Broken Trust: Part 2-The Aftermath

Part 1 - The Catalyst

Eloise had spent the rest of the Featherington Ball searching for Penelope, to no avail. She spent the rest of the night writing a very sincere letter of apology to her friend.

With the reflection of hindsight, Eloise could admit that she had allowed her obsession with finding Lady Whistledown to blind her. Blind to the risks she’d taken by visiting the Printer’s shop, blind to the boundaries she’d hurdled past, not just with Penelope, but with everyone else she’d been mistaken in suspecting to be the elusive author. Mrs Wilson, Madame Delacroix, Lady Danbury… she was fortunate that the other three had treated her as a foolish child. Anthony and Mama would not have appreciated having to replace a faithful housekeeper who had served them loyally for many years. Eloise was sure that Madame Delacroix’s dress prices had increased for her specifically after her accusations, and Lady Danbury was widely acknowledged to have an enormous amount of social power, second only to Queen Charlotte herself. She was not an enemy one wanted to make!

Gloomily, Eloise sealed the letter, and gave it to a footman to deliver to Featherington House. Likely it would be some hours before Penelope received it, but at least it was a first step toward reconciliation. Descending the stairs, she joined her family for breakfast.

Anthony, for the first time in a very long while, awoke feeling good about the world.

Kate had accepted his proposal, his family had been informed on the carriage ride home, and he had sent a request to the Archbishop for a special license. They had wasted so much time denying themselves, Anthony did not wish to waste a moment more. She sat beside him now, having joined the family for breakfast.

Eloise was the last to arrive, appearing quite distracted, and Anthony could only pray that whatever the latest drama was, it could wait until after they had eaten.

Peace lasted until the last cup of tea, when John the footman returned, giving Eloise a small bow. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I was informed that Miss Penelope is not at home to anyone with the last name Bridgerton, or their messengers, and any future letters will be delivered straight into the nearest fireplace.”

Eloise’s lower lip quivered, but it was nothing to the astonished silence that fell. Little Penelope did have quite the sharp tongue, when she chose to use it, but it had never, to Anthony’s knowledge, been directed at Eloise.

Daphne was the first to find her tongue, fixing her two nearest siblings with a stare. “What on earth did the two of you do?”

Eloise fixed her gaze on her plate. “I was mistaken in something, and we fought. I tried to send her a letter to apologise, but…”

She waved a hand vaguely, as if that were any explanation. Colin shook his head. “I had not seen her after our dance. I thought she was merely taking some time to herself after I revealed Lord Featherington’s scam, and then I was busy letting those I knew he’d been trying to convince to invest know of the same.”

He’d vanished into a room with Penelope and her mother, then emerged to dance with Penelope, the only time he danced that night. Honestly, Anthony had been half-expecting the announcement of a second engagement before the night was out. Doubtless more than a few of the other witnesses had, too.

Anthony exchanged a glance with Benedict, who put down his toast. “Did you, perchance, say anything that might have been construed as an insult? Especially if Miss Penelope were feeling rubbed raw by her fight with Eloise?”

Colin started to shake his head, then paused. “Lord Fyfe was asking if I wasn’t trying to get rid of Lord Featherington to place myself as a fairytale knight for Penelope! I only meant that I would never expose an innocent man - even though Jack Featherington is no such thing - for the sake of trying to court Penelope… but I was trying to get Fyfe to pay attention to the main point.”

He fiddled with his teacup. “I don’t recall exactly what I said, but if Pen overheard only part of it, she may have misunderstood.”

Oh, dear Lord. Kate and Mama looked at each other, before Kate set down her teacup. “My name is not Bridgerton yet, and Penelope is a friend of sorts. Give her time to cool off, and then I shall invite Lady Featherington and her daughters for tea. Perhaps we can smooth any ruffled feathers, but further disrespecting Miss Penelope’s wishes by pressing her will not help.”

How did she make every complication seem so simple? “I do appreciate the ‘yet’, my love.”

Kate smiled wickedly at him. “You will not be rid of me as easily as all that, my lord.”

She almost purred the last two words, turning the honourific into something on par with the more explicit French Poets. She was going to make an amazing Viscountess. Seeking a change of subject, Anthony turned the conversation to wedding plans.

Portia Featherington planned to spend the day spreading rumours about Jack Featherington absconding back to the Americas with the Featherington family fortune, before decamping for the country. Ladies played no part in the business of men, but that did not mean Portia wanted to be around when people started asking questions.

Normally, Penelope would be the first one in the breakfast room, and over to Bridgerton House to visit Eloise at the first opportunity. This morning, she drifted listlessly downstairs halfway through Prudence and Phillipa’s first quarrel of the morning, her eyes red-rimmed and her face unusually pale.

Portia briefly contemplated summoning a doctor, when the post arrived, along with a footman in the Bridgerton colours. “I have a letter for Miss Penelope, my Lady.”

Penelope spoke, her voice rougher than could be explained by sleep. “I am not at home to Miss Bridgerton, or Mr Colin Bridgerton, or anyone who shares their last name or household.”

The footman winced. “If I may, Miss, they can be a touch impulsive, but-“

Portia’s youngest daughter cut him off. “Then let me be clear: any future gifts, flowers or missives will be delivered straight to the nearest fireplace. If they are in any confusion as to why, I suggest they use their often neglected braincells and think about it.”

Well, well! What on earth had the Bridgerton siblings done, to shatter Penelope’s previously-unshakable faith in them? Portia ushered her elder daughters out as the footman departed, and sat down next to her youngest. “Dear, are you all right?”

Penelope sniffed. “It is nothing for you to concern yourself with, Mama.”

That was not a ‘no’, and for Portia’s most independent and sensible daughter, even the near-admission was concerning. There was time, before she needed to supervise the packing, as there had not been too many times in the past. “I know that I have not been the best of Mamas, Penelope, but I do not like to see you suffering. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Penelope sighed, “Do not let Eloise or Colin in until I am ready to speak to them? My heart is bruised, but I shall find a way to endure. I always do.”

In many ways, Penelope reminded Portia of herself, when she was young and still had the luxury of dreams and idealism. Before necessity and a lack-lustre husband made her a diamond-hard schemer. Penelope would cry a little, perhaps write a few verses to expunge her emotional state, and rise from the ashes ready to begin anew, as Portia had, once upon a time.

The Featheringtons had endured before, and they would do so again.

The Ton were not early risers, the night after a Ball, and so Lady Whistledown delivered her newsletter just before lunch, when her audience was awake to read them.

‘Dearest Gentle Reader,

What a Season it has been, and how fitting that we end it with as much of a bang as it began!

Viscount Bridgerton has proposed to another fortunate young lady, and while she seemed enthusiastic at the prospect, this author does not know if she actually said yes. Perhaps words were deemed inefficient.

For all the matches I have announced and speculated over, the strongest and rarest bonds to me have always seemed to be those of friendship. Such a thing is rare in the marriage mart, where matrons and maidens alike are ever in competition with each other, but not unknown. Indeed, the best marriages are those where spouses began as friends.

Yet, even friendships can break.

Miss Penelope Featherington was seen in an argument with her close friend, Miss Eloise Bridgerton, after which she fled her own family’s ball in tears.

What the cause of this might be, this author does not know, and will not speculate, for gossip though I may be, I do not lie. I print only the truth, as I know it to be, and do not publish what I have not confirmed. Indeed, it is your own misbehaviour that keeps my publicist in such good business.

Until next we meet,

I remain yours,

Lady Whistledown.’

At a more acceptable hour for calls, Kathani Sharma approached Featherington House. “I am here to speak to Miss Penelope, as I did not have the chance to do so at the Ball.”

She was not a Bridgerton, and Lady Featherington had given no instructions in regards to the Sharma family, so Kate was admitted to the parlour to wait while Penelope was informed of her visitor.

The girl who descended the stairs had never been a fashionable sort of height to begin with, but now she seemed… diminished, somehow. This was not Kate Sharma’s first time dealing with a despondent young woman, however, and it would take rather more than a frown to deter her. “How are you, Miss Penelope? I had hoped to speak to you at the Ball last night, but did not have the opportunity. Lady Whistledown revealed the how of that, but not the why, so I came to visit.”

Penelope was silent for a long moment. “Are you here on the Bridgertons’ behalf?”

Kate raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated, “I watched you dance with An- with the Viscount. It was no great leap to think that you were the anonymous lady also mentioned in Whistledown.”

That was true enough. “If I had not already accepted him, we may well bave been forced to marry, once the rest of London puts the pieces together. My intended is concerned, but I come on my own behalf, because even if we have not spent much time together, I do consider you a friend.”

Penelope looked startled, and Kate was familiar with the feeling of being noticed, after being overlooked for so long. “A wallflower has little to do at Balls other than to observe. No one who watched you and the Viscount dance together could think you indifferent to each other, but I imagine most of the Ton will spend the morning asking each other if he was seen with any other young lady.”

Many of them likely hoping that they could claim some connection, no doubt. Kate smiled slightly. “A masterful deflection, but you did not answer my question. Are you all right?”

Penelope sighed. “I spent the night and much of this morning mourning the friends I thought I had, and the loss of the Bridgerton family, who welcomed me like one of their own, even if I was more of the proverbial red-haired step-child.”

No doubt there was some cultural nuance to the phrase that Kate was unaware of, but she recognised the self-deprecation as the shield it was. She took Penelope’s hand gently. “You have no obligation to tell me, but if you wish to unburden yourself, I will listen.”

Penelope glanced around, at the servants bustling through. It was not something she wished to circulate through the servants halls of London. Kate could work with that. “I can help you change into a walking dress without bothering a maid, if you wish to speak elsewhere. It is clear that they have enough to do.”

Relief flooded Penelope’s face, and she nodded, leading the way upstairs.

Safely in Penelope’s room - which showed signs of a hasty cleaning - with the cover over the keyhole and a draft-stopper at the base of the door, Penelope confessed. “Eloise thought I was Lady Whistledown. Something I said while we were people-watching together, I suppose. She came up to my room to look for proof. The staff though nothing of it, because Eloise and I had standing invitations for each other.”

Kate’s mouth fell open, aghast at the breach of not just good manners, but basic decency! A standing invitation to enter someone’s room to wait for them was very different to a standing invitation to go rummaging through their belongings! Kate would not be Viscountess for some weeks yet, but she would ensure that Eloise understood the gravity of her actions! “Mistaken in something”, indeed! “Oh, Penelope, I am so sorry. That was a dreadful betrayal of your trust, and I am sure it was frightening, to return and find your room in disarray.”

Penelope’s lower lip quivered, and Kate held out her arms in invitation. Kate doubted that anyone in Featherington House had ever validated Penelope’s feelings, either.

Several minutes later, with a new damp spot on the shoulder of Kate’s dress, Kate offered a handkerchief. “Was anything damaged? Any of your possessions, I mean. I confess, I do not know how I would begin repairing the damaged friendship, in your position.”

Penelope knelt, and pulled two boxes from under her bed. “I put them there until I could smuggle them out, somehow, without Mama seeing. She and my sisters would not hesitate to blacken the Bridgerton name all over Mayfair.”

One box was filled with torn parchment, cracked inkpots and broken quills, on top of a torn feather pillow. Having been in charge of the Sharma family finances, Kate began tallying up the cost in her head, and quickly stopped. Even at first glance, the amount was considerable.

A look into the second box was even worse. A ballgown hopelessly splattered with ink, worth at least five pounds in fabric alone, no matter how garish the colour would have looked on Penelope. A bedcover, equally stained. Books, old and clearly well-loved, but suffering from ripped covers and damaged pages.

People had been transported to Australia for less damage, far more than the ten shillings required for sentencing! Not gentry, and the Bridgertons could certainly afford to grease whatever palms were required to drop any legal proceedings, it was true, but Penelope would have been well within her rights to have Eloise arrested, the scandal of which would have made the Harmony Ball pale in comparison!

Penelope ran her hand over the books. “I thought I could have the dress dyed black and repurpose it as a mourning dress, then sell it and use the money to repair the novels my great-aunt used to give me.”

There was an old grief in her voice, similar to when Kate had been making the painful choice of which of her Appa’s books she could afford to keep. Penelope scrubbed hastily at her eyes. “I’m not sure Eloise even thought she did anything wrong until I shouted at her. At least Colin…”

She cut herself off, and Kate embraced her again, letting Penelope cry out the pain and heartbreak that she had clearly been trying to suppress in front of her family. Heartbreak like when Anthony proposed to Edwina, and Kate found herself in the position of begging the man she loved to marry her sister, because she could not bear Edwina’s pain on top of her own. “At least Colin?”

Penelope let out a great sigh like a gust of wind carrying away shattered dreams. “I never expected him to love me back. I knew it was only a fantasy, a way I could dream of joining a loving family. And I am used to mockery. Just… not from him. He laughed, and said that he would never court me in Lord Fyfe’s wildest fantasies, and now I cannot even think of him without hearing those words.”

There was nothing Kate could say to that, and she certainly was not about to make the Bridgerton siblings’ excuses for them. So she did as an older sister ought, and let Penelope cry on her shoulder.

Kate had hoped to have a moment to collect herself, when she returned to Bridgerton House, but naturally Eloise was hovering at the door before she even finished taking off her cloak. Kate turned to the nearest footman. “Please escort Miss Bridgerton to her room, and ensure that she stays there until the Viscount is ready to speak with her.”

Anthony, Violet and Colin had been close behind Eloise, and looked uniformly startled. Anthony rallied, however, and nodded when the footman looked to him for confirmation. “Colin, go ask Cook to send a tea-tray up to my study. I have the feeling we’ll need it.”

Read Part 3 here