#Penelope ‘the credit’ featherington would never

[your-mums-nuts]

Colin going from “your daughter did not entrap me, I proposed to her out of love, nothing else.”

To

“Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment."

Fuck you bridgerton season 3 part 2 all my homies hate bridgerton season 3 part 2

[maximoff-pan]

the ultimate deception | benedict bridgerton (part one)

summary: you are a well known artist who paints under a pseudonym. What happens when Lady Whistledown comes to know of your identity? How will your relationship with Benedict evolve?

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!(artist)reader

word count: 4k

warning(s): poor writing and dialogue (sue me, I'm rusty lol), very unedited so if there are mistakes, I apologize, misogyny, penelope aka Lady Whistledown's biggest defender

a/n: this is definitely going to be more than one part, but I wanted to post something after so many months. Let me know how you like it (or don't like it haha)...comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

• • • • • •

“I wish I possessed merely an ounce of your talent.” 

Benedict’s gaze seems to be wholly absorbing your latest painting, a depiction of the botanical wonders of London’s Royal Kew Gardens. 

You puff out a breath, blowing on the feathery end of one of your writing quills. In your haste, it had gotten loose, tickling your face irritatingly. Tucking it back behind your ear, you wave him off. “You have much more talent than you give yourself credit for.” You admit through squinted eyes, scanning your work. “You simply lack conviction. And you worry far too much about what others think of you.”

Benedict smiles, receiving your words as the highest of praise. He reaches out to take a better look at the piece of art before him. “You flatter me.” He mumbles in awe. “But I suppose there’s a chance you could be right.”

Chuckling at his words, you grin knowingly. You’re right. It’s more than a chance…you just are. He knows it too. 

You both continue to steadily eye the painting, you out of critical evaluation of your work, and him in sheer admiration of it. 

Benedict’s favourite part remains the beautifully bloomed magnolias that are scattered across the canvas. He’d been sure to tell you numerous times of their elegance while you’d been working on it, eagerly awaiting the finished product. As you’ve come to realize, Benedict loves watching you work. It’s one of the prices you’ve had to pay for his allowance of your workstation being at Bridgerton House, if you could even call it that.  

You are grateful, truly. You wouldn’t be able to make your own living without his kindness. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to keep to yourself in the way you prefer to. 

“When will Augustus Leighton be displaying his latest work of perfection?” Benedict’s question reminds you of your fate as an artist. 

Augustus Leighton is the pseudonym you paint under. Using his name, you have become a well known artist among the ton, even going so far as to have a painting hung at Buckingham Palace. It’s difficult, you must admit, pretending to be someone else. But it’s a necessary evil.

Painting as a woman would get you nowhere. Especially as a woman with no money (particularly at the time you began), no status, and no husband. 

Your mother is a seamstress with little to her name and your father was a servant to Violet and Edmund Bridgerton, before his heart became too weak. He passed away when you were thirteen, only a few years after the Bridgerton children had lost their own father. You’d grown up with little money, but Violet had been kind to both you and your mother, seeing how close you’d become with her children. 

You were raised alongside them, Benedict and Eloise becoming your closest of friends. At three and twenty, there are five years between you and the two siblings in either direction, with Eloise being freshly eighteen, and Benedict having turned twenty eight. To this day, they remain two of only three people who know of your true identity, outside of Penelope Featherington. 

You hadn’t exactly meant for Eloise or Penelope to find out about it, but once they had, it became comforting to have more than just Benedict to speak to about your predicament. Especially considering, although Benedict has been wonderfully supportive, he could never understand the struggle a woman must endure in a male dominated world.  

“Likely never. This one is a gift for Lady Danbury.” You answer Benedict’s inquiry after a bout of silence. “She’s spoken about her love of these gardens quite regularly, so I thought, why not have Mr. Leighton recreate it for her?” 

“How will you get it to her?” He questions. 

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “I have my ways, lest you worry about it.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The next few days are interesting to say the least. You’d somehow managed to get the painting delivered to Lady Danbury, and as far as Violet had been willing to speak of her latest visit with the formidable aforementioned woman, you have been made aware that she adores it. 

You’d also heard more about it from Benedict, who’d mentioned something about her being at a loss for words, an ultimate shock to both him and his mother. They’d never seen her look so bewildered. 

According to Eloise, Lady Danbury had been surprised to receive such a gift, especially of something so near and dear to her heart. She’d said it reminded her of her time with the Queen, telling the young Bridgerton woman about the months just after her husband had passed, when a new independent lifestyle began to bloom for her. 

The painting itself reminded her that women like her could be free, and one day, they would be. That sort of metaphorical mindset had definitely appealed to Eloise’s sense of social justice. She’d been more than excited to tell you about the older woman’s reaction to your art, claiming it to be a wonderful revelation. 

Today though, as you sit in the Bridgerton’s common living room, the opposite representation of said female autonomy rests in your hands. The paper feels rough against your skin as you pass it to Eloise who’s propped excitedly to the left of you. You’ve never been a fan of Lady Whistledown’s gossip column, although you can admire her unabashed confidence. But despite her strong will as an author, which could be seen as an inherently empowering trait, you are of the impression that she goes about it in an entirely backward way. 

Women don’t need to put each other down to build themselves up. It accomplishes nothing, consequently acting as a source of nourishment for the patriarchy you find yourself trapped in. 

“You’re not going to read it?” Eloise asks as she takes the pamphlet from you. 

“I never do.” Is your instant reply. 

Penelope perks up at the mention of the column, eyes trained curiously on you. If you had known better, you’d say she was a little too interested. 

But at this moment you shrug it off, listening with no suspicion as she asks a simple, “Why?”

You don’t have the hindsight to understand why your stomach turns at her question, but you respond anyway. “I tend to think of Lady Whistledown as a poison.” It’s the first time you’ve voiced such an opinion. 

Penelope and Eloise turn to you in surprise. “Come again?” Penelope’s soft voice cuts through. 

“She is a poison.” You repeat before explaining yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I hold admiration for her bravado, but her words, the things she writes, they cause nothing but pain and conflict for those she chooses to sink her teeth into.”

“But she’s an independent woman.” Eloise interjects. “One who is doing more than any of us could dream of. She is making a name for herself!”

You try to think about your next words carefully, but your mouth makes quick work of a reply. “A name which she hides behind, casting stones through the guise and safety of anonymity.” 

Penelope lets out a scoff from beside you. She’s always been one to defend the infamous gossip columnist. “At least she does not hide herself behind the mask of a man.” That feels like a shot. “The people know full well of her gender, despite her true identity remaining a secret.”

You hear the implication on her tongue. The same cannot be said for you. 

And she’s not wrong. You do hide yourself behind the mask of a man. You’d never once denied that.

You sigh. “I know you must think of me as a hypocrite.” 

Eloise agrees hesitantly. “Only a little.” She admits. “It’s just that you do the same as Mr. Leighton.”

You soften at her honesty. Truthfully, you understand where she’s coming from, but you can’t help the urge you feel to defend yourself.

“I disguise myself as Augutus because I know that no artist or art critic alike will take me seriously as I am. I want to share my work with the world, that is simply all I want. It’s all I have ever wanted.”

“Does that not make you a coward?” Penelope inquires, although it feels less like a question and more like an opinion. This is what she believes. And she's entitled to that. 

“Perhaps.” You nod in acknowledgment. “But it has also made me uniquely successful. And I take great pride knowing that my work is highly regarded, in spite of the fact that I have to be someone else to succeed.” 

“Does that ever bother you?” Eloise persists. “Knowing that no one will know you for the work you have done?”

Before you can respond, Penelope chimes in with a query of her own. “Does it ever make you feel guilty, lying as you do?” This feels like a challenge. 

You turn to Eloise, answering her first. “No, I feel quite unbothered. I like the privacy it provides me.” Your gaze flicks between the two girls, a fire in your eyes as you speak. 

You answer Penelope’s question next. “Guilt is one of the last feelings to cross my mind.” You feel content with it. “Because of Augustus, I have my own money, my own independence. I do not need a man to survive or to be happy. I have choices. And that's a facet of my life I never dreamed could have existed. If there is anything more empowering for a woman than that, I cannot think of it.”

Eloise listens to your words carefully, absorbing them, reveling in them. She hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. Independence is a sign of true equality. And you have that. Not because of the name you hide behind, but because you’d used the insecurities of men to your advantage. You’d played the game and won. 

“I suppose I have been quite short sighted.” There’s much less arrogance in her tone. Eloise sounds humbled. “You’ve given me a new perspective to think about.”

Penelope does not enjoy the direction this conversation has headed. “Surely you cannot think yourself above someone such as Lady Whistledown.”

Your face scrunches in thought. “Above?” You stipulate. “I do not think myself above anyone, gender aside. But I do think I have a much higher sense of self respect than she does.”

“And how could that possibly be?” Penelope has to bite her tongue. She wants to say more, defend herself more. But she cannot. 

Eloise cuts in. “Lady Whistledown has the utmost confidence in herself. I dare say more than all the women in London combined. As much as I have come to see your side, I cannot agree with that.”

“One’s high level of confidence is of little concern here.” You deliver. “Often, in matters regarding the human condition, such as these, it can act as a detriment.” Your eyes narrow as you speak. “Self respect and self confidence can coincide, but they are not the same.”

Eloise laughs out of confusion. She’s not used to being this clueless. “I don’t understand.” She says.

“Ah,” you decide to stop tiptoeing around the subject. “I merely think that no self-respecting woman would use the pain and suffering of other women, or any other person for that matter, for their own profit and entertainment.” 

Eloise’s smile drops. “Oh.” Again, she hadn’t thought of it that way. But what resonates with her most is that you’re not wrong. 

“Is that what you truly think of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope’s voice is calm and collected for the first time this afternoon. It almost scares you. 

“Yes.” You say, before voicing, “However, I mean no offense to either of you. I know how much you girls adore her column. I just want more for you than what she does. A life of gossip is dangerous, and you deserve so much more.”

If you had known you’d been talking to Lady Whistledown herself, maybe you would have kept those opinions to yourself. But little did you know how much your life was about to change, how dangerously you’d walked the line, and how much vengeance rests in Penelope Featherington’s soul.

Future note to self, do not play with fire if one does not wish to get burnt.  

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

“(Y/n), I think you need to see this.” Benedict holds up the newest edition of London’s famous gossip column. 

Your heart sinks at the look in his eyes. I’m sorry they seem to say. 

You haven’t even read it and you already know it’s bad. Handing it to you, Benedict looks hesitant, almost in preparation of what's to come. As you take it from him, you glance down at the ink on the paper, her handwriting etched in your brain. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to read:

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has come to this author’s attention that a certain individual is playing an unforgivable game of deception within the world of classical art that this ton so highly regards. This artisan has gone to great lengths to keep their true identity from you, painting under a well recognized pseudonym. 

By now you may have guessed, this artist is a woman. One who has tricked you and lied to you by passing her work off as that of a man’s. What a horrid crime it is to keep such a secret from you, and a desperate one, I must admit. A woman so foul as to seek such attention for her art, far too greedy to be content with the life so many of the wonderful women of the ton lead. Instead, she parades around disguising herself so she can live a life she feels entitled to. 

This author asks you to consider the arrogance of it all. But the question remains, as I am sure you are desperate to uncover: who is the serpent who remains among us?

And so it is with great sorrow that I announce the once beloved Augustus Leighton is a fraud. A man never seen in the public setting, has given us a reason why. He is a woman.

And her name, ladies and gentleman of London, is (Y/n) (L/n). 

As I am sure you, gentle reader, are shocked at this revelation, I will take a moment to address the woman this particular entry concerns.

May I remind you Miss (L/n), I have ears and eyes everywhere. Or did you forget? It would do you a world of good to remember that the next time you think about besmirching me. And, as I write this, I must say, this warning goes for all. Heed it, live by it, breathe by it. I am not a woman you want to cross. 

