Broken Trust: Part 5-London

Part 1: The Catalyst

Part 2: The Aftermath

Part 3: Meetings and Partings

Part 4: The Country

The day after arriving in London, three days before the funeral procession was to take place, Penelope called on Remington House for breakfast. Felicity was a late riser, which allowed her and Lord Remington some time alone, after the footmen had withdrawn.

Most houses served breakfast on a sideboard, but for obvious reasons, that was impractical. Penelope availed herself of toast and an egg as Thomas filled her in on the recent happenings. “The Queen summoned Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury to tea tomorrow afternoon. Apparently, she wishes for expert advice.”


Briefly, Penelope felt sorry for the younger Princes, before deciding that they had rather brought it upon themselves. “On getting her other sons married and started on their family duty, I suppose. I think I will hold off on commenting; it would not do to give the princes too much advance warning.”

Thomas laughed. “Indeed it would not. Parliament will be notified once the engagements are finalised and the Princes have finished protesting the end of their bachelor days.”

He did have such a lovely turn of phrase. Penelope’s mind was made up. “Would you care to write a column as well? While there are those who wish Lady Whistledown to become entirely political, I am not such an expert that I can speak with confidence. Perhaps together, we can make legitimate heirs fashionable.”

He smiled, “Should I be a Sir or a Lord? In any case, I should be honoured to share your pamphlet, and provide a touch of misdirection, as well. With the addition of a Lord Whistledown, everyone’s eyes will turn to those who married at the end of last Season, or in the months since. Those of us who are merely engaged will be quite safe from suspicion.”

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Like all of you, I mourn for the loss of Britain’s future, and extend my most sincere condolences to the Prince and Princess of Wales, as well as our King and Queen, in this most sorrowful time.

But even in the midst of our sorrow, we must look to the future, and notice it’s bleakness. While our gracious Queen went to great lengths to secure the succession, one must ask, who is next? While their Royal Highnesses have produced offspring a-plenty, England was sadly lacking in Legitimate Royal Grandchildren even before the greatly-lamented Princess Charlotte was taken from us.

Alas, Politics is the province of gentlemen, and I am no such thing, despite what some of the more hidebound have speculated. As such, I have a surprise to lift your spirits.

I have allowed my husband to delve into the murky waters of Politics and Policy, and wish him joy of it.

Yours Truly,


Lady Whistledown

Dearest Readers, Gentle or Otherwise,

It has long been said that it is the duty of every man to marry, especially when so many promising young men have been lost in the recent- and not-so-recent wars that they are quite in danger of becoming an endangered species.

To love one’s wife is desirable, of course, but if a man is strong enough to look past a lack of passion - that fleeting, elusive emotion - and see a friend and helpmeet in life… that is nearly as good. Love is no divine blessing, rather it is a choice that one makes, something that can come all at once or grow over time.

My own dear Lady Whistledown and I were not some fairytale encounter or Gothic adventure. Our love grew through conversation, and was nurtured by shared interests, until one day there was a blooming garden where dirt and seeds once stood.

There are many men, young and not so young, who have been inattentive to their duty, and as all eyes look to the future, so must they. We are not inheritors of the past, but custodians for the future, and it is our duty to see that future comes to pass.

Yours Faithfully, 


Lord Whistledown.

Eloise had been sitting in a tea shop, brooding over a tall cup of chocolate, when the special issue of Lady Whistledown arrived.

At first, she resolved to ignore it. The loss of a future Queen Regnant was quite enough to darken her spirits, quite aside from being unable to talk with or write to Penelope. Soon enough, the giggling would begin.

Gasps and shrieks shattered the quiet of the tea shop, making Eloise and her mother both look up sharply. Miss Stowell, due to come out with Francesca next Season, was signing to her mother and speaking to her friend at the same time. “Can you fathom it? Why do you think Lady Whistledown chose to reveal it now?”

Her voice was high with excitement, and increased in pitch with every word. Somewhere outside, a dog began to bark. Reveal what? Eloise longed for a copy of Whistledown, but Mama had banned her until she proved herself worthy of the privilege. Miss Stowell’s friend giggled, “Perhaps to encourage the current line of succession to join her in the married state? Other than the Queen herself, there is no greater fashion leader than Lady Whistledown.”

Lady Whistledown was married? So much for Eloise’s theory that she was a spinster with time on her hands. Or perhaps it was a recent thing… no. Her obsession with the writer’s identity had caused enough damage. Mama coughed on her tea, and Hyacinth bounced in her chair. “I can catch one of the delivery boys, I am sure.”

Either way, Eloise was sure that Mama was about to remove her from temptation. She drank down the last of her chocolate, and followed her family out for the short walk home. In the distance, she saw a quartet of familiar red hair heading toward the modiste, and almost asked Mama if she could stop in for a ribbon.

But no, that was also out of the question. Everyone had made it very clear that she was to wait for Penelope to be ready to see her, and any attempts to press the issue would result in an extension of her current punishment.

Queen Charlotte raised an eyebrow at the latest issue of Whistledown. The mysterious author was being rather restrained, but perhaps she, too, was in mourning. Queen Charlotte admired the equal restraint of the harridan’s husband, to have remained silent for so long in the face of his wife’s notoriety. Too many men would have insisted upon claiming credit for her fame.

Still, Lord and Lady Whistledown were correct, and their less-than-subtle influence matched what Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury had said: one did not have to love one’s spouse at the alter, love grew over time.

Charlotte had not loved George immediately. His words to her in the garden had made her willing to take a leap of faith, but love had grown over time. It had not been easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but it had been worth it. George had given her fifteen children, and love and joy and influence she would not have shared with anyone else.

Even the sense of being trapped in time, with her husband’s long illness, allowed Charlotte a power she would not have had as a Dowager Queen or Princess elsewhere.

A messenger entered, and Brimsley, never far from her side, accepted the letter. “The Princesses Adelaide and Victoria have accepted, your Majesty, and should arrive within the week.”

Excellent. She would tell William and Fredrick of their impending marriages once it was too late for them to refuse.

The Featheringtons had been invited to dinner with the Remingtons, and of course the subject of everyone’s choice was Lady and Lord Whistledown. Thomas and Penelope shared smiles from their corner of the table. “Lord Liverpool swore in parliament, and thereby revealed to the entire chamber that he had been reading Whistledown under the bench.”

Penelope giggled; Lord Liverpool was unpopular, but competent enough to avoid being unseated, “Oh dear, was he terribly embarrassed?”

Lord Remington laughed, “Oh yes, but then the chamber devolved into an argument on who Lord Whistledown might be, so he was certainly not the only one. I did manage to speak to the archbishop about a special license, though, and he granted it.”

Lady Featherington beamed from the opposite end of the table, while Prudence pouted. “How wonderful! When shall you marry?”

Penelope and Lord Remington had briefly discussed the subject, though not in great detail. “I thought perhaps four weeks. That will give the current crisis time to settle down, and you plenty of time to plan a wedding breakfast.”

Prudence huffed from her seat, perhaps resentful that Mr Dankworth was not present. “Do you plan to invite the Bridgertons? It might be nice for them to experience a scandal-free wedding, for once.”

Colin’s damage to her prospects was a moot point, now, and Penelope had been well-compensated for the damage Eloise did, if not the invasion of her room in the first place. But Penelope would not be able to avoid her forever, and she missed the Bridgertons, who had been a second family to her. “I will call on them this week, and decide then. Should you mind if I brought Felicity, my dear? I believe she and Hyacinth will get along wonderfully.”

Read Part 6 here