Broken Trust: Part 4-The Country

Part 1: The Catalyst

Part 2: The Aftermath

Part 3: Meetings and Partings

The Featherington family kept only one carriage, but Penelope had been driving herself about in a pony trap for years. To see Penelope visiting a Viscount’s house, Mama even overlooked Penelope’s insistence on wearing her plain mahogany day dress or the new one the Bridgertons had ‘gifted’ her, a warm cotton the colour of bluebells. It was simplicity itself to bring Rae along when she called on Lord Remington at Summerdale Park.

He was not especially well educated on the sort of things young ladies talked about, but he was willing to learn, and did not dismiss her willingness to hear him talk about business and politics.

His sister, Felicity, was ten, and much like Hyacinth, eager to know about the Society she would one day join, and considered herself honoured to have Penelope as a visitor.

Often, Lord Remington joined them in the sitting room, stationed at a modified writing desk near the window. Felicity was more than happy to satisfy Penelope’s curiosity. “My brother tells me stories every night, but he cannot do so when he is in London, so he writes them down. I keep telling him that he should write a book, so other young girls without caring older brothers can enjoy them too.”

Perhaps Penelope had been blinded by Colin’s charm for too long, to have overlooked the fact that not all men were like Papa or Lord Fyfe. “That is very considerate of him, and of you.”

Felicity bounced in her seat. “I should like to write a novel one day, and I think it a great shame that women must do so anonymously. Even Lady Whistledown, for I have scoured DeBrett’s Peerage and there is no mention of that family.”

Lord Remington looked up from his desk, “She could be the wife of a newly-made Knight or Baronet. Lord knows enough of them were created during the recent wars.”

Penelope smiled - Mama had complained extensively about wealthy commoners buying their way into titles via donations to the War Chest. As a Baroness, Lady Featherington felt the diminishing of the gap between ranks keenly. “Or perhaps it is an unfortunate translation. I have heard that many nobles who fled the French Terror took an English name upon reaching our shores. French and English share many common roots, but it does not always translate directly.”

Lord Remington gave her a warm look, setting his quill aside for a moment. “It is a lovely day. Would you care to tour the garden before the cold sets in?”

Penelope cheerfully agreed, and distracted Felicity by making up a story about two birds swooping overhead while a group of footmen carried Lord Remington and his chair down the few steps. Dignity was a small thing, upon the whole, but very precious. When she looked back, he was watching them warmly.

Penelope was sure she blushed, as Lord Remington waved away an offered lap blanket. “No, I shall be fine, the air is not that crisp.”

They started down the path. Most estates kept only a gravelled path for carriages, and a few for the gardener’s wheelbarrows, but Summerdale had far more, some gravelled, some paved, with clover occasionally peeking between the gaps. Felicity happily skipped ahead, leaving Penelope to talk with her brother. “You do not like the cold, Lord Remington?”

He was quiet for a moment, “I do not like the memories it brings. You see, I lost the use of my legs on my Grand Tour. We were crossing the Alps when we were caught in a rock-slide, caused by the early snowmelt. By the time they dug me out, my legs had been well and truly crushed, and I was nearly hypothermic.”

How dreadful! Penelope laid a gentle hand on his arm. “That must have been horrible for you.”

He started, as if he had been lost in memory. “It was. If it had been only one leg, I might have gotten away with the use of a cane, but both… I was supposed to properly join society, when I returned. Instead, I was overlooked by even the more determined Mamas, and left to the sidelines. The experience humbled me, but one might argue that was a good thing.”

Abruptly, he changed the subject. “I enjoyed the story you were telling Felicity. Perhaps my sister and I are not the only ones who should pick up a pen.”

The months between seasons did stretch dreadfully when there was no news to write about…

That October, a small publisher in Land’s End released Lady Whistledown’s first novel. According to the dedication, Lady Whistledown had found herself ‘in dire need of something to pass the time while the Ton confined their misadventures to their country estates.’

It was an Epistolary, chronicling a young man on his Grand Tour, through the letters to and from his exasperated sister, who bemoaned her sibling’s ability to see every wonder in the world, and completely fail to adequately describe any of them.

