Chapter Text
That day under the tree solidified the feelings Penelope had been harbouring for Colin Bridgerton. Since meeting Eloise, her dear friend had regaled her with stories of her siblings that made Penelope slightly jealous of the relationship she had with them. Prudence and Phillipa were dear to her in the way anyone of her blood would be, but she couldn’t say that she held any great deal of affection for them. They made it hard, with their nasty disposition, often choosing to make awful comments to her face. She thought it would not be so bad or hurt so much if her mother did not also join in on the abuse.
So it would only make sense that Penelope longed to meet the famous Bridgerton brothers after hearing Daphne and Eloise say they were quite protective of their younger siblings. Until she had met her friend, it had seemed to her that berating was a normal occurrence between family members. That is not to say that Daphne, Eloise, or Francesca were ever exempt from a good deal of ribbing, but it was not the malicious behaviour that Penelope had come to expect in her own home.
Although Anthony and Benedict were handsome in their own right, as every Bridgerton was, it was Colin’s smile that drew her in. Anthony, in the short time she’d known him, was not someone she could feel connected to in any way. Older than her by a large margin, the eldest Bridgerton moved in the way a newly debuted man would, full of pride and much more sure of his good looks than seemed appropriate. One would think that the second eldest, Benedict, would be less so, but he was an anomaly that others admired greatly. He knew he was handsome, and used it to his advantage. Really, both brothers did, and had already made a name for themselves amongst the ton as notorious libertines. Society could say what they wanted about them, but what could not be disputed was the charm all men with the last name Bridgerton had, which got them their way quite a bit. However, what the other two lacked was the kindness and unselfish parts to Colin's personality she had personal experience with.
Colin never hid his amusement, never showed true annoyance at even his youngest of siblings when they wanted something as simple as a day spent in his presence, never quieted his boisterous laughter or hid a smile coyly. Though not proper, from him it was so charming that one could not help but join him.
He made people feel comfortable. He made them feel special. He made Penelope feel special. Not at first, no. She could hardly string two words together in his presence, which she wasn’t often in. From the glimpses she'd had of him though, his beauty was enough to make her intrigue in him grow. After the day in Hyde Park, the first time they had actually spoken more than a few words, she felt her girlish affection grow into the beginnings of love. For how could she not love someone who was so opposite to anyone she had ever met? Someone whose character was the equivalent of a warm candle in the middle of a cold and dark room. He laughed and joked with her, and she felt seen. Of course she was perpetually flushed in his presence, but hopefully he assumed she had come down with some sort of sunburn or unfortunate medical issue.
He started to show up more often around herself and Eloise, like his hesitance to be around his younger sibling and her friend from before was no longer holding him back. He jumped into their conversations with ease and stayed as a chaperone when they begged him for a trip to the bookstore. Slowly, she became more comfortable with him around. Whereas before she would have kept quiet and allowed her friend to steer conversation, she now spoke without ruminating on her every word most of the time, causing an uproar of laughter. Or giggles. Though Colin refused to admit to them.
“A man does not giggle, Pen,” he’d say with a frown but a twinkle in his eye. His charming blue eyes that drew her in every time she looked into them. Eloise would always respond with a dramatic search beyond them as if looking for treasure and proclaim there to be “no men as far as the eye can see!” Colin pretended to be disgruntled, but Penelope knew he never actually was, his amusement was too great and his eyes too alight with humour.
One afternoon, close to the end of summer, Eloise and herself decided to lay in the grass on the grounds of Bridgerton House. A week before, Violet Bridgerton invited Portia over for tea to ask if she would be amenable to letting her youngest daughter stay at the ancestral home before the rest of the ton would descend for her annual Hearts and Flowers ball. Of course her mother had no issue allowing her to go, pulling her aside and hissed, "You'd have better be on your best behaviour, Penelope. Being in the Bridgerton's good graces would open many doors for us.” Her expression an unmovable mask of innocence, she’d replied, “Of course, mama,” and rolled her eyes to Eloise, Colin, and Daphne, who she could see peeking from behind the door, once her back was turned. Once Portia left, though, herself and Eloise had been unable to hide their giddiness and were quickly banished from the house, Violet insisting they release all of their pent up energy outside.
