to hear that his sister would be residing nearby and not in a foreign country.  “I am sure my mother will be very happy to hear of your plans.  She is currently out of town, and I would prefer that you wait to announce your engagement until she returns.”

“I know Daphne will wish for her mother’s advice, as well.  Although Tante is eager to herald her diamond’s triumph, I should be able to put her off for a few more weeks.”

“You must be her favorite nephew,” Anthony commented casually, forgetting for a moment whom they were discussing.

“Tante will be most upset not to host the wedding, but she will have to content herself with an engagement ball.”

Their amicable conversation came to a sudden halt when the sound of broken furniture and shattered glass startled them out of their seats.  Immediately, the door opened and a palace guard stepped into the doorway.  “Your Highness, it appears to be a simple altercation between two lords.  I do not believe you to be in danger.”

The prince nodded his thanks just as a loud voice slurred out, “Keep my wife’s name out of your filthy mouth or I will kill you!”

Anthony frowned.  The voice sounded familiar, but the context didn’t make any sense.  He brushed past the guard to join the crowd surrounding the two men.  He arrived just as some other gentlemen were pulling the two fighters apart. 

“Calm down!  Get off him!” one of the gentlemen yelled, dragging one of the fighters back by his waist as he continued to throw punches.

“Calm down!” the other gentleman scolded, holding onto a thrashing, roaring man.  “Really!  You are behaving like children!”

An elderly gentleman limped over to the mess and wagged his finger.  “This is a respectable establishment, not a pugilist ring!  You men are suspended for six months for dishonorable conduct.  See them to their carriages.”  Upon his pronouncement, he waddled back to his table and resumed his card game.

Anthony rushed towards one of the men.  “Simon, what are you doing here?”

Before he could answer, the gentleman holding onto the duke interrupted.  “You need to get him out of here.”  Anthony nodded, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

<><><><><>

“Why are you in London?” Anthony demanded as his carriage rumbled through the dark city streets.  After dragging his drunk friend out of the gentleman’s club, he felt he was owed an explanation for his behavior.

Simon lulled against the window, sulking and refusing to speak.

“My mother tells me felicitations are in order,” the viscount said jovially, pushing the conversation forward.  “Congratulations to you both.”

“Congratulate me for being a cuckold,” Simon cheered bitterly, raising a pretend glass to his defeat.

This friend ignored his comment, assuming the duke was too drunk to know what he was saying.  “Where shall I tell my driver to drop you off?  Where are you staying?”

“Madam Morrible’s School.”  Simon knew the brothel would have more alcohol for him to consume and a bed to fall into when he blacked out, even if he had no intention of renting a woman for the night.

Although he wasn’t opposed to loose women in general, Anthony wouldn’t actively help a married man to step outside his marriage, especially since Penelope was an honorary Bridgerton.  He knew his friend wasn’t thinking clearly at the moment.  “You will come home with me, then.  Is Penelope waiting for you somewhere?”

The mention of his wife brought up many contradictory feelings in Simon.  “Stop the carriage!” he yelled, banging on the roof of the vehicle.  The moment the wheels stopped, he threw open the door and cast up his accounts.

Anthony let the conversation die, riding the rest of the trip in silence.  At Bridgerton House, he gave orders for his friend to be taken to a guest bedroom, then entered the drawing room.  “Simon will be staying with us overnight,” he announced to his family, mostly for his sisters’ benefit.

Benedict cocked his head with a questioning look.  His brother mouthed “later” and the artist nodded his confirmation.  Assured that the viscount didn’t need help with anything pressing, Benedict went back to his sketchpad.

“Is Penelope with him?” Eloise asked, looking up from her book hopefully.

Anthony shook his head while Daphne interrupted, “What happened?”

Distracted, her brother answered the wrong question.  “Simon drank too much and got into a fight at Whites.  He did not have anywhere to go, so I brought him here.  I have not gotten an answer from him about Penelope’s whereabouts.”

