Chapter Text
This was supposed to be the happiest time of her life, Penelope thought despondently to herself as she followed her mother into the room where their wedding breakfast was to be held. She looked around appraisingly at the other people in the room. Lady Bridgerton and her mother flitted about excitedly, pointing out ideas for table settings and decor, unaware for now of the strife between her and the last inhabitant of the room, her fiancé. Colin had been very distant with her ever since he discovered her outside the printer’s shop. She hadn’t been able to get the fury in his eyes out of her mind since. She has seen many looks in those green eyes since they’d met, but never this quiet rage. Certainly, never directed at her. She felt as though bugs were crawling under her skin as she stood, so close to the man she loved and unable to bridge the gap between them. She slowly shifted so that he could hear her whisper.
“Colin…” Penelope breathed out, trying to engage without alerting their mamas to the tension in the room. “Will you at least look at me?”
“My mother was curious about our not seeing each other recently, and I did not want to arouse suspicions,” Colin replied, a muscle in his jaw twitching and his knuckles white as he clenched them at his sides into fists.
‘Oh,’ she thought to herself, unable to reconcile the man who, days ago, was touching her so softly with those same hands and this angry figure beside her.
“Do you intend to call off the wedding?” Penelope asked, barely above a whisper, while Colin’s gaze remained steadfastly ahead. “We can call the wedding off; there is still time.”
"I am a man of honor. And we were... intimate." Colin spoke sharply, Penelope flinching at the lack of emotion. "Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment." He finally turned towards her, eyes stony, the beginning of a sneer on his beautiful face.
Penelope looked at Colin with horror. Who was this man who stood before her? Was this the real Colin after all? She had allowed herself to fall into a fantasy of him loving her, the foolish ignorant child that she was. She had allowed herself the dream that he could see her as she was, not the insipid wallflower that no one noticed, but a strong and capable woman who, in a difficult situation, improved the life of not only herself, but her entire family. She could see clearly in the set of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils that the mirage had cleared, and he no longer was under love’s spell and clearly believed her to be a master manipulator.
“Entrapment?” she gasped, turning her head to look directly into his eyes. “You think I entrapped you?”
“What else should I think? You knew my feelings on Whistledown and yet you did not tell me. I had to find out on my own,” he said, each word piercing her like a dagger. “You said yourself that you have been in love with me for years. Whether by omission or lies, I was deprived of knowledge that may have prevented such rash behavior on my part. I did not realize at the time that I was consorting with a person I hold in the highest contempt.”
She nodded, mostly to herself. ‘There it is,’ she thought. ‘The words you have so feared, now spoken by the person whose good opinion you value most. He regretted proposing. He regretted their moments in the carriage and in the home that was supposed to be theirs to share. Theirs to grow a family in. How could she go through with it now? How could she prove him right?’
Penelope swallowed, the truth of the situation going down like shards of glass in her throat. He had every reason to rescind his declarations of love, every reason to hate her. Her eyes looked back to the ground, vision blurry as she tried to force her molten tears to not fall, but like every other aspect of her life, she failed. Traitorous drops fall to the ground like acid rain, burning away at her future.
Quickly and surreptitiously wiping her face, she gathered what courage she had left and began to formulate a plan. She knew that Colin thought no better of her than Marina, and why should he? But she could not prove him right and trap him with someone that he so clearly despised. No one other than the two of them knew that they had lain together, and angry as he was, she couldn’t imagine him ruining her out of spite. He would do his gentlemanly duty and marry her, despite his clear disgust at the thought. She must go; she must release him from the burden of being tied to her. To Lady Whistledown. If she leaves, both will be gone from his life in one fell swoop, freeing him of both sides of her that had so injured him.
Quickly, she swiped at her cheeks, brushing away the traitorous tears. She looked up then, clearing her throat to get the attention of their mamas.
“I’m so sorry, but I seem to have developed a headache. I think I am going to retire to my rooms and rest before the wedding.” Her voice cracked on the last word, the only evidence of the fact that her heart was shattering inside of her hollow chest. Before she could change her mind or anyone could say anything to the contrary, she turned and walked out of the room with as much dignity as she could, trying to ignore the flashes of concern in Colin’s eyes following her as she went.
It was only once she was safely alone in her room that she allowed herself to collapse into herself, sobs ripping their way through her body. She had known what it felt like to be loved by Colin Bridgerton and now she knew what it would feel like to lose him forever. She felt as though her heart was being torn from her body, leaving her bruised and bloodied on the floor. With every heave of her chest, she felt a piece of her spirit wither away and die. Her naivety, her innocence, her hope, her peace all fracturing from her person and leaving her a trembling husk.
Once it felt like she had no more tears to cry, she rose, unsteady as a newborn deer on her tired legs. She felt completely empty as she packed her bags, bringing more of her disguises than her new wardrobe from this season. She would surely not need ballgowns and day dresses for her new life, whatever it looked like. She would no longer have Rae, of course, so there would be no use for corsets or complicated frocks.
With trembling hands, she lifted the nightgown she had purchased only three days prior to be worn on her wedding night. She remembered bitterly how she had blushed as she thought about their passionate afternoon and how wistfully she had envisioned him taking the beautiful silvery blue garment off of her once they were wed. She let the soft silk slip from between her fingers back into her armoire. She had been a fool. She understood now that there would be no great love in her life, that she was an idiot for believing it could have been possible. She should have never allowed the opportunity of hope; she could have been engaged to Lord Debling and have her freedom. She just had to chase love. Well, she had learned her lesson to be sure, and now she must apply it.
Closing her trunk, she took a deep breath. The time for recriminations was over. She needed to move forward now as a stone, unfeeling and pragmatic. She had enough in her savings to afford modest living, maybe better if she went abroad. She was a competent wordsmith, and even if Lady Whistledown couldn’t continue, maybe she could find work writing under a new nom du plume. She may be unlovable, but she was not stupid. She would survive this and make a life for herself. And, if she was haunted by green eyes for the rest of her life, it was an apt punishment for her crimes against those she loved most.
First, she would write letters to the people in her life, explaining what she had done and why. She would tell her secret, and they would all understand why he could never be with her. She would make sure it was understood that none of this could be laid at Colin’s feet, that she was squarely to blame for the collapse of her life. Mama, of course, Lady Bridgerton deserved an explanation, Colin, and Eloise. The latter two know her secret of course, but she wanted one final opportunity to thank them for having been in her life, having stood in her corner. Having loved her, for however fleeting a time. It was more than she could ever have hoped for and certainly more than she deserved.
Then, she would write her final Whistledown. She thought very hard about what she should say. She had long considered how she might retire, and this had never come up in any of her imaginings.
-_-_-_-_-
Colin paced back and forth in his chamber, thinking back on the events from this morning. His mother had asked if he wanted to join her at the Featheriington residence that morning to work out the details of the wedding. His heart had felt like it jumped into his throat at the mention of their upcoming nuptials. He knew that they couldn’t keep going like this, he didn’t want to hold onto this anger. But, every time he thought of Pen, his Pen, it felt like a dagger into his heart. The thought of her snickering with the modiste over his foolishness. The idea of her sitting in her bedchamber, considering the next turn of phrase to mock him. How could she call him a good writer? How could she make him believe she had faith in him when she was - her.
He hadn’t known how to refuse his mother’s request without drawing further attention to their…their what? Was it a fight? He didn't know anything anymore, so he had agreed to attend.
Seeing Penelope there, so small and made smaller by her avoidance of his gaze, just about broke his heart. He didn’t know how to be angry with her, he had no practice in it. She had always been his kindest friend, always there to support him and talk about his hopes and doubts, he had never even considered what it would feel like to be upset and without her counsel. He couldn’t recall a time he had been angrier at anyone of his acquaintance, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he attempted to figure out what he wanted to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse.
When she asked him if he wanted to cancel the wedding, his vision had gone red. He couldn’t believe that she would suggest such a thing. That she could imagine a world where he didn’t want her. Where his anger was anything other than heart wrenching pain at having had the love of his life lie to him. Given her alter-ego, she was more than aware that he had been thus deceived in the past and he couldn’t help but let some of his resentment color his response to her, his eyes meeting her for the first time. Her blue eyes were somehow bigger than ever in her pale face, shining with unshed tears and red-rimmed with the effort of holding them in.
He knew the second he accused her of entrapment, he had made things significantly worse. He knew, of course, that she had borne no such intent. That he had been the pursuer at every evolution of their relationship. That she was, until he had robbed her of it, an innocent. And yet, he couldn’t help it, taking sick satisfaction in the way her face twisted at the charges leveled against her.
That satisfaction had been short-lived, doused immediately by evident heartbreak in her eyes and the sound of teardrops hitting the floor in front of the woman he loved, the joyless smirk leaving his mouth as his eyes took in her form, curled into herself and trying not to shake as she cried to herself. All of his anger leaked out of him in a moment, leaving him feeling like crying himself. Why had he said that? It was needlessly cruel and he knew it.
She excused herself then, his eyes trailing after her as she just about ran from the room, both mothers’ eyes immediately moving to look at him, narrowed in accusation. He wanted to follow her, but there was no way to do so without flaunting the fact that they had had an improper liaison. So he put on his most charming smile, trying to not think about how accurately Whistle-Pen had him pegged. All surface level charm and smiles, but unable to be a man when the situation required it of him. He assured the mothers that everything was fine, joining in the conversation about what foods would be served at the wedding breakfast with a plastered on smile, all the while his thoughts were filled with large blue pools overflowing with water.
After fielding questions to the best of his ability without revealing anything that was actually happening, Collin had fled himself back to his home and into his chambers, where he now paced.
Penelope, beautiful, funny, witty, Penelope. He could not understand how the same sweet girl who had kept him company on his travels, who had encouraged him to chase dreams he never even knew he had was the same person as the crone who he had despised for years. He thought back to her letters, the clever turns of phrase, the astute observations about the places he wrote of, and…the barbs at the expense of members of the ton. As he paced, his brows began to knit together in deep thought.
Had she always tried to show him this side of herself? Had he simply been too self-absorbed to notice that she had not concealed her alter-ego at all? That she had trusted him with her secret self for years? Now that he was considering it, he remembered countless nights spent at balls, giggling together over some cleverly worded barb.
Pausing at his desk, he opened up a drawer that held a stack of letters, held neatly together with a yellow ribbon. Pulling them out, Colin ran a furtive thumb over his bottom lip. It was time he and Lady Whistledown became better acquainted, and he would look for her in the words that had brought him joy and comfort and love.
He nodded to himself at that last thought. Seeing Penelope, his Pen, so overcome with grief because of him had snapped him out of his anger. Rereading her letters and trying to understand her would be his first step back to the woman he loved. He would repair this, and in two days, when they stood together before their loved ones and the ton, they would be bound as one with love and a promise of forever, without secrets or animosity hanging over them.