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

Panic crawls through your body. You want to cry, scream, maybe even simply die from the anxiety you’re feeling. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Your voice cracks, it sounds like glass breaking. Shattered, ragged, and tired, and Benedict can do nothing but hold you. 

Again, as your body shakes and caves into the pressure you think, what am I going to do?

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The moment Eloise enters the room with Anthony at her side, your mind is sent ablaze. Only three people had known about Augustus. Only three people could have possibly let it slip, and you know for a fact it wasn’t Benedict.

As much as you want to believe Eloise would never do something like that to you, you can’t help but feel like she might have offhandedly mentioned it to someone. Her mouth had always worked much faster than her brain.  

Benedict’s gaze meets yours in understanding. He hopes his sister hasn’t done this; he’ll be furious if she has. 

You’re about to say something when a certain eldest Bridgerton catches you off guard. Anthony smiles when he sees you, eyes twinkling uncharacteristically so. 

“I had no idea you could paint like that.” He says. “I must admit, I’m quite proud of you.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. Proud? In all the years you’ve known Anthony, he’s never told you he’s proud of you. 

“So you’ve read the column then?” Your head hangs in shame. Everyone in London has probably read it by now. 

“Everyone has.” Eloise pipes in timidly, confirming your suspicions. 

She’s nervous, understandably so, fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. You assume when you finally catch her gaze that she’ll avert it quickly, but instead, she holds it well. 

We need to talk. 

Benedict, reading the room perfectly, coughs in apprehension. “Brother, how about we let these ladies be for a moment? I’m certain they have some things to discuss.”

“Of course.” Anthony nods with a smile, not before reminding you how proud he is of you.

If anything good can come of this, it might just be that. 

Once alone, Eloise is eager to assure you of her innocence. “I spoke to no one.” She promises. “Blood be forgotten, you’re my sister (Y/n). I would never betray you like that.”

The look on her face is one of pure panic; she needs you to believe her. And despite everything, you do. It almost makes you feel guilty that you questioned her. 

“It’s alright.” You assure her. “I know you wouldn’t.”

But that only leaves one person…

“I think Penelope is Lady Whistledown.” You're taken aback by Eloise’s words, like a stab to the chest. Twisting the knife in further, she corrects, “I know she is.”

Moments of silence pass before you can collect your thoughts. “How long have you known?”

This is where Eloise loses her composure. Pure shame is etched upon her features. “I caught her a few weeks ago.”

A few weeks. A few weeks… A FEW WEEKS?

“Oh.” Your murmur is dejected and weak.

Eloise had known you’d been slandering Lady Whistledown in front of Lady Whistledown, and she’d done nothing to stop you, except defend her best friend’s honour. No wonder she’d been so reluctant to agree with you. 

“I wanted to say something.” Eloise stammers. “But I couldn’t. Penelope doesn’t know that I know.”

You inhale a staggered breath of air, face falling to your palms. “I’ve been such a fool. How could I have been so stupid?”

“You have not.” The girl beside you opposes before continuing, “Trust me, I am furious with Penelope. The things she’s done and said about me, about the people I care about, I’m not sure I can forgive her for it.”

You scoff lightly. Trust her? How are you supposed to do that?

Sure, Eloise has certainly been burned by Lady Whistledown before, but she’s always had her name to fall back on. “You have no idea what it’s like, Eloise.”

“I’m sorry.” She slumps in apology, shrinking in on herself. Eloise likes to think she can understand where you’re coming from. She’s a woman, same as you, one who has the same struggles against the patriarchy, and yet, hers are much different.  

“Don’t.” You dismiss her apology in frustration. It feels harsh but necessary. “You always speak about feminism and the difficulties of being a woman. How it is impossible for you to hold title and rank, or to be recognized for your accomplishments. But you are a Bridgerton Eloise, and that comes with more privilege, more title, more rank, and more acknowledgment in society than you seem to understand.”

Eloise’s brow furrows. “More often than not, that name is a burden, something you could not possibly grasp.”

“And I should not have to.” Your lips pull into a thin line. This isn’t a competition, but you feel it necessary to defend your point wholly. “I am the daughter of a servant and a seamstress. I have no money, no control, and no future if I am not to marry. Since the day I was born, I belonged to someone else. You talk of struggle, but you have no idea what it truly means.”

Eloise doesn’t like what you’re implying. “You think I live a life of luxury? That I am a stranger to the adversities life has to offer? I can assure you, I know much more about the struggles of which you speak. My mother has prepared me for the purpose of my future; finding a husband is imperative.”

“You plan to remain unmarried, correct?” You ask her seriously.

“With every fiber in my being.” Is her scathing reply. And it only serves to prove your point. But you can see her side of things too. 

“El, you defy your mother with your distaste for society. And while I applaud your determination to fight for equality, your fault remains in your failure to recognize the entitlement that has been bestowed upon you simply by having that choice. Unlike so many women, you can choose to live your life as a spinster. For you, those options exist. For me, I have not one choice besides finding a well suited, at best, middle class husband, because that is all I am suited for.”

In this moment, her heart shatters for you. Is that really what you think of yourself? “You cannot possibly mean that.” 

“It’s how it has to be.” You affirm. 

“It’s not.” She disagrees. “There’s so much more for you than a husband.”

Both your defenses are down, walls have collapsed, and you’re starting to get through to each other. She’s starting to grasp the gravity of what this means for you. Your career is more than likely over, as is the steady source of income you’d managed to build. Except where before you’d had less than no money to your name, you now had a healthy dowry (that you’d earned no less) to find a more comfortable suitor. 

Eloise sees it now. What Penelope has done is monumentally life changing. 

However, as emotional as this circumstance is, you still feel the need to reach out. She’s your sister after all. 

“Eloise,” your eyes search hers. They tread in a sea of empathy. “I never meant to imply you have lived a life without misfortunes. I’m not trying to diminish your hurt. But I thought if you heard my side, you might come to understand mine.”

She softens at your admission, having gotten carried away in defending herself. Nodding, she smiles gently. “I do.” She says. “And while you may not bear the Bridgerton surname, you do have us. Every Bridgerton will stand behind you, always.”

Against every fibre in your being, you believe her. Somehow you’ll always have this little family of yours, somehow you hope you’ll be okay…

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers: 1x06 Swish (Part 5)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Alright, let's wrap this episode up ;)

Letters

I want to know what book she's not actually reading. Also, picture of me every evening, if we're being honest...

She looks so cute in her fake sickness, I wanna just take all the screencaps!

So. Portia. She comes in going on about some dinner invitation that she's happy to have. Portia just thrives on being in society, and now that Colin and Marina's engagement has hit the ton, people are asking her to dinner all over the place. And, apparently Portia enjoys having spite invitations just so she can laugh in the host's face.

Penelope has other things to do. And she's got a very short amount of time to do it. So she fakes being sick to get out of social obligations so she can get some work done.

The timeline on this is interesting, though... The Featheringtons had dinner with the Bridgertons -- Colin told Marina give him a day. So, this is the next day/evening? So the end of this episode actually takes place on the morning after this one? So, Colin needed over a day for his plans to work out? Idk, time in this world is a little wonky sometimes, and I don't always feel like I know when I am.

I kind of love Pen's nervous determination. I love that she's sneaking around in her own home. She isn't sure exactly what she's looking for -- but she's gotta find something that'll stop this wedding.

Penelope is an adorable, yet terrible snoop. She goes through all of Marina's shit hoping to find.... something? I don't think she even knows. What she does find is Marina's suitcase packed and ready to go. And Penelope gets it -- she gets that Marina is going to run away with Colin, which makes her even more frantic. But girl... you gotta clean up your mess when you're going through people's stuff. She leaves everything everywhere -- Marina will definitely know something's happened in her room.

Anyway... what Penelope also finds is a bunch of letters stuffed in the back of her drawer, and upon looking at them, figures out that the one final letter sent by George is a forgery. I mean, I give this girl some credit, because that's some serious detective shit being able to figure that out based on one signature that's slightly off. But she is a writer, and there's a chance she's savvy enough to notice the content of the letter isn't in character, either.

Alright, so by the time Marina returns (from dinner?) Penelope has put Marina's stuff back in place. Good girl. Also, how long has she been sitting there waiting?

Anyway, so Marina is a little wtf about Penelope being in there and going through her stuff, but Penelope is so excited, she doesn't even wait for Marina to get done scolding her. She blurts out that the signatures don't match, and that she found a letter in her mother's handwriting to compare, to show that Portia was the one who did the forgery of George's letter.

Penelope is so excited about this development, she's practically bouncing. There is a way out of this mess without anyone getting too hurt! (I mean, technically, Colin's getting hurt but this would be less hurtful than what is going to happen, and way less than what would happen if he married Marina.)

And here's where the story really takes a turn. Penelope is excited, because she's found a way to save Colin, but also... she loves romance. And this proves that George never turned Marina away, that there's a possibility that George still loves her, that Marina can also get her happy ending with someone she actually does love. This development is important because it plays into what Penelope greatly desires herself - a great love story.

Marina is in shock, and really not accepting of all of this. She's skeptical of Penelope's claims, most likely because she's been coming to terms that George broke her heart, and has accepted that he isn't coming for her. And the practical side of her is winning out. George hasn't continued to write (though - would she know if Portia was keeping letters from her?) and Colin is a sure thing. And she just can't take that gamble. She won't take the chance on the possibility of love when she has security in her grasp.

And this just perplexes Penelope. She may be young and naive herself, but love is one of the most important things to her. Why would you not do everything you can to be with the one you love? Why would you not fight for your love? Why would you push it away?

Marina doesn't care. She still feels abandoned, and won't give up her one chance for a safe life. So, she burns the evidence, a symbolic gesture to the ending of that story.

And this is just too much for Penelope. Not only is Marina discarding her last ditch effort to stall the marriage, she's turning her back on love, and Penelope can't with that -- especially when she's in the process of trying to protect her own love from an unhappy life.

So, Penelope just blurts out that she knows Marina has a bag packed and assumes she's on her way to Gretna Green for an elopement, and for the first time, really starts to push back against Marina. What will she do when Colin finds out about the baby? How are you going to deal with the fact that you're really going to hurt him when he figures it all out?

Marina isn't necessarily concerned about that. She knows Colin will care for the baby, and won't kick her to the street, and that ultimately is what matters to her.

Penelope, rather emotional now, digs in. What of Colin? What of him and his feelings -- because they do matter, too.

Cause here's the thing about Pen. If this had been a sincere love match, I do believe she wouldn't have loved watching it go down, but she would have accepted it. She wouldn't have meddled. She's always felt that Colin would never pay her any real attention in the romantic sense, and she's come to terms with that. But this isn't a love match. And Colin is being actively hurt in all of this. And Pen can't help but stick on that point.

And... I kind of love this next beat. Marina stands in silence at Penelope's emotional outburst. The score comes in with its omniums score. Penelope's just showed her heart in a way that she hasn't before. Her love for Colin is a very sacred thing, but one that she tries her best to keep to herself, and it's finally burst through to someone.

(Granted, I'll argue they're all dumb for not noticing it sooner, but this makes for a lovely dramatic moment.)

All the pieces fit together for Marina, and she finally gets it, and says the quiet part out loud -- Penelope is in love with Colin.

The look of shock on Pen's face, though... She tries to reign it in, downplay it, be confused by the accusation. But Marina calls her out on exactly what it is. But this is going to be Marina's ultimate downfall.

Marina does not give Penelope an ounce of sympathy here. She calls Penelope's feelings a "childish infatuation" and an "unrequited fantasy". And believes, most likely because of the situation she's in, that she's more understanding of the world because she's lived more in it.

This conversation is so dense and complex. Do I think Penelope is young and in love with the idea of love? Yes. Do I think Pen's feelings should be dismissed? No. And this is where I think Marina doesn't get it. Because Penelope's feelings aren't entirely ungrounded. Not only has she lived with and managed her feelings for a long, long time, not only has she been realistic about her chances, her feelings aren't entirely unrequited.