That afternoon the three siblings split to go about doing their own activities; Daphne, busy “practising for motherhood”, as if she were to debut tomorrow, by watching over Gregory and Francesca (the Viscountess joked it was free labour, as if they could not afford a nurse, even multiple, with their vast fortune). Colin, who’d been hit with the travelling bug for some time now after hearing of his father’s Grand Tour, to look at maps in his office; without permission of course. The elder brothers of the clan would probably sneak out, frolicking at some public house with their mistresses, two terms that Pen only knew about because of her own philandering father, and the Viscount and Viscountess would- she blinked. Well, she did not know. Read in the library perhaps?
Eyes closing and pushing that thought out, she took in the rays of the sun, her skin buzzing with the comfortable heat. Fingers curled into the dirt beneath her body, she took in the sounds of nature; the buzz of bees, the leaves brushing against one another, a faint whistling of wind. She could almost forget the world existed outside of this moment. Red hair fanning out behind her, she could feel the kiss of grass along her hairline and tickling her nose. The world fell away, and she was at peace, floating into oblivion. The steely silence that turned into sharp words that rang through the house could almost be forgotten. Her mind drifted…
“Do you prefer Colin over me?” Penelope’s eyes snapped open. Next to her, Eloise sat with her legs underneath her, fiddling with a flower she must have picked from the garden near the grove they were currently sitting in, eyes downcast. Her tone had not been sad, or angry. In fact she had spoken plainly, voice not too soft or too harsh. One could even call it docile. That alone made Penelope know something was wrong. Eloise was vibrant and passionate and her tone always suited this; she did not speak carefully.
Penelope sat up, grass getting tangled up in her hair. She moved to sit closer to her friend, knees touching. “What ever would make you think that?” she asked, voice soft.
Eloise shrugged and said, “You look for him.”
She stopped breathing.
“Excuse me?” Her voice could barely be heard, but Eloise had no trouble, because she immediately repeated herself, “You look for him. When he leaves the room, when he’s shown up to meet us at a different time than usual. Your eyes follow his movements.” She finally looked up from the flower.
“I thought maybe you preferred his friendship over mine, since you are always seeking him out when we are together.” She said it so simply that anyone would have assumed she had no issue with this train of thought had she not met Pen’s eyes. There was hurt in her irises. Deep hurt, which hid behind a wall of stubbornness. Penelope had seen this on her own mother. Usually this sign of distress was followed by her mother berating her for all of her wrongdoings; how plump she was, how she read too much, how her skills with a needle were severely lacking. All of this usually sent Penelope running into her room, but now, it simply made her chest ache with sadness. Eloise would never insult her, that much she knew. Her friend was showing trust in Penelope by speaking about what had been bothering her for what was obviously some time, and she could not in good faith refuse to do the same.
“I had no idea that was something I did.” She bit her lip thoughtfully and Eloise stared at her, waiting for her to continue. Penelope sighed, knowing that she would have to tell Eloise about her affection for the older Bridgerton. “I confess to having some…” she wrung her hands nervously, “Feelings about Colin. I do enjoy his company-”
“I knew it!” Eloise threw her hands in the air, her palms smacking against her thighs on the way down, and scowled. “I knew he was up to something! Stealing my dearest friend in the world! Does he not have friends of his own? I can hardly believe he would be so cruel! What selfish, slow-witted-“ She continued on, her insults becoming more and more colourful until, by the end of her rant, Penelope could not keep her laughter from spilling out. Eloise’s head turned sharply and she looked at her with narrowed eyes, opening her mouth to begin another argument, but Penelope rushed forward and slapped a hand over her mouth, making Eloise glare and herself give a timid smile.
“Eloise. My dearest, most argumentative friend. I must stop you for a moment and try to explain.” The nervous smile still on her face, she slowly leaned away, lifting her hand off of Eloise's mouth and eyeing her for any sign of an incoming meltdown. Grudgingly, Eloise allowed her to continue.
