Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Colin Bridgerton hovered at the doorway of the family drawing room, simply content to observe all of those he loved and all of the chaos they brought to each other’s lives. Dinner had concluded some time ago, the staff had finished cleaning up and retired for the night, and still the family chattered away in the low candlelight. His wife, Penelope and his sister, Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings were speaking in hushed tones on one of the sofas. Colin didn’t know for certain what they were speaking about, but every so often a word or two could be made out and it sounded like Penelope was asking for advice about what to expect in the coming months with her delicate condition. Simon, Duke of Hastings read a newspaper in a nearby chair, pointedly ignoring the discussion between the women, even though Daphne attempted to engage him more than once. Dowager Lady Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch of their growing family, mediated a chess game between a very animated pair of young Bridgerton siblings, Hyacinth and Gregory, while his brother Benedict undermined her efforts by instigating a disagreement over one of Hyacinth’s made-up rules. Despite the noise, he noted the absence of nearly half of his family, with his sisters Francesca and Eloise and the Stirlings gone to the Kilmartin residence in Scotland, and his elder brother Anthony, 9th Viscount Bridgerton and his wife, Kate on their way to India. As chaotic as their family could be, and as often as he tried to escape on his own journeys before now, he rather found he missed them all when they were apart. His gaze settled once more on his new wife and he marveled once more at how lucky he was to have all of this and more.

Penelope lifted her head suddenly, her eyes instinctively searching the room. Once she spotted Colin, her lips uplifted in one of her breathtaking smiles, which stole Colin’s breath from his lungs. Penelope tilted her head inquisitively, and Colin, sensing wife-business, approached.

“Colin, is all well?” Penelope asked.

“Yes, Pen, it is, but I am going to retire early, I think. Come to bed after you finish talking with Daphne.”

Penelope paused just for a moment, then nodded seriously. “Of course, Colin. I will be along soon.”

Colin kissed his wife on the top of her head, then quietly slipped out of the drawing room. The candlelight in the rest of the house was dim, but he did not need much light at all to see where he was going. He had walked this path so many times, he could have found his old room blindfolded. Colin paused before pulling the latch, hearing the distant voices of his family echoing through the halls around him, then opened the door and stepped inside.

As he pulled the door closed behind him, he saw that the staff had left a few candles burning for when the young couple retired for the night. Shadows danced along the floor and walls as the lights flickered, the air disturbed by the door opening and closing. His gaze shifted around the room from left to right, noting that not terribly much had actually changed since he had been here last. The hand-me-down mahogany desk he used as a boy was still there, with the inevitable scuff marks and scratches that would be expected from surviving exposure to not one, but three Bridgerton male children. His childhood armoire still loomed tall and forbidding in one of the corners of the room. He recalled once being frightened of it, compliments of a scary story that Benedict had told him about an armoire-shaped monster that would grow teeth in its doors and devour children while they slept. He was so terrified to open it to retrieve anything he needed that he would instead ring for a servant to do so, thinking the monster wouldn’t try to eat a grown-up. Colin smiled at the memory, then glanced over towards the other side of the room. There were still small tables by the bed, but any boyhood knick-knacks that might have remained had long since been packed away. The same leather-covered trunk he had used throughout his youth sat at the foot of the bed as well. In fact, aside from his and Penelope’s belongings for their summer visit stacked in the one unfurnished corner, the bed was the only difference that he could see. Gone was the single bed he had used as a youth, instead thoughtfully replaced by a wider one, suited for two.

Colin forced his attention away from the bed, and his bride. Later, he thought. Best not to get distracted. He passed over the desk as he crossed the room, knowing Penelope would want the opportunity to dig into his written past first. He continued around the bed, pausing to brush his fingertips on the square trunk standing sentinel at the foot of it, and approached the far corner of the room where there lay another latched case. A chest of sorts, with an engraved, decorative “C” on both the lid, and the front of it. He had been told that the chest was commissioned as soon as Lord and Lady Bridgerton had realized they were expecting their third child, with the “C” being the only thing they knew for certain. He studied the chest for a moment more before pulling it away from the wall with a grunt, the sound of wood scraping on the floor sounding much louder than expected in this quiet wing of the house. Once the box had been moved, Colin could just make out a series of etched names on the wood frame of the chest that had been hidden on the side facing the wall. He traced his fingers over the names, “Colin”, “Eloise” and “Penelope”, remembering with some chagrin the day the trio had carved their names there using a dinner knife he had stolen from the dining room. His mother was furious when the three of them were hauled to the drawing room by their governess and she had been informed that her finest dining silver was instead being used as a wood carving tool.