Colin might be in his own fantasy land with Marina, but he and Pen have a very real friendship and a very real mutual caring for one another. It might not be in the same way, but it's dismissive not to acknowledge that.

And in a way Marina does, but how she does is actually somewhat cruel. She throws at Pen that Colin thinks of her no more than he thinks of Eloise... but she doesn't stop, she adds not even Eloise, but 'little' Hyacinth. Marina is throwing at her that Colin doesn't just think of her as a sister, but as a little girl who follows him around.

And to add salt to the wound, Marina says that Colin thinks of her as a woman -- as a sexual being as well as a partner, something that Penelope will never have (ha!). And it's just mean.

I get what Marina's doing -- it's part of the self preservation that she's being doing all along, because Marina feels utterly alone and if she can't save herself, no one else will. So she's being purposeful in her confrontation to Penelope. She wants to break Pen's heart. She wants Pen to feel defeated and give up.

And I have to wonder if some of this is self reflection on Marina's part. She feels so jaded and cold from what the world has thrown at her, she almost can't help but dish it out in the same way. It doesn't make it right, but you can understand why she feels the need to do this.

Well, Marina, you just fucked with Lady Whistledown and the man she loves, so you're going to get what's coming to you (which, i'll argue, is the better outcome for her, so it's not really that bad).

And here's where I'll stand up for Pen a bit. Because up until this point she's tried :

Encouraging Marina to keep up her correspondence with George

Appealing to Marina on an empathetic level

Helping Marina find another man who would still be a worthy choice

Going to her mother to try to persuade other options.

Going to Colin and attempting honesty about Marina's feelings for another man, but not spilling the actual pregnancy secret

Trying to prove to Marina that she shouldn't lose hope that the man she loves is actually still out there.

She has tried every avenue, and as I've said before, if Marina had had genuine feelings she would have stepped aside. But Marina has just been somewhat cruel in her actions. And yes, Penelope may be doing this out of her own feelings, but it doesn't mean that she doesn't care about Marina or her well being. Or that she hasn't been trying to help everyone in the situation.

So, Penelope flees, and goes off to write one damning Whistledown article. As Whistledown will say in season three -- when one loses hope, one becomes reckless.

Whistledown

The two plotlines of the episode -- Daphne and Simon's issues and the Marina story are going to collide thematically, and are tied together, rather brilliantly, in the Lady Whistledown voice over, that speaks to both situations.

The narration speaks of love and war and how the human heart is the most fragile of things. And I think, while it's definitely reflecting the intensity of the Daphne and Simon stuff, it hits differently when you know it's Pen. Marina did get to her. Her heart is really broken. But she's going to do what she feels, ultimately, is the right choice -- and reveal Marina's secret.

She knows what it's going to do to Marina, to her family, to Colin, and to the Bridgertons - whom she adores very much. The narration is unsure if it's the right choice, but it feels like the only choice.

This little moment of Pen and Eloise, it's always made me curious. Penelope and Eloise haven't had any kind of contact since their tiff a few episodes earlier, but that's the thing about best friends, is that they'll always be there when you really need them. And Eloise is there to console an utterly broken Pen. I do wonder what she said when Eloise inevitably asks what's wrong because. I wonder if she ends up telling Eloise the truth about Marina's pregnancy and the plans of elopement. Because at this point, that secret doesn't matter, Pen's already told the world.

I have to say, it's a nice little touch of acting that Penelope looks so young, really like a child, as she breaks down.

The Whistledown narration goes on to reveal Marina's secret -- letting the world know she was pregnant not only before she was engaged, but upon arrival to Mayfair.

And i love LOVE the composition of these scenes with the reveal. Colin is ready for his Romeo and Juliet moment, ready to go off and have this romantic adventure, live out his fantasy dreams. And the real world is going to come crashing in.

I kind of love the way Violet and Portia are just standing there, each waiting, each with their own complex looks on their faces as they've both read Whistledown and know. Violet is sad for him, but also frustrated and also a little of... I knew something felt off about this. Portia is just, disappointed and angered.

(Also the contrast of colors in the two scenes -- the Bridgerton blues vs the Featherington yellow/pinks, the lighting is so devastatingly gorgeous in both scenes, it really just amplifies the atmosphere of the moment.)

Colin's world is shattered. Marina looks resigned to her defeat.

And Penelope calls herself out in the narration (even if it's talking about Marina and Daphne as well) -- she knows that she crossed a line with this one. Knows that her actions may be seen as inexcusable. Was what she did worth it? Perhaps time will...

[pettyshippen]

If this chick

Canonically existed in this show

I feel like her role would be similar to Penelope Featherington/Lady Whistledown; she’d write a political newspaper column under an anonymous name that does not lean on either side but will mercilessly rip into both rebels and redcoats. The persona is simply known as ‘The Dragon’ for “Dragons don’t take sides in the affairs of mankind.”

General Arnold is not only being denied promotion and pay, but he’s also been greatly denied of a new wife as well. His multiple proposals to Ms. Betsey Debouis have gone unanswered. An unanswered proposal letter is a womans way of saying no without having to say no, as all women know. His attempts to woo over the loyalist Ms. Sarah Phillips have also been proven futile, as he must have realized the girl is on the path to becoming a spinster.

Now Arnold has his sights on Ms. Margaret Shippen, the Belle of Philadelphia. As the most desirable women in the Colonies, Ms. Shippen has an entire flock of suitors to choose from, including the British officer Major John Andre. If General Arnold wishes to make Ms. Shippen his wife, he may have to steal her.

Is Ms. Shippen going to willingly return the desire? This author thinks not.

There’s a ton of speculation as to who the Dragon is. At first the public believed it was Ben Franklin because his shop printed the pamphlets. Then his three printer boys, James, Henri, and Moses, were suspected. Out of all of them, Moses is the most eloquent writer and he does not claim the identity of the Dragon.

None of them know or want to give away the writers identity.

How does the Dragon get their news? Why, from their loyal Pigeons of course, whom are always credited in the column as “My Pigeons”. Varys from Game of Thrones had Little Birds, Sarah Phillips/the Dragon has pigeons.

I would say, yes, she would have fire control and resistance powers but never talks about it, rarely uses it.

[quotergirl19]

Imagine this Bridgerton season 3 finale:

It’s the last ball of the London season is a masquerade ball being held at a fabulous venue hosted by the season’s most unexpected match: Mr. & Mrs. Colin Bridgerton.

Lady Whistledown herself wrote in the beginning of the season that a match between Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington was so unlikely that if it ever happened, the mysterious author would do the one thing she’s sworn she would never do… reveal herself.

Penelope’s dress is beautiful and she and Colin are the perfect hosts, charming their guests and clearly blissfully in love.

Halfway through the party Penelope has a costume change and re-enters masked in a stunning gown made out of issues of her Whistledown Column for her big reveal to the ton.

It’s presented as the ultimate entertainment for her majesty Queen Charlotte who Penelope and Colin have secretly befriended after confessing to her with the help of Lady Danbury and Violet.

Her majesty then announces that the hosts of this memorable masquerade have been granted protection by the crown for entertaining the ton at the Queen’s request and will henceforth refrain from publishing gossip anymore because they will be busy in their new roles as Lord & Lady Featherington after Lord Jack Featherington drowned at sea while traveling to visit his ruby mines in America.

Photo credit to Lulumoonowlbooks on instagram 💜

[sadbi-hours]

Title: Penelope's Boys

Pairing(s): Why Choose: Anthony Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, and Benedict Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington

Rating: SFW-ish

A/N: I'm thinking of making this a fic. But with me, who knows when?

Image Credits: Banners made by me with the help of PicsArt/Canva and Google Images

Created For:

@anyfandomgoesbingo: Bridgerton Custom Card- I2 - Free Space

@anyfandomkinkbingo: I3- CEO/Secretary

@anyfandomaubingo: O5- Photographer AU

@anyfandomfluffbingo: N5- Sitcom AU

@fandombingo: G5- Secretly a Virgin

@multifandom-lover: Card # 1025- N3- Free Space

@mfbingo: B3- Dating

@thebo3bingo: I4- Getting Together

Description:

Eloise is right.

Her life has slowly become a romantic comedy of errors, a smut novel on steroids.

She may be reading too many romance novels lately, drowning her romantic sorrows in reverse harems and age-gaps, cynic men with curvy sunshine girls, and grumpy CEOs.

It's her safe haven. Books, especially romance, have always been her escape when her life gets rough.

But she never, in her twenty-five years of life, thought her world would turn into some of her favorite romance tropes.

Because Penelope Featherington seems to have attracted three of the most eligible bachelors... and they don't mind sharing her.

.

.

.

.

Anthony

Fed-up with her unrequited love for Colin Bridgerton, Penelope decides she's finally going to get over him... by getting under somebody else.

She hatches a plan to seduce and lose her virginity to her crush's older and recently widowed brother, Anthony Bridgerton. Mr. Grumpy CEO and her sexy-as-hell boss.

Deep down, she never thought it would actually work in her favor, because compared to what had been the beauty of the late Mrs Bridgerton--she's no match...

But Anthony Bridgerton doesn't seem to think so, because he's interested in her proposal, more than interested from what she can tell... because he's not satisfied with just one-night.

He wants to keep Penelope in his bed for as long as she'll let him...forever, preferably.

.

.

.

.

Benedict

Back from his last tour in Iraq, Army vet Benedict Bridgerton is looking for a bright spot in his world again--and photography has become the answer to his problem...with Penelope becoming his greatest muse.

And in every new photograph taken of her, she discovers the truth behind Benedict's interest.

It turns out, he's been in love with her ever since the day they met all those years ago. But she'd been too young, too inexperienced to taint with the things he's seen in this world.

But it seems he no longer has any reservations about that. He's back for good...and he plans to make Penelope his.

If she'll have him...

.

.

.

.

Colin

Colin Bridgerton isn't as immune to Penelope Featherington's allure as he pretends to be. He's always been somewhat attracted to her, how could he not? He's a male and he has eyes, but he's always valued their friendship more than a quick roll in the sheets.

And besides, he may care about Penelope but he refuses to be in love with her. He has the future planned down to a T; his whole life mapped out... and it doesn't include Penelope Featherington as his significant other.

Plus, he's not as out of tune to the fact that both his brothers are head over heels for her...and he won't be like them, letting himself be completely gone over some girl, even if it is her.

But when he nearly dies on the job, Penelope becomes his god send, nursing him back to health... there through thick and thin, through every ache and pain--and maybe he could finally see what has his brother's so hung up on her.

There's no one like PenelopeFeatherington...and he soon realizes he may be no different than his fool brothers. She's cast a spell over him--and he's no longer looking to break away from it.

[maevelin]

Between two villains

Now apparently given the misogyny of Bridgerton universe's society the women are products of it.

That does not change that some of them, each for their own way of survival, had turned into harsh people, lacking empathy at times, and becoming bad parents too. From victim to villain.

So we have Portia Featherington VS Mrs. Cowper (Cressida's mother).

Funnily enough in the way Penelope had been bullied by Cressida so has Portia by Cressida's mother in some subtle ways or more direct and Portia played along in the way she knew how to play the game.

But in the end, Portia actually got all her three daughters in LOVE marriages (something the Bridgertons are known to do but here we have less credit but...even in much more difficult conditions we get three out of three! Love for all.), providing them security and secure futures. Her means...were questionable at best but when push came to shove Portia Featherington put her daughters above herself and mind you she is not an example of a good mother since she has also treated her daughters and Penelope especially quite poorly for a long time.

However there are lines Portia would not cross with her girls. And when Colin went to Cressida to evoke her mercy she made the comment about one having their family's support.

Colin never understood that this is not a given. He has been raised in a loving family, in secure environment and he gets that love for granted.