“El, I must first apologise for not noticing how hurt you have been by my actions. Honestly, I hadn’t the faintest idea it was something I had been doing at all. But, there are no excuses. I hurt you and for that I am deeply sorry.” She took a deep, slow breath. Had it been up to her, she would have left it at that, exclaiming that she could hold no other Bridgerton in her highest regards. But she knew that this would not do. Her friend seemed to believe in some capacity that her endearment to her was fleeting, and Penelope could not allow such silliness to go on.
“I am embarrassed to admit this, but not too embarrassed to keep this from you and create more complications between us. I must also confess that I had not planned on revealing this to anyone , so I am thoroughly unprepared but,” she gave a hopeless look in Eloise’s direction, as if to say ‘ what else can be done? ’
“My feelings concerning your brother…though definitely fond, are not of the same fondness that I share with you. I-I love you, Eloise. I love you because of your brashness and your light and your wit and any other thing that anyone has ever told you to change about yourself, but I wish for you to never change, even the tiniest bit. You are so dear to me, and I need you to know this, without any doubt.” Here she reached out and grasped Eloise’s hands between her own, and held them to her chest. Eloise was not usually one to allow such contact, but seeing Penelope so distraught she could see her friend hold her tongue, a great feat indeed.
“I have never had a friend. I cannot even say that I have ever had a sister until I met you. I find companionship with you in a way I never have with anyone else. In you, I find a kindred spirit. Do you know how much I cherish that?” Penelope’s voice shook, lips wobbling with the effort to hold back her emotions. Of course Eloise knew about the horrendous treatment she received at home, Penelope could not keep it from her if she ever wanted to. Meeting someone outside of her familial circle had given her the freedom to finally speak about these feelings that crawled inside of her every time she was faced with the other women of her household. Still, Penelope could not help but feel that Eloise did not (could not?) grasp how miserable her existence had been until now.
“I did not know that I would ever experience such. But I also cherish Colin. I also-I also love-” Trembling, she tried to find the will to go on, so nervous was she that her words had been snatched from her throat. Eloise was important to her, too important to lose. She had experienced kindness without expectation for the first time with the Bridgerton's, and she was loath to do anything to jeopardise that.
“Oh, Penelope, get on with it!” El snapped.
“I am tenderhearted for Colin!”
The words rushed out of her like a dam had been broken, shrill and rapid. If she had started off speaking gently and trying to explain her actions to her friend then she could only be described as practically meek by the end. Her embarrassment was clear on her face, both for the fact of speaking about this with her truest and first friend, who happened to be the sister of the boy who held her affection, and confessing to such feelings at all. The silence that followed made her heart beat faster than it ever had before. She was not as devout as perhaps she should be, but she sent a quick prayer up to the Maker that her friend would not turn her away.
Eloise spoke slowly and with confusion. “Tender…for…Colin?” It would have been hilarious to hear if they were in any other situation. Penelope nodded, gulping. The hands she held between her own slipped from her grasp and her heart dropped, panic brewing as she watched El open and close her mouth like she had something to say, and then stop herself. Oh, no. Oh, dear Lord. She is disgusted. She hates me. I will never see her again, her thoughts whirled. And then, Eloise spoke once more.
“You…and Colin.” Pen sat and waited, letting Eloise reflect on what she knew to be an enormous shock, gulping down what were sure to be sobs if she opened her mouth.
Eloise’s gaze turned on her sharply. “Does he feel the same? Have you spoken about this?” She shook her head back and forth quickly, the pieces of grass that she did not know were caught in her hair shaking out and falling around her.
“How could he, El? He may come find us for amusement nowadays but I am still me," she explained dejectedly. Her friend's eyebrows furrowed and she shifted, affronted.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Arms crossed in front of her chest, the young Bridgerton girl seemed almost offended on her behalf. Penelope could only shrug in response. “I am a Featherington. He is a Bridgerton.” It was as simple as that in her eyes, anyone in the ton would agree with the underlying statement. The two families may be neighbors, and their children may be close friends (some of them at least), but they were still on vastly different levels of society. And never the twain shall meet.
