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Chapter Text

Edinburgh's rain was more dramatic than London's, and at the same time, more poetic. A week before Christmas and the end of the year, Colin held in his hands the letter signed by Lord Kilmartin.

It was no secret that Queen Charlotte loved the festivities and, it seemed, there was something special about Christmas, because year after year the decorations became more outstanding, bigger, more exaggerated, more overwhelming.

Lord and Lady Kilmartin currently reside in the same area as him, Colin had missed the couple's marriage, it had been a surprise to see his sister with a man by her side strolling in the town's village. He had frozen at the sight of his sweet Frannie standing in the middle of the street watching him, earlier that day he had discovered that the journey to the Lord and his sister's home was a short one, no more than an hour from the small place he lived.

Colin looked carefully at the paper in his hands again. The letter had arrived over a week ago, yet until a couple of minutes ago he had ignored it, just like all the other letters his family had written to him over the years.

They were unable to understand that the lonely and ashamed life he lived was, in part, a choice. Closing his heart to his family, siblings and nieces and nephews had not been an easy decision, but if he was honest, it was the only possible decision. He knew deep down that everyone would eventually want to talk about Penelope, and he wouldn't be able to stand it. It was one thing to close his heart and live with that pain but it was quite another to be aware, to know and watch Penelope, his friend, his confidant, the most important person in his life, make her life in the arms of another man, that was something Colin could not, would not, want to imagine. Never.

Unfortunately, there was no way to go back in time and change things.

He opened the letter out of inertia, it was lying to him to say that the letter didn't make him curious, after all Lord Kilmartin had never written to him and it could be an emergency, something could be wrong with Francesca, something else could be going on.

In the end, the letter was returned to its original position, along with the ninety-one letters his family had written. In the end, it had only an invitation.

He went back to his desk to go through once more the scribbles he had written during the afternoon only to crumple the piece of paper and finally throw them away, he looked at the time, dusk was coming once more and although Colin thought about taking a bath, the hangover, which had become his most faithful companion, had won him over.

The cottage he was living in was small for a Bridgerton, at times Colin imagined the look on his brother Anthony's face when he saw the place, its owner, Mr. Smith, had said it was the ideal cottage for a tortured poet, for someone with a free soul who admired good scenery and understood solitude. Deep down, Colin didn't want to be any of those things, even if he didn't bother to correct the old man.

Seventeen months have passed since then.

He had left London a coward, with a hundred words to say, a thousand things to change, with a sense of guilt that, even now, he could not control. A single sentence had destroyed his life forever and thirteen months later there was not a day that went by that he slept thinking about what his life would have been like if only he had held Penelope's hand, if only he had listened to her, if only anger and pride hadn't won him over.

Like most nights, Colin fell asleep thinking about the first time he and Penelope had kissed.

The clock showed three in the morning when the window began to rattle as if it were about to explode. Colin woke with a start, quickly lighting the candle on his bedside table only to gasp.

His father - or at least a very good representation of him - was sitting beside him.

Edmund Bridgerton looked as dapper as ever, his impeccable blue suit clinging to his skin to fit. Colin couldn't help but smile, he didn't dream of his father often. He hadn't dreamt about his father in over ten years. It was then that he noticed that his father's kind look looked tired and sad, it was a look that had only ever been directed at him once, years ago when, in over-enthusiasm, he had thrown away a little Eloise Bridgerton's birthday cake.

‘You're in for a long night, my son,’ Edmund said in the middle of the night, ’I wish things had been different that you didn't have to face what lies ahead of you alone.’

Colin looked at him, not believing what he was hearing. ‘Father...’

‘Colin, listen to me carefully. You are a young person. Your soul is still on time, you are still safe to change things.’ Edmund Bridgerton commented solemnly.

The last thing he needed was for his nightmares to judge him.

‘There is no need to change anything, father.’ He replied stubbornly.

‘Look around you, this is not the life you want to have, and above all, this is not the life you deserve.’

‘I can't have the life I want.’ he replied immediately, thinking of Penelope, of her eyes, of her skin, of her unforgettable red hair, of the night he had discovered that his Penelope was Lady Whistledown.

Day by day he relived in his mind the evening when Penelope had given him back the ring. He remembered her tear-filled eyes, after the nine words that had destroyed their engagement, ‘Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment.’

He remembered the look on his mother's face and how she had demanded he change things, but most of all he remembered the words Portia Featherington had made to him the next day. ‘It would be good for you to disappear, Mr. Bridgerton. Don't worry about Penelope, Lord Debling will be here this afternoon. He and I have come to an agreement, the two of them will marry… it's about time you left my daughter alone for once, whatever she said to her has got her in a bed she doesn't want to get out of'.

The memory came back to hurt him. Not fighting for Penelope had been simple in many ways but it had destroyed him forever.

His father's voice snapped him back to reality. ‘Son. You must be strong; this is not just a dream.’

‘That's ridiculous, of course it's a dream… you're not here, and this isn't real.’

Edmund looked at his watch before saying ‘Colin, there is no time left, I wish I could accompany you on this journey, but I am not allowed to, I don't belong here.’

‘Father? What are you talking about?’ For the first time in the night, the twenty-five-year-old felt like a lost child, he looked at his father intently.

‘They will visit you on three occasions. Remember, you must be strong, open your heart, this is your chance to let your guard down, only you can change things. It's time for me to go.’ said the ghost with sincerity. ‘I love you.’

In a desperate instinct, Colin got out of bed to reach for his father, even if none of this was real, he wanted to hug him one last time, he leaned across the bed, trying to grab his arm as Edmund Bridgerton faded away.

For the first time in months, Colin Bridgerton felt more than loneliness and grief for himself, he felt fear.

Not more than three minutes passed when a heavy sound came flooding back into the room. Gradually Colin recognised the sound which could only be one thing, chains.

The spectre of his father had looked just as Colin remembered him in life, what was before him could only be a figment of his imagination.

Lord Archibald Featherington looked exhausted, his look of let and relaxed was in oblivion, his body also showed strong signs of fatigue, of a person who carried a weight that exceeded his body. Colin tried to ignore at all costs the appearance of what must have been his father-in-law.

‘Colin Bridgerton’ he announced. ‘I've been looking forward to seeing you for over a year.’

Colin blanched, dumbfounded. ‘Lord Featherington?’ he replied in a whisper.

‘Spare me the questions. The time has come for you to listen to someone other than your thoughts. I know your father was here and told you about the… visitors, that's more warning than others get.’

‘I assume you are the first of three?’

The wraith nodded. ‘Listen to me well, because I will not say it again. This is the only chance you will have to change things, from now on you will keep silent and accompany me. There are things you must see, moments you must remember.’

As if his heart had been ripped out, Colin Bridgerton panicked as he watched his body walk away from his room. It had to be the strangest dream of his life. It was a few seconds before they set foot on the floor again and when they did, Colin had to use all his strength not to cry.

He was in Aubrey Hall, Colin knew it was Christmas because of the beautiful tree that dazzled the room, but it wasn't just any Christmas, the silence of the room, the decorations and the absence of energy gave away what was happening.

Colin had travelled back in time.

Anthony was nowhere to be seen in the room, neither was his mother nor little Hyacinth. This was undoubtedly the first Christmas after his father's death.

Colin had blocked that celebration out of his head.

The front door of the house opened to give way to his sisters, led by Daphne, who even at nine years old looked ready to take care of any kind of trouble. Colin couldn't help but smile, he had forgotten how small his sisters had once been.

It was then that Benedict walked in with Gregory in his arms, spotted his sisters and commented:

‘Good morning, little ladies, have any of you seen Colin? I've been looking for him for a while, he wasn't with Gregory or in his room.’

Her heart gave a twist of emotion as she remembered what would happen next.

The girls shook their heads. It was Eloise, who in a shrill tone asked, ‘are we going to lose him too?’

‘Who's lost?’ asked Anthony who had just walked through the door along with Violet, they both looked exhausted, it was obvious that Anthony had argued with their mother to join them on Christmas Day. They both looked lost with everything that was going on.

‘It's nothing, Mum,’ said Daphne, taking her mother's hand. ‘Breakfast should be ready; they're just in time for us all to eat together.’

‘No one is missing, brother’ Francesca explained, stepping closer to Anthony, Colin smiled, she looked very composed. ‘It's just Colin, we haven't found him yet. Surely, he must be eating.’

‘Oh no, Christmas crackers!’ exclaimed Benedict as he left little Gregory in the hands of his charges.

Before the family could start looking for Colin, a playful giggle took over the room. Everyone fell silent, which only made the laughter stand out even more in the room.

The three little girls joined in laughter, as did Benedict who looked expectant, Colin could see how Anthony was also smiling at the situation. Violet Bridgerton, the one who moved delicately, slowly approached her pale blue curtains and gracefully opened them to reveal a breathtaking landscape.

She opened the curtains one by one, skipping one space ‘It seems to me that it has snowed, it's a pity that Colin is not here, he will miss the hot chocolate that we will make especially for this occasion’.

At that moment, from the remaining curtain, a little Colin exclaimed ‘but mummy, I'm here! See! I can have hot chocolate’. The little ten-year-old was the only one still in his pyjamas, still, he didn't look at all embarrassed to have a face full of biscuits and chocolate.

‘Colin!’ Violet exclaimed in an accusing tone at the sight of her little boy, she tried to keep her composure but burst out laughing at the sight of his face full of food.

‘It'll be years before we can wipe your face clean of so much chocolate,” Eloise commented indignantly.

The little boy went over to his mother to give her a hug and hide his face from his siblings.

Colin watched as amidst the laughter a small tear of happiness escaped from her eyes and trickled down her black dress. It was the first time his mother had laughed like that since his father's death. At the time, Colin, still a child, had not understood, but his older brothers and his mother did.

Colin didn't realise at what point he had started to cry; his mother had had something to go on about. He? He had nothing, not strength, not the will, he knew that in time his family would welcome him back, but it wasn't enough, the emptiness that had penetrated his body, the shame and the loneliness were irreplaceable.

‘Yes, very nice, now move. There are more people you need to see.’ commented Archibald Featherington breaking the moment. ‘There's another Christmas you need to visit; we're up against time. Walk.’