The same cannot be said for the Featheringtons and certainly for Cressida but at least in Penelope's case in the end we saw that the love of family was there. Portia, Prudence, Philippa, Penelope and Mrs. Varley, each with their own -toxic and non toxic ways- had formed a family that supported each other and at the end they wanted to become better people and stood for each other.

The same cannot be said about Cressida's parents.

[triviareads]

Hya, good evening, 👋

I had a Bridgerton related question. Specifically, a Benedict Bridgerton question. What would you like to be the timing and pace of his story to be told in the Netflix adaptation? For it to be handled immediately in season 4? Or for there to be little bit more of a build-up? At the risk of answering my own question, I’ll provide some of my own personal suggestions. 🤭

You may call this controversial, but personally, I would like for Benedict to be relatively OLD when his love story finally comes about. The books go chronologically after Daphne, but considering how much of a Bohemian Benedict is, that never made sense to me. 🤨 He’s such a restless soul, I’d make sense for him to just make it a high priority and then forget about it, until Violet is like beyond worried he’ll never find someone and just reconciles with the idea her second-oldest will practically be a monk without a monastery. 🤷‍♀️ (in the marital sense at least) So, I’d imagine Benedict to be well into his thirties (maybe over forty!), practically ancient in Regency terms, and irrelevant for the marriage mart. Then along comes a lady with a mask…

But aside from Benedict’s personality, it might also serve the narrative. Apart from some raunchy scenes in season one, the audience barely knows anything about Benedict. (very similar to his sister Francesca) So in order for his story to make sense, it might be beneficial to have a little bit of a longer introduction. Tp Benedict…and maybe even to Sophie. 🫣 (They may just introduce her as Violet’s ladies maid during the upcoming season, then slowly braid her character into the narrative.)

Then finally for a question I don’t have an answer to. 😅 Since Shonda has a habit of casting characters across races (ugh I didn’t know how to phrase this better but I how you can forgive me), how would you cast Sophie?

Kind regards,

— Thel. 💚

Hi Thel! thanks for the ask. I think Benedict was actually narratively on the verge of his own love story as of the end of S2 and the show would have been better served making him the S3 hero. The biggest indication to me was actually the poem Anthony fobs off him. Benedict speaks of this love that's very two dimensional to me— the artist and his muse, and that's where he is as a person BUT you get the sense he wants love. Add to that where he is at the end S2— creatively unfulfilled and questioning his artistic abilities. Plus, because he's fucked around, it makes him feel like a more classic historical romance hero to me, if that makes any sense. All of this combined would make S3 great time for his love interest to show up and provide some inspiration and light in his life.

And I'm gonna be real, what we got of Colin in S2 was either dull, confusing, or the narrative was giving him a lot more credit than he deserves (see: his ponzi scheme crushing era) but I figured him as the S3 hero was inevitable after his "I will never marry Penelope Featherington" line and because the showrunner is obsessed with Penelope. Benedict on the other hand feels very much the classic "future hero" in historical romance series where they're friends or siblings with a prior hero/heroine and they're in a position where you want to know when they get their own story.

As for your last question, I actually really dislike picking a race for Sophie because it plays into the way Shondaland has set up Bridgerton: the two main families are white and the only people of color are the ever-revolving cast of love interests and Lady Danbury and Queen Charlotte in the corner. So what I've seen within the fandom are people of color basically fighting over the meager scraps of rep we get while the show continues to be overwhelmingly white, and even more so in S3 because both the main love interests and their entire families (except for Kate) are white. So all I'll say is it would be great if Benedict's love interest was a person of color, but I hope they'll handle their story sensitively considering what we know Sophie endures in the books.

[hukkelberg]

wrt the show only (haven't read the book, don't know much about it), do you think pen ever put colin on a pedestal? more specifically during seasons 1-2 ig. bc i keep seeing ppl say that (and also that his asshole comment in s2 was him getting knocked off that pedestal for pen) but i don't feel like that's really supported by the show. unless i'm missing something, which i could be. to me it just seems like she has a crush on colin and likes him generally, not that ever considers him infallible or beyond criticism or is blind to his flaws.

i couldn't say for certain so i watched myself a 20min compilation of them on yt lmao in the case of the show i don't think it is so. even in the case of the book, the "i will never marry her" comment is something of a turn point for their relationship but that happens years before romancing mr. bridgerton even begins. if anything, i think it might've been the other way around. colin's comment to pen about her not counting as a woman because she is "pen, his friend" speaks to a very set image he has of her, particularly compounded with the "you will always be there for me" speech he gives her i think either at anthony's wedding or the featherington ball. it's just a platonic idealizing, is all. she's a little like his muse but for charity? i don't mean that in a demeaning way. i mean he can strive to be better and be a good gentleman for her, as he often does, which is a laudable motivation, only that he makes the blunder of erasing her more unsavory traits because, well, he never really gets to see them (she would obviously not show that to him) and he doesn't think to seek them out either, so they might as well not exist.

in my opinion, every bit of praise that penelope gives him throughout s1-2 is well deserved, even filtered through the lens of her infatuation. he is a good man, and he does help her, and he is very gallant--it just does not carry any romantic weight, like it does for her, so i can see how you could read her pining as aggrandizing but to her credit i think penelope has a pretty good handle on who colin is. she is very critical with herself at times as well, so i think she's the type to keep herself on a short leash wrt her crush. i cannot blame her for sounding him out or nearly confessing a couple of times. the man does give mixed signals, whether he means to or not, and he is the only dude to ever 1) speak to her at all 2) speak to her well. kindly. the show can push their stupid "anthony would duel for her!" agenda all they want these people have never spoken to one another in their life benedict has said her name ONCE. be real with me. colin is the only man to show her regard and affection and, while the whole storyline and what it implies (and what s3 changed to accomplish that) is not so much to my taste, pen is not silly for latching onto him because of that.

[nomdepen]

"That's what I've always said!" Pen exclaimed, a visage of childish delight crossing her face. "I've always likened her to a gorgon. Though, Medusa might be giving her far too much credit."

Medusa was fierce because she had to be, while Cressida exerted such rancor merely because she could. A snake may be venomous, but only it can choose when to bite. Penelope knew what it was like to have a family that didn't respect you, that barely saw you as human, but it didn't excuse the way Cressida behaved.

"You're very kind to say such a thing, but I'm afraid some people would disagree." Pen muttered as she turned her gaze downward. Penelope and Eloise had gotten into spats before, as all good friends did, but it was never like this. Usually, their arguments were over trivial matters like literary characters they thought the author should kill off or opinions on a woman's duty in society. Such quarrels never lasted more than a sennight and they always made up in the end. But she had never seen Eloise so upset.

Her eyes had burned with such distain that it hurt to remember that night in her bedroom. Pen had wanted to tell Eloise the truth, she'd wanted more than anything to have someone to confide in. It would've lessened the burden, surely, but it would've also given them a common purpose. The two of them could've had the power to change the world if they worked together. With Lady Whistledown's authority and Eloise's progressive thoughts, the two girls could make the change that London society needed. But Penelope' had been a coward and it had all blown up in her face's cowardice had been her own undoing. Eloise had always been her other half, and without her, Pen felt like she was lost at sea.

"Thank you." Releasing a sigh of relief, she nodded. Knowing she could trust Benjamin was comforting, especially in a world where trustworthy people were hard to come by. "My sisters can be exceptionally sadistic when it comes to vengeance. We get it from our mother, I suppose. Especially Prudence. She once locked me in the pantry for over an hour after I ate the last cucumber sandwich. She sat outside the door the entire time, listening to me cry and relishing in her victory."

The memory was anything but pleasant. As children, all of the Featherington girls were menaces, each in their own way. Philippa had mastered the art of puppy dog eyes. All she had to do was look up at their Papa with those big, sad eyes and he'd give in to her pleas. Prudence had always been on the pettier side. As the youngest, Penelope had learned to adapt.

Her eyes followed his gesture and Pen's eyes glittered with hope. It looked so normal, so unassuming to any normal citizen, but to Penelope Featherington, such a location was a beacon. Within the building, there would be books. Dozens, if not hundreds to choose from, all waiting for her fingers to graze their spines. She could hardly contain the excitement buzzing through her veins.

"Are you sure? Because I may take you up on that offer. Then you'll have to take me with you when you come back." A playful grin adorned her features as she matched his stride. "But, Weathersby," Pen hesitated. "He won't be upset by my being here, will he? I don't want my presence to make things complicated for you. Especially in such a magical place."

"Oh, assuredly," Benjamin agreed, grinning. "The Cowper girl is apparently not-so-distant cousins with Medusa...but you didn't hear that from me." Drawing a finger over his lips, he gave an overdramatic raise of his brows before lowering his arm again, his hand once more finding hers as her palm settled within the crook of his elbow.

Stop apologizing?

"Oh...I'm sorry. For being sorry," Benjamin amended, flashing a sheepish smile. "For what it's worth, I can't imagine you ever being a terrible friend. You are loyal and kind, which puts you bounds and leaps above all the rest."

He wasn't sure about the history there -- naturally, dwelling beneath the Bridgerton's roof for hours a day made him privy to certain secrets that were mostly whispered about within the ton, and the sudden split between Penelope and Eloise was one of said topics. He would never pry -- it wasn't his place -- and yet, admittedly, the cleaving of their friendship did shock him since they'd seemed so perfectly suited.

Penelope moved in closer still, much like a boat mooring along the docks, and whether or not it was intentional, Benjamin found himself drawing nearer as well, mindful of her every fluttery breath and the sunbeams warming her pinkening cheeks. He appraised her with a soft smile. She really was quite pretty -- he didn't understand the cruel words constantly hurled in her trajectory, nor why the men of Mayfair wouldn't wish to lay claim to her hand.

"Pen," Benjamin echoed, his voice perhaps far too soft for such a mundane observation. Penelope's sudden flustered plea knocked him out of his stupor, and laughing, he caught hold of her tugging hand, gently squeezing it as he reassured, "I was a sibling once too, if you'll recall. I know all too well the tortures that can be had, should they choose to enact vengeance." He raised his free hand as if swearing an oath. "You have my solemn vow to remain quiet from here until the rest of my God-given days."

With more proper instruction given, Benjamin hummed and nodded his assent. "Not Penny -- got it," he affirmed. "I don't think that would suit you anyway...you have a strength that 'Penny' lacks. I hate to be part of the crowd, but your friends seem to have it right with Pen."

Looking back towards the neighboring street, he brightened and extended his arm. "There!" he exclaimed. "We've finally made it. You're free to borrow as many books under my name as you'd like, because they're used to my constant check-ins and check-outs -- when I say I'll return something, they know I'm good for it."

A certain giddiness rushed over him then, warm and vibrant as he led Penelope across the street. "This is owned by Weathersby," he cautioned, "but I know for a fact he won't be in today. The man is rarely here, in fact -- which is perhaps why I enjoy it so much."

[sea-owl]

Ok so Penelope gets hanahaki. 

Let’s say this is post season two after Colin declares to the other gentlemen of the ton that he would never marry Penelope Featherington, and Penelope has her fight with Eloise. Just to sprinkle some extra heartbreak. 

It starts out as a cough. Penelope doesn’t think of it much first and associates it with the crying she’s been doing from the loss of her best friend and Colin’s public rejection of her. 

Slowly the cough began to take away small breaths from Penelope’s lungs. The doctors say she’s stressed and to rest. They say she’ll be better soon.  

A prickly feeling in Penelope’s stomach told her that it was just the beginning. 

It wasn’t until Penelope was visiting Romney Hall, months after the first cough, trying to right at least one of her wrongs, that she coughed up the first buds.

"You have hanahaki," Phillip informed her. "It's a rare, but fatal disease brought on by unrequited love and heartbreak. It starts out as a cough but then as time passes your lungs are filled with flowers, and you can no longer breathe."

Penelope could only stare down at the buds, still damp from the saliva that coated them.

Phillip recognized them as buttercups and carnations, both yellow.

Childish, rejection, and disappointment.

Penelope has never hated the color more.