“Is she safe?” Eloise demanded at the same moment that Daphne spoke with exasperation.  “No!  What did the prince say?”

Anthony’s worried frown softened into a smile as he crossed the room to his sister.  “He intends to marry you, if you will have him.”

Daphne squealed and hugged her brother.  “Did you give him your permission?”

“I told him your opinion was the only one that matter, but I asked for him to wait until Mother returns.  Please let me know when you decide, and I can turn him down on your behalf.”

“Anthony!” she scolded, hitting his arm lightly.  The siblings shared a laugh together, every misstep related to the fumbles of the season forgiven and forgotten.

<><><><><>

The next morning, Anthony pulled a grumpy Simon and a confused Benedict into his study, plying them with whiskey to encourage their participation.  “You look like you had a rough night,” Benedict quipped, gesturing towards the duke’s face with his whiskey glass.

“Lord Morison walked into my fist,” Simon replied as he stared into his glass.

“And then you walked into his?”

“Something like that.”

“I heard you tell him to stop talking about your wife,” Anthony added.  “What happened?”

“Morrison was saying filthy things about Penelope and asking lewd questions about her body.  When I refused to answer him, he started bragging about having had her himself.  So, I replied with my fists.

Both Bridgerton brothers went stiff with anger, their fingers gripping their whiskey glasses strong enough to shatter them.  “Do you think he spoke truth?” Anthony asked through a clinched jaw.  His mind was zooming with ideas for ruining the man and his family.

Simon shook his head, a sense of defeat hunching his shoulders.  “I do not know.  It sounded like a confession.”

“Are you going to duel him?  I will be your second.”

“And, I will marry Penelope if you die,” Benedict joked, uncomfortable with the sharp tension in the room.

“I cannot challenge him.”  Simon looked both brothers in their eyes to emphasize how serious he felt about Penelope’s safety and comfort.  “No one can know what happened.  It would ruin her.”

“What if Morison talks?”

“Then, we ruin him,” Anthony growled, determined not to fail his adopted sister this time.

The duke drank some whiskey and ran his hands through his hair.  “Penelope must be protected,” he insisted.  “And no one can know that her child is not my sire.”

On the pretense of adding more whiskey to his friend’s glass, Anthony put his hand on Simon’s shoulder.  “We will handle Morison.  Focus on your wife and child.”  He topped off his brother’s drink also before sitting down again.

“How is Penelope?” Benedict asked with a smile, swinging the conversation back to what he hoped was a lighter topic.

A pained look crossed the duke’s face.  “She hates me.”

The brothers shared a confused glance, as they couldn’t imagine the friendly girl they watched grow up hating anyone.  “Are you sure?” Benedict blurted out skeptically.

Anthony glared at his brother.  “She needs time, Simon.  It has only been a few months.”

“We used to have moments where she tolerated me as a friend, but there was always the shadow of the villain hovering over our marriage.  It has gotten worse since she became sick with child.  She screams at me to leave and begs me not to hurt her.”

“Poor Pen,” Anthony whispered, wishing there was more he could do to help.  Since the night in the Dark Walk, he’d had nightmares of his sisters being assaulted.  He felt so powerless to protect any of them.

“She wanted me to leave, so I left,” Simon finished with a sad shrug.

“You ran away?”  The artist’s mouth dropped open, surprised that the large, tough pugilist could be defeated by a tiny, redheaded girl.

“It was not helping her to stay.  She thinks I attacked her.”  He pointed at Anthony.  “And before you ask, no, I did not rape my wife.”

His friend winced.  “Yeah, sorry.”

“I do not fault you for being protective.”

“I wish one of us been able to prevent this,” Benedict said sorrowfully as the other two nodded their heads.

“She needs you, Simon,” Anthony insisted, setting down his empty glass.

“I cannot give her what she needs.  I do not know how, and she deserves someone better.  My own father was a beast to my mother and abusive to me.  He had high expectations, a violent temper, and thrashing tongue.

