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1802, Summer holiday - Eloise 6, Francesca 5, Penelope 6, Anthony 17
Anthony slammed his father’s copy of Doctor Faustus down on the end table beside him. It was his father’s favorite play, in fact Edmund Bridgerton often spoke about how Marlowe’s works were much superior to that of William Shakespeare. Anthony, in truth, hated both. But his father had recommended Faustus to him over the break from Eton and Anthony… well, he simply could not say no to his father. He never could.
“No, I quite think the dolls must attend university,” Eloise’s voice chimed in from the other side of the drawing room.
“But girls cannot go to university,” Francesca’s little voice argued.
“They are dolls ,” Eloise cut back with annoyance in her voice. “We say where they can and cannot go.”
Anthony chuckled to himself and turned in the chair to take in the scene. Eloise and Franny were crouched under the tea table, having set it up as a sort of doll house, each with a porcelain doll. Anthony frowned when he noticed Miss Penelope, the young miss from across the square, sitting on her own on the floor a few feet away, her doll carelessly strewn on the carpet beside her.
“Well, fine, but Susanna will only attend for one year until she meets her husband,” Franny rebuked Eloise. With a chuckle, Anthony bounced up from his seat to approach the girls. At the bored look on Penelope’s face, he decided to crouch before her as an annoying lock of curly hair fell into his eyes.
With a frustrated flick of his wrist, he shoved the hair from his face, and affected a smile for the little red-headed miss. “Miss Penelope, is everything quite well?”
“Oh, Mr. Bridgerton,” she squeaked, a flush burning her cheeks. “I am not much of an admirer of dolls.”
“Neither am I,” he commiserated, sitting more fully on the carpet and crossing his legs. “And did my rapacious sisters ask what you wished to play?”
With a giggle, Penelope shook her head. “We compromised, jacks first — my idea, then dolls—Franny and next we look at Eloise’s new picture book.”
“Ah, so you are a fan of jacks, then?” Anthony asked, face breaking out into a grin, Christopher Marlow long forgotten.
“Oh, very much so!”
“Well, shall we play while they settle their dolls’ dowries?” Anthony asked her, reaching up onto a nearby tea table for the leather bag full of marbles and jacks.
Anthony realized very quickly that Miss Penelope was a deft hand at the game. He sat back with exactly two jacks—of which he had fought hard for—whereas Pen had a proud hoard of the rest of the set, minus the one left in the ring.
Bored with dolls, Eloise and Francesca joined the jacks players for the last round—even though it was clearly already won by the clever red-headed lass.
“Anthony never plays jacks with us,” Eloise grumbled to Fran as Anthony set up his last shot.
—
1804, Christmas holiday - Eloise 8, Francesca 7, Colin 12, Penelope 8, Anthony 20
Their mother was in her room again. Anthony wasn’t sure he could blame her— some part of him wanted to retreat back to his rooms at All Souls and drown in a bottle of brandy. But his dearest wish… well, that was entirely different. His dearest wish, if he could not have his father back, was to have a Christmas that was even a pale shadow of their jolly celebrations of the past.
He’d decided this when trying to cheer Franny up after a particularly difficult day, telling her of their father’s Christmas skits that he would often rope the children into. Fran had confessed to having no memory of those jolly times and the honest admission had broken something inside of him.
Anthony had realized that this responsibility, of giving happy Christmas memories to the younger children, would fall to him.
Their last Christmas had been… dark. Daphne had spent much of it crying. Colin had hidden in his room. Benedict had spent all of his energy on Eloise and Francesca, acting as if nothing had changed. Anthony had drank too much in his grief.
It was no matter. This year would be different. Anthony had decided.
“Anthony.” Colin was standing at his side. Anthony had been so distracted by his thoughts he hadn’t heard his brother enter his study. “Do you know when Penelope will be over? I have walloped Daph and El at mancala. She’s the only one that’s any good.”
With a laugh, Anthony shook his head. “I do not know but I will speak with the girl’s nurse.”
Mancala was their new game, gifted to the children by Anthony that Christmas, so it could perhaps become a new holiday tradition.
—
With a glass of mulled wine in his hand, Anthony stood before the fire and smiled softly watching the children play together in front of their Christmas tree. He’d rallied the younger ones to help him decorate it this year, with popcorn garlands and hand-made ornaments. It had been an entirely messy day that sent their nurse into a tizzy, but it had been worth it.
Once the excitement ended, Eloise had begged to invite her friend Penelope over. Now the pair of them, plus Francesca, and Colin, were crouched over the new mancala board.