"Is there any cure?" The red head asked. 

Phillip winced. 

“My lord, is there any cure?” Marina repeated the question. 

Phillip bit his lip but then eventually answers. “There is only three known cures. Have your love requited-”

Penelope shook her head. “Impossible. He proclaimed to the entire ton that he would never dream of courting me, not in his widest fantasies.”

“The other cures are to find a new love or have the roots surgically removed from your lungs. However, if successfully removed you will no longer feel love.”  

Penelope lets out a chocked laugh. “So, I die by either flowers or by the knife?” 

“You could find new love,” Marina suggested. 

Penelope doubted she could. “I have to find a husband this season.” 

Phillip had given Penelope leaves to make into tea that would slow down the disease. Penelope hoped it would by her the time she needed. She didn’t have high hopes though, and she needed to make sure everything was in order. 

She ignored the letters Colin sent during his travels, while she sent one after another Eloise. She didn’t want things to end the way they did. Eloise never answered a single one. 

Penelope’s success on the marriage mart was no better. Despite every attempt the only thing Penelope could show for her efforts were the whispers she got for Whistledown. 

Then Colin came home, and their lessons began. Penelope now had suitors, but she still coughed up the flowers, now coming up as full blooms with thorns on the stems. Zinnias, hyacinths, and chrysanthemums join the buttercups and carnations. All yellow with red blood painting the edges. Remembrance, jealousy, and slighted love. 

Whoever told Mama yellow was a happy color lied, Penelope thought as she hid the flowers. 

It pains her but she ends the column. Lady Whisteldown will die with her. 

Eloise storms into her room two days after she sends out her final column. “You ended Lady Whitseldown.”

Penelope nodded. She could feel a cough coming up, she refused to let anyone else see the flowers. 

“And now you’re going to let Cressida Cowper take the credit for it!”

“What-” Penelope was cut off by her coughs. Try as she might a few petals escape, along with a yellow petunia. Anger.

Eloise stared horrified. “What is that?”

Penelope gathers up the flowers. “I am dying Eloise. I have a disease that is slowly killing me, and the only cure is having me cut open to have them removed.” 

Eloise sits Penelope and they talk while Penelope drafts up one final column. 

He followed her. Colin Bridgerton followed her! Damn it! Now Penelope will never get this column out and all her hard work will be credited to Cressida Cowper. 

They fought about it in his carriage. Colin had ruined everything! Now Penelope will die with the person she hates the most will take another thing from her. 

Penelope loses her breath mid argument. A violent coughing fit overtakes her. The thorniest flower was crawling its way up Penelope’s throat. The floor of the carriage is littered with yellow flowers. Damn it, she forgot to drink her tea this morning. 

“Hanahaki,” Colin whispered. 

“You know of it?” 

Colin only watched the flowers. “What bloody idiot rejected you? Does he even know Penelope?”

“No, because he would never court me, much less marry me! He said so himself!” Penelope cried; she was so sick of this. She was tired, maybe this disease will hurry up to tonight if she doesn’t drink her tea when she gets home. “We’re not all lucky enough to be a Bridgerton and be gifted with a love match. Unlike you I am not meant to be loved.”

“I love you.” 

Before Penelope could question it, her breath is stolen in a whole new way. Colin captures her lips with his own. Her body going slack as he lays her against the bench. His hands trailing up her sides before finding the buttons on the back of her dress. He releases her lips, trailing kisses up her jaw before whispering in her ear.

“A kiss is meant for two you know.” 

“What?” Penelope asked dazed. 

One of Colin’s hands leaves Penelope’s back and takes her own hand. He squeezes her hand. “You are meant to be loved Penelope. I love you, and if I could steal your heart from that undeserving idiot so that you would love only me I would in a heartbeat.” 

“You love me?” Penelope whispered. 

Another coughing fit overtakes Penelope, worse than she has ever had before. The thorns coming up rip at her throat. Her chest is on fire, and she can’t breathe. Of course, right as her love might be requited the disease kills her. 

“Penelope!” Colin exclaimed as the red head hunched over on the floor of the carriage. 

Red, blue, and pink petals fall among the yellow flowers. Huh, Penelope hasn’t seen those before. 

Penelope gags and then vomits up a knotted mess of thorns and roots. Three flowers are attached, red primroses, blue forget me nots, and pink lotus flowers. 

Love. Remembrance. Rebirth

Penelope turns towards Colin. “I’m cured.” 

[rubysunnday]

orion and pleiades

Request by Anon - prompt #2 just screams Colin Bridgerton to me “Don’t say a word, just dance with me.”

A/N: I hope this is alright, anon! These requests (and the few in my inbox) will probably be the last few I write for sometime x

Colin was enjoying himself.

He’d found a nice spot in the far corner of the ballroom where he could drink and watch the dancing without being cornered by the mamas and ladies. Anthony and Benedict had been apprehended by their mother and were currently being paraded around the room like dresses in the modiste. Colin was trying not to take too much pleasure in the discomfort of his brothers but it was actually a very difficult task.

Benedict kept sending him glares and looks of hope at being rescued but Colin was strategically ignoring him. 

Penelope Featherington weaved through the crowd, in the direction of what Colin had named ‘Colin’s corner’.

“You alright, Pen?” Colin asked as Penelope walked up to his corner.

“Mmhmm,” Penelope hummed, nodding as she poured herself a drink. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” She asked, side-eyeing Colin suspiciously.

“My mother has accosted Anthony and Benedict,” Colin said, chuckling as Penelope glanced over at where his brothers were and tried not to laugh.

“I feel for them,” she said. “Mama has just dragged me around the ballroom for most of the night.” Penelope paused. “Have you seen Y/N at all tonight?”

Colin shook his head. “No. She said she was coming, however. Perhaps she’s been held up.”

“Or perhaps she’s running in your direction right now?” Penelope suggested, gesturing to the left.

Colin turned and saw Y/N running towards him, looking increasingly panicked.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” He asked as she all but collided into him. He caught her by the arms and caught her as she skidded to a sudden halt, her balance off by her sudden halt.

Y/N grabbed his hands. “Don’t say a word, just dance with me,” she said, dragging him towards the dance floor.

Colin let himself be dragged through the crowd and, to his credit, said nothing. He noticed that Y/N didn’t relax until they were well ensconced in the middle of the crowd and were well into the dance.

“Do I get the pleasure of discovering why I was accosted and dragged onto the floor?” Colin asked, his eyes glinting with delight as Y/N groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

“My mother,” she said, dragging out the last word to add more emphasis. “I have been dragged around this room all night, being forced upon every single eligible man within a five mile vicinity - including your brothers.”

“That would have been the highlight of the evening for them, I guarantee you, Y/N,” Colin laughed. “There are far worse people they could’ve had forced upon them.”

“Including Philippa Featherington? Because I saw Anthony dancing with her when I was trying to escape my mother’s clutches.” Y/N looked at Colin’s terrified expression and giggled. “The terror on behalf of your brother is very amusing, Colin.”

Colin twirled Y/N and then dipped her. “What can I saw, I know how my fellow soldier feels.”

Y/N laughed and the sound was like music to Colin’s ears. “Are we really that bad?” 

“Your mothers are,” Colin replied. “The ladies... depends. You, Miss Y/L/N, are a goddess.”

“Do I have a halo?” Y/N asked, letting Colin lift her up. 

“A beautiful, sparkly, golden one,” he replied. “And a beam of sunlight follows you everywhere you go, lighting up the entire room.” 

Y/N smiled, entirely unfazed by the shower of compliments. “Ok, what do you want?”

“Nothing!”

“Colin, you only ever compliment me when you want something,” Y/N replied, giving him a raise of her eyebrows and an unconvinced stare. “So, what is it?”

“Well, I did save you from your mother by dancing with you,” Colin countered, realising he had leverage against her.

Y/N paused and sighed, cursing softly. Colin heard her curse and, whilst his eyes widened, he just snorted. He'd grown use to hearing her curse, even if it was extremely un-ladylike. 

Y/N was just like his sister, Eloise - a woman who didn’t conform to society and didn’t, particularly, care what people thought of her. Colin liked her for her honesty and for the fact she didn’t spend the balls sucking up to men and pretending to be something she wasn't.

“Ok, fine,” Y/N said and Colin blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about moments earlier. “I owe you. What do you want?”

Colin smirked. “For you to be glued to my side the entire night.”

Y/N stopped dancing for a split second. “Have you been talking to Hyacinth?”

“No, why?”

“Because the girl is obsessed with the word glue and all connotations that go with it,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. “Glueee. Anyway, so, my challenge is to not leave your side, is that it?”

“Well, it’ll keep my mother off my back,” Colin said, smiling. 

“Oh, and here I thought you just enjoyed my company, Colin,” Y/N said, pouting. 

The dance came to a grand finish and Colin bowed to Y/N as she curtsied to him. 

“So, glue,” she said, grabbing his arm and allowing him to lead her off the dance floor. “What, precisely, does being glue entail?” 

“Oh... well, it mainly entails not leaving me alone with my mother,” Colin replied, leading them over to where Anthony and Benedict were hiding from Violet. 

“Well, there’s all sorts of things I could do to be glued to your side all evening,” Y/N said, making great effort into looking like she was thinking hard. “I could fake swoon -”

“We both know you’re better than that -”

“ - I could take you for a turn around the room -” 

“Please don’t -”

Y/N stopped, turned, and looked up at him. “Or, I could just say I twisted my ankle dancing with you and since you feel like it was your fault, you don’t want to leave me alone and that my wellbeing is your top priority.” 

Colin raised his eyebrows. He’d known Y/N for many years and also knew when he teasing was also partly true. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you twist your ankle?”

Y/N avoid his gaze. “No.”

“Y/N.”

“Ok, I rolled it a bit,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It was when I ran into you, I had a little too much momentum and went over on it.”

“Of course you did,” Colin muttered. “Come on then, my little invalid, let’s sit you down.”

“I’m not a child, Colin,” Y/N grumbled. 

Despite her complaint, however, she still allowed him to guide her across the room and to the safety of the terrace outside. 

It was a beautiful evening and the stars were visible up above. Y/N sat down on a nearby bench and tilted her head up at the sky, her hair falling over the edge of the bench the further she titled her head. 

“I wish we could see the stars from London,” she said softly. 

Colin sat down next to her - his leg brushing hers. “Have you ever heard the tale of Orion?”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes filled with curiosity. “No.”

Colin smiled and looked at her. “Well, as the legend goes, Orion was a great hunter who fell in love with the seven sisters.” Colin put his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and took her hand. “He was after them for twelve years. For twelve, long years, he chased after these sisters, trying to gain their favour and affection, However, Zeus, king of the gods, found out about Orion chasing after them and turned all of them into stars.”

Y/N was too enamoured with the story and looking at Colin’s beautiful face to sat anything.

“Orion can chase the Pleiades - the seven sisters - forever, but he can never catch them. He'll follow them across the sky and beyond the horizon in his attempt to catch them.”

Y/N smiled softly at him. “Well, isn’t it a good job I don’t have any sisters, then?”

Colin chuckled. “Isn’t a good job we’re allowed to be together.”

Y/N said nothing. She smiled and felt her cheeks grow hotter. “Colin -”

Colin leant forward and kissed her on the lips. He moved back, shot her a beautiful, mischievous smile, and then kissed her on the cheek. 

Colin stood up and sighed. “I’m hungry,” he announced to no one in particular. 

Y/N tried not to glare at him as she stood up. She huffed out a laugh and followed after him. “Colin, if all the food in the world was turned into stars, you would turn into one and follow it all around the skies.”

Colin paused and turned to look at her. “If you turned into a star, dear Y/N/N, I would follow you no matter where you went.”

[sofwrites]

Each other's biggest ally

Polin Week Day 1: Favorite Quote

“No, his method of attack was a lazy smile, a well-timed joke. If Colin ever lost his temper...