Benedict shrugged.  “Maybe just do the opposite, then.” 

<><><><><>

“Where have you been?” Lady Danbury demanded the moment she spotted her godson.  “You have been away for nearly a week!”

“I left a message with Johnson,” Simon replied, unable to meet her eyes.

“It said you went to London, but not why.”  She stepped closer to him and forced him to look at her.  “Have you been whoring?”

He blushed and turned away from her a little.  “No!”

She humphed her disapproval.  “Well, then, come see your wife.  She is in the garden.”

He gave instructions for his luggage and followed her outside.  A smile bloomed on his lips when he saw Penelope sitting under a tree, her puppy at her feet.  She spoke animatedly to Lady Bridgerton and appeared healthy and happy.  Simon slowed down his pace, afraid of ruining her peaceful afternoon.

“Simon!” Lady Bridgerton greeted with a warm smile, having noticed the duke’s arrival first.  “Welcome home!”

“Hello, Penelope.”  He spoke quietly and calmly, approaching his wife as patiently as he would a spooked horse.  He offered his hand, giving her the option of deciding how to greet him.  A sense of peace washed over him when she placed her hand into his and allowed him to bow over it.  “I am glad to see you are well.”

“I am feeling better, Simon.  Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury have been very helpful.

The duke turned towards the viscountess.  “Thank you for all your help, Lady Bridgerton, Lady Danbury.  We are very lucky to have you in our lives.”

“Flattery is not going to get you out of trouble,” his godmother stated, frowning at him.

Lady Bridgerton, as usually, reacted exactly opposite her friend.  “How is Anthony coping?  Is Bridgerton House still standing?”

“When I left, the viscount had everything under control,” he replied with a smile and took her hand to kiss it.  “They all miss you, though, and begged me to send you home.”

Lady Bridgerton laughed lightly.  “Any news?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief.  “I should allow your children to tell you themselves.”

Her face lit up in anticipation.  “Good news?”  She put her hands to her heart as Simon nodded.

“Now that you have returned,” Lady Danbury began with a sharpness in her voice, “we should begin making plans to return.”

“No, please stay,” Penelope begged, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.  “I do not know how I will cope without you.”

“You will have your husband to take care of you.”  The countess glared at her godson with pointed accuracy.

“Lady Danbury is right, dear,” the viscountess added soothingly, putting a hand on Penelope’s arm.  “Your husband will help you now.  If you have any questions or worries, send someone for Cynthia.  I trust her to take care of you as well.”

Simon frowned at the name he didn’t recognize, but he thought asking about it would only emphasize how absent he had been.  “Ladies, I hope you will return in a few months for a small country visit?” he asked brightly, focusing on the dowagers as he still wasn’t sure how to respond to his wife.

“Yes, Penelope!” Lady Bridgerton exclaimed happily.  “My children and I will visit this summer.  Eloise was very upset with me that I did not bring her this time.”

“We will depart the day after tomorrow,” Lady Danbury announced, ending the discussion.

“Penelope, while I was in London, I met with a few of the men I found listed on the estate records.  If you need me, I will be reviewing that information in the Music Room.”  He hoped she would join him, but he hesitated to invite her.  With a formal bow to all three women, he disappeared back into his work.

🌸 🌸 🌸

<><> NOTES <><>

- Mr. Morrison is the suitor that Eloise dances with at the Hearts and Flowers Ball (season 2, episode 4).  He seems like the type of man to brag about his conquests after a few drinks.

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

As soon as the ladies departed the next day, Simon knew he needed to hear the truth about Lord Morrison from Penelope.  Nervously, he picked at his afternoon dinner, everything on his plate tasting like ash and bitterness.

If his wife noticed, she didn’t give any indication.  She seemed to be wrapped up in her own confusion and grief over the pregnancy news.