Colin flicked the latch open on the chest, then lifted the lid as the aged hinges groaned in protest. When he realized the low light would make it too difficult to see, he retrieved a candelabra from the desk and set it on the floor beside him. The flickering light revealed a variety of toys and clothing packed away carefully. Colin retrieved each one, laying them side by side on the floor. The first, a leather pouch that clacked when he rolled it through his fingers. He tugged the strings open and poured out several glass colored marbles into the palm of his hand. With a smile, he returned the marbles to the bag and set it aside. Next, he retrieved a frayed skipping rope, followed by several stamped, pewter toy soldiers, then a well-worn slingshot. Beneath the toys were several bundles of cloth, and as Colin pulled each one out, he found various articles of clothing from his childhood. A Christening garment, almost certainly his, once white but now yellowed with age. A small pair of shoes. A child-size cloak. Colin could not recall wearing most of what he found, and he assumed that his mother had saved each of them and added them to this chest without his knowledge. As he pulled out the last item of clothing, he heard something fall to the wooden bottom of the box with a metallic thud. A quick glance inside revealed something that shone in the dull light, threaded through with a ribbon.

Colin wondered at this until he lifted the ribboned object from the chest, revealing a delicate ring, inlaid with several small pearls in the shape of a butterfly and threaded with a faded, yellow ribbon. As the memories rushed back to him, he barely heard the door behind him close.

“Colin?”

“Pen,” he choked out, his voice laden with emotion. “I am here.”

He felt, more than heard, the brushing sound of Penelope’s muslin dress as she approached. He could not take his eyes off of the ribboned ring.

“Colin, that....is one of my old ribbons? How did you get that?”

Colin turned his head to face her, his eyes shining in the candlelight. “I had forgotten. Sit…I will tell you everything.”

“You cheated!” Eloise screeched.

“I did not!” Colin had folded his arms across his chest and painted the best scowl an eleven-year-old could muster on his face.

“Did too!”

“I swear, I did not!”

“Colin Bridgerton, what have we discussed about swearing?” Violet intoned as she shot a look at the three children involved in a heavily competitive game of marbles.

Colin sighed and whined, “Yes, mother. But Eloise started it!”

“I did not!”

“Yes you did!”

“ENOUGH!” Violet barked out at them. All three children stopped short, staring blankly in her direction. Violet rarely had to raise her voice, but oddly enough when she did, it usually involved some sort of altercation between eleven-year-old Colin and eight-year-old Eloise. Penelope sat in the middle of them, eyes as large as saucers, looking quite fearful and unsure of what to do. Violet continued in a soothing voice, “Do not worry, Penelope, I am not angry at you, dear. Just these two.” She glanced out of the nearby window, “Will it ever stop raining?” she muttered to no one in particular.

The children played for some time longer, occasionally erupting into additional arguments and cheers when a particularly clever move proved successful. Colin intently watched Penelope, as she masterfully flicked her shooting marble…right underneath the pianoforte. They both made a mad dash for the marble, and wound up bonking their heads together as they dove under the instrument for it. Colin held up his hand in triumph, displaying the prized round glass trophy. He put on an aristocratic air, bowed with a flourish and held it out towards his friend in his open palm. “Your marble, Miss Featherington!” They both collapsed in a fit of giggles. Colin felt such joy as he relished in every smile and laugh he could coax out of her. He rather liked making her happy.

As all fun days go, this one would also come to an end, and Penelope’s maid appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. “Miss, it is time to return home. Your family will be expecting you at dinner.”

All three children broke out into a chorus of protests.

Penelope cried out, “Can I not stay for just a few more minutes? Please?”

“Unfortunately not, miss. We will be late as it is, and we do have a long day of travel tomorrow.”