Penelope shook her head slightly, unable even to fathom it. Colin would never lose his temper. At least not in front of her. He'd have to be really, truly—no, profoundly —upset to lose his temper. And that kind of fury could only be sparked by someone you really, truly, profoundly cared about.” - Romancing Mister Bridgerton, pg. 64

The one where Colin profoundly cared and had no choice but to lose his temper.

Type: One-shot, angst, sentimentalism, protective/mywife!Colin, protectective/myhusband!Penelope

Length: 3.3k

Read on ao3! Or continue under the cut

In the late months of the year 1825, Penelope Featherington Bridgerton published her debut novel titled The Wallflower. And in the early months of the year 1826, she relished in the praise of her work and suffered in the consequences of her now-public identity.

The response to her book was generally positive. Whether or not they were willing to admit it, the members of the ton were eager to uncover the scathing details surrounding Mrs. Bridgerton’s former pen name. They devoured the secrets hidden between the lines of the pages- forming their own conclusions and theories of what was fact and what was fiction.

It seemed that after many years of Penelope appearing to be invisible, the gravity of her voice was finally truly understood.

But as in all life, there were complications as well.

One gentleman in particular was quick to make his discontent known, and it was all due to just one short excerpt.

Although Beatrice did not befriend even half of the ton, she had made the acquaintance of nearly everyone at one point. And though they never realized, she scrutinized them almost as much as they disregarded her.

Even with her close examinations, she generally liked the people she met. There were bores, many in fact, as well as those with whom conversation could rarely be carried, but most were reasonably pleasant. There were exceptions, however, as there always are. One such exception was as follows:

It is an earlier season for Beatrice, one still full of wonder and disillusioned hope. She looks at the dancefloor with wistfulness in her eyes, dreaming, praying that her prince charming will notice her from across the room and ask her to take his arm.

He does not, of course. His mind is still focused fully on the small group that surrounds him, drawn to him like a shining star amongst the thinly veiled candlelight. Although the music is certainly too loud and the conversations too many, our heroine can perfectly hear his laughter through the crowded ballroom. She can hear it because she knows it better than she knows her own.

Later that evening, he’ll ask her to dance. He’ll remember her minuscule presence in his life, likely prodded by a sharp finger to his spine and a voice carrying a gentle reminder. And even though she knows why he will do so, knows that it is due to a kind sense of duty rather than true desire, she will cherish it all the same.

Right now, however, Beatrice remains at the edge of the dancefloor, her silent woes interrupted by the familiar voice of her mother.

“Beatrice, dear, this is Mr. Wetherden. Mr. Wetherden, I present to you my daughter, Beatrice Harpenton.”

Another bachelor, this one ranking second-tier rather than third. Her mother seems to have given her more credit this evening, Beatrice thinks as she looks at the familiar face.

The introduction is an unnecessary formality, of course, as are many of their rules; they were made acquaintances during her first season. Nonetheless, society calls for her to curtsy and give a gracious smile, and she obliges.

At the same time, he assesses her similarly to how he did so a few years before. And she sees it immediately, the dismissal that passes over his eyes even before he fully bends into his low bow.

Her mother leaves them to it- the stifled conversation in an even more stifling ballroom. The unfortunate girl in the canary-colored dress stands on the sidelines, trapped in conversation with yet another uninterested bachelor who is just as much forced upon her as she is on him.

He speaks endlessly, unquestionably more for his benefit than hers. He spends fourteen minutes explaining the difference between rugby and football. She suppresses three yawns and is interrupted twenty-six times throughout the topic, clearly expected to be an audience member rather than a participant.

At this time, she thinks this is Mr. Wetherden’s worst offense. Later on, when she is years older, Beatrice discovers that she was sorely mistaken in her youth. That without the cautionary lights of London (albeit often cloudy and forgiving), he is much worse.

She later on learns about his propensity to unwilling women. To frightened young housemaids who are often not given the options that women of a higher class are granted.

Our heroine also finds out later exactly how commonplace such a tendency is. And with it, her vision of social seasons- the one with balls and picnics and musicales- begins to splinter.

Penelope hadn’t named him, of course. She hadn’t named anyone directly.

She couldn’t publish a memoir, not really. Even though she was related to a fine variation of important characters in society, she couldn’t put such a strain on her family, and particularly not on her husband. Her husband, her lovely, amazing husband who supported her through the entire process even despite the fact that so much of their own private history was laid out in the pages of her novel. Penelope had written the truth, which hadn’t been entirely pretty. But Colin had agreed with her that the truth was more important than sheltering their secrets.

But even though she couldn’t publish a direct recounting of her life and experiences with the ton, she’d been unwilling to just hide behind fabricated stories.

Penelope’s telling of that night at the ball wasn’t completely factual. She did not know how many times Phillip Cavender interrupted her during their conversation, nor whether or not Colin had even been present that evening. But the details of the matter weren’t as important to her as shedding light on the entire situation.

She’d been young and naive during her first few seasons, believing that a few nasty comments and looks were really the worst of what society had to offer. Later on, she’d found out that she had been wrong, and that there was much worse than she’d ever known. And when her sister-in-law, Sophie, had recounted the night she and Benedict had met (well, met again), Penelope knew that she had to shed light on the matter. She had to make it clear what happened outside of the fancy dresses and giggling parties.

But as mentioned, such decisions did not come without their objections.

“Thank God, they’re leaving.”

The words came from just a few feet behind them, full of indignancy and bitterness. The couple had been walking together, arm-in-arm, towards the door, quite eager to return home for the evening.

They’d been attending an intimate house party at the request of the gentleman’s mother. She’d been unable to make her attendance that evening and had asked that her son and his wife go in her stead. They hadn’t been particularly excited about the prospect, but they’d agreed for her.

The party itself hadn’t been bad. The food was good, the music was pleasant, and almost everyone in attendance had offered the woman praise for her work. Though they hadn’t exactly been excited to attend, the evening hadn’t been at all poor.

That was, until they’d been nearing the exit and heard the troublesome remark behind them.

Colin glanced down at his wife, who grimaced, her nose scrunching as her eyes closed. They’d been met with a number of sneers and snide comments in the last few weeks, but they never became easier to hear.

With a small sigh, he turned them both around, looking directly at the man holding a glass of port too large and wearing a lip too curled.

Colin gave him a smile, the familiar one he used whenever he was looking at something that both irritated and mildly amused him. “Didn’t see you there, Cavender. So nice of you to offer us a sendoff.”

The opposing man’s mouth turned downwards, a stark contrast to the grin still on Colin’s face. Penelope swallowed, quickly cutting in. “We really must be getting home.”

With a pointed look directed towards her husband, she began pulling him back towards the door. Though Penelope would have loved to see Phillip Cavender get put into his place, she knew far better than to spar with a man holding a petty vendetta.

But before they’d even fully turned around, there was a mocking bark of laughter, followed by a slight slurring of words. “You do everything she tells you then? Follow her around like a lapdog?”

This time, Colin’s brow lifted ever so slightly, the same half-smile still imprinted on his lips. Penelope felt an uncomfortable heat rising up her neck as she reluctantly turned from the door again.

“If it means getting to share my life with this incredible woman,” Colin sent her a small wink before shrugging, “Then, by all means, call me a lapdog.”

There was some tittering around them by the small audience they’d attracted. With a quick glance, Penelope could see the angry lurch in Cavender’s throat, the narrowing of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers as they tightened around his glass.

Please, just let it go. Let us just leave and go home.

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“I know what lies she’s spread about me.”

“Oh?” Colin’s face took on a thoughtful expression, one that might have been convincing in any other circumstance. “I don’t recall ever hearing my wife mentioning you.”

Cavender’s glare deepened. “In that bloody book of hers.”

Penelope cringed inwardly as she felt the twitch of Colin’s hand in hers. Her eyes darted around the room as an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed her. The ballroom was small and the guests were bored, and a public row was certainly enough to draw a crowd- one that was full of prying eyes and listening ears.

Colin’s face remained the picture of serenity even though Penelope could sense the angry heat rising from him. It was something she could feel in him that others always missed, a secret fire that he did so well in masking.

Looking at the other man, Colin let out a sigh, one that was forcibly tired, as though he were speaking down to an overly emotional child. “I can assure you that all the characters in my wife’s novel were fabricated. And if you saw yourself in one of the less attractive personages, then I’d venture to say that such is simply a reflection of your own self-image.”

The whispers around them grew, and Cavender sputtered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the easy taunt. But his surprise only lasted a moment before he hardened once more.

A man with a petty vendetta did not often allow himself to be diverted.

His eyes flickered to Penelope before they returned to Colin and he sneered. “You realize that she’s made you out to be an ass, don’t you? You can act high and mighty, Bridgerton, but the wife you so proudly boast has fashioned you into the biggest fool in all of London.”

It was at this jab that Penelope frowned, feeling her own prickle of anger. And for the first time in the nasty exchange, she turned directly to their shared foe, a hard, determined look set on her face. “Excuse me, Mr. Cavender, but I must ask that you don’t speak to my husband that way.”

She could almost see his eyes flash in fury as they set themselves on her. But before he could give the biting retort that was no doubt resting on his tongue-

“And I’d suggest that you consult a dictionary to properly understand the concept of fiction.” Colin’s tone was relaxed, just a sprinkle of mocking mixed into it. But Penelope could feel the tension in him, the protective edge that mirrored her own.

Cavender’s gaze shifted back to Colin, his rage appearing a bit more controlled as they listened to the snickering that surrounded them. Slowly, his mouth thinned into a tight line, and he took a step closer to the couple. By instinct, Colin angled himself in front of Penelope as her grip on his hand tightened.

He was just a few feet away from them when he finally spoke, a voice so low that it was barely audible over the murmurs. “And I’d recommend that you consider taking yourself and that bitch of a wife,” his eyes darted to Penelope for a moment, “out of town.”

And it was this comment that wiped the smile completely off of Colin’s face, along with any attempt of levity.

It was as if a chill had passed over, one that was both icy and burning at the same time. He stiffened like a board, a wave of unmistakable anger coming over him. And when his words came, they were low and even, colder than anyone had ever thought possible from Colin Bridgerton.

“You would do well to avoid threatening my family, Cavender.”

Though there was a slight tinge of red on his face, Phillip Cavender did not retreat. Instead, he took another step forward. “And why is that, Bridgerton?”

Penelope could see the muscles in Colin’s jaw moving from where she was angled, could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. She’d seen him angry before, furious even, but this was different. This was so much more.

She wasn’t frightened, not by Colin nor by the man standing across from them. Fright was not why she wanted this to stop.

She didn’t want her husband’s anger to be made into a form of entertainment at a party. For him to have to serve the role of gallant protector whenever she upset someone. So, she attempted to silently will him to calm down, running a featherlight thumb across the surface of his hand.

But Colin wanted to finish what they’d started and instead let go of her and took his own step forward, almost shielding her completely.

“I think we all know that I have more than enough relatives to run you out of town,” he said, eyes locked on Cavender.

There was a flash of worry that crossed his face, but it was quickly forced away by a snort. “Is that meant to scare me? The threat of a duke and a viscount?”

Colin didn’t falter. Instead, his head tilted as he considered the man, considered the shaking fingers and the smell of alcohol on his breath. He’d never been a violent man by nature, even having grown up with two older brothers. He preferred words when he fought, and they almost always gave him his victories. He wasn’t opposed to physical repercussions, but he knew that a private gathering was not the place or time.

He looked Cavender directly in the eyes, speaking in a low, clear voice. “I will ensure that you are ruined, that is a promise.”

And because he couldn’t help himself, “And if that is not enough, be rest assured that we will do worse. My only qualm in doing it myself is that my brother would be disappointed he wasn’t able to help.”

There was a silence in the room that followed as Cavender glowered at him. His eyes darkened in fury as his face reddened, trying to figure out how far Colin could really go.

But there was something in Colin’s threat that didn’t allow for any consideration that he might have been exaggerating. Perhaps it was the definitive and resolute tone in his voice, or the strength behind his gaze, or the tight set of his jaw.

Or perhaps it was because Colin Bridgerton wasn’t the type to quicken to anger. Wasn’t the type to have a temper or even hint at unpleasantry.

Whatever it was, it made Cavender finally break eye contact and step back. He turned away, taking another large swig of port.

Colin could hear the pounding in his ears as he looked at the pathetic man, anger still coursing through him. But then he felt a warm hand lace through his, and the red glare of the world began melting away. Penelope was whispering something, her voice calm and soothing. He squeezed her hand in understanding but kept his gaze on Cavender.

There was a familiar casualness when Colin spoke this time, but it was threaded with venom. “Do not forget what I’ve said.”

And with that, he turned to his wife and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Good night,” Penelope nodded to the remainder of the crowd, who finally had the decency to look away.

A few minutes later, when they were finally in a carriage returning to their home, Penelope sighed. With her eyes glued to her skirts, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Colin.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, taking in a deep inhale of breath.

He’d been scared after the reveal of her identity, terrified even. There were evenings where he’d lie awake in bed and imagine all of the awful things that could happen to the person who was his entire world. And though they never spoke of such worries aloud, he knew that she was just as aware as he was.

Italy had been like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. There, no one cared or knew, and the only threat they faced was the harsh sun.

And then Penelope was pregnant, and a new light was added to his life, one that shifted his fears elsewhere.

Then they became a family of three, and Colin was thrilled. He still worried, of course, but his joy outweighed everything else.

Old wounds had been reopened in the recent weeks, that was for certain. But it did not mean that he blamed Penelope for them.

So, Colin pulled her into his side and tucked her head under his chin. “You have nothing to apologize for. We both agreed that you did the right thing.”

For a few moments, she said nothing, just listened to the sound of his heartbeat and the wheels on cobblestones. And though he couldn’t see her, Colin could sense in the silence that she was crying. Wordlessly, he handed her a handkerchief.

Penelope dabbed at her eyes a few times before leaning back to look at him. “I didn’t want to force you into this position.”

He smiled and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin. “I watch you every day with nothing but awe, Penelope. I love you, I’m proud of you. And I will gladly stand by you through anything.”

Her eyes moved slowly as they crossed his face, searching for any hesitance. There was none, not even a hint of resistance.

Instead, there was so much love that it overwhelmed her, struck her with the same shock that it had years before. It was a love that mirrored her own, a fierce desire to protect and support another with as much reverence as one did for themself. It was one that never faltered even in the most difficult of times.

Her eyes were glossy when her hand reached up to meet his, and the smile on her lips was weak but true. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe that I’ve become so lucky in my life to have you by my side.”

And with that, they settled into their drive home, sharing whispered conversations and watery chuckles.

They still had a long road ahead of them, of that they were sure. But they knew that they would cross it together.

[your3fundamentaltruths]

All my scars are golden and the Edmund lives au? Ty! ❤️

Thank you for asking, Nonny!

all my scars are golden is the main post-s2 Polin-centric fic I was working on until turn around, bright eyes (which I call a post-s2 AU for a variety of reasons) took over my brain. Among other things, all my scars are golden features Pen befriending Edwina and Lady Danbury (and maybe others), the aftermath of "I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington," Kate & Colin bonding, Colin and Pen both maturing some, a bit of a critical look at some of the Bridgerton family dynamics, and, of course, my beloveds' changing relationship.

Because the opening would be really spoiler-y, here's a snippet from elsewhere that's part of one of my favorite scenes thus far (and has a passing mention of Papa Bridgerton):

For a moment, Penelope wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. But then she opens her mouth to say something – anything rather than let such an awful woman patronize her so terribly. “I would be a ninny if I let myself be so bothered by the idle words of a foolish young man as to miss a party.”  

The other ladies are still blinking at her in stunned silence when she hears the loud, familiar thump of a cane.  

Oh no, the last thing she needs is noted Bridgerton ally Lady Danbury weighing in against her. 

“Well said, Miss Penelope! No one with two wits to rub together would consider Colin Bridgerton a good arbiter of a young lady’s worth,” scoffs Lady Danbury loudly, expression daring Cressida and the assembled Matchmaking Mamas to contradict her.  

Her jaw drops. 

“Or am I mistaken in my recollection that he once gave you the cut direct, girl?” the countess demands sharply of Cressida, dark eyes dancing mockingly. 

In defense of her. Good heavens, how it had thrilled her to see Colin slight her bully for the act of bullying her, to see beautiful Cressida face consequences for her ugly behavior. She blinks to clear away the memory. 

In the present, Cressida turns bright red and doesn’t answer, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.  

“And,” continues Lady Danbury matter-of-factly, as if she had not silenced Cressida with a single question, “he has only Whistledown to thank for preventing him making the worst sort of mésalliance.” 

Her mother elbows her, making her close her mouth at once. “Quite right, Lady Danbury,” Mama says eagerly. “It seems he has learned nothing in the intervening years,” she adds, as if she had no part in the failed match and made no deliberate efforts to deceive him. 

“Or perhaps he has learned everything,” says Lady Goring slyly.  

She wishes for a moment that she had mentioned Miss Goring when commenting on Lord Fife’s escapades; then perhaps Lady Goring would be less smug about someone else’s fall from grace. But Miss Goring had done nothing to deserve to have her name dragged through the mud besides be foolishly infatuated with a boorish man. 

(Yet and still, had Penelope not dragged her own name through the mud for the same crime?) 

The other ladies titter again at the obvious dig: that Colin Bridgerton has finally wised up and learned not to ally himself with a family such as theirs. 

All but her mother and Lady Danbury, who cackles loudly. “Ha! You give the boy far too much credit,” the countess says with a smirk. “At most, young Mr. Bridgerton has gained just enough wisdom to understand that unlike his dear papa – may he rest in peace! – at his age he is still too green to make anyone a good husband. Especially an intelligent and discerning young lady like Miss Penelope.”

—

2. The Edmund Lives AU is . . . a lot of things because a significant change like that has a lot of ripples, but it was born as a Polin role reversal AU (Colin falls first, there are TWO versions of That Scene, etc.)

A snippet:

“I know your brothers liked to think themselves grown at your age, but if we’re being honest, they’re not even entirely grown yet,” he says wryly.

“Oh, I know I’m not.”

Edmund blinks. It’s the damnedest thing: every time he gets too comfortable in his confidence that Colin is the child he understands at an elemental level, it’s as if his son somehow knows and chooses that precise moment to say or do something that throws him for a loop. “But you think you’re ready to get married?” he finally asks.

“Who’s to say Pen and I can’t grow up together?” Colin shrugs. “You and Mother did.”

Despite himself, he feels his face relax into a smile. He’d been prepared to launch into an (entirely hypocritical) lecture and here his boy says the one thing that can stop him in his tracks. “Yes, I suppose we did.”

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

An old friend - Part 3

Summary: The picnic has come and so the time to face Anthony on what you discovered, but will everything go as planned?

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Other characters: Hyachint Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington

Words: 3.0k+

Warnings: slight angst (?), fluff, again some yearning

A/n: This has been quite difficult to finish, I had different ends in mind but none seemed to fit well the flow... I hope you’ll like this! Also, I may post other parts in the future but for now, count this as the final one. ENJOY!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Gif's not mine, credit to the rightful owner

When the time came to attend the picnic in Hyde Park, the day was nothing but perfect: the sun, for the special gathering, had decided to come out of the clouds to honor everyone with its presence and a warm breeze enveloped every figure walking through the gardens or simply resting on the grass with its embrace. Even the London sky didn’t look like its normal self, with no grey clouds all over; just a few white stripes painting the bright blue canva. In other words, the epitome of a summer day.

However, sat under the gazebo playing cards with Hyacinth, Eloise and Penelope, you felt much worse than a rabbit caught under the wheel of a carriage.

"Miss Y/N/L". You turned towards Hyacinth, who was pointing at the cards. "It's your turn"

"Very well..." you sighed, throwing in the space between the four of you the first card that came in your hand. Winning the game was the least of your problems.

You had spent all night rolling from one side of your bed to the other, playing and replaying every possible scenario in your head, looking for the right way to ask Anthony what you wanted to know without sounding too accusatory. Nevertheless, it was hard to face the man when he was nowhere to be found!

He had just a moment to greet you with a quick kiss on your hand - which, you couldn't help, had made your heartbeat rise as a river during a flood - before being taken hostage first of many beautiful debutants, second of their meddlesome mothers and lastly of some old friends from boarding school.

Right now he was somewhere in the park with them, possibly reminiscing of that one time they put black ink in the professor's shoes... or something similar to that, you imagined. You weren't so sure of what sort of jests could boys come up with.

"Miss Y/N/L". Hyacinth's voice reached you again through the bubble of your thoughts. You put down another card. It took you a second after that to realize that Eloise had no cards in her hands anymore, thus making her the winner.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry" you apologised, putting your left cards back in the deck. "I hope you didn't ask me anything while I was lost in my mind"

"Just if you were alright, miss" explained Penelope. "Did you sleep well last night? You look quite tired"

You sighed. There was no sense in keeping that a secret. "Not quite. Some matters just seemed to be stuck in my head and decided not to leave for the night"

Eloise's eyes sparked in interest. "What kind of matters?" she asked, eating a strawberry.

"Nothing relevant at all" you assured with a smile, but from the look on Eloise's face, you knew she wasn't finished asking.

"No irrelevant matter could keep anyone awake for an entire night" she pointed out. "But I know what matters could..."

Penelope sighed. "Eloise..."

"Family matters" she started, raising her index, "and heart matters". She bent slightly towards you with the Bridgertons' signature smile on. "Which does apply to you?"

You scoffed. "Neither, of course". As you lowered your gaze to the messy deck, the rays of the sun felt suddenly more focused on your face than on anyone else's.

"Heart matters, that is!" Eloise exclaimed with a single clap, her eyes smiling brighter than her grin. "Do we know the lucky gentleman who caught your eye? Or perhaps he is from the countryside? Don’t tell me: are you two secretly engaged?"

Before your cheeks became the same shade of wine, a deep voice intruded the conversation: "You shouldn't badger our guest with your inquisitiveness, Eloise"

Your head shot up to meet Anthony's gaze. Even though your feelings towards him were mixed at the moment, seeing him washed you over with a warm, soothing sensation, as the need of his touch grew within you.

Eloise huffed, standing up from her seat, immediately followed by miss Featherington. "You are a bore, dear brother. I have nothing else to say on this matter". Then, taking Penelope's arm in hers, she walked away, already whispering in her best friend's ear.

"Anthony, do you want to play with us?" asked Hyacinth, already preparing the deck for another round.

Anthony smiled gently at her. "Maybe later" he said, pinching lightly her cheek. "Why don't you go play with Gregory now? I've heard he wanted to see if he could find rabbits near the bushes... or perhaps even goblins"

Hyacinth gasped. "Without me?!". She quickly and clumsily got up in her dress and, after a small curtsey to you, she was running on the grass to who-knows-where.

Now that the cover was clear, Anthony laid down next to you, pointing his elbow on the ground to keep himself up. After adjusting in a comfortable position, he sighed, looking in the direction in which Hyacinth ran off.

"Should you think she'd be angry to find out I lied to her?"

You smirked, taking a card from the deck and fidgeting it in your hands. "About Gregory or the goblins?"

Anthony turned to you, raising his eyebrows. "Both?"

You shook your head, giggling ever so slightly. "You, Lord Bridgerton, are incorrigible: lying like this to your youngest sister... what a rascal"

A corner of his lips tilted upwards. "You should not talk like this to a viscount, miss Y/L/N" he murmured. His hand moved to your arm, his fingers stroking your bare skin, lighter than a feather touch and equally tingling. "I would say it was quite improper"

At this words you moved away from him, just enough so that his fingers could only touch the empty space between you. He searched your face but you were still staring at your card.