“Miller, please fetch Ruby to the yellow sitting room,” Simon ordered when they had finished their meal.  The footmen began clearing the table quickly, efficiently, and unobtrusively as the duke led his duchess out of the family dining room.

A moment after the couple, Ruby entered the sitting room, bowing before standing at attention.  “You asked to see me, Your Grace?”

“Please sit beside your mistress.”  He watched her eyebrows shoot to her hairline, then she schooled her face back to neutral.  “It is unorthodox, but I know you have a close relationship with Lady Basset.  She will need your support.”

“Simon?”  Penelope’s face had gone pale.  “What are you doing?”

“I will not harm you,” he reassured her, longing to pull her close to him, but he chose a seat across from the women instead.  The conversation he felt he must have with her would be horrible for both of them.  He hoped the servant acting as a chaperone might help his wife to feel a little safer.

He nodded to Ruby, inviting her again to sit down.  When she perched herself on the edge, he spoke again.  “First, I want to tell you what I was doing in London.  I did not visit a brothel or meet with a mistress.  Instead, I solidified some of our business contacts, talked to a few solicitors for advice, and spent time with the Bridgertons.”

Penelope bit her lip, wondering why her husband was telling her this information with such a look of dread on his face.  “Is something the matter with the Bridgertons?”

“No, they are well.  My meetings went better than I had hoped, and we are a few steps closer to accurate ledger books.”  He stared at his mother’s painting, trying to figure out how to tell her the next part.

Still looking away from her, he said stiffly, “When I was at White’s club, I got into an altercation with another gentleman.”

“Simon!” she scolded, her anxiety about his news temporarily forgotten.  Perhaps the announcement was nothing worse than his fist fight.  He was a little old to be acting like a schoolboy, but she wasn’t particularly upset about it.

Her voice had a sharpness that reminded him of Lady Danbury, and he winced at the realization.  “I punched him, because he was talking about you.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a little embarrassed that he would do violence for her.  “What did he say about me?”  Through her mother, sisters, and other debutantes, she had heard many things about herself and her body.

It may have been upsetting to Simon since he wasn’t used to hearing them, but she was pretty sure it was the same tired topics.  Her size.  Her curves.  Her hair color.  Her freckles.  Her bookishness.  Boring!

Simon’s stomach churned with anxiety and he almost abandoned the entire discussion.  He knew his next words would ruin any closeness and happiness they might have experienced together.  “He… uh… he was talking about your body and… uh… touching you.”

“Touching me?”

“He talked like he knew how you felt.  It was vile and crude- the words he used.”  He stared at his lap, picturing the scene again in his mind, hearing the language the man spoke.

“Simon, I do not understand.”  While her words said one thing, her mind knew something was wrong.  A heavy weight settled in her stomach, and she gripped Ruby’s hand, which had appeared on her leg.

Unable to sit any longer, he stood up and began pacing.  He charged across the floor, twirling his signet ring, and rehearsing the words in his head.

The longer he paced, the tenser they both became.   Finally, the awful accusation spewed out of him like a volcano.  “Did Lord Morison rape you?” he shouted, pointing at her aggressively.

Penelope gasped in horror and disbelief.  “I don’t know,” she whispered.  Tears poured down her face as she repeated.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I don’t know.”

Ruby drew her mistress close to her in a hug and gave her master a penetrating look.

Shame filled Simon as he saw his wife’s reaction.  He lowered his arm and sat down across from her again.  “Please,” he begged, “I must know.”  He hated feeling so helpless, unable to comfort his wife, unable to confront the villain, and unable to conduct justice.

When she wouldn’t stop repeating the same statement, he raised his voice, frustrated and desperate.  “Penelope, please!  Tell me his name!”  His voice broke with emotion, the anguish nearly choking him.

She continued her mantra of denial as her maid held her.  They rocked together, caught in a rhythm that overrode her trauma with order.