In the blink of an eye the location changed.

Colin failed to recognise the house before his eyes. ‘You are to go in alone, when the moment has passed you will return here at once. Do you understand?’ indicated Lord Featherington sternly.

‘Why don't you come?’ asked Colin immediately. ‘I don't know this place. Where are we?’

‘I am not accompanying you for the fun of it, Mr. Bridgerton.’ Said the spectre angrily ‘I am paying debts, preventing others from being miserable in their deaths as I am. One of the things I am forbidden, even in death, is to see my beautiful daughters, to return to my home. Now go on, time is passing faster than you think and yours is running out.’

If a Christmas at home was surrounded by laughter and Violet Bridgerton rising from her bed to share with her children, this house could not be more different. Colin moved timidly down the hallway to the central room. The decorations immediately transported him to the Featherington house in Mayfair.

Even though it was Christmas morning, it seemed that none of the people in the house were ready except for Albion Finch, who was unconcerned and alone, reading in the living room. Colin felt a shiver as Portia Featherington walked past him towards the staircase. He caught up with her quickly, his heart stopped momentarily as he found Penelope with teary eyes, beside them, her sisters looking with interest at a letter.

Colin recognised it as one of the many letters he had written during his trip, he recognised it from the yellowed envelope, he had lost all his writing materials between Paris and Spain, he had walked for hours in the rain in Madrid to get paper and ink, to get the letters posted in time, with the aim of having them in Mayfair for the festivities.

‘I must admit, I thought it was a lie when you said Colin Bridgerton was writing to her,’ Philippa commented curiously. ‘Do we know why he does it? Writing to him.’

‘It must be out of pity, I'm not able to imagine any other reason, he must have written to him to ask about Marina’ Prudence added, with a small chuckle. ‘How does he even have the address of this place?’

Penelope was silent. Colin could tell how she was doing her best not to respond to her sisters’ accusations, not to cry, to stay strong. Colin couldn't ignore how different she looked compared to the last time he had seen her, even in a lime green coat, which clashed with the whole room, Penelope looked beautiful.

‘Penelope, I thought we had agreed to put an end to your letters with Mr. Bridgerton,’ said Portia accusingly. ‘You know perfectly well that nothing good is going to come of it. It wasn't good with Miss Thompson, and he had feelings for her, much less will it be good with you. Stop humiliating yourself.’

Colin wanted to punch something.

‘I don't know if you noticed but the letter isn't even open,’ Penelope commented in a low but clear and determined tone. 

The three women stopped to look at her.

‘Surely because it arrived this morning,” replied Portia disdainfully.

Penelope moved swiftly to her desk, and from the cabinet she pulled out at least six sealed letters, which Colin immediately recognised as his own. From her position she could see how her Prudence and Philippa were enjoying the show, surprised but intrigued.

‘None of these ridiculous cards are open, Mum.’ A dead silence fell over the room. ‘In fact, I think you have more interest in them than I do. What's in it for me, you can burn them. You're right, mother. Colin Bridgerton is not my friend,’ Penelope sentenced before leaving the room completely.

Colin didn't know if it was possible, but he felt his heart break again at those words. It was when he noticed a strange gleam in Portia's eye, as if for the first time he didn't know what to say, that he failed to respond to his youngest daughter when he saw Prudence approach the desk in the direction of the letters. ‘Don't you dare, Prudence,’ warned Portia, taking the letters and putting them back where Penelope had taken them from.

‘But mum, she said we could burn them, clearly they are lost parchments she has no interest in, personally I'm content to look at them before they end up in the fire.’

‘However, much interest you feel, this is private, it's your sister's and you owe her at least that minimum of respect.’ she concluded. After that the room was empty.

Penelope looked down the corridor before returning to her room and locking herself in, once alone, she began to cry, not in a melancholy or guarded way, but in despair. It was a sob unlike any Colin had ever witnessed, he couldn't help but wonder how common that kind of crying was.

Penelope was so lost in her thoughts, in her sadness, that she was not even able to notice that her little sister, Felicity, had come to comfort her. ‘Tell me what happened, sister, I heard screaming.’

Colin looked at them for a second before approaching.

He moved forward until he reached Penelope side but to no avail. He wanted to touch her, to brush her skin once more and kiss away each of her tears. To be by her side again but he couldn't, after all this wasn't happening, even this was a mere memory, something Colin couldn't change no matter how much pain he felt. He didn't know what to do, the tears that were now streaming down his face were simply pathetic.

Colin knew that the relationship between Penelope and his sisters was distant, he had heard it from Eloise, but he had never witnessed anything like this, a part of him celebrated every time Penelope had written something hurtful about his sisters in Lady Whistledown, now he understood, after all he was unable to imagine a world where his siblings, despite all their differences, would not support him at the end of the day.

The memory faded and Colin found himself facing Lord Featherington in his bedchamber in Edinburgh, Colin was furious. ‘You always let this happen?’ Accused the third Bridgerton ‘always allowed Penelope to be alone and humiliated by her sisters, by her mother.’

The wraith looked at him with disdain, ‘What makes you think you are any different, Colin Bridgerton? When you found out who she was you were the first to accuse her, the first to listen to nothing she had to say, the first to reject her. This is the only thing I can do for my daughter. After all, the greatest pain in my daughter's life has always been related to you, to your words and your choices.’ 

A piercing sound startled them both, Colin could tell Lord Featherington was in pain and immediately hunched over, he approached the man only to notice a new chain on his leg. ‘What on earth!’ exclaimed Colin urgently.

‘Apparently, I can't recriminate your action, it's against ‘the rules’, the universe must see something good in you Colin Bridgerton, because it punished me just for trying to correct you.’ Said the man with a pained tone.

‘What are you saying, what does it mean?

‘It means your soul isn't damaged enough yet. Your father already told you that,’ he commented in exasperation. ‘It means there is still hope.’

‘How do I know I'll do the right thing’ he whispered in the middle of the room.

‘Oh, you'll know.’ The last he saw of Archibald Featherington was a look of sorrow before he disappeared in the middle of the night.

Hope? How can hope make a difference?

Chapter Text

Colin settled back on the bed. To say he was puzzled was an understatement. There was no logical explanation for what was happening; nothing made sense.

Going back didn't make sense. Not when Penelope would probably be uncomfortable just seeing him. Not when Lord Debling would be by her side. Not when there were not enough words to fill the void between them. No matter how much he wanted to change things or how much he loved her. No matter how many nights he dreamed of running through her body one more time. Going back would only be torture for both of them.

And yet Colin knew that even if he returned to Mayfair and Penelope was married, even if they only crossed paths at dances, sooner or later they would return to each other. No matter the days, the months or the years. He would always belong to her.

Mayfair was a danger. He knew it. He'd seen cases of adultery before, and it was always the woman who paid the highest price. He couldn't put her at risk. Not Penelope.

He let out a sigh.

He didn't know if it was seconds, minutes or hours when the room lit up again. Before he turned around, he wondered who he would see this time, would it be one of his grandparents? An uncle? Or someone completely unknown?

A shiver ran down her spine as she turned around. It had only been a couple of years, but he instantly recognised the figure with his back to him, dimly lit by the evening light.

It couldn't be real, could it?

A second shiver ran through him.

Marina Crane was alive. She had to be alive. At home, preparing for Christmas celebrations with her husband and two small children.

Colin forced himself to look at her more carefully. He approached her cautiously, fearing the worst.

Marina was dressed in a long, pale robe. Though she looked warm, her skin had an icy, almost clammy tinge to it....

Colin didn't know what to say.

The ghost gave him a polite smile.

‘If you read the letters your family sends you, you wouldn't be so surprised. After all, people die every day.’

‘Marina...’

‘I should have been here a couple of minutes ago, but I didn't want to leave George.’

‘Marina, but your children-’

‘My children deserve someone better than me,’ she clarified immediately, closing off any possibility of dialogue. ‘I'm not here to talk about my life or what became of it. I came to show you the present. Unlike me, you can still change your destiny, you can still fix things. And I don't think you've ever been able to understand how lucky you are.’

‘The present...?’

Marina grabbed his arm. Colin was startled to feel her coldness; though he couldn't sense a solid body, he knew immediately how icy she was.

Suddenly, he found himself in Aubrey Hall. Everything looked as warm as the last time he had visited. His gaze fell on the glowing light in Anthony's room. A feeling of anxiety and worry came over him. Nothing good could keep his brother awake in the days before Christmas, let alone at this time of night.

Then a scream broke the silence.

It was loud and clear. A cry Colin had heard before... but in his mother's voice. This time it sounded different: more desperate, younger, sharper.

He recognised it immediately. It was his sister, Kate.

Colin knew what was happening before he entered the room.

Inside, his mother was bending over Kate, patiently wiping away every drop of sweat. Hyacinth was moving swiftly, arranging the space with a seriousness that took him by surprise. She was no longer a child.

Both women paced back and forth, making sure everything was in order as Lady Kate Bridgerton prepared to give birth.

Then Anthony came in with the necessary staff.

His sister-in-law was going to have a baby.

Colin felt happiness for them. And, at the same time, something he could only recognise as envy.

Seeing his brother in that situation took him back to the beginning of it all. To Penelope.

As if his mind had decided to project the best moments of a story that never happened, Colin saw her with absolute clarity: Penelope pregnant, smiling at him in the moonlight. Penelope running in the park, chasing after her young children. Penelope laughing, with a baby in her arms. With their baby.

He couldn't help but smile at the fantasy.

‘Let's get out of here. It's not proper for you to see this,’ Marina commented, interrupting his thoughts.

Colin didn't go much further out the door. Even if his mother couldn't see him, he stayed by his side. He smelled her warm scent of roses, of home.

Violet Bridgerton was probably the only person who could have changed his mind. The only one who could make him stay. But he had fled London before that chance even existed.

A few minutes later, Anthony appeared in the doorway, a tiny baby in his arms.

‘Mother, meet the youngest Bridgerton. Miles Christopher Bridgerton Sharma,’ he announced, with a mixture of excitement and exhaustion.

Christopher.

Colin stood still; his eyes fixed on the little creature. He watched his mother rock the baby with love and tenderness, as if she was born to it.