Penelope watched as Colin played with Franny, her gaze jumping from the board to Colin’s face and back. Every time Colin met her eyes or asked her opinion, a great blush overtook her cheeks.
After a time, Anthony thought it quite possible that young Miss Penelope might be sweet on his brother. He took much amusement in the fact that Colin had absolutely no idea.
—
1808, Spring, Penelope 12, Anthony 24
Someone was crying in the gardens.
Anthony was there trying to locate his mother— he didn’t spend much time in the gardens anymore, save for the occasional social event or fencing practice with his brothers.
But it was peculiar, it sounded like a young girl was weeping. Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne were at the park with their governess. As Anthony followed the sound, he thought perhaps it was a young maid. Then he saw a shock of red and knew immediately who it was.
“Penelope?” he called softly as he rounded a hedge and found her on a stone bench.
The poor distraught girl stood immediately and wiped away her tears. “Lord Bridgerton, I am so sorry, I must—“
“Please hush,” he said softly, motioning for her to sit. “And please, call me Anthony. We are practically family.”
“Okay… Anthony,” she said softly as she plopped back down onto the bench.
“Now, tell me what is bothering you,” he said, wincing when he heard how brusque he sounded to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “Erm, perhaps I can help,” he added more softly.
Penelope told him of how her sisters had teased her that day, telling her how she would never find a husband at her size.
“I snuck away to see Eloise,” Penelope added softly, looking at the ground as she scraped at the stone pathway with her slipper.
“And unfortunately you are stuck with me,” Anthony responded with a kind smile. “But I must say, Penelope, your sisters are quite blind.”
Penelope looked at Anthony, her eyebrows knit together, her mouth open as if she was going to say something, but no words came out.
“You are beautiful,” Anthony told her with a smile, bumping her with his shoulder. “You are funny and charming and brilliant. And one day you will find someone that can see that. Someone that will be very fortunate to know you and have you in their life. Someone that will make you very happy.”
Miss Penelope’s pale cheeks grew a bright pink color and Anthony held back a laugh, knowing it would be misinterpreted. “That is so kind of you to say,” she said meekly, looking back toward the ground. “It is difficult to be happy sometimes with … with my family.”
“Hmm,” Anthony responded, seeing her point. “You have Eloise, and she is a good friend I hope.”
“Oh, she is the best!” Penelope cut back happily.
“And what else do you like to do? What brings you joy?”
The little Miss looked up toward the blue sky and contemplated the question. “I do so like to write letters.”
“As do I,” Anthony told her, smiling down at her. “Have you ever considered writing something else? A poem or a story?”
“I hadn’t considered it, outside of my lessons.”
“Well, if you ever do decide to write something else, I would love to read it.”
—
1813
I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife and she has accepted.
Colin was a fool.
After everything Anthony had done, securing their fortune, their family, the estates, Daphne’s marriage, Colin went and did this. Anthony hadn’t had the time to look into Miss Marina Thompson, but he knew she did not come with a dowry, which normally did not bode well for a young lady’s circumstances or her aims for the future.
Not to mention the far away look in the young miss’s eye, one Anthony knew all too well.
And then just a few feet from the garden path, Anthony heard a sniffle and a shuffle of feet. He looked at the partygoers for a moment to see if any others had noticed, and then stepped over the low rose bush row and faded into the small copse of trees.
In a pink dress that looked like a confectionary and her hair done up in high curls, Miss Penelope Featherington hid behind a tree with a handkerchief in her hand. Of course, he thought to himself, he’d known she had held a tendresse for Colin since childhood. Anthony smiled for a second at the memory of Penelope trouncing Colin at jacks, but then schooled his features before he approached her.
The sad fact was that Miss Penelope would be a much more formidable prospect for Colin than the mysterious Miss Thompson. Anthony did not need to know Miss Thompson further to be certain of this—the new young miss was clearly a taker and Miss Penelope was a giver.
“Penelope,” Anthony said softly, as he approached her with slow steps, his arms out as if he was approaching a harmed animal.
“Lord Bridgerton,” Penelope responded with some surprise. “I—I lost something and was just…”
“ Anthony , please, I thought we agreed,” he told her gently, conjuring a soft, kind smile. “And Colin is a fool and he is still quite young.”
“He is a few years my senior.” Penelope was still sniffling but the tears seemed to have stopped.
“Perhaps in years,” Anthony explained, “but not in here,” he added, putting his hand over his heart.
Seeming to understand, Penelope’s attention turned to the party in the park, still partially visible through the leaves of the trees and shrubs.
“Please allow me to escort you home.” Anthony took a step forward and offered her his arm. “It would be a great honor.”