The ghosts taunted his ears, driving Simon towards insanity.  He knew he had failed his wife, he didn’t need the reminders.  “I will be back later!” he yelled, unable to converse about the subject any longer.

Storming out of the house, he shouted random orders to any servant he spotted and marched straight to the stables for some vigorous exercise.

<><><><><>

A few hours later, Simon humbly and gently tapped on his wife’s sitting room door, knowing she would be completely within her right to refuse to see him.  “Penelope,” he called softly.

Ruby opened the door, frowning at him, but moved aside so he could enter.  “She only just stopped crying, Your Grace,” she informed him in a whisper, the warning strongly implied in her tone.

He paused at the entryway, taking in the scene before him.  Penelope sat in the window seat, her knees drawn up against her chest.  An open book lay against her legs, but she stared out the window.  The summer sun had not yet set, and the garden was bathed in the magical, surreal suspense of dusk.

Ruby had ushered her upstairs soon after Simon had left the sitting room, believing that Penelope would be more comfortable in her own cocoon where she already felt safest.

When she was finally in her own room, she collapsed into her reading chair and sobbed, digging her thumbnails into her fingers to ground her pain.  She wailed, her entire body shaking, which upset her morning sickness.

Ruby did what she could do comfort her mistress, but it had taken many hours to bring Penelope to the numbness to which she was now inhabiting.

Against the setting sun and framed by the window, Simon was struck by her beauty.  For a moment, he forgot everything that hindered him from taking her in his arms.  Her auburn hair glowed in the setting sun, and he wanted to rake his fingers through it.

His lips parted as he wondered what hers would taste like or whether she would giggle when he tickled her cheek with his facial hair.  Inconspicuously, he sniffed the air, seeking out the orange blossom perfume he had given her in London.

“Do you require anything, Your Grace?” Ruby asked, awakening him from his daydream.

“No.”  He cleared his throat.  “No, thank you.  You may go.”  Earlier in the day, he thought having the maid in the room would make the difficult conversation easier for his wife, but he discovered that it make it a lot harder for him.  The calculating servant made him anxious, so he wanted to try again without an audience.

When the maid had closed the door, he slowly walked towards his wife, who had yet to respond to his presence.  “Penelope,” he whispered from a few feet away, hoping not to frighten her.  “Can we talk?”

She heard him, but his voice seemed far away, muffled by the other voices in her head.  Every time she thought about opening her mouth to reply to him, the effort of it felt like too much work and she stayed silent.

Simon wasn’t sure what to do next, so he took another few steps and dropped to his knees beside her.  “Penelope, my Sweet, please look at me,” he pleaded, his head tipped upwards like a supplicant before a goddess.

At the sound of his voice, she angled her head his direction, her movement lethargic and uncaring.  She immediately began erecting a wall around her heart, confident that he was going to stab her again.

As softly and gently as he could manage, he addressed her again.  “Penelope, I’m sorry. I was an ass to yell at you downstairs.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her face at the curse word, but she didn’t answer him.

“I have been tortured, Penelope!” he said passionately, forcing himself to keep his voice quieter so as to not startle her.  He dropped from his knees to sit on his legs, the weight of his torment pushing him down.  “Night and day, ever since I heard Lord Morison’s words in London, they echo in my head.  I do not blame you for anything, but I need to know if he spoke the truth.”  His face reflected his turmoil as he pleaded with her for answers.

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip as tears gathered in her eyes.

“Please, Penelope!  For months, I have been frustrated by my helplessness.  I could not stop your abuse in the garden.  I could not revenge you on the villain.  I could not help you or heal you or even make you feel safe with me.  So, please, Penelope, tell me the name of your rapist!  Allow me to bring him to justice.”

She had bitten her lip hard enough that it was bleeding, but didn’t make a sound as the tears spilled over her cheeks.

“Please, Penelope,” he begged again at a whisper.

After a heavy silence, she said, “It was dark.  I could not see him.”

“Try to remember.”

“I do not want to remember!” she yelled, her face contorted with anger.