Young ladies giggled at the sly humour that infused each page, and agreed that it was a shame young ladies had to marry a suitably adventurous and obliging man of means in order to travel. A number of young men suddenly improved their own letters home, with more attention to detail and the occasional sketch. (Tour operators and guides blinked in surprise at actually being asked pertinent questions, rather than complaints at how long they would walk before retreating to bars and brothels)

Colin Bridgerton, determined to explore the parts of Europe that his older brother had deemed off-limits during Napoleon’s reign and brief reappearance, when he had first been planning his Grand Tour of last year, flattered himself that even Lady Whistledown could find no fault in his letters.

While his siblings proved lacklustre correspondents, Penelope had written back faithfully last year. Despite Kate’s well-earned reprimand of his actions at the Featherington Ball, Colin was sure that their friendship - and Penelope’s own desire for a world outside the confines of Mayfair - would let him explain himself, even if it was only in print.

Penelope never replied. Not to the first letter, nor to any of the subsequent ones.

In an odd twist of events, Eloise was his most frequent correspondent. Although, as her letters were mostly complaints about not being permitted to go anywhere without an escort, and Hyacinth’s demonstrated annoyance at Penelope no longer visiting, Colin might wish that she wrote a little less frequently.

Eloise had apologised and admitted the error of her actions at Featherington House - to Mama and Anthony, since Lady Featherington and Penelope were still not admitting Bridgertons. The apology was appreciated, though it had not lessened her punishment.

Colin… honestly wasn’t sure how to feel. He disliked Lady Whistledown for how frequently she mocked Penelope’s dresses and status as a wallflower. He certainly was not a fan of her having exposed Lady Crane or Eloise, though he admitted that Lady Whistledown’s exposure of Lord Berbrooke had certainly saved Daphne from a life of misery, and her promotion of Kate and Anthony as a love match had smothered the scandal of Anthony marrying his former-betrothed’s sister before it could begin.

Colin supposed it was a touch unfair to demand that Lady Whistledown only expose those scandals that made the Bridgertons look good by comparison.

When he returned to London, he was resolved to apologise to Penelope by whatever means were necessary. As his new sister-in-law had pointed out - at great length - it did not matter whether he intended to be cruel by claiming that he would not court Penelope. Their close friendship created expectations, and his clear dismissal of her hurt both Penelope’s feelings and her prospects.

Penelope had deserved better from someone who had claimed to be her friend, even if he had not viewed her as a potential wife.

That, too, was changing. Colin had never considered the prospect of Penelope marrying; like Eloise, he had assumed that she and his sister would be Spinster Boon Companions all their days. Having it bluntly pointed out to him that the point of being Presented was the hope of marriage, he still struggled to envision a future that did not have Penelope attending tea at Bridgerton House at least once a week, if not more frequently.

A future without Penelope Featherington yawned large in his nightmares. The idea of only ever seeing her from afar, unable to appreciate her wit or conversation, was nigh-unbearable. Or worse, a future where she was sent away to distant relatives, and he never saw her again. A future where some illness or accident befell her, and she died before he had the chance to apologise.

That nightmare woke him up in a cold sweat, and he immediately made plans to cut his tour short and return to England.

On November 6th, 1817, Penelope arrived at Summerdale to find the house in a rush.

Lord Remington - Thomas, as he had given her permission to call him last week - noticed her almost immediately and Felicity, looking upset, rushed over to embrace her and sniffle into her skirts. That was most alarming! “Are you all right?”

The Viscount steered his chair over to them. “Urgent messengers were dispatched from London late last night. Princess Charlotte and her son died in childbirth. Parliament is being called to a special session.”

Penelope couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. Princess Charlotte of Wales, married to Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld last year after scandalously refusing the Prince of Orange, and expecting their first child, had long been considered England’s hope after her mad grandfather and the dissolute Prince of Wales. The only legitimate grandchild of King George III and Queen Charlotte - and the Prince and Princess of Wales were not likely to have any more children, given their notorious dislike of each other! - her death meant a succession crisis.

Lady Whistledown would have to say something, of course. Likely Mama would insist on their returning to London for the State Funeral, and she could give her publisher the pages then. No one would object to the slight delay, not with the nation in genuine mourning. “Of course you must go, though I hope you will not object to my continuing to visit Felicity while you are absent.”