It was Hyacinth who broke the moment with a trembling sob.

‘Colin would be honoured... to have you use his middle name,’ she said softly, moving tearfully closer to embrace Anthony.

‘I am. I am honoured. I'm happy for your little boy, Anthony’ Colin replied without hesitation.

‘They can't hear you. You're not with them,’ Marina said.

Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water.

He turned his gaze towards her, feeling reality dragging him back mercilessly. How many births and celebrations was he missing out on because of his decision? Where were Eloise, Benedict and Gregory? Why weren't they all gathered at Aubrey Hall on Christmas Eve? When had it been long enough for Anthony to have a second child?

Colin wanted to disappear.

Marina looked at him with pity.

Colin sensed that she could see inside his mind, that she understood exactly what he was thinking at that moment.

‘All that pain, all that sorrow you feel... that longing to lock yourself up again among your books and manuscripts is precisely why we are here,’ she said, with a hint of indignation in her voice. ‘They want you to change, but you still don't see the bigger picture.’

Colin frowned.

‘Seeing your brother start a family should make you react. It should push you to go back to them, not push you away or question you. I think you need to see a little more. But maybe this isn't enough.

Before he could respond, Colin saw his family disappear before his eyes.

For the third time that night, the scene changed.

Now he was in front of a cabin. He didn't recognise the place. It was simple, similar to his own, but more remote, more... isolated.

His chest tightened with anxiety. He walked towards the house with unsteady steps, but no sooner had he set foot inside than a child's cry stopped him in his tracks.

The room lit up quickly, the candlelight revealing a petite, red-haired silhouette.

Penelope.

Colin felt his heart stop.

His jaw slackened, his eyes widened in surprise. He saw her and was completely dazzled.

The cautious pace he had taken until then turned into a desperate one.

‘Pen...’ he whispered, like a plea.

He felt Marina's gaze on him.

‘I know she can't hear me, I know I'm not with her’ he growled, not looking away from Penelope.

The cry echoed again, interrupting the moment.

Penelope bent over a small cradle and, hands trembling with exhaustion, lifted a baby into her arms.

‘What's the matter, Aggy?’ whispered Penelope softly. ‘Would you like to hear a song? I think we both deserve a little break, don't you? It's been a rough week, love.’

Colin felt the air leave his lungs.

‘They have a baby...’ he murmured in a strained voice, not looking away from the scene.

Hundreds of questions swirled in his mind.

Why is she alone?

Where is her staff?

Where are we?

Where's bloody Debling?

Why isn't anyone accompanying them?

Why has it been a hard week?

When will this torture end?

Then Penelope's voice filled the air, soft and melancholy, accompanying the rocking with which she cradled the child.

‘Hey December, guess I'm feeling unmoored, can't remember what I used to fight for...’

Colin felt like he was choking.

‘Marina where are we?’ dared Colin to ask, his voice barely a whisper.

‘Glasgow.’

‘Glasgow?!’ he exclaimed, feeling a knot tighten in his chest.

It was not far. A little over three hours away on horseback.

What were Penelope and her daughter doing here?

His mind filled with fury.

He was going to murder him, he was going to murder Debling.

How could he have left her alone with a little girl in the middle of nowhere, cut off from her family and everything he cared about? He was supposed to be her best choice.

So why did he only see misery?

‘And I was catching my breath. Barefoot in the wildest winter, catching my death, and I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for... evermore.’

Penelope finished singing in a whisper.

Colin watched her fix her gaze on her daughter as small tears slid down her face.

‘There you go, little one... now sleep. You need to get your strength back. You're the only thing I have, the only thing holding me. You can't leave me.’

A small sneeze interrupted the silence.

Colin recognised it instantly. He had heard that same sound hundreds of times among his siblings when they were babies.

The little baby was sick.

Colin forced himself not to look at her. He could not.

To look at her would be to face the cruelest proof of all: proof that Penelope and Debling shared a daughter. To look at her would be proof of every one of his mistakes, of the hundreds of things he couldn't change.

He lay there, motionless, watching Penelope until she, too, fell asleep with the baby in her arms.

There were no words to express how much he missed her.

He didn't know at what point the tears began to fall from her eyes. Or if, in fact, he had never stopped crying since he first saw Miles.

Nor did he notice when he returned to his room, back to his solitude.

Three hours from Penelope and her daughter.

An hour from Francesca.

A couple of days from his mother in Kent.

Marina watched him from a corner, with that enigmatic expression that made his skin crawl.

‘I heard of your engagement to Penelope before she died,’ she murmured. ‘Her love for you helped me understand that my life without George was meaningless.’

Colin frowned, his curiosity overcoming his pain.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, his voice was more serious than he expected. ‘When you say it was his love that made you realise that a life without George wasn't worth living... what do you mean?’

For the first time that evening, Marina looked embarrassed.

‘My death... it wasn't natural, Colin.’

He felt a shiver run down his spine.

‘What are you saying?’

She averted her gaze.

‘I think these months have shown you that love can be a salvation... but also the greatest agony.’ She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. ‘I decided to meet with George.’

Colin felt the air leave his lungs.

‘I decided to go find him,’ Marina continued, ’even if my life ended because of it.’

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

Colin was in shock.

‘Deep down, you know what you have to do too,’ Marina continued serenely. ‘I know that the possibility of going after Penelope is already in your head. That she’s never gone.’

The words hit him like a hammer.

‘I know you feel empty without her. I know you still love her,’ she insisted. ‘What I don't understand is why I got a second chance, and you're not even able to visit her.’

Colin looked up. His chest was burning.

Was this how everyone saw him?

As a man who just gave up?

And more importantly... Was that how Penelope saw him?

Had she thought he'd gone down without a fight?

He needed to find out.

The decision hit him hard, as if it had always been there, waiting.

The time had come to go to her.

To be there for her. To support her.

Even if her mission broke his heart completely.

If Penelope needed help with the baby, he would be there.

As a faithful servant. As her closest friend. As Penelope would allow.

It no longer mattered. Not after seeing her alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

‘I'll go get her.’

Marina smiled faintly.

‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘But there's still more you need to know.’

Colin closed his eyes in frustration.

‘I assume I'm obliged to experience one last visit,’ he muttered, exhausted.

Marina nodded.

For the first time that night, her gaze turned sympathetic.

‘Drink some water. Eat something. You'll need your strength.’

Colin swallowed.

‘Goodbye, Colin Bridgerton,’ Marina whispered.

In the blink of an eye the woman who had been his fiancée disappeared into the shadows of the room.  

Chapter Text

Dutifully, Colin walked to the local kitchen. Only when he finished his first glass of water did he notice how dehydrated he was. It shouldn't have surprised him. Not even when he left Mayfair behind had he felt this way: devastated, broken and helpless.

The clock struck half past six in the morning when he noticed he was not alone. Beside him, a man older than him stood silently.

He didn't remember seeing him before, yet something about his face seemed eerily familiar. Was it his mannerisms? The curve of his smile? Or perhaps the look... It was as ir his image was trapped in some forgotten corner of his memory.

‘Colin Bridgerton, it's a pleasure,’ the figure said, his voice neither cold nor distant, but soft and close. Then, with an unnerving calmness, he added, ‘Walk with me, we'll go for a last walk tonight.’

He guessed that the rain had stopped falling a few minutes ago, because everything looked wet and yet, between the clouds, the sun managed to peek through, rebelliously and successfully. Drops were still sliding on the leaves of the trees, and the warm morning breeze had a melancholy air.

Colin walked through the grass, which had dried out over the winter, turning a light brown colour. His footsteps echoed on the damp earth. He walked in silence beside the man who guided him in a solemn manner. Although he had much to ask, something inside him told him that he should save his strength. Something inside him gave him a bad feeling, one that could only be compared to the night he decided to follow Penelope to the printing press.

He shuddered at the memory. Thinking about it now didn't help at all.

They walked in silence for almost an hour until they met a familiar face.

Despite the weather, Lady Danbury was as elegant as ever, though this time her indomitable posture seemed softened by sadness. For the first time since they had met, the man who accompanied her smiled genuinely; his expression left politeness behind and became genuinely happy.

Something inside Colin softened, but that feeling was interrupted by the image before him: he was in a graveyard. Quickly, Colin's mind was invaded by memories of his father's funeral. He wasn't ready to lose anyone, even if he was seeing the future.

Before fear could clutch at his chest, he was relieved to see a group of people arrive.

It was his family.

The first thing that caught her eye was Anthony's grey hair. Still impeccably dressed, there was something different about him, something that wasn't there just a few hours ago, something that made him look mature and resilient. Then, one by one, his siblings settled in, accompanied by their partners. Eloise was the last to join. Colin was surprised to see that beside him, clutching his hand, walked a girl who couldn't have been more than five years old.

Stupefied, he couldn't take his eyes off the little girl. She was the spitting image of Francesca, except for her nose: small and slender, very similar to Penelope's.

The ceremony began, even though only the Bridgerton family and Lady Danbury were there.

Then he understood. This was his funeral, and now he could confirm, without a doubt, that he was in the future.

Colin forced himself to watch his siblings, to study their reactions.

An unfamiliar woman held Benedict's hand gently. Her rounded belly betrayed an advanced pregnancy. She didn't look as stricken as the others, and it made sense: they had never had the chance to meet. Still, small tears fell silently, tracing thin lines on her face. A few steps behind, Philip Crane held a small bundle carefully in his arms. Beside him, Oliver and Amanda stood solemnly.

Time had run its course. And Colin, somehow, had been caught up in it.

‘We are here to honour a life,’ he heard a man say, and though his words were clear, Colin felt more confused than ever. His world was beginning to crumble around him.

The words of the master of ceremonies quickly hung in the air just as Prudence and Philippa arrived with their husbands.

Their faces reflected sadness, discomfort and, above all, bewilderment. Like spectres out of place, lost in a sea of uncertainty.

It was Lady Danbury who moved from her place to greet them with her characteristic courtesy. The women were about to open their mouths just as Portia and Felicity Featherington also appeared on the threshold.

A gasp escaped Portia's lips as her gaze fell on the girl Eloise was holding in her hand. Colin felt his heart shrink. None of this is right. But before Portia could utter a word, Benedict stepped forward and took the little girl in his arms with a protective gesture.