He had never seen her so outraged.  “Penelope, please.  Anything,” he pleaded quietly, his arms outstretched in supplication.  He was determined to have this mystery solved.

“No!” she screamed, which broke her fragile dam of self-control.

He moved towards her, eager to bring her into his arms, but caught himself and leaned away.  It crushed him to hear her sobbing and wailing again, and his feelings of helplessness just grew.  After the worst of the weeping quieted, he resumed his desperate begging, “Please, do not shut me out, Penelope.  Talk to me.  Let me help you.”

She looked at him in his eyes, her own filled with hopelessness.  “We cannot do anything.”  Her voice was weak and hoarse.  “They will call you a cuckold.”

He shook his head.  “It does not matter.”

“They will call me a whore!”  She began crying again, although not as torrential.

“No, Penelope,” he insisted emphatically.  “You have done nothing wrong.”

“It does not matter who violated me- he won!  There is nothing we can do to him that would not hurt us more.  Please stop asking me.”

Simon hated knowing that she was correct, not because he resented her being right, but because he despised being powerless.  It reminded him of how he felt as a child, beaten down by his father and unable to punch him back.  No matter what little Simon did, The Duke always won.  “I'm sorry, Penelope.”

He handed her his handkerchief and stood up to bring her some water.  She wiped her face and took a few sips.  Suddenly, her eyes grew wild.  “I am going to be sick!”

Without thinking, he grabbed a vase of flowers, threw the blossoms onto the floor, and thrust the container into her hands as he took the water glass from her.  He turned away from her while she cast up her accounts, but was back at her side the moment she finished.  “Here, rinse your mouth.”  He took the vase from her and handed her the water.  “How are you feeling now?”

“Wrung out.”  Out of habit, she gave him a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I am going to call Ruby to get you dressed for bed.  May I read to you when you are ready?”  When she nodded, he rang for her lady’s maid and carried the vase into the hallway himself.  He passed it to a footman, who would see that it got cleaned, and went to his own room to ring for Miller.

After a few shots of brandy, Simon thought enough time had passed to check on his wife again.  He knocked on her bedroom door.  “May I come in, Penelope?” he asked when the maid admitted him.

“Yes,” she called out quietly from her bed.

“Do you need anything, Your Grace?” Ruby asked, curtsying to him.  When he dismissed her, she slipped out the door, leaving them alone.

Simon walked towards the bed.  “May I read to you, Penelope?  Just ten minutes?”

“Only if you want.”

“Do you have a book you would prefer or should I continue with Pride and Prejudice?”  He carried a chair over to the side of the bed where she was laying and set it down gently.

Penelope watched how effortlessly he moved the furniture as a small shiver traveled down her spine.  She remembered how his arms felt when they were wrapped around her, how he held her up when she sobbed in the library.

Almost immediately, her warm thoughts turned to fear.  The man who had raped her hadn’t felt very muscular, but he had still managed to overpower her.  Simon seemed to be much stronger, and she worried about how easily he could hurt her.  Suddenly, she felt very vulnerable in the bed.

“My Sweet?” he asked gently from the chair, concerned that she hadn’t answered his question.

Her heart was racing with dread, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  “I am tired,” she whispered, hoping he would give up and leave her alone.

Simon stubbornly persisted, determined to mend their relationship and give them some happy memories.  “How about I read another chapter of Pride and Prejudice, and then I will leave you to sleep,” he suggested, plucking the book off her bedside table.  “I need to learn how Anthony gets a wife.”  He smiled at her, hoping she remembered their joke.

“Alright,” she conceded, surprised to discover that her heart rate slowed as he read.  Within a few minutes, his warm, deep voice had wrapped her up and made her feel safe.  She listened half asleep to the story of her second favorite large family.

Simon frowned when he noticed the missing pages from the back of the book, but he knew this wasn’t the time to mention it.  Whatever had happened, he could easily replace the novel.