He hesitated a moment, “As to that, there is a question I have been meaning to ask you. May I ask the indulgence of a private conference?”

Penelope had barely dared to hope of such a thing. She nodded, and waited until the footman had left them alone. “Thomas… Before you ask the question I suspect you are about to, there is something you should know: I am Lady Whistledown.”

Penelope had struggled with the idea of revealing herself to Lord Remington, but she knew it would be necessary. He had exposed his own vulnerability to her, and Penelope abhorred a lie. She could not accept a proposal - except perhaps in the case of a compromise - without her future husband knowing all of her. Unlike Eloise, who blurted out every thought that crossed her mind, she trusted Thomas Remington to keep his mouth shut.

Her prayers were answered; he smiled. “That only makes you even more extraordinary in my eyes. I might question how harshly you speak of the Queen at times, but some of the Whig party have said it softened opinions of the Crown somewhat, seeing that even they are not above being gossiped about.”

Huh. That was something to keep in mind for the future. “Truly? I did not realise the power Lady Whistledown held when I first started writing, and I am resolved to be more responsible with her quill. You do not mind?”

Thomas shook his head. “Not at all. The Season would be rather dull without it, and I have been greatly enjoying your novel. So, now I may ask, will you marry me, Penelope Featherington? I could not bear the thought of going to London for who knows how long and not being able to at least write to you.”

Penelope would have hated being apart with no word from him, as well. She adored Felicity, and with her past dreams of joining the Bridgerton family officially now quite put to rest, she had no desire for a third season of being ignored until Cressida wanted a target. “Yes, I would love for nothing more than to be your wife.”

He took the liberty of kissing her hand, and Penelope’s heart raced. “I will talk to the Archbishop about a special licence while I am in London. There is no need for any great haste, but… well, most churches have rather too many stairs.”

A special license not only removed the need to wait for the Banns to be read in their home parish, but also allowed a couple to marry somewhere other than their ‘local’ parish, which required being in residence eight weeks complete to be considered a local. “I will tell Mama, and she can have the banns read while you are away, in case we do not visit London for the funeral. That may make the Archbishop more amendable, if he knows it is only the location that is the issue.”

Her fiancé squeezed her hand gently. “I shall write to you as soon as I arrive in London, and you are free to visit Felicity as often as you like, if your own estate becomes too stifling.”

Mr Henry Dankworth, the heir to a small estate nearby, had been calling on Prudence over the last weeks. While quite a handsome man who got on well with Phillipa’s husband, Albion Finch, he was not precisely the height of intellectualism. Fortunately, he did not require much more than Penelope’s announcement of her own engagement (and Prudence’s look of jealousy) to make his own proposal.

Once that celebration was over, Penelope pulled her mother aside to tell her the rest of the news. Portia nodded firmly, “We still have our mourning dresses from last year, and with two weddings, we must get your dresses in London. We will go in a week, and I shall send Varley to ask the Vicar to begin the reading of the Banns in the meantime.”

Lord Remington’s first letter arrived two days before their departure, along with the marriage articles. Having no male relatives within easy reach, Lady Featherington could sign the contract herself, which she did with alacrity, before allowing Penelope to look it over.

Quite aside from the joy of making her engagement real, it was quite cleverly written. If Penelope outlived her husband, she would have the London townhouse for her lifetime, and guardianship over any children, as well as Felicity, if she had not reached her majority. It made no mention of a specific sum for her dowery, only ‘those funds and belongings that are hers, and shall remain in her control for her lifetime’.

Thomas was no fool; he must know that Lady Whistledown's popularity had made Penelope a wealthy woman... and he left her fortune under her control. The document was designed to give Penelope as much freedom and power over her own life as possible, and security if she was widowed young. Penelope had not thought it possible to love her future husband more, but he had managed to prove her wrong.

Penelope wrote back with their travel plans, thankful that Thomas had asked his messenger to wait for a reply, and received a response offering for her to travel in the Remington carriage with Felicity for their journey to London. Penelope was more than happy to accept, and the soon-to-be sisters spent the journey reading, without anyone to criticise the activity.

Read Part 5 here