‘Think well of your words, Lady Featherington,’ he warned with a curt calmness. ‘Don't you dare offend her.’

At those words, Benedict's wife's eyes filled with pride. Both her partner and Eloise stood by the child, protecting the girl.

The silence became unbearable, dense. The tension continued to grow like a storm threatening to erupt at any moment. In the distance, Colin could vaguely hear the voice of the master of ceremonies excusing himself, announcing a ten-minute recess.

None of those present were able to respond.

It was then that the four flame-haired women gathered at the centre of the stage. It was as if they had not seen each other in some time, for their faces reflected only desolation. Regardless of time and past grievances, they embraced each other in silent grief, entangled in a swirl of regret and drama. For the first time, their brightly coloured, garish robes were no longer the most conspicuous thing about the place.

Colin looked around again, and suddenly he understood.

The Featherington clan would never cry for him like this.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

He needs to get out of there. He needs to move before he confirms his fear, before he completes the puzzle he had tried so hard to avoid. But even though he has walked with a certain freedom all night, at this very moment, an invisible force keeps him anchored to the ground.

And then Portia's words broke the silence like a dagger to the heart.

‘My daughter... my little girl... why did you leave our side?’

Colin felt the world fall away around him. His breathing became erratic. And then, he could hear another blow, one laden with spite.

‘All this time, Violet?’ Portia's voice trembled between fury and pain. The woman smoothly pulled a letter from her tunic. ‘You knew where she was? You knew of my Penelope, of her whereabouts, and you said nothing?’

The truth fell on Colin like an unbearable weight.

For the first time since they had arrived at the cemetery, he paid attention to something other than the people around him and approached the burial plaque next to the statue of an angel.

Yours Truly, Penelope Featherington.

April 6, 1796 - December 19, 1820

Penelope was dead.

She had died alone. Far from all those who, at one time or another, meant something to her in life. Away from her dreams, from what she was passionate about.

How?

The pain in his chest, the one that had been with him since he arrived at the cemetery, began to fade suddenly. Colin tried to scream, but to no avail. Had he died too? It would make sense, after all, a life without Penelope... was no life at all.

‘Don't you dare accuse Violet, Portia,’ Lady Danbury snapped sternly and swiftly, her voice steady as steel. ‘The only person who had contact with her all this time was me. The house where she and your granddaughter lived is mine.’

Portia was unable to respond to the statement, embarrassed by her attack on Violet. Her manner made Colin assume that the woman was as lost as he was at the moment.

‘Lady Agatha, I mean lady Danbury, what happened to my sister?’ asked Felicity, sheepishly, moving a little closer to the old woman.

Lady Danbury looked at her carefully, motionless, unable to utter a word. Colin, for the first time, stopped struggling against the truth and paid attention.

It was as if a shelf full of books had crushed him. His body was exhausted, tired from all he had had to listen to, but deep down he knew he had to do it. If he could change things, he had to know how to do it. He had to be able to listen to every detail that could bring him back to his Pen.

‘Penelope died of pneumonia,’ Lady Danbury replied after what seemed hours, with a heaviness that made the air shudder. ‘The little girl gave it to her. They both got worse during the last week. The child had suffered from chronic pneumonia before. The last letter your daughter wrote to me, Portia, mentioned that the only medicine in town... she chose to give it to little Aggy. I think she knew this would happen. I tried to get to her in time, but it was too late.’

Colin didn't think it would be possible, but the silence grew thicker. It was Anthony's voice that broke the stillness, rough with disbelief. ‘Why didn't she say anything before? Why didn't she ask for help?’ his face reflected the same exhaustion as Kate's. ‘Agatha... she was ours too.’

Ours?

Kate was about to respond, but her words faded before they were born. Instead, Daphne, who had stood in the background next to Francesca, commented, ‘A society like this would never have accepted Penelope raising her daughter out of wedlock,’ she said confidently. ‘It makes all the sense in the world. That's why she never looked back, that's why she ran away days before her wedding, that's why she decided to run away from Mayfair, that's why she couldn't settle for Debling.’

She couldn't settle for Debling.

The words echoed in Colin's mind like a relentless echo. He couldn't help but remember the sparkle in Penelope's eyes after they had confessed their feelings and kissed in the carriage, how happy and beautiful she had looked that night.

She hadn't settled for Debling that night, and she hadn't settled for Debling now. Because they belonged to each other.

He'd ruined everything.

‘She thought she wouldn't count on us, or his family,’ Kate murmured softly, as small tears streamed down her face. ‘She must have been so afraid, Anthony. Afraid of what they would say, what they would do to her. I myself was judged for the tone, for something that wasn't exactly my choice... Penelope must have believed that running away was the best thing for her and her daughter.’

The world seemed to stand still. Colin's heart skipped a beat, as if everything was happening in slow motion. For the first time all night, he stopped fearing the truth and completed the crossword puzzle before his eyes.

Nothing made sense.

If Penelope didn't marry Debling... then the girl she had seen earlier could only be... his.

A daughter.

He had a daughter. They had a daughter . 

A daughter he didn't know.

The little girl he had seen in the cabin, the one he had refused to look at, was indeed proof of a union, but not between Penelope and Debling. It was proof of the purest love between him and her.

He had missed moments of his daughter's life.

Where was his daughter?

The answers came before he could even ask his questions.

It was Philippa who broke the silence, addressing Benedict directly. ‘May I meet her? May I hold my niece?’

Benedict hesitated for a moment before bowing slightly and looking down at the girl in his arms. ‘What do you say, Aggy, do you want to meet your mother's sister?’ he commented without taking his eyes off the girl for a minute.

Agatha, despite her young age, managed to remain more composed than most of the adults present. She hesitated for a moment before nodding. ‘You're Philomena's mother, aren't you?’ she asked with disconcerting gentleness.

Philippa, through tears, nodded.

‘That's all right,’ the little girl replied. ‘Can I meet her later? I always wanted to meet Philly. Mum said I had the same hair as her... Not like me, who has the hair of my father's family.’ A sob escaped Philippa's lips before he pulled her into a hug.

To Colin's surprise, the girl clung to the embrace.

‘You talk just like my sister did when she was your age, you know that? A lot of questions, a lot of right conclusions,’ she whispered, her voice cracking. ‘You have a family in Mayfair, Agatha Bridgerton. A cousin who will adore you as soon as she meets you. No doubt about it,’ Philippa said, looking warningly at Benedict.

Colin was unable to move, unable to think. His mind had stopped dead in its tracks, and the solitude that had been his refuge for so many months now felt like an unbearable condemnation.

He looked again at Agatha, his daughter.

It was obvious that the girl bore the Bridgerton mark in every faction... except for her nose and eyes, which were exactly like Penelope's. How had he not noticed it before?

How had he not noticed it before?

He had a daughter.

A beautiful daughter.

A daughter he had unknowingly abandoned.

The weight of that truth came crashing down on him like a torrent, suffocating, devastating.

And unable to contain himself any longer, Colin screamed.

A visceral, gut-wrenching scream.

A childish scream, like that of a child in the throes of a tantrum.

A scream that seemed to drag with it all the demons released from Pandora's box.

The embrace between Agatha and Philippa had shaken everyone present. Colin searched the crowd, wondering if there was a chance he could be seen. He would have given anything to hug any of his siblings.

None of them came close. None of them could see him.

Looking around, he caught a glimpse of his mother trying to comfort Portia, who at one point had fallen to the ground in devastation. He was not even surprised to see Eloise, equally devastated, seeking refuge in Philip Crane's arms.

‘Aunt Eloise, don't cry anymore,’ Agatha said serenely as she left Philippa behind. ‘Somewhere, Mama is happy you're here today.’

Colin felt tears roll down his face.

Penelope.

His Penelope had run away, just as he had.

As if it were a bad joke, they had both chosen solitude.

And then Lady Danbury's voice broke the silence once more.

‘When I spoke to the doctor, his message was clear, Portia,’ she said gravely. ‘Your daughter's body might have been strong enough to survive the pneumonia... But her heart, her mind, were another story. I don't think she ever recovered from the separation with Mr. Bridgerton.’

A heartbreaking sound escaped her mother's lips. ‘Colin ran away before we could talk to her one last time, before we could sort things out, and now we don't even know where he is.’

Portia's face went from anger to surprise; who a second ago looked furious, now looked confused and as resigned as the rest, trying to come to terms with the new reality.

‘You don't know where Mr. Bridgerton is?’

Francesca sighed. For the first time, Colin rested his gaze on his sister; she had lost weight and looked tougher than before. His sad, hopeless gaze met Portia's easily.

‘No... he joined the British army, clinging to hopelessness, looking for a purpose. Or as I prefer to see it, a way to run away from himself.’ She paused, as if weighing each word. ‘It's been over two years... and we haven't heard from him again.’

He needed to get out of there.

‘That's enough, I get it,’ Colin shouted into the air. ‘I always knew I was looking forward to a life of unhappiness without Penelope, but please...’ he begged to himself through tears.

Even if it was all a nightmare, even if when he woke up nothing would change, he had to try.

He had to see Penelope one more time and prove that she was alive.

She wasn't just alone.

She felt alone.

It was as if the separation had been the beginning of the end for both of them.

Pen, her beloved Pen, even in her last moments, had been unable to ask for help.

What had he done?

How one stupid sentence had caused so much damage and so much misunderstanding.

He pondered Francesca's words for a second. He hated everything to do with guns. Good God! He wouldn't even join the hunts with Anthony and Benedict. If he had joined the army, it was for one purpose only.

A death wish, no doubt.

He tried to concentrate, but no physical pain could compare to what he felt at that moment.

The graveyard began to fade in front of him. A fog enveloped him and suddenly everything was gone. Disoriented, Colin looked around for the person who had led him there.

‘Hey, Mr...!’ His voice was barely a whisper.

‘Ledger. Lord Ledger,’ the man offered with a rueful smile.

Colin recognised the surname immediately.

He understood why his smile seemed so close, it was like his mother's. His grandfather looked at him with trepidation. He had lost and gained everything that night.

And yet, what he saw in that moment in front of him left him speechless.