Just as he had promised, he stopped reading after one chapter, closing the book quietly and setting it down.  “Are you comfortable?”  He leaned forward to smooth the blankets, fussing with them like a parent tucking in a child.

She nodded, her body stiff with dread over what he might do to her.  Discouraged, he stood and blew out the candle nearest the bed.  “Good night, Penelope.  Sweet dreams.”

🌸 🌸 🌸

Chapter Text

🌸 🌸 🌸

“Your Grace?” Ruby said nervously, approaching the duke’s desk on shaking legs.  The lady’s maid had been worried about her mistress for a long time, but she couldn’t wait any longer to bring her concerns to her master.

Simon looked up from his work, slightly disoriented at having his wife’s maid in his study.  He frowned at her obvious trepidation.  “Yes, Ruby?”

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” she began quietly, “but do you know where Lady Basset has gone?”  She fidgeted with the buttons of her dress, waiting for the duke’s wrath to fall on her.  Not that she had ever witnessed his anger, but she knew of his father’s reputation from the other servants.

A wave of guilt crashed over him.  He hadn’t checked on her since yesterday evening, wanting to give her space after their tumultuous discussion.  “No?  Is something the matter?”

Ruby’s discomfort increased as her body stiffened for the violence she was sure would follow her words.  “I cannot find her, Your Grace.”

The maid had all of Simon’s attention now.  “What?”

“I left Her Grace in her sitting room this morning.  When I returned this afternoon with her tea, she was missing.”

“Did you look in the library?” he demanded, trying not to let her distress panic him.

“Yes, Your Grace.  She wasn’t in the yellow sitting room, the morning room, or the writing room.  I hoped she was sitting with you.”

“Did you check the gardens?”  He walked to the window and looked out, but he didn’t see anyone except the gardeners.

“She seemed so upset yesterday.  Your Grace, please forgive my impertinence, but I am worried about her.”

Hastily, he rushed to the door, calling out- “Follow me-” to Ruby and Miller as he charged up the stairs.  At Penelope’s sitting room, he stopped a moment to knock before swinging it open.  “Penelope?” he asked loudly, glancing around the room.

Miller hovered outside the room to await further instructions, but Ruby stayed close to her master.  “Please check her other rooms,” Simon instructed the maid, as he wandered the space to look for clues.  On her writing desk, his eyes noticed a broken quill with a single piece of paper beside it.  He picked it up and read it.  “Ruby!”

The maid ran back into the sitting room.  “Your Grace?”

“Did you read this?” he demanded, shoving it into her hands.

“No, Your Grace.  I do not read Lady Basset’s correspondence.”  She looked down at the paper and read, “Simon, I'm sorry….”  It wasn’t signed and didn’t appear to be finished, but the words churned her stomach.

“Where would she have gone?” he asked frantically, already heading out the door.

Ruby chased after him to reply, “I do not know, Your Grace.”

“Miller- send someone for Dr. Cornish.”

The valet looked startled for a moment before muttering his agreement and heading down the stairs.

“Ruby, tell Johnson to assemble the staff in the entryway.  Anyone who can be spared.  We must find her.”

“We will, Your Grace,” she reassured him before also leaving Simon alone.

The entire castle was too large for the duke to search on his own, but he felt compelled to try.  He checked his own rooms, not expecting her to be there, but hoping that she had wandered his way.  Feeling like he was violating her privacy, he quickly looked in her bedroom, calling her name the entire time.

After a few minutes, he could hear the quiet rumbling of his servants as they gossiped about the reason for this strange meeting.  He descended to greet them, doing a fast survey of faces to determine who had already come and who might still be expected to arrive.  If only he was as good with names and faces as his wife!

“Thank you for coming,” he began as they all dipped into bows or curtsies.  “Have any of you seen Lady Basset today?”

A chorus of negative answers and head shakes rose up around him.