"I believe we should talk, my lord” you said, your voice still and steady more than what you expected. “However...", you looked at Benedict and Colin, who had just appeared in your sight and were directed towards the gazebo, "...maybe a walk would be best suited for such matters"

Even with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Anthony nodded, standing up again and offering his hand to help you. You gently accepted and he pulled you up. Nonetheless your feet got caught in the cover, making you lose your balance and ending up in his arms.

"I-I'm terribly sorry" you muttered, raising your gaze to his and finding him already staring at you. The warmth of his hands, steadying you, got past your gloves terribly easily and you found that being there, pressed against his chest, so near to his heart, was the only place were you wanted to be.

You took a couple of steps back, smoothing your wrinkled dress and taking a deep breath in. His closeness was like opium to you: even the slightest hint and you lost your mind; and unfortunately right now, you had to be present.

He cleared his voice, handing politely his arm to you. "Shall we go?". You nodded joining your arms and moved with him on the beaten pathway.

A few minutes passed in complete silence, as you tried to find the right words to start. Apart from sporadic pairs walking the opposite direction, you were the only ones strolling in the park at that time of the day, when the sun shines so bright it could make the blood in your veins boil; only birds kept uninterrupted their concert.

"Are you upset because I didn’t honor you with my presence all morning?" guessed Anthony, raising his eyebrows. “Trust me, I would’ve gladly spent more time with you than with any of my other acquaintances”

You shook your head, a smile gracing your face. "Certainly not, my lord: your family was very kind to me in your absence" you assured him. "Besides I'm not upset... I just want answers to what I've heard"

"And what, pray tell, have you heard?"

You moved your gaze from his; there was no way to sweeten the pot. "I've heard that, in certain circles, you are considered a rake; and" you added, before he could stop you, "that you've been spending time with various women last season, opera singers from what these rumours told me"

"And you believe these rumours, miss Y/L/N?". His voice didn't show any emotions but his muscles were tense as an arp string.

"That is why I'm asking you, my lord. I wish to believe it a lie, but your actions yesterday, as appreciated, had boldness in them... quite like Sir Feversham's"

Anthony stopped in the middle of the path, his jaw clenched. "Don't compare him to me, I am nothing like him”. His dark eyes seemed coal ready to be set on fire. “I would've never forced you into anything-"

"I know". You squeezed gently his arm against your side. "I know that, Anthony. Nonetheless, I’ve been wondering since last night if you consider me just as one of those opera singers and you’ll leave me alone like you did to them: my honor undermined and a broken heart to fix..."

"Do you really think I would do something like that?"

You raised your eyes to meet his. The lump in your throat, seeing the hurt look on his face, triplicated. "Haven't you done it before?"

Anthony clenched his jaw again, avoiding your gaze. Many emotions crossed his eyes before he closed them for a moment. Then, after giving a quick look all around, he started guiding you towards an almost hidden path through the hedges.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, confused and slightly frightened by the sudden change of course.

He glanced towards you with his lips curved. "You did want answers, didn't you?". When you nodded, Anthony slid his hand in yours. "Then there is absolutely no need to worry, miss Y/L/N, I can assure you that" he whispered, preceding you in that natural maze.

As you followed him, jumping over ponds of mud, protruding roots and avoiding overhanging branches, it felt for a moment like you were back in one of the fantasies you two came up with as kids, exploring the deep amazonian jungle in search of a lost civilisation or a hidden temple behind a waterfall; you couldn't believe they belonged to such a long time ago...

The hedges surrounding you ended abrubtly, opening on a clearing that looked like an illustration from a storybook: the grass, kept perfectly cut in the rest of the park, reached knee height there and, in between the stems, flowers popped out in the vivid green, their bright colours catching your eye.

However what left you mouth agape was the modest pavilion in the centre. Its classic columns, with ivy crawling around them, had almost invisible cracks on their surface, and the marble, if once polished, was now covered with a thick layer of dust and dead leaves. Still, even so neglected, its ruined beauty left you speechless.

"How... how did you manage to find this place?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers caressing the tall grass as you approached the pavilion.

"In the most common and simple way”. At your confused glance, he smiled mischievously. “Hiding from my mother"

“You even hid from your mother, my lord?” you smirked.

“Everything to escape her matchmaking schemes” Anthony laughed before a sad smile appeared on his lips. “Nevertheless, it was years ago, when I was still allowed to act as a foolish young man, from time to time”. He left your hand and started unbuttoning his tailcoat.

As he took it off to put it on the marble bench, your gaze wandered on his shoulders and down his arms, framed by his tight waistcoat and usually concealed under that thick layer of blue velvet.

"Shall we start?" he asked, gesturing for you to sit next to him.

You took a seat and noticed how Anthony was wringing his hands, his body again all tensed up. Without uttering a word - it was his time to speak - you took his hand in yours, stroking your gloved thumbs on his skin.

"I must say" he started, "that the market’s gossip is quite accurate... but still not enough to be a reliable source” - then, after a sigh - “because yes, I am a rake - or at least I can be consirered one - and yes, I spent most of last season at the opera house. However, unlike what those women told you, my only company was one beautiful and indipendent lady, whose name I’d rather keep unknown"

He looked at you, almost asking for your permission. "Of course, my lord, I understand". Anthony nodded thankfully before letting his tongue on the loose.

He told you everything you needed to know, his gaze fixed on nothing, eyes lost in memories that you could only try to picture in your head. Every emotion he’d felt in the past crossed his face as he spoke of every step of the affair, from their first meeting to their very last goodbye. You saw how difficult was for him to remember that latter part, even though months had passed since then. After all, no love can ever be truly forgotten.

"Looking back, I’ve realized only recently that she broke my heart just as much as I broke hers" he admitted, his gaze falling on your joined hands. “She deserved much better than the transitory pleasure I was able to give her... I still slightly regret what we could’ve been, but there’s no use in mourning the past”. He stroked gently the palm of your hand. “I’ve found the present to be an unexpected and more appreciated bearer of happiness”

You blushed as his eyes set on you, a welcome sincerity lighting them. However, there was still something, in a deep corner of your mind, that wouldn't let you enjoy the moment completely.

"Thank you for telling me all about it, Anthony" you said, watching him trace abstract figures on your hand. "But I do have one last question"

He moved your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on your covered wrist and lingering with his lips on that small spot. "You can ask me anything, Y/N"

After a deep breath, you fixed your eyes in his. "What am I to you?"

He furrowed his brows, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"I do believe you fancy me" you started, looking away and fidgeting your hands as you spoke, "but I can't quite understand if your intentions with me are honorable or if you're simply using my company to your likings"

Anthony shook his head. “That’s nonsense, I would never-”

"Then do you intend to propose to me?" you asked, a rush of boldness flowing in your veins. “You know me, more deeply than any man I’ve ever met, and I found myself drawn to you in a way I’ve never experienced before... and I believe you feel the same”. He stared at you in silence. "I thought you wanted to marry as soon as you found a suitable lady..." you added, his stillness making your heart ache. "Am I not enough to be your wife?"

"Don't". Anthony cupped your face, his hands warm on your skin. "Do not say something like that ever again. You are not only more than enough, but more than I could've ever hoped to find... your intelligence astounds me just as much as your beauty hypnotizes me and I do believe you shall become one of the most accomplished Viscountess of Bridgerton that ever walked this Earth"

As his words beat in your mind ritmically with the pounding of your heart, you held your breath. "...but?"

"But I've rushed things in the past and burned everything I'd built to the ground, myself included. I don't want to make any mistakes with you, and if that means doing things properly, then be it". He stroked your cheek gently and you unconsciously leaned in his touch. "I've lost you once and I surely shall not make the same mistake twice"

You smiled, tears menacing to roll down your cheeks at any moment.

"Don't cry" he whispered, leaving a light kiss on your forehead and you laughed. His lips were as soft as you pictured them in your dreams.

"Don't mind my wet eyes... I'm just- I've never felt this happy before"

He smiled, placing one hand on yours. "Let's hope this will never change then". You nodded, smiling even wider.

So, as the sun went down and the wind kept blowing, you stayed there, talking, laughing, making up for all the lost time, in that little clearing out of time, and you wished you could stay there forever...

“We should go now” Anthony got up from its place. “It’s getting dark”

Making your way back in the reality it felt like waking up from a long, sweet dream, one that makes you wish you could sleep forever.

Your carriage was already waiting you at the edge of the park. Anthony helped you get into it as the gentleman he was. “Goodnight, miss Y/L/N”

“Goodnight, Lord Bridgerton” you smiled down at him, your hand still in his. “And thank you for the wonderful day”

He smirked and kissed your knuckles lightly, lingering again on the same spot where he kissed you for the first time. “The pleasure was all mine, my lady. I shall see you soon”

“Of course” you whispered not capable of even breathing. Anthony smiled, letting go of your hand as a footboy closed the door of the carriage. Then the coachman incited the horses and you were off in the night.

Resting on the soft pillows inside, you sighed, your eyes fixed on the stars outside the window. “Until next time”

Tag list: @lady1505 @truly-insatiable @littlemissbridgerton @anthonybridgertonsmistress​ @chaoticgirl04 @xceafh @latekate1807 @peoniarose @bridg-09 @michael-loves-chickens​ @beckachicago3​ (tell me if you want to be added or removed💗)

[izzielizzie]

Thoughts on the Bridgerton siblings since your watching the show?

oh sure!! also spoilers

Anthony

Honestly did not like him. I get that he's the Viscount now after his father's sudden death and he's in charge of all his siblings/his home but like... he's intense. Like clearly he's going through an identity crisis so maybe he should focus on that instead of dueling his friend? Also I hated the way the treated Siena.

Benedict

Oh boy I love Benedict. He just wants to pursue art and be awkward at parties and he and Eloise are such an adorable brother sister duo. Also the fact that he said he wouldn't care if Eloise was Lady Whistledown made me CRY he's too perfect for this world.

Colin

Colin is so sweet oh my goodness. He cared so much for Marina and the way he danced with Pen because she had a drink poured down the front of her dress for speaking the truth was just too sweet. He's probably the sweetest brother and I love him so much. Also his relationship with Pen is already perfect I can't wait for his season.

Daphne

I mean... I didn't really like her that much? For kind of the same reason I didn't like Mary from Downton Abbey: she's really too perfect. All her focus is on marriage and finding a match and having kids and making her mother proud. I know that this is a show about marriage, much like Downton Abbey, but I mean other characters have substance. Daphne exists to be the diamond of the first water and that's what she remains. Not surprised in the slightest that she's a Duchess.

Eloise

I can not even start to talk about how much I love Eloise. From the moment she shouted up the stairs to her sister, I knew that I would adore her. She's smart much smarter than she's given credit for, and she's so opposed to all the things that Daphne loves but they're a great pair and I mean who's more iconic than Eloise and Penelope? I really think my love for her was cemented when she informed her brothers that she doesn't share her food but also the fact that she made Lady Whistledown's carriage leave even though she wanted to know who she was really shows who she is as a character. I could go on and on about Eloise but I love her so much.

Francesca

She's an angel? I mean she wasn't really in the show but her piano playing is on point and from the books I know she's literally the sweetest person to walk the earth.

Gregory

He's... fine? A pretty typical annoying little brother? I don't really know what else to say about him. I didn't actually read his book either so.

Hyacinth

QUEEN. I love her so much. She's like eleven? twelve? And she's already perfect. She laughed in Nigel Berbrooke's face. Also can we talk about how she was (SPOILERS) technically right about Lady Whistledown? She asked if it was Lady Featherington and while it wasn't the mother it was the daughter and the poor girl was laughed at. She's always been my favorite Bridgerton, closely followed by Eloise. Also her obsession was Simon was hilarious. And book Hyacinth is ten times better. I really hope Hyacinth has a season in the show because there can never be enough Hyacinth and Gareth. And just imagine the headaches this girl is going to cause society members during her season her wit is on another level and she's too perfect.