#*spongebob vc* soooooooo lonnggggggggggg

[nomdepen]

"That's understandable." She agrees with a curt nod. Pen knew she had certainly cried enough in the past few weeks for a lifetime. Hiding her anguish from her mother had been harder than she'd anticipated. She had fully expected her mother and sisters to be too caught up in their own lives to care about their poor little Penelope wasting away in her room. But when her mama had knocked on the door and seen her reddened eyes, there was only so much she could lie about.

She hadn't told Portia about Ben. How could she? After the way her mother had reacted to finding out about her girlish crush on Colin, Pen was afraid what sort of pessimism the woman might bestow upon her youngest. Pen didn't need to be called foolish and irrational, not when she knew it so well already. Besides, Penelope wasn't entirely sure how she'd react if anyone, let alone her mother, were to bad mouth Ben in front of her. Her heart was still raw and, like a wounded animal, she didn't know how much she'd tolerate before she bit back.

"What are you saying?" She watches him intently, brows furrowed as he spoke. How couldn't he trust himself? To be friends with her? Or to not love her? A million questions come to mind, but she swallows them and listens. His concerns were valid, as much as Pen wanted to believe otherwise. Being friends would prove challenging for her, as well, but she was willing to bear the burden if it meant keeping him in her life. In time, she told herself, her heart would mend and the scar tissue would strengthen her resolve. But she couldn't expect Benjamin to be as dramatic.

"If it's any consolation, doing what one should do never made for a good story." A playful albeit wistful smile adorns her lips. If anything, she longed to return to the lighthearted sort of banter she'd found so enjoyable with him. Their intellectual volleys back and forth were something she missed dearly and finding such chemistry with another was impossible. She would do anything to have that part of their relationship back, even if it meant throwing out all possibilities of romance.

She's about to ask if he could spare her some time during the week, if he would offer her the luxury of one more afternoon with him, but Caleb's whistling breaks the spell and she's left speechless again. As sullen as she felt, Pen didn't wish to spread the misery, so she tries her best to smile.

"I had already offered to introduce him to any lady he'd like," The corners of her mouth twitch as she slips back into the ladylike façade, the mask of being nothing but a friend. "I suppose I could extent the offer to you as well, Mister Brewster. Though, I would highly caution you to steer clear of any ladies named Cowper."

"Pardon? O-oh, no, no, that's alright! I wouldn't want to delay your adventures any longer." She shook her head, waving the suggestion away with her hands. As grateful as she would be to have company on her walk back to the carriage, Pen knew it was for the best if she returned alone. Being able to explain Ben's presence would be easy enough, but explaining away Caleb's as well would prove a bigger challenge than she was willing to commit to. Plus, whatever tears may spill when the carriage door clicked shut were better kept to herself.

"Rae is waiting for me, anyway." Pen directs the comment to Ben before turning back to Caleb. "It was lovely to meet you, Mister Brewster. And a pleasure to see you, as always, Mister Tallmadge." She spoke with increasing haste as she slowly backed away towards the door, a futile attempt at hospitality. But as she shuffled backwards, her slipper caught on something and it caused her to stumble. It wasn't enough to send her falling to the floor, thankfully, but it was more than enough to bruise her ego and color her cheeks a bright red. In her embarrassment, she hurried out the door as swiftly as possible, but not before muttering a quick farewell. "I-I do hope you gentlemen enjoy your outing. I'll be off now. G-Goodbye."

Although The Sorrows of Young Werther assuredly was a novel Benjamin would enjoy, given the present circumstances, all he could think of was his own sorrow and his own heartache.

With a feeble smile, he ducked his head and nodded. "I think I might," he agreed, "but perhaps I'll wait to read such a novel. I feel...I-I believe I've had quite enough anguish and tears for the time being."

A look of pain blitzed across Penelope's eyes, crackling akin to a lightning strike. “I admit I’ve been less than fine." The words were soft, but held the effect of a yell.

Benjamin swallowed. "I...confess to the same," he whispered. A lump grew in his throat, and as he listened to Penelope speak in a similar soft, mournful tone, the tight sensation worsened. He was so sorry...sorry that he couldn't entirely believe her, sorry that he couldn't hold her and make that pitiful yearning in her eyes vanish.

Even now, he could still recall the pained way she'd whispered I love you into the dark -- and, more disconcerting still, how something in Benjamin's soul had whispered it right back.

Another beat passed, and steeling his shoulders, Benjamin shook his head. "I don't know what to say," he admitted. "Truly, Pen, I'm at a loss. I do want to trust you, and I do want to be friends -- but what if it's myself I cannot trust?" With a feeble laugh, he looked away again. "What I want and what I should do no longer coincide, so how can I possibly navigate a friendship if my heart is continuously steering off-course?"

It hurt him to say such things. Of course he wanted to remain friends, and of course he wanted to keep accompanying her to the library, but was it proper and wise? No. He knew that much.

Penelope gently touched his arm and Benjamin jerked, exhaling as they locked eyes. Chin trembling, he offered a feeble nod. "You broke my heart, not my spirit," he softly reassured. "And even then, I...I know it wasn't intentional. You have nothing to apologize for." Glancing in between her face and the wall, he murmured, "I want you to go, and yet I don't -- do with that as you will."

In the back room, a bunch of noise started up, followed by a jarring whistle. Caleb seemed to be intentionally warning them of his return before he, himself, appeared in the entryway.

"You kids done yet?" he teased. "If Ms. Featherington really doesn't wanna accompany us, I say we should head on out, Ben." He looked to Penelope with a wink. "Unless you know any pretty, eligible young ladies for 'im, this seems like my best chance to get Tallboy to stop mopin'. There's no greater cure than a lass, y'know?"

Benjamin winced, but nodded. "Yes. We should go," he agreed. Turning toward Penelope, he offered a stilted bow. "It's been a pleasure seeing you again. I'm so glad you stopped by." A distinct sorrow bled into his eyes, and though he wished to touch her, he refrained from taking her hands -- from cupping her face, from kissing her -- and instead, grabbed his coat from off the rack and made a show of slipping it on.

Caleb gleefully clapped his hands. "Now we're talkin'! Don't worry, Ms. Featherington: we'll walk ya back to your carriage."