He knew that mounting a full search for a grown woman would seem odd to his staff, but he didn’t know how to avoid the awkwardness.  “I am concerned about her, so I am asking you to help me find her.  Maids, spread out and go through every room of the castle systematically.  Check the servants’ hall as well.  Footmen, I want you to look outside for her.  Mrs. Colson, stay here where anyone can find you easily.  When she is found, bang a kitchen pot so everyone knows to go back to their normal jobs.”

They nodded their agreement and understanding, while Simon looked for a familiar face.  “James, where is Buttons?”  He felt even sillier saying the dog’s name in front of his servants than he did every other time.

“Lady Basset asked me to bring him to her room this morning, Your Grace,” he replied, working hard to keep the confusion from his face.  He wondered why the duke would care about the whereabouts of an animal.

James’ news meant that Penelope was not alone, which did give Simon a little comfort.  “To work, everyone,” he ordered them firmly.  They immediately dispersed to do his will, except the old butler, who approached the duke with a scowl.

“Is something the matter with Lady Basset, Your Grace?  Miller sent for a surgeon.”  Everyone in the household knew that the relationship between the duke and duchess was strained, but Johnson didn’t appreciate his staff being called away from their duties to play hide-and-seek.

“Yes, be prepared to greet Dr. Cornish when he arrives and see that he is made comfortable until my return,” Simon commanded over his shoulder, dismissing the butler’s scolding tone as his entire being was focused on finding his wife.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Johnson agreed with a nod, but the duke didn’t hear him because he was already out the door.

Simon’s head swiveled side to side as he walked, searching for any clue as to where Penelope had gone.  Everything around the property looked frustratingly ordinary, except the footmen who could be seen wandering the garden.  He marched to the stables, hoping she had come down to see the horses.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Mr. Wheaton said with a smile and a bow.

“I am looking for my wife.  Has she come by today?”  Simon tried to keep his voice light and amicable, but he struggled with impatience.  Her note was echoing in his head, and he was afraid of what she had meant by her words.

“I do not believe so, Your Grace.”  He felt guilty for not having a more definitive answer, but he wasn’t able to be everywhere at once throughout the day.

“No horses are missing?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Please have someone saddle Zeus.”  Upon the duke’s order, Mr. Wheaton nodded to one of the groomsmen to begin preparing the horse.  “Also, send someone to the Game Warden to see if she wandered that direction to visit the puppies.”  He smiled as he remembered their adventure several weeks ago and how happy she had been that day.  Almost as soon as the happy memory came, the darker thoughts chased it.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”  The Stable Master motioned to a different groomsman and beckoned him to the meeting.

“Thank you, Charlie,” Simon added after Mr. Wheaton passed on his instructions to the groom.  “Take the gig, so you can give Lady Basset a ride back to the house if you find her.”  The servant bowed and took off to do his bidding.  Against his instincts, Simon began a conversation with his Stable Master about the general state of the horses and staff, unsuccessfully attempting to distract his mind until his ride was ready.

Finally, the groom brought Zeus into the stable yard and directly to the duke.  Simon thanked him as he mounted and took the reins.  With thousands of acres to cover, he knew the horse would be the fastest way to search.  He nodded his head in thanks to Mr. Wheaton and spurred the animal, setting off at a cantor.

He felt better with the faster speed and additional height, but he didn’t know where to begin looking.  The footmen would cover the grounds closest to the house, so he took off in the opposite direction, following the road for now.  He kept his eyes moving over the horizon, trying to see anything that might indicate her location.

The guilt overwhelmed him, while the ghostly voice of his father accused him of stupidity.  He didn’t need The Duke to remind him how badly he failed this time- he could feel it in every pound of his horse’s feet.

She had written to ask for his forgiveness, as if she had done something wrong.  The note wasn’t signed, and he wondered if she wanted to add more or if the one sentence was the entire explanation.  His heart pounded with fear at the thought that she meant it as a good-bye.

🌸 🌸 🌸