With a nod and a bracing breath, Penelope took Anthony’s arm and allowed him to lead her to the street toward her home on the square.
“Lor— Anthony, have you ever been in love?” she asked looking up to meet his eyes.
Her question was so earnest and her blue eyes so pleading, Anthony did not think he had it in him to lie or skirt around the question. “I think perhaps I have, but the truth is I’ve never been sure.”
“Oh,” Penelope responded with a sad smile. “When it is love, true love, you will be sure. Very sure.”
Anthony envied Penelope in that moment for her sad assurance.
—
August 1814
Dear Penelope,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I was sad to learn of your falling out with Eloise. I was aggrieved to hear of it as I had hoped to invite you to my wedding to Miss Sharma, now Lady Bridgerton.
I feel I must apologize for acceding to my sister’s wishes in not having you present at the nuptials. I have always thought of you as a part of our family and it was not right that you were not in attendance. In fact, I have long since thought of you as a sister and have wished to protect you as such.
I suppose my marriage has helped me open my heart and say such sentimental things. Please know that if you should ever need a brother in any way, you must not hesitate to call on me.
My wife and I are departing for our honeymoon in a matter of days and will not return to English shores for several months. However, upon our return to London, we do plan to call on you. I have spoken to Kate about your love of books, cleverness, and witty sense of humor, and she expressed an interest in becoming friends.
Lastly, last year, you spoke to me of true love. I thought your dedication to love was perhaps a result of a youthful imagination, but now I realize you were quite right. You have my thanks for your candor. Truly.
Your servant,
Anthony Bridgerton
—
April 1815
Balls had ceased to feel so incessant. Anthony stood at the edge of the conservatory dance floor and thought about how different that evening was to the same one the year before. Kate stood next to him, her warm arm wrapped around his. She was dressed in a glittering gown that shimmered in the candlelight. Earlier in the evening, when she’d come down the stairs wearing it, Anthony’s tongue had suddenly felt too big for his mouth. Colin had elbowed him in the ribs and told him his mouth was hanging open.
“This is a little strange,” Kate whispered, her lips pursed in a fixed smile but her upturned eyes betraying her amusement. “Do you remember the garden?”
Anthony cleared his throat, feeling like some force was suddenly dragging him back there. “If I recall correctly, you said my smile was pleasing.”
Chuckling next to him, Kate gripped his arm a little tighter. “I seem to recall a bit more than that was said.”
“I was too distracted by you to hear any of it,” Anthony admitted, his voice thick. When he turned his attention from the dancers twirling before them and met Kate’s eyes, he let out a soft involuntary gasp. Something tightened in his gut. He’d had the same reaction that evening a year prior and he wondered if it would always be like this.
“Well, I… “ Kate began, but her words trailed off when they both noticed Colin speaking with Penelope Featherington several feet away on the edge of the dancefloor.
Anthony clenched his jaw when he observed his brother bow his head at Miss Penelope and march over to Cressida Cowper, to lead her to the floor for the next set. The crestfallen look at Penelope’s face sent a sharp pain through Anthony’s gut.
“Excuse me, my darling, I believe I am needed elsewhere,” Anthony said softly to Kate, bending his head down to kiss her hand. She smiled at him as he walked past, trailing an encouraging hand softly down his arm.
“Miss Penelope,” Anthony said with a smile, bowing deeply before the young miss. “I seem to be without a partner for the quadrille, would you do me the honor?” he asked, holding his hand out.
With a sad smile, Penelope accepted and took his hand.
“My brother is a fool,” Anthony whispered to her, squeezing her hand as he led her to the floor.
—
August 1815
It appeared that young Colin did have at least a little bit of sense.
Anthony sat back in his desk chair, legs splayed out and crossed under the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. He had a small smug smile on his face, and he knew that it irked his little brother, but he didn’t quite care.
“So, I have asked her to marry me,” Colin said, standing in front of the desk in their father’s old study, his hands on his hips.
“I assume she said yes?” Anthony asked, his eyebrow quirked.
Colin shook his head and sighed. “Of course, she said yes. I would not be here if she did not say yes.”
“And do I need to pay a visit to the archbishop?” Anthony asked, wondering if this wedding would have the flavor of the last two— three. The Archbishop of Canterbury was likely on his last nerve with the Bridgerton clan.
“There is no need,” Colin said with a laugh, raising his eyes at his brother, as if to silently say that Anthony was no shining example in that regard.
“Alright, well, congratulations. Mother will be pleased.”
Nodding, Colin’s smile grew and Anthony could see that this was no marriage of convenience. It was a relief.
“And Colin there is one more thing.” Anthony stood from his seat, resting his hands on his hips over the hem of his waistcoat. Colin paused on his way to the door, his eyebrows raised.
“If you bring any harm to Penelope Featherington, I will make sure you regret it.”
With a look of consternation on his face, Colin peered back at his brother with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I believe you heard what I said,” Anthony shot back, his features sober, his eyes steely and serious.
“First of all, I would never hurt Penelope. Secondly, you are my brother, or have you forgotten?”
Putting his hands down by his sides, Anthony approached his brother. “I have watched her, since she was in leading strings trouncing you at jacks. I have known Penelope was in love with you since she was eight and I refuse to believe that you did not have any inkling of this.”
Almost nose to nose with Colin, Anthony locked his arms behind his back. “I care for her like a sister, and I would prefer to see her happy. So yes, you are my brother, and I care for your happiness as well, but not at the price of Penelope’s. So I say again, if you hurt her in any way, I will make sure you regret it.”
Anthony could see Colin biting the inside of his cheek. After a few seconds, he nodded his head with a sharp jolt. “Understood,” he said before walking away.
—
Standing at the window in his study, Anthony watched as Kate and Daphne played with Augie on a picnic blanket outside, amidst the late summer blooms in the garden. They’d return to Aubrey Hall in a week to anxiously await the birth of their first child. It was strange, how one year could make all the difference.
“Anthony,” came Penelope’s soft voice from the study entrance. Anthony turned to her with a grin.
“I have spoken to Colin,” Anthony told her, his voice warm and happy. “I hear best wishes are in order.”
Penelope grinned back and nodded, stepping further into the room. “Colin does not yet realize he is in love with me, but he will figure it out soon enough.”
With a laugh, Anthony fell back into the sofa and patted the seat beside him.
“I have a request, and some news.” Penelope explained as she sat, straightening her skirts over her lap.
“Is the news good or bad?” Anthony asked.
“Well, I suppose that is up for interpretation,” Penelope explained, a slight flush suffusing her cheeks.
“Then perhaps we should start with the request.”
“Of course,” she said, her smile blossoming into a grin. “Will you do me the honor of walking me down the aisle at my wedding?”
Anthony’s mouth fell open and a surprised gasp escaped. “It would..” he began, but had to pause to clear his throat. “It would be my honor.”
“Good,” Penelope said happily before taking a deep breath, her smile faltering a moment later. She clasped her hands on her lap and looked around the room. With an uncomfortable smile, she hopped up and walked toward the desk before turning to face Anthony again.
“Is everything alright?” Anthony asked, eyebrows knitting in concern. “Are you ill?”
“No, I am quite healthy!” she responded with an uncomfortable laugh. “I have a secret. It is the cause of my falling out with Eloise. Colin knows now and it is a matter of time before… Lord Bridg— Anthony, you are as much as family to me and I respect you a great deal. It would not be right to continue like this, without your knowing.”
Penelope was babbling. Anthony supposed it was potentially a big secret, something that would bring scandal. He was no stranger to those and tried not to let it unnerve him before he actually knew to what she spoke of.
“Well, here goes nothing.” Penelope took a deep breath. “I am Lady Whistledown.”
Lady Whistledown, the gossip writer.
Penelope was Whistledown.
Penelope Featherington was Lady Whistledown.
Anthony blinked back at her, his mouth hanging open. It made sense . The way she stood at the edge of balls and soirées, how clever she was, her skill with the pen. It was rich, really, with the way the ton had always treated her. She had profited off of their inability to desist from taking joy in the suffering of others. Of course it was Penelope!
And then all of a sudden Anthony was laughing . Penelope stared at him with a nervous look in her eye, her mouth slightly open. Anthony couldn’t stop, his gut tightened and he felt tears start to form at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said between chuckles, wiping the tears away. He took a deep breath and tried to gather himself. One last chuckle escaped before he was finally able to calm himself.
“I know what you will say,” Penelope added, fidgeting with her hands, the same stunned look on her face. “I know I made a grievous mistake last year with Eloise. There was a problem and I thought I alone could fix it. It’s… it’s happened before. I have much to make amends for.”
With a sigh, Anthony nodded. Through mere luck alone his family had escaped the ruinous scandal and had been welcomed back into the fold for the next season. Colin’s failed engagement to Miss Marina Thompson also finally made sense. Anthony hadn’t actually read the rag, at least not often, but a few other incidents came to mind.
“I suppose,” Anthony said as he stood, pulling his waistcoat down. “I suppose I am quite proud.”
“Oh,” Penelope squeaked, her mouth in the shape of an ‘o’.
“However, I wish to speak to you about what you called my wife.”