He forgot everything he wanted to say to his grandfather because there, in front of him, was... himself.

But not the Colin Bridgerton he knew.

An older man.

An alcoholic.

Broken.

In front of him, a beautiful young woman with long, wavy hair, who could only be Agatha Bridgerton, stared at him angrily.

‘When Mother talked about you,’ she said in a firm but disenchanted voice, ’she was talking about someone to aspire to. Of an explorer who would one day return for us with great adventures and stories to tell. And not... this'.

Colin felt an emptiness in his stomach.

‘It's been seventeen years,’ Agatha continued. ‘Aunt Eloise was right. It would have been easier and healthier not to find you.’

The Colin of the future looked at her like an idiot. Colin could recognise the confusion in himself. The old Colin didn't understand what was happening, he wanted to answer, but his mouth didn't utter a word. After keeping his gaze fixed on the girl, he looked back down at his glass of whisky.

Seventeen years old.

He was barely in his forties, but the reflection in the mirror gave him back the look of a man who had fought hundreds of wars and lost them all.

All he managed to ask was:

‘Where's your father? Where's Debling?’ His voice sounded rough, alien. ‘Your mother... She married him, didn't she? Why are you here? Where is she, Where's Pen, did something happen to her?’

Agatha did not respond immediately. Her look of anger disappeared, replaced by a flash of sorrow.

She watched him in silence. And, after a long minute, she finally whispered:

‘If my mother had married Lord Debling... she might possibly be alive.’

Colin stopped breathing.

‘You, Mr. Bridgerton, are my father.’

The other Colin staggered.

His world had just collapsed.

For a second, Colin was grateful that no one could see his face, because the man's despair was unbearable to look at. The pain he felt at the beginning of the journey was nothing compared to what he felt now.

Screaming was not enough.

He needed this nightmare to end.

He needed to go back.

To London. To Bath. To Anywhere. 

Even if it took him a long time to find her, even if the ghosts weren't real, he had to find her, he had to see his Penelope again, make sure she was safe and sound.

It didn't matter if it took months, years, it didn't matter if he had to travel to another country, if he had to ride a horse or run on foot.

He had a lifetime to find her.

Chapter Text

The weather was beginning to change rapidly; the long summer evenings were beginning to be overshadowed by cloudy days and families were slowly beginning to make plans to return to their country homes. Penelope watched the street from her room. Even if looking towards Bridgerton House broke her heart, it was a hard practice to let go.

It had been just as hard to let go of Lady Whistledown, but Eloise was right, Cressida Cowper had presented a unique opportunity to put aside the identity of Lady Whistledown and have the chance of a peaceful, untroubled life, a quiet life with Colin.

A new beginning.

Since the two had that conversation, things had changed quite a lot. The Bridgerton family kept a low profile: Francesca and John had married privately; Anthony and Kate had travelled out of the country to welcome their first child; and Colin... Colin had left Mayfair without trace or letter.

His departure had left a scar on each of her brothers and sisters, and on her.

It had been Lady Bridgerton, in company with Eloise, who had come to Featherington House one morning to speak to Penelope and Portia. It had been days (DAYS) since they had broken off their engagement. Penelope's nights were still full of hope when Portia, her mother, confessed what she had said. The same evening that the engagement between Penelope and Colin ended, she went to Debling Manor to speak to the Lord. After a long conversation, the two agreed to have a private ceremony in which Penelope and Alfred would be married on the outskirts of Mayfair.

But that was not all. Her mother had broken the news of the settlement to Colin before even informing her, making it clear that what Penelope thought didn't matter, what she wanted or who she loved didn't matter. She simply had no say in her own life.

Her mother had proven, once again, that only Lady Whistledown's voice had power.

For a moment, Penelope thought her heart could break no more. She was wrong.

And though her mother had not said so, all four women present now knew it. It all made sense now: Colin had left Mayfair in the face of that revelation.

In that moment she knew: she could never forgive his mother for the damage she had done.

Although at first her body had clouded over, feeling empty and petrified at the news, the feeling was quickly replaced by anger and disappointment. Her mother's words had made her feel empty, insensitive and, above all, used even.

She still remembered Lady Bridgerton's overwhelmed look, speechless at the confession, and Eloise's face of disbelief, as if she could not believe her ears. Penelope apologised to those present, walked to her room and collapsed on her bed, overwhelmed. What had seemed like an ordinary morning had turned into a nightmare. Tears soon streamed down her face, and sobs soon took over the room. If she was honest, she would have told anyone who would listen: she wanted to drown right there, she wanted to bury her face in the nearest pillow and never wake up again.

Never.

Eloise had entered the room seconds later. Her hand, small and warm, took hold of her hair just as it had when they were little. The Bridgerton couple's fifth daughter did not speak. It was as if words were superfluous, and for the first time in a long time, Penelope thought that maybe the two of them could really recover their friendship, even if they still weren't able to talk about everything they needed to talk about with each other.

The two embraced amidst sobs and apologies.

Even if Penelope needed to talk, she knew it wasn't an option at the moment, because there was only one thing on her mind, something that kept her awake at night.

She was pregnant.

At least she thought she was. It had been Rae who had commented, in a sneaky way, that her bleeding was late. During that week she had helped her lie about her sheets, telling Varley that she had washed the bedclothes herself.

Once she got over the issue of the delay came the disgust, during the mornings and evenings. On more than one occasion her mother had questioned her with her eyes. Penelope excused herself, attributing her nerves to the wedding. Everything that was going on had been extremely convenient to maintain her façade.

Marrying Debling was not an option, not after she had tasted what love tasted like, that feeling that had been the protagonist of her every dream since she was a child, that feeling that could not compare to the books she read.

That feeling that belonged only to Colin.

The very day Penelope learned of her engagement to Alfred Debling was the day she decided, in no uncertain terms, that she could not marry him.

Her heart had already made her choice, even if the rest of the world seemed to ignore it.

How could she approach him when Colin was somewhere in the world and they were both going to be parents?

She couldn't. She didn't want to. She wouldn't.

The money provided by Lady Whistledown was enough to live on her own for a couple of years. Not luxuriously, not surrounded by balls or new costumes for every occasion, but enough to maintain a quiet, reserved life with her little baby.

There was only one thing against her: time.

Time works differently when you wait for something. For the next seven weeks, Penelope attended every dress fitting and promenade her mother proposed.

She faced every stare and every murmur in silence. As the days passed, she ignored Eloise too. It had broken her inside, but she had once promised herself never to lie to her again. The only way she could find was to stay away from her.

Penelope supposed Eloise understood, because after two weeks she didn't call for her again.

If Genevieve had been a person she could trust, she was now her closest accomplice, the most loyal of her friends. The dressmaker quickly learned of her condition; after all, she had been in charge of creating every one of her dresses since she was fifteen. The same evening she suspected the pregnancy, she asked her, and Penelope, in tears, told her everything: her meeting with Colin before the marriage, the house they might have lived in, her mother's arrangement with Debling, her longing to leave Mayfair, and how her sisters did nothing but feel sorry for her.

From that moment on, Genevieve -Gen- was her unconditional support.

Thus Gen and Rae formed a silent, unbreakable alliance. Once a week, the three of them would talk about towns, routes, people they knew, and the hundreds of ways Penelope could leave Mayfair safely and securely.

Initially, the date of their marriage was set for two weeks after the announcement. The mission was simple: to get time. To her surprise, things turned out just as she needed them to. She managed to change the date by excusing herself to Debling, justifying that nerves and fear were killing her. And Alfred believed her. He believed her when she said she was nervous; he believed her when she spoke of an equitable arrangement, of a marriage that could benefit both parties; he believed her when she assured him that love was something she wanted to give up, because it was too painful and stability came first after all.

"It will be an honour to bear the name Debling, my lord," she had told Lord Debling.

She wondered if Alfred deserved her lies. He was innocent, after all, even if he was incapable of loving her. Yet when all their conversations were replaced by their research, even on days when Penelope seemed like a walking ghost, something inside her heart confirmed that they had something in common: they would each prioritise their futures and their dreams.

It was easy to talk about it, about giving up on love, because Colin was so much more than that.

Colin was the air she needed to breathe, the breeze that calmed her nights, the part of her soul that helped her wake up every morning. Where would he be? Even if their engagement was over, even if she had lost him forever, she couldn't stop thinking about him, about his health, his well-being, about the last look they had shared, full of confusion, anger and sadness.

Deep down, Penelope had faith. Something in her heart clung to the idea of a second chance. Something in her believed - even if she was unable to say it out loud - that the baby should be just that: a second chance for her and Colin to make things right, without fears, without secrets, in a relationship built just for and by the two of them.

Maybe, just maybe, there was still time to rewrite the ending she had always dreamed of. Because that baby was not only a new life... it was also a promise: the promise of a love that could still heal.

So she waited, until the time was right to begin a life away from everything she knew. Leaving without saying goodbye was agony. Eloise had been the hardest part, and it would probably have destroyed her had it not been for the fact that the previous summer had somehow prepared her for this: for a world where no Bridgerton was present in her life, even if she longed for the opposite.

Escape became inevitable when Penelope felt the baby move inside her. If she had ever thought the pregnancy was a figment of her imagination, that was now behind her. There was a life growing inside her, and she would do everything she could to care for it and protect it from all that Mayfair represented.

Rae and Gen accompanied her one rainy morning through the streets of Mayfair. Penelope still remembered her fearful but excited heart as she saw her friends in the middle of the dawn, beside her, accompanying her. The plan was simple: Rae would accompany her to the nearest inn, which was two hours away. There, a friend of Gen's - Oliver - would wait for them and help them get to the next town. Once there, they would both live for a couple of weeks in an inn, until it was safe to rent a place.

Her head was made up. There was no turning back.

And things worked out perfectly, at least for the first four hours of the plan. Penelope had not expected to come face to face with Lady Danbury, who was standing in the courtyard of the inn waiting to converse with her. The woman gave her little choice. After a (seemingly very prepared) interrogation, things became clear.

"I suspected your pregnancy at the engagement party. Since then, I haven't lost track of you. I was afraid you were planning something like this," she commented. ‘You don't think I'd let you wander from town to town after what you've just told me, Miss Featherington.’