Penelope nodded sadly and embraced Colin and Eloise. Colin rather expected her to smile, but when she looked at him it was with sad eyes. “I will miss you Colin…and El. Over the summer. Please write to me if I am not able to visit at Aubrey Hall?”

Colin nodded, and on impulse joined Penelope and her maid to escort them to the front door. He didn’t understand why, but it was as though her lack of joy took away some of his own.

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Violet and Edmund Bridgerton had finally seen all of their children off to bed and were enjoying a quiet moment to themselves in the drawing room. Violet’s rounded belly from her unborn child had begun bothering her often as of late, and being off of her feet with a pillow tucked against her lower back did much to relieve her pain. She reclined on one of the sofas, idly working on some embroidery while Edmund caught up with the London newspaper from that morning. They were both fairly exhausted, their day full of packing and preparation for their upcoming retreat to their summer home. Neither of them heard the soft padding of small feet approaching them from the hallway.

“Mother? Father?”

They glanced up, and saw Colin standing just inside the doorway. Violet frowned and almost sent him back to bed straightaway, until she saw the child’s troubled expression. She laid her embroidery on the arm of the sofa and beckoned her son to her side.

“Dearest, it’s very late. Why are you out of bed?”

“I couldn’t sleep, mama.” Colin approached the sofa, then took a seat next to his mother. He curled up at her side, laying an arm across her swollen belly.

“Why, Colin, whatever is the matter? Was it a bad dream?” She tenderly brushed her fingers through the curls on top of his head.

Colin frowned as he gathered his thoughts, then blurted out, “Mama, why does Penelope have to go home? Why can’t she stay with us all the time?”

Violet glanced over at her husband, who was now staring at her over the top of his newspaper, his eyebrows raised. She responded, hesitant in that she wasn’t certain of the direction of Colin’s questions. “Well, our house is not Penelope’s home. Her home is with her family…”

“But, but,” Colin interjected as his eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. “You don’t have to go home. You get to stay here with father. And us!”

“Ah…yes, that is true. But your father and I are married, and when I wed your father, his home became mine. And any children we would have are also our family and live with us in our home. Until they are grown.”

Violet glanced over towards her husband. The newspaper he was hiding behind let out a muffled chuckle.

“How does one get married, mama?”

“Ah…uhm…well, the man will spend time with the young lady he wishes to marry, then officially declare that he is courting her. He will then ask for permission to propose from the young lady’s father, and then propose to her with a ring.”

“A ring?”

“Yes, sometimes it’s a family ring, but is always something pretty. Your father proposed to me with the pearl ring I sometimes wear on special occasions.”

Colin’s expression was serious while he absorbed all of that information. He eventually concluded, looking at his mother expectantly, “So, if one gets married, then…they get to stay all the time?”

“Edmund, some assistance here might be helpful,” Violet murmured towards the impassive newspaper, which simply responded, “Mmm.”

“Mother?”

“Ah…yes, dearest?”

“Can I marry Penelope?”

The newspaper dropped to Edmund’s lap, and both parents stared at each other in shock, completely at a loss for words.

Colin sat up suddenly, all of his words coming out in one long string of consciousness. “She only smiles when she’s here and she looks so sad when she has to go home and I want to make her smile and for her to be happy and she could stay here forever and we could play marbles and hide and go seek and I could teach her fencing like she wants and fine I suppose El can join as well and she and El can go and do whatever silly thing girls do and can I marry Penelope so she never has to be sad again? Please?”

Violet stared at Edmund, helplessly.

Edmund cleared his throat as he folded his newspaper, then looked at his son with an appraising eye. “Colin, you and Miss Featherington are friends, correct?”

Colin nodded. “Yes. Yes, father. She is my friend.”

“You are happy when she is here? And she is happy when she is here?”

“Yes, father.”

Edmund stole a glance at his wife, and she returned his gaze, a soft smile playing across her lips. A lifetime of friendship tethered them together, and perhaps they could hope for the same to form between their son and his very good friend.

Edmund cleared his throat and addressed his son. “Colin, you must understand that marriage is a serious prospect. You will both have to be older, of course, and Miss Featherington must be out in society before an arrangement can be reached.”

Colin’s mouth twisted into a pout. “So we cannot get married right now?”

“Ah, no. But,” he continued at his son’s crestfallen look, “There is no reason I cannot have a discussion with the Lord Featherington to broach the idea and see if it is amenable for the future. And to see if the young Miss Featherington cannot spend more time with us in general. But remember, you will be away at Eton in another year or two as well, so you may not be here as much to enjoy time with the young lady.”

Colin nodded, “I will be well as long as she is happy. She will have El to play with too.”

Edmund smiled gently. “Then, we will see what we can do.”

Colin bounced up and hugged both of his parents tightly. “Thank you father! Mother!” He bounded out of the room at a full gallop, tearing through the halls back towards his bedroom.

Husband and wife stared at each other in silence as the cacaphony of Colin’s thundering footsteps through the household eventually died down, followed by a door slamming from somewhere in the family wing. Immediately they both erupted into hysterical, tear-filled laughter. After they recovered, Edmund spoke, “I know the Featheringtons are leaving for the country tomorrow, so there will not be time to invite him for a drink and a discussion until later this summer or next season. But, within a few months, we could have an understanding I suppose.”

Violet reached out and took Edmund’s hand. “Friends to love?”

Edmund smiled and lifted her hand to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “What a wonder that would be.”

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The following morning as soon as he could get away from his family, Colin found himself racing across the square to visit Penelope. He danced back and forth from one foot to another, impatiently waiting on the Featherington’s butler to answer his knock. As soon as the door opened, Colin darted underneath the butler’s arm, and made a beeline for the stairs up to Penelope’s room. The butler let out a shout, and the chase was on! As this was a familiar occurrence to the staff, Colin was quickly coralled by two maids and the housekeeper Varley into the drawing room while Penelope finished dressing for the upcoming journey. When she finally thundered downstairs into the drawing room, Colin noted that her hair was done up with a dozen yellow ribbons. He thought they were lovely, if a bit excessive, and impulsively realized they would be perfect for his plans.

“Colin!” she exclaimed and bounded into his arms for a hug. “I’m glad you came over before we leave for our country home. I asked mama this morning, and she said I might come visit with your family at Aubrey Hall if your father and mother will permit it!”

Colin nodded and smiled broadly. “I am sure they will! I wanted to come see you before you leave. To say I will have a surprise for you next season maybe.”

“A surprise? What is it?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, you ninny!”

The children fell into a fit of giggles, only interrupted by Penelope’s mother breezing into the drawing room. She glared at the two of them and drawled, “Really Penelope, you sound like a herd of horses gallavanting around this house as you do! Tsk…you are missing a ribbon in your hair! You are supposed to have twelve of them, but I only count…one, two, three…eleven! Now go! Young Mister Bridgerton, you should return home. We have much to do here and you will be underfoot!”

Penelope sighed and gave Colin an apologetic look. “Yes, mama.” She embraced Colin quickly, then turned and skipped out of the room.

At a glare from Penelope’s mother, Colin took off back into the main hall, then out the front door. As he scampered across the square, dodging carriages and the few Ton members already strolling about, he glanced down at his hand with a satisfied grin. Woven through his fingers was the single yellow ribbon he had palmed from Penelope’s hair.

Colin stumbled down the hall in a daze. Elsewhere in the house, he could still hear weeping, or perhaps it was his ears playing tricks on him. The past two days had been a horrible nightmare. Edmund, 8th Viscount Bridgerton, had died.

Colin’s feet carried him to his parents’ bedchamber door. With a quick glance down the hall to make sure he was not followed, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The chilled chamber beyond was unlit by candle or hearth, with only the soft light from the windows providing some illumination to the dim interior. Violet, unable to bear the thought of coming to this room, much less sleep in it, had been moved into a guest chamber on a separate floor while arrangements had begun to relocate Anthony, the new 9th Viscount there. Colin glanced around at drawers and chests that had been fairly well upturned with the hastiness of his mother’s move, and many of her belongings that were not immediately needed were still there. So much in their lives had gone topsy-turvy in such a short time.

Colin’s heart leapt in panic as he heard footsteps and soft voices echoing from somewhere down the hall. He cast about looking for someplace to hide, but stilled himself as the footsteps faded and a door shut. To mask his intrusion, he pulled the bedchamber door closed with a soft click to make certain he was not disturbed.

As his eyes continued to adjust to the low light, he picked his way past furniture that had been shoved about, and items that had been pulled out and hastily left behind. Anthony would indeed be moving in soon, so Colin had to be quick about this. He stopped short in front of the armoire when something within caught his eye through the crack of the open door. He curled his fingers around the knob and opened the armoire further and peered inside, where he found several of his father’s waistcoats neatly folded on one of the shelves. Colin selected the one resting on the top of the pile, then slipped it on over his own clothing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the nearby standing mirror and saw how the garment dwarfed him, drooping from both of his shoulders and the bottom edge falling well below his waist. He fingered the fabric, trying to recall a time when he saw his father wear this particular one, but he was unable to. He had never truly paid attention before. He didn’t understand why, but that realization caused him no small amount of sadness.

With tears stinging his eyes, he slipped off the waistcoat and attempted to neatly put it back where it had lain before. Unfortunately he really had no idea what he was doing, so he wound up just shoving it back on the shelf, and hoping no one would notice that it had been moved. He had a larger goal to accomplish.

At his mother’s dressing table, he found what he was looking for. He began opening drawers at random to find those that contained her jewelry, necklaces, bracelets, a tiara or two and most importantly, her rings. His hands shook as he tentatively moved some of the precious decorations to the side. This is for Penelope, he kept reminding himself over and over as he tried to bury the guilt crushing his heart and mind over his theft. He knew he couldn’t make his family happy right now, but he could help Pen. This is for Penelope. This is for Pen.

A few minutes later, the deed was done. Colin returned to his room after putting as much as he could back to rights in the dressing table. He stared at the ring that rested in his palm. It was perfect for Penelope, silver and set with several small pearls in the shape of a butterfly. It surely wasn’t one of the important ones, he reasoned. It had been buried beneath several other decorations at the very bottom of the drawer, its existence probably long forgotten. But it was still beautiful, and the butterfly reminded him of his best friend for some reason. He looped Penelope’s yellow ribbon through it and tied the ends together with a knot.

A sharp knock at his door pulled him from his task. He hurriedly dropped the ring inside the first thing he could find, his chest of memories sitting in the corner of his room. He shoved a few items of clothing over it to conceal it from view, then shut the chest as the door opened. “Young Sir?” the butler called to him. “Your family requests your presence.”

“Coming!” Colin called out as he rose and ran from the room.

In the coming months, the memory of the gift faded in the way of impulsive plans of a child, compounded by the haze of grief that hung over their family. Anthony’s youth lent itself to troubles managing the affairs of his widowed mother and his seven young siblings. Violet’s melancholy and Hyacinth’s troubled birth left the family adrift as their anchor was absent from their lives more often than not. When time came for Colin to attend Eton, he found he was eager to go and had all but forgotten his plans.

Penelope stared at the dangling bauble. “You mean to tell me…that this was the surprise you told me about?!”

“Mmhmm. I, Colin Bridgerton, had apparently planned to propose marriage to you at the tender age of eleven. Had…um…events that summer not interfered.”

“Colin…” Penelope rested her hands on her hips as she apparently tried to discern just what part of this was the most vexing to her. “I…you…what…oh how your mother is going to thrash you! I seem to recall hearing her wonder after what happened to this particular ring some time after it came up missing. If I recall, she interrogated your brother Benedict quite harshly over it while you were away on your travels.”

Colin managed to look both sheepish and like the cat that had got the cream as he swung the ribbon from one of his fingers. The ring glinted in the candlelight as it moved back and forth like a pendulum. “What was it you asked of me in the church the Sunday of the first reading of our Banns of marriage? If I had ever been punished as a child? I believe, my dear wife, the answer is a resounding no. Mother will fret, and I will put on my most charming smile and she will forgive me. As for Benedict, well, there is no helping that one.”

Penelope feebly attempted to not laugh, but Colin’s playful smirk won her over, and their chamber was soon filled once again with their easy laughter.