Apparently it was not the same for her companion. “Correct! How delightful to hear that you know both of our last names, I feared I would have to teach them to you myself. Continue.” Eloise was stern, more stern than Pen had ever seen her, like she took this slight Penelope made about herself as a slight against her, too.
Pen’s shoulders sagged. “Eloise,” she whined. “I have already bared my heart to you with mixed results. Must I continue embarrassing myself?” She pleaded with her. Eloise did not move. The silence stretched. As time went on and neither girl would budge, Penelope could feel her eyes mist. God, help her but she refused to look away first. Maybe it was a leftover attribute she’d gotten from Portia, who was as stubborn and petty as they came, but Penelope feared that if she looked away, it would be admitting defeat. In what, she had no earthly idea.
It was only when she took in a shaky breath that Eloise softened. The birds sang; their song could not calm her the way it would have earlier. Eloise’s hand reached out and placed the flower she’d been holding behind Penelope’s ear, looking fondly at the scene in front of her. The vibrant yellow of the dandelion contrasted against her fiery hair, and for a moment, Penelope felt beautiful, seeing someone look at her the way her friend did. Like she was radiant.
“If there is anyone on this planet that is not absolutely overcome with joy at the thought of Penelope Featherington holding a tendre for them, then they must be disturbed. Who else would deny themselves the pleasure of being loved by a most exceptional person?” Spoken with her nose in the air and a superior expression, Eloise watched Pen from the corner of her eye as if waiting for an argument, which she would gladly fight if only to protect the honour of her friend, even if it was the friend herself who was doing the besmirching. Penelope did not know she had been holding that breath until she released it, but the ache it left behind was still as strong as ever.
Eloise could not deny that the Featherington name did not hold as much sway as Bridgerton, it was no secret. Even at nine she was aware of this. Her mama often spoke of being snubbed by members of the ton, caring little about sparing her daughters the horrifying realisation that to the highest members of society, her family was no more than a bug to be squashed under their pretty feet. Eloise, for all of her amazing qualities, could not understand the heartache that came with being an outcast. Penelope did not think she ever would, and she did not want to start an argument by bringing it to her attention, so she did the only thing she could think of, and agreed to play along.
“Thank you, El. That you see me as you do is remarkable, and I hope that one day, when I am wed-” she made a face of disgust at this and so Penelope snickered but continued, “-my husband will see me in much the same way. Only with more romantic intentions in mind, of course.” They both laughed and Penelope felt her expression grow even softer.
“And with time, I am sure that these feelings for Colin will wane, and I will come to see him as nothing more than a close friend as well. Who knows, he might even get along greatly with whomever I marry!” She tried to sound cheerful; it seemed to work on her behalf, since Eloise brightened as well, but Penelope could not help but feel a sense of dread. By God, but she knew better. She felt in her heart that there would never be a time where she was not in love Colin Bridgerton, and for all that she wished, one day, that her dream of being his wife would leave her and she could move on, since there was not one woman on this Earth who looked forward to heartbreak, in the back of her mind was a voice that mocked her for thinking it would be that easy. That she could live her life without the other half of her soul, walking around outside of her body and sharing himself with others she knew would not be worth half as much as he. Even she felt lacking when it came down to it.
Hands still clasped, Eloise began to bounce as she sat, waving around their arms in a swinging motion, oblivious of the storm raging in her friend's heart. “And if we are great friends with your husband, surely he will do everything in his power to make you happy, which means that we will never part! He cannot separate two linked souls such as ours.” She said smugly, leaning in like she was informing Pen of some scandal.
Knowing the signs of a tirade, Penelope jumped in before it could begin, Eloise shutting her mouth and going still as Pen asked, “Do you truly believe that I would ever leave your side? I would sooner become a spinster on the shelf than marry a man who would take you from me!” Beaming with pride, Penelope swung their arms again and both girls shared affectionate smiles.