"Lady Danbury, I can't go back there. I cannot handcuff a man I do not love, not when I know Colin is there, walked away from Mayfair without conversing with me, without knowing of my pregnancy..."

"I agree with you. But that doesn't mean I should go along with your plan. Before you make a decision, listen to my suggestion, please."

Penelope was surprised to find herself accompanied in such a misguided decision. She soon realised that, like herself, Agatha Danbury had been a wallflower, and not only that, but that at some point she had had to fend for herself.

So it was that she came to Glasgow, to a cottage where she didn't have to pay, where she didn't have to live by lying, where she lacked nothing. Every four days she was even accompanied by the caretaker of the place and his kind wife.

Things seemed fine, at least in practical terms. At times, she was haunted by Colin's last words to her, constantly reliving the scene. But everything got better when the night came. Every night, Colin's gaze would meet her in her dreams. His words of support and love helped her cope with her fears and apprehensions. Sometimes they didn't even talk. Some nights she only saw him writing; she could see him by candlelight, sitting at a desk in a home she couldn't possibly know, but which looked similar to hers. Sometimes Colin would scribble on his parchment, sometimes the two of them would cry together.

Sometimes Colin would caress her, kiss her until she felt energetic enough again to cope with her reality.

Sometimes she thought she saw him in the village market. His gaze would follow her as if she were a sentence that was hard to finish.

Sometimes she thought she was obsessed.

At other times, she lost hope.

Agatha's arrival changed things. The Wright family was with her at the birth; they were the only witnesses to the birth of the newest Bridgerton. It was they who cared for her for the next few days, who helped her dress and bathe Agatha.

Time works differently when you are a mother. Agatha became her everything, her strength to get up, to learn new things. Mrs Wright was so helpful, she taught her everything she knew about babies. She even learned how to cook (Penelope couldn't stop imagining her mother's indignant face with every recipe she learned). She learned all about herbs and how they could help little Agatha if something upset her stomach.

Gen and Lady Danbury wrote to her, though their letters were totally opposite in content, Penelope was grateful for the concern, the long-distance companionship. Thus she learned that Rae was working at the Danbury country house, that Lord Debling had not seemed surprised that she had escaped, that Lady Whistledown had left ‘a void’ in Mayfair society, that her sisters had been the mothers of two ‘cute, red-haired’ girls, and that both of them and their mother had spent their last savings in searching for her in vain.

Agatha was perfect. Every part of her was the ideal combination of her parents, the proof that love is capable of achieving things that seem imposible… like saving her life.

Chapter Text

Penelope awoke to the sound of screaming. She looked down at her little girl and, despite her fear, was relieved for a second to see her sleeping peacefully. Agatha had spent too many sleepless nights lately, seeing her sleeping was not only a relief to her, but also confirmation that her baby was getting better.

She walked briskly, grabbed a long coat and her gun before she made out what they were shouting. It was her name. A man was shouting her name. It clearly could not be Mr. Wright, the caretaker of the place: he and his wife had gone to spend the holidays with their daughter in Italy. Besides, it was highly unlikely that a man of his age would have healthy enough lungs to shout so loudly.

She took one last look at her daughter before going out to confront whoever was outside her home. She opened the door only to find a blanket of snow beginning to take over every corner of the place; it must have started snowing for the last few hours. She smiled unconsciously at the beautiful postcard.

It was then that she saw it.

Penelope gasped. In front of her was the last person she would have expected to see that morning, but also the one she was most anxious to see. The one person who, even on the worst of days, had been the focus of her attention. Her heart pounded as she identified the figure riding towards her house as none other than Colin Bridgerton.

She had imagined their reunion hundreds of times. The alternatives were so many: reuniting in Mayfair with her family, the two of them meeting at a market, seeing each other at Eloise's wedding, arguing, hugging, kissing.... She had even dreamt of Colin married to a faceless woman (and had felt nauseous just thinking about it). She had thought of everything, but she had never imagined this option: the option of Colin coming towards her, as pale as snow, as fragile as a newborn baby, and as precious as the last time she had seen him. It was a miracle she had only dared to imagine in her dreams.

Yet he looked shattered. He looked like he was about to fall off his horse.

She had no time for hesitation. Penelope dropped the gun without even thinking and ran down the stairs to reach him. The cold came over her immediately, but her heart was stronger than any warning from her body.

‘Colin! Oh, God, are you all right? How did you... how did you find me?’ she exclaimed as she saw him stagger off his horse.

Colin walked slowly, exhausted from the journey.

Then he reached her. Penelope didn't meet his gaze as Colin simply hugged her.

‘You're alive... Pen, you're here,’ he sobbed, touching her as if he couldn't believe what was in front of him. ‘I love you, Penelope. Forgive me for saying it so seldom.’

Penelope relaxed at the feel of his skin. They had gone months without seeing each other, a hundred things had transpired between them: fights, distance, secrets. They had both hurt each other, and yet there was nowhere else she wanted to be but in Colin Bridgerton's arms.

Despite her fictional imaginings, something inside her had taken it for granted that she would never hear from him again, let alone see him again. She had spent the last few months longing for one of Lady Danbury's letters to at least mention his name, to hint at his whereabouts, but to no avail. Each letter begged to hear from her and the little girl, asked her to return to society, to speak to her family. Seventeen months had passed. Seventeen months without a word from them, from her sisters, from the Bridgertons... from Colin. Of her Colin.

It was then that Colin's words echoed in her head.

Alive?

She looked back at him, only to worry again. Colin was falling apart. His face didn't even compare to the one she remembered from their last meeting or even when she had seen him after breaking off his engagement to Marina.

This Colin had a lost and forlorn look, like that of a ruined man who has lost his way in life.

‘Colin? Colin! What's going on?’ asked Penelope in a broken voice as she took him by the hand. ‘Of course... of course I'm alive. Walk with me, please, you're freezing, you're going to be sick!’

As Penelope entered the hut, she felt watched. Even as a child, she had always been able to identify Colin's presence, to sense him in some way or another when they shared a room together.

Before she could demand an explanation, Colin wrapped her in his arms again.

‘I know everything: about Agatha, that you left Mayfair, that neither your mother, nor Eloise, nor anyone else knows of your whereabouts except Lady Danbury. I know everything, Pen.’

Penelope froze at the confession. How could he know everything?

She sought Colin's gaze, fearfully, and then, to her surprise, the man who sounded lost and forlorn smiled at her. Though the smile wasn't able to match the brightness in his gaze.

‘I don't even know if you might be able to believe me, if I say it out loud I know it will sound crazy.’

Penelope gave him a puzzled look.

Even if Colin had spoken to Lady Danbury, she had never confessed the girl's name to her. Of course she had been inspired by the matriarch, by her support, by her brave life story, but since her birth Lady Danbury had always called little Agatha ‘baby angel,’ ‘sweetheart,’ or ‘little baby.’

She was still in his arms when Colin, in a sad tone, said, ‘Pen... Agatha? Is she all right?’

Good Lord, what on earth was going on?

How could Colin know of Agatha's delicate situation? How was he so aware? How could it be possible?

She was beginning to lose her cool. This had to be a dream. There was no other possible explanation. Her heart was pounding again. She needed to breathe for a second, to collect her thoughts before facing the reality before her.

The two parted slowly; Penelope took the time to look him in the eye before nodding.

‘Pen, I... I need you to answer me a question.’

Penelope took two steps back.

‘Colin! You can ask me and we can talk about anything you need to, but you're freezing. You need hot tea and a blanket badly. I also think you need to meet someone,’ she concluded in a vulnerable tone, in what was barely a whisper.

They both walked swiftly to where little Agatha Bridgerton lay, sleeping peacefully.

Penelope saw Colin's eyes fill with tears in an instant.

As if no days had passed between them, Colin settled down beside little Agatha to caress her with reverent tenderness.

Penelope couldn't help but smile, but she couldn't hold his gaze for long. She felt her own eyes fill with tears as she walked, almost without difficulty, to the small kitchen of the place. She turned on the kettle.

Nothing that was happening made sense, and yet everything seemed to be in its place.

Though something inside her knew she should be upset, watching Colin ride up to them as if her life depended on it had knocked down every bridge between them.

Surely the two of them could talk, even if she didn't know where to start.

Both could answer all the questions.

Even if it took time.

She looked back in the direction of the room; Colin was still standing next to Agatha, just as he had left him. She looked back at the scene: Colin was there, beside them, as he should always have been. For the first time in months, the puzzle seemed complete.

It must be a Christmas miracle, there could be no other explanation.

She reached for a thick blanket before turning to Colin and bringing him tea.

Seventeen months without seeing each other, and yet her love for him had not faded or changed.

Colin looked thinner, and his tired face betrayed his concern, but also evidence that he was no longer a teenager, but a man.

Penelope blushed as she noticed that Colin had removed some of his clothes, leaving her with only a thin white shirt, which showed through the dampness. Her eyes stopped on his, and it was then that she noticed how his gaze looked hopeful, with a different glow, calm, distant from the one with which he had arrived at the cottage.

‘Thank you,’ Colin commented as he took a sip of tea. ‘You don't know how I needed it.’

‘Colin, I...’ Penelope felt the words stagnate in her mind. ‘What are you doing here, how did you manage to find us? I didn't even know you were in the country...’

‘Would you believe me if I told you I don't know how to explain it?’ he commented after a few seconds. ‘I have so many questions, Pen... My mind can't digest them easily, I... I'm sorry. I know that we need to talk, that it's the key to keep us together, that it's necessary for both of us, but I don't know where to start. Nothing makes sense to me, except the fact that I'm looking into your eyes, and that you're here, alive.’

Again, that word. There was that word again. Why would I be dead?, Penelope thought.

She sighed.

The situation was starting to get the better of her, and she couldn't even blame Colin, who looked as confused as she did.

‘What about questions? You ask me simple, straightforward questions, and I answer them. That way we see what's true or not.’

Colin looked at her intently, as if he had discovered a new country, one full of wealth, knowledge and prosperity. A smile appeared on his face. ‘Brilliant. You're brilliant.’

Penelope couldn't help but blush.

Colin settled in next to Agatha.