“Besides, what monster could separate sisters, for that is what I consider you. My sister in all but blood.” An idea came to her suddenly and she gasped, bringing their hands to a stop. Eloise looked at her with wide eyes, excitement creeping onto her face from Penelope’s own exuberance.
“I have the perfect idea. Do you trust me?”
Eloise nodded fiercely. “With my life,” she intoned.
“Then we must gather materials with haste.” Penelope stood and then pulled Eloise up with her. “Quick! We will need more flowers, dirt and water, a knife and something to create a small fire.” Hoisting her skirts, Penelope began to run back to the estate, Eloise hot on her heels and not letting her confusion stop her from what could only be their next adventure.
Quietly, or as quiet as two nine year old's could be, they gathered everything in their arms; a glass vessel filled with water that sparkled in the moonlight and another empty one, twine from the kitchens, as well as a knife, and the matches Cook used to light the stove. They took their treasures, Penelope holding the matches and the knife, which was comically large, wrapped in a towel that was jostling with her steps.
Eloise was given the task of holding the crystal- I will not take the fall if it is dropped, Pen hissed- her frame hunched over and holding them on top of one another to her chest, hobbling along and snickering under her breath. They stopped in the garden to grab a fistful of flowers, a mixture of blue forget-me-nots and more of the yellow daffodil that Eloise had given to Penelope earlier. Dumping the flowers and dirt into the second bowl, which Penelope grudgingly took from under the other, they took off to the secluded grove in the backyard they liked to sit and watch the sunset in. The ageing wooden swings that all the Bridgerton children, new and old, sat in once upon a time seemed to be hanging by a thread, though by some miracle, it had withstood time and many tons. Even the Viscount had fond memories of the old thing, as he often remarked when he would find the two girls sitting together, the massive tree hanging over their heads and giving them shelter from the sweltering sun. Eloise once told her there was an identical tree and swings at Aubrey Hall that she hoped to show her. Sliding onto the empty seat, Penelope couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped her when they were in the clear and she noticed Eloise plop herself down in front of her, spilling a bit of water down her dress. She only grinned up at Pen, smiling so wide she could see her incisors, and asked, "So, what is our next step?”
If Pen was being honest, earlier in the Season she would have been surprised that she had come up with this plan and decided to execute it in the first place. It seemed more like something Eloise would do, and it was maybe for this reason that her entire body felt like gooseflesh. Her friend was more outspoken than she, and Penelope was happy to go along with her most of the time. But every once and a while, she would have a burst of inspiration and the more time she spent around Eloise, the more willing she was to share them, now that she had someone at her side to do them with. Adventures alone could be thrilling , she thought, but only for those who had no experience with loneliness. Penelope was rather tired of quietness. Before the Bridgerton's, before Eloise, she could not remember what her own voice sounded like. Now, the greatest joy of her days was the small piece of silence that came after a sentence, because she now knew someone was waiting for her response.
Penelope slid to the ground in front of Eloise, staining her dress where she kneeled on the dirt. The large tree to their side creaked, and both girls shivered as the cold began to creep in with the rise of the moon. They would need to begin soon, before Viscountess Bridgerton began calling for them, or worse, sent the boys looking.
“Now,” she said in a grave tone, “-we begin.” Crawling on her knees, grabbing sticks from the ground around the tree, Penelope began to create a rather hopeless pile of them. Without a word, Eloise started to help arrange them in a sort of steeple, and once satisfied with it, grabbed the matches. It took a few tries but she was able to light one, and she tossed it in the stack. The grass burst into flame quicker than the wood, and Eloise scrambled back before it could hit her.
“Christ! Are they still there?” she exclaimed and felt for both eyebrows in panic. Penelope snorted behind her hand, thinking of how ridiculous the two of them must look at this point, then remembered they had little time left to themselves and became serious once more, ignoring the girl across from her so they could get on with her plan.
She began by sitting with her legs underneath her, rinsing her hands in the clear, tepid water. Instead of wiping her hands along her skirts to dry them, she used the residue to slick her hair back and clean her face. She motioned for Eloise to do the same. Leaving her eyebrows alone, Eloise took her time following Penelope’s steps, drops of water clinging to her eyelashes, a sheen highlighting her beauty, which all Bridgerton children seemed to be born with, sat still until Pen gave the next instructions. A deep breath, then Penelope began.
“We cleanse our bodies and minds of doubt, in both ourselves and each other, as we begin this journey into chosen sisterhood. Let our bond be as deep as the sea, as eternal as the rain,” she intoned and bowed her head then lifted it once again, meeting the other girl's gaze head on, tears beginning to gather. Eloise shivered once more, a watery smile beginning to spread on her face, and bowed back. She took in a deep breath to settle herself before continuing, noticing that Penelope waited to hear her pledge. She lifted the mortar and dumped half of the dirt into the water, some of it bouncing off of the surface and creating a cloud of dust that made them cough and swipe at the air. Penelope spilled her half of the dirt and looked to Eloise. The brunette gathered herself, and spoke as if the words had been practised, like she was reading from scripture.
“Nature has a mind of its own. It is beautiful and loving, but can be fierce when it wants to be. May we protect one another the way nature has protected us, with a loving hand and a warrior's heart.” Eloise followed her pledge with a bowed head. Continuing on, Penelope unwrapped the knife from the towel. Gleaming, the steel utensil was shined to perfection. A masterpiece of craftsmanship, which they could only snicker at seeing in the small grasp of a girl who needed both hands to lift it. Still stifling her amusement, Penelope was finally able to grasp it correctly and made a cut across her right palm, not so very deep, but enough to have blood run down her arm. She hissed in pain and discomfort made her face scrunch up, but she refused to stop. Eloise was already biting her lip nervously, causing it to burst in one corner. She did not seem to notice it until a hint of blood dribbled down the side of her mouth, making her look slightly rabid.
Slightly shaking from adrenaline, Pen closed her stinging palm into a fist, and allowed her blood to drip into their mixture. Passing the knife to Eloise, her friend did not hesitate to follow in her footsteps, never one to back down from a challenge; that was her Eloise. The rivulets of blood coloured the water in the crystal, the dirt sitting atop of it having not yet drowned itself, an island in the sea. The blade set aside, Penelope reached out to Eloise and put her bloody handprint above her friend's heart, Eloise doing the same to her, their arms connecting them into a circle. Her heart, she knew, was beating so fast it could be concerning if Eloise’s was not beating in the same way.
She felt a manic sort of joy that left her floating and smiling so wide it had begun to hurt. Already her dress was stained from blood and dirt and she knew her Mama would surely punish her for it, but she could care less at this moment. The grove was charged with an energy that was so lacking in their day to day, where they walked among others who told them how to speak, sit, behave; both girls felt a sense of freedom that could quickly become addicting. Here, they could be their greatest champions. A great love of a different measure, that which no man could begin to comprehend.
“You are-” Penelope was out of words, she was so overcome with emotion. Her sentence hung in the air and her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Was there a word for what she was trying to convey? This choice they were both making, to continue to share all things with another person-someone who you loved so purely, no expectations of romance or intimacy beyond the sharing of thoughts. For all Penelope read- fiction, scientific essays, even the odd pamphlets passed around at events she was allowed at- she struggled to come up with an expression.
Seeing her friend scramble, Eloise stepped in with her own term. “My blood,” she said simply. Penelope’s eyes widened for a split second, then her face relaxed into a smile, Eloise doing the same. “You are my blood,” Pen repeated back to her in awe.
They began to mix the concoction using a stick near them, both holding onto it with both hands. A dark, slightly watery paste was left behind, and Eloise scooped a bit up with her finger. Touching her fingertip to Penelope’s forehead, leaving a line across it, then moving her hand to touch her ears and eyelids, “Speak your thoughts and trust that I will never judge you for them. Know that I see and hear who you are, my sister.” A sob broke out of Pen’s mouth, but she did nothing to stifle it. The embarrassment she thought she would have felt over it never came, only relief. Relief that she was not hopeless, that she could be someone worth cherishing, someone others would want to get to know. She would not be alone forever, an assumption she had made early on in her life when even her own family could barely stand the sight of her.
That Penelope Featherington had at least one person in her corner.
Eloise was already in tears when Penelope repeated the words back to her, red in the face from trying to hold it in at first, but eventually letting go. Placing the crowns of flowers they quickly made on their respective heads, petals slightly crushed and a twig poking Penelope behind her ear, they stood and could not help but laugh, for they looked absolutely ridiculous, smeared in blood and dirt and tears as they were. They reached for one another, hugging for a long time. Penelope could not tell you how long it was; it could have been hours or minutes for all she knew. All she felt was the fierce hold they had on one another, slightly painful, fingers digging into the other's flesh as they tried to make the other feel the depth of their love.
“Oh, dear God !”
Still hugging, both girls looked over at where the sound had come from and saw Colin quickly stalking their way, overcome with panic. He ripped off his tailcoat, then waistcoat, and threw both over the fire, stomping on top of the offending pile. Before Penelope could pull away, she felt Eloise hold her tighter and humph, refusing to let go even when she struggled to leave her arms so she may help the older Bridgerton. Finally, once the flames were extinguished and the foul odour of burning wool and silk started to make the three of them cough, Colin spun and raised a pointed finger in their direction.
“What do you two think you are doing?” Colin hissed at them, then squinted at his sister's face. His eyes widened and he took a step back. “Are you drinking her blood?!”
Eloise stomped her foot childishly, forgetting that her closeness to Penelope made it easier to trample on her toes. With a yelp, Penelope pulled away completely and grabbed her left foot while falling onto her side. Eloise gasped, “Pen!” then turned angrily to her brother. “Look what you’ve done! You’ve hurt Penelope!”
Colin’s eyes bulged. “ Me ? I hurt Penelope? I’m not the one draining the life from her body!”
A squabble between the two siblings began in earnest, and Penelope groaned out loud. There could not be an argument between Bridgertons without it calling on the others like a signal. Colin turned to Penelope, and gaped, “What has she done to you? You both are filthy!” The words would have made her cower in embarrassment had she not been preoccupied with the throbbing of her big toe, and so her only response was a glare sent his way.
Nervously wiping his hands on his shirt pants, Colin muttered, “Right, right. Not the time. Eloise, help me lift Pen onto the swing.” He crouched and waited for his sister to do the same, but looked up when she did not follow his instructions. She was hiding one hand behind her back and muttering under her breath, looking anywhere but at him or her friend. His eyes narrowed.
“Show me your hand.”
“No.”
“Eloise!”
“I said no!”
“Do not make this more difficult than it already-!” His eyes found the knife laying on the ground, a smear of blood on the metal. Looking down, he saw crimson on Penelope’s arm and a bloody handprint on her dress that matched the one he could now see on Eloise’s. He opened his mouth to berate them, but before he could get a word in, they heard a deeper voice call out, “What the devil is going on here?”
Anthony Bridgerton’s striking form came around the corner, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was stumbling over himself and smelled of alcohol. He’d probably just come home from a night of debauchery with his friends. Still, Penelope could feel her face turn white and she looked over to Eloise and Colin, both wide-eyed in fear.
“Scatter!” Colin cried, and both siblings started to run in opposite directions, Eloise to the front of the house through the gate, waving at her to follow and forgetting that she was the reason that Penelope could not, and Colin straight past Anthony, who easily grabbed his younger brother's shirt collar and held him there while Colin struggled to free himself, arms swinging. Penelope flopped down onto her back, spent. There was no use in even trying to run, she knew, all of the evidence was right there in front of them. Plus, she was at their house. It was not as if she would get very far.
Or had anywhere else to run.
Violet had definitely been angry at the two of them, scolding the girls for half an hour and sending them to help the maids wash their dresses and the crystal. But it was the Viscount, who smiled at them behind the scowling image of his wife and shrugged like none of it mattered at the end of the day, that surprised Penelope the most. She could see now, the man and father Colin would grow to be. It was a night that she remembered fondly for all four Bridgerton's she encountered, but none so much as Edmund.
It was how Penelope chose to remember him.