‘Agatha is my daughter?’ he began in a tone Penelope couldn't identify, which could be nerves as well as hope.

‘She is,’ Penelope replied softly. ‘She was born on a rainy winter's day; she's eleven months old. She has the shape of your eyes, your charisma and your hair. She's starting to eat solid food, you know, meats and vegetables, and she's fascinated by... everything. She has a strange sense of humour, and there are days when she entertains himself by tangling her hands in my hair. She's soothed by the songs, though I think I'm a bit of a bore, as I always put her to sleep.’

Colin smiled faintly through his tears.

‘She certainly takes after me, obsessed with her mother's hair and food.’

Penelope smiled back, letting a couple of tears fall.

‘Yes, there's a lot of you in her.’

‘Pen... why did you leave London? All this time I thought you were there... with Debling. That you were both married. That's why I never went back to Mayfair, the thought of seeing you with him...it would have killed me,’ Colin commented with a tone of weariness in his voice.

To his surprise, Penelope laughed.

Her face, still streaked with tears, lit up at the question.

Colin looked at her dumbfounded. What could be funny at a time like that?

‘Debling? Colin, how could I settle for Debling after I gave myself to you? After knowing that I loved you and that you had feelings for me too. It was once a choice, Debling, an escape to stay with Whistledown. Being with him was an agreement my mother made, without asking me. She told me what you had talked about; she believes her words made you leave London, we both do.... I never could forgive her, I think I have not yet done so. I persuaded them to have a slow courtship, my mother and Debling. I waited two months for you to come back for me, for us. I had a feeling I was pregnant, but I never said anything. No one in your family knew of your whereabouts,’ she said, anguished at the memory.

‘Alfred even changed one of his travel routes, and that's when it happened: three days before the wedding I felt our little Agatha in my stomach. And I confirmed what I always knew: that I couldn't marry anyone but you, that I could never be with anyone else but you. That same night, Rae and Gen helped me leave Mayfair. Lady Danbury met us at our first stop; she said she would keep my secret only if she could help me from a distance and keep us safe. I agreed, and to this day I live in this old cottage that belongs to her. We report to each other weekly.’

Colin looked at her intently. For seventeen months his mind had been inventing a myriad of realities, while the most important truth, his family, his home, had been waiting silently for him.

For a second, only Agatha's breathing could be heard in the room.

Colin knelt to meet Penelope's gaze, took her chin just to look into her eyes.

‘I love you, Penelope. Being away from you destroyed me. Until tonight I couldn't open any of the letters from my family; there are some I haven't read yet. I didn't know that Benedict had married, I didn't know that Lady Whistledown had stopped publishing, or that the Cowper family is accused of treason for lying to Queen Charlotte. And, above all, I didn't know you weren't in Mayfair.’

He took a breath before continuing. ‘I left the place only because your mother told me this was your chance for happiness, but also because I thought Debling would grant you the freedom I was depriving you of. Your mother's words broke me. I thought you had chosen him... and, well, I was also jealous of all that you had achieved,’ he said, ashamed.

Jealousy.

Penelope looked at him dumbfounded, but did not move.

The two stood side by side, with no intention of separating, despite the growing tension between them.

‘Colin, I need to know... what about Whistledown? Do you still hate me for Lady Whistledown?’ Though she hadn't meant to sound like that, Penelope felt her voice was even lower and sadder than usual.

‘Listen to me carefully, Pen: I never, ever, ever hated you. I don't think it's a possibility available in my bones,’ Colin replied quickly and sadly, taking her hands in his.  ‘The words I said that day came out of the anger of the moment, and though I do not justify them, indeed, I am ashamed of them, I can assure you they were never true. I don't believe you set me up. And I don't believe you had a plan. I was a complete idiot, and I've lived all these months reliving our every second together.

I think the distance between us has only made me realize that I've loved you for a lot longer than I thought I would, and that I need you more than I thought one could ever need a person.’

More tears streamed down her face.

‘Pen, I need to know, do you still love me?’

Nine were the words that had destroyed their engagement, and nine were the words that ended up bringing both Colin and Penelope back to life.

‘Always thought I was made to love you, Colin.’

It was all Colin needed to kiss her. It was a kind of kiss they hadn't shared until now: it wasn't desperate or full of lust. It was a kiss that reaffirmed what he had always known.

That his life was meaningless without Penelope.

That there could be hundreds of women or places to know, and none would ever compare to the feeling of home, of belonging, that he felt in that moment, next to Penelope, next to his daughter, Agatha.

As if his mouth had been made for her, Colin savoured every second of the kiss. His body was no slouch; every part of his being burned beyond exhaustion and desperation. Colin didn't just want to kiss every corner of her body, no.

Colin needed to kiss every corner of her soul, and mark it as his own.

Penelope moaned.

As if little Agatha had felt that her parents had forgotten her for an instant, the girl decided to wake up.

A small cry made them gently separate.

Colin noticed how Penelope, still flushed, glowed in an almost magical way.

She settled to take Agatha in her arms, but the gesture was quickly interrupted by Colin.

‘Can I hold her?’ he asked, in an excited whisper.  

Penelope smiled again.

‘Of course you can. Don't be fooled, she looks like an angel, but she's very selective and cautious. Incredibly intelligent.’

‘Sounds like you.’

Penelope blushed. ‘I'd say she sounds like us.’

‘Hey, Aggy,’ Colin said in a sweeter tone than Penelope had ever heard in her life. ‘My little girl...I'll be short on life to make up for the months I wasn't by your side.’

The girl looked at him intently before laughing and squeezing his face between her small hands.

‘We have a long way to go, Aggy,’ he continued, stroking her tenderly. ‘We need to heal that pneumonia as soon as possible. I'm sure your Uncle Anthony will be happy to help us get the best children's doctor in all of London.’

The little creature only laughed at the comments of the person in front of her, as Penelope tried to digest every word Colin said, every promise wrapped up in them.

‘You still haven't told me how you found us,’ she asked, with a curiosity in her voice that sounded almost like a plea.

Colin's expression changed again.

The smile that Agatha had plastered on his face just a few seconds before was momentarily conflicted.

For a moment, Penelope looked back at the man who, hours before, had descended from his horse.

‘Pen... Do you believe in ghosts?’

Penelope eyed him warily.

‘I wouldn't know whether to call it that... ghosts,’ she replied, to her own surprise. ‘But when I gave birth to Agatha I'm sure I saw my father's face. He was telling me that I could make it, that everything was going to be fine. It's funny, because he was never a sentimental person, and yet that was enough to guide me...’ She paused a little, before adding with a sad smile. ‘I was probably in agony. Why do you ask?’

‘Pen... I think if you saw your father that night... so did I,’ Colin said, his voice laden with a strange solemnity. ‘That's how I knew. I saw my father tonight. Your father too, and my grandfather... and Marina.’

Penelope looked down at the floor.

‘Marina?’

‘She's dead,’ Colin clarified, and for the first time that night he wondered if he should have tried a little harder to converse with her.

The expression of sadness and bewilderment on Penelope's face told him that he should continue with his tale.

‘With them I travelled through the past, the present and the future,’ he continued. ‘I knew I had to return to your side from the first moment. But everything fell apart when I saw you alone with Agatha. I couldn't understand, at first, why you were alone... but then came the worst.’

His voice broke.

‘Colin...,’ Penelope whispered, taking his hand.

Colin's eyes filled with tears. ‘Sorry... I don't think I'm ready to talk about it,’ he said looking sadly at Agatha. ‘I don't know if I'll ever be ready to relive a nightmare like that.’

Penelope moved closer to them and brought her hand up to touch his face, ‘It's okay,’ she said tenderly. ‘We'll talk when you feel up to it.’

She paused before adding, in a much more fragile tone. ‘But Colin... are you sure you're not angry with us? With me?’

‘Angry?’ he repeated, incredulous.

‘Yes, Colin. Angry.’ Penelope confirmed with a lump in her throat.

‘One of my greatest fears was that you would hate us. I know I can live without you, even if a part of me dies inside every day. But I don't know if I could bear to know that you don't want anything to do with Aggy.’

‘Pen, I'm not mad at you,’ Colin replied truthfully, settling Agatha between his legs. ‘To tell you the truth, I haven't even had time to think about being angry. It was a night full of revelations, of discoveries that at times seemed impossible, and apparently, or at least so far, they were true. Did you know that Anthony just became a father for the second time?’

Penelope shook her head in surprise.

‘Knowing that I have a daughter is something I never imagined, but Pen, this is the greatest gift I've ever received in my entire life. You two, you're the most important thing that's ever happened in my life.’

Penelope didn't know where to begin; questions flew through her mind.

‘I don't understand...’ she admitted, and hastened to add: ‘I believe you, I believe you saw things that revealed our location and brought you back to us, but Colin, the last time I saw you.... you looked so angry, I...’

‘I saw you dead, Pen.’ Colin interrupted her, his voice breaking. The tears came to his eyes again, but now, each one seemed to be a new sight for Agatha, who wiped them away one by one with her small hands. ‘Somehow, I lived through your funeral, I saw five-year-old Agatha... and I saw your grave. And I... I'd rather live through the night I found out you were Whistledown a thousand times, than relive your funeral, a thousand times, Pen.’

For the first time in the morning, Penelope was speechless. Everything Colin had confessed seemed true. Was she in danger? She tried for a second to imagine what things would be like if she had seen something similar, Colin's body lying motionless in a graveyard. She shook her head, just imagining it was enough to send her into unprovoked agony. She needed to change the subject; she needed to run away from that thought right now.

She looked back at the scene in front of her and saw that the tears had left Colin's face. No doubt Agatha had been the balm that had helped erase the memory that had tormented him so much.

Colin cleared his throat, clearing his throat.

‘We have a daughter, Pen. And she's perfect,’ he said, his tone filled with a calmness that could only denote pride. ‘We have a daughter, together. I've known about her for a couple of hours and there's nothing I love more.... Even if it hadn't been like this, if Aggy hadn't been there, a part of me has known for a while now that my destiny is you, that my only chance of happiness is by your side.’

More than a year had passed, and for the first time in so long, Penelope allowed herself to feel. She allowed herself to accept that life was offering her a second chance, with the person she had always loved. She looked into Colin's eyes and saw in his gaze something singular, something that, though she didn't know how to explain it in words, carried a particular glow... a glow that could only be love.

‘Penelope, for a moment...everything I saw...knowing what could happen to us in a world where we are separated, removed any possibility of anger.’ Colin said as he took her face gently before kissing her once more. ‘Our daughter and you are the most important thing I have. I have missed too many precious moments of you to be angry anymore.’

‘Bababa ababa bap,’ Agatha commented at that point, causing them both to smile at the little girl's intervention, who seemed very pleased with the attention her parents were giving her.

‘It seems Aggy agrees with you,’ Penelope said sheepishly. ‘And so do I. Colin, I've loved you all my life, never stop loving you, I don't think I'll ever stop loving you... What will happen now?’

‘I think the question is another,’ Colin said, taking her hand with a firmness that echoed his words. ‘It's time I got things right Penelope Featherington. Would you and Aggy accept me as a member of your family?’

Chapter Text

The morning of 23 December was cloudy. Violet Bridgerton was awakened by the storm; she was the first to get up and be ready, available to prepare the final details before the big Christmas dinner she had organised for her entire family.

She hadn't slept well in over a week.

She was really, really tired .

Only the night before she had welcomed Eloise, Sophie and Benedict, who had been delayed due to heavy rains. A journey of a couple of hours had turned into a journey of almost a whole day.

She had yet to hear back from Philip Crane, who lived a couple of hours away; something inside her was sure that the younger Crane would arrive for the big evening she and her family had prepared. After all, the man clearly needed support, even if he didn't know it.

Violet had even taken the time to find a small present for her youngest children; after all, if the absence of a father could change childhoods, that of a mother must be even worse, something even impossible to reconcile.

She was nervous, and though she refused to think seriously about it, it was likely that some of that nervousness was the responsibility of Lord Anderson, Lady Danbury's brother. They had both arrived three days before the celebrations. Violet had been surprised at the visit but also pleased. Although, no doubt, her intuition told her that something else was going on, for since their arrival, Lady Danbury had been unable to converse with her for more than a few minutes.

In truth, her friend had decided to spend every possible minute with Kate, her daughter-in-law, and her little grandson, baby Miles.

Despite keeping busy, Violet couldn't help thinking about Colin. The only information she had received from her son had come in a letter from Francesca a couple of months ago. The void Colin had left had affected each of her brothers and sisters in a different way, even if none of them could bring themselves to talk about it.

It was probably this sad feeling that had prompted Violet to look for Colin's old nutcracker. Edmund had given it to her for Christmas, when little Colin could not have been more than five years old.

Deep down, Violet knew: each Bridgerton felt as responsible as the other for not knowing about his whereabouts.

For Violet, the issue was different. A part of her felt guilt. She knew her son, he was the most transparent of them all. It hadn't been a surprise that Colin had left home that night; after all, that had always been his reaction to trouble. Getting away from his family had helped him think things through: at Eton, after Edmund's death; in Greece, when his engagement to Marina Crane failed. She must have known it would be the same with Penelope.

Correction .

She knew, and yet she had not been able to foresee it.

She hadn't been able to avoid it.

She glanced at the clock again: it was close to midnight and she should definitely go to bed.

Violet pondered. Something in her chest felt different, something kept her from going to sleep. It was then that she noticed how the flame of the candle began to move. For a second she thought it would go out because of the cold; however, it was as if the flame wanted to get her attention, for when she laid her eyes on it, it returned to normal. It was one of the most unusual things she had ever witnessed.

Her mind went straight to her beloved Edmund.

Aubrey Hall had always been a sensitive place for her. It was where she had given birth to most of her children, where Kate had fallen in love with Anthony, where Penelope had found an escape from her family as a child. But, above all, it was the place where she had lost the love of her life. She hadn't remembered Edmund in that way for years, not like she was remembering him in the last few days.

It was as if Edmund had been with her every moment. During the nights she had dreamed of him, had heard his laughter as she picked flowers. It had petrified her for a moment-surely the years were beginning to take their toll, she had thought-but, in the end, Violet had felt no fear. Hearing Edmund's laughter had been a gift . After all these years, it must have been a good omen, a way of telling him that things were going to be all right.

Or so she wanted to think.

As if her sixth sense knew something was about to happen, Violet Bridgerton changed direction. Instead of going straight to bed, she sat down at the old family piano. That piano, full of stories, had always been a refuge for her mind: it was the piano that Edmund had given her on their first Christmas together; the same one on which her daughters had learned to play; the same one on which Francesca had fallen in love with music; the same one where Colin used to hide whenever they played hide-and-seek as children.

The tea was still hot when Violet caught sight of two carriages entering the garden surrounding the house. She recognised them quickly, even through the rain. It was the Kilmartin family carriage. The dull colours of their crest somehow conversed innately with the sober tones of Bridgerton House. Both carriages were coming straight towards the entrance of Aubrey Hall.

Fear invaded her body. Francesca had confirmed weeks ago that she would not be attending the Christmas soiree, because she would be spending Christmas Eve with John and her cousin, Michaela. Francesca, who had always been the most prudent and calm of her children, had changed her mind? It didn't seem like her, not without warning.

The fear intensified. Something was out of place, especially if they hadn't been able to stop at an inn for the night.

"Anthony!," she shouted down the hall. "Dear, something's happening ."

As if it had been a pre-planned evacuation, within seconds her children arrived in the hallway of the house to join her. It was an interesting parade. Lady Danbury and her brother had been the first to arrive in the hall, followed by Anthony, Benedict and Sophie, who were in the room together. Eloise, meanwhile, soon poked her head out of the library.

Kate, Hyacinth and Gregory were the last to arrive, all three in winter dressing gowns.

"Kathani, back to bed, love. You need your rest," Anthony indicated protectively as he saw Kate coming down the stairs.

Violet looked at them fondly; her heart pounded at the sight of her family coming together so quickly.

Kate, for her part, ignored her husband's comment.

"Lady Violet, what's going on?"

"My dear, it's your sister. Francesca. Her carriages are coming this way."

"Francesca?" commented Eloise excitedly, "But I thought she wouldn't be joining us, that the last to arrive would be Daphne early tomorrow morning."

Hyacinth was the first to approach the front door, but was quickly stopped by Lady Danbury's walking stick.

"Violet, let's go and receive them," Lady Danbury interposed at this point. "You had better order hot chocolate, sandwiches, and perhaps some clothes. It's raining torrentially and they've come from a long journey."

Sophie nodded, heading for the kitchen with Benedict. Despite having joined the family officially a couple of months ago, the young woman maintained a total closeness with the household staff. Violet simply adored her; her arrival had not only made an impact on the family but had created a sense of hope in the wake of Colin's departure. After that, the Bridgerton family had become even closer to all the people who worked in the home.

Violet managed to see Anthony's eyebrow rise in indignation at Lady Danbury's hints; however, the woman had not finished speaking.

"Violet, Lord Bridgerton and I will go and receive the guests. The rest of you had better wait here; otherwise we shall all spend this Christmas Eve with a terrible cold."

The three of them walked silently towards the entrance. Violet could feel Agatha's hand twitching; her old friend knew something and wasn't sharing it.

"Agatha, I know you're hiding something," Violet accused as they stood by the door. "I think we're confident enough for you to explain to me what's going on" she added as the three of them bundled up.

"Please"

Anthony was the first to raise his head, surprised at his mother's tone, so much so that his boots were half on.

"Lady Danbury?" commented Anthony, expectantly.

"The carriages are here," footman John interrupted.

"Let's go. Let's not let them get wet in the rain".

To their surprise, John, Michaela and Francesca got out of the same carriage before they could greet them. Violet was struck dumb when she saw that her daughter did not move forward; rather, she stood beside the carriage. Michaela and John, meanwhile, accompanied her, each with an umbrella in hand.

"Mr. Watson, please get as close to the stairs as possible. We cannot take a risk," Michaela told the carriage driver.

Take a risk? The word caught the attention of Violet, who looked uncertainly at the situation. The three of them had gone out to greet the new arrivals, but they had encountered a fully coordinated group. A group that didn't go straight into the house and who, it seemed, had no problem with being out in the cold for a couple of seconds longer. A group that understood each other and moved on its own.

Stupefied, Violet watched as the three of them stood ready to greet those who came in the joint carriage.

"Mother, Lady Danbury, brother, good evening," Francesca commented quickly from the first step. "I need you to clear the entrance. Now ."

"Francesca, what's going on?" demanded Anthony, shocked.

"Brother, I need you to move, please ."

"I'll open the door on the count of three!" Michaela shouted in the rain. "Francesca will receive Aggy and go straight through to the house. You could put your umbrellas up too, Aggy cannot get wet."

"Aggy ?" said Violet, looking to her peers for explanation.

The carriage doors opened. A small bundle covered in white blankets was handed to Francesca, who in a matter of seconds was up to the door of Aubrey Hall. She had no time to follow her with her eyes when, from the same carriage, two figures as warm as Francesca stepped out. Had she not witnessed it, Violet would not have thought it possible.

In front of them, Colin and Penelope looked at her, pleading and nervous. A squeeze from Lady Danbury brought her out of her shock; the woman turned directly to Penelope, who hug her and looked at her gratefully.

It must be a Christmas miracle.

For the first time in months, Violet felt relief. Edmund came back into her head, was that what she had felt? Was that why he had not left her, and why the memory of him had made her feel at peace? This had been his way of saying, "It's not long now, we'll all be together again soon."

"Mother-" Colin's words hung in the air. Anthony had rushed down the steps, coming to her side to hug Colin tightly.

Violet could see them both smile, still wrapped in the embrace.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this precious reunion, but we've been traveling for six days. Perhaps we could-or you could-keep this conversation inside," Michaela said in a sympathetic tone.

"I agree with my cousin, we are freezing. We should go inside."

Penelope was the first to enter the house. Her presence was ignored for a few seconds, long enough to notice how the Bridgerton family had gathered around Aggy, forming a crescent.

Colin came to her side and took her hand tightly, as confidently as he had that night when he had announced their engagement.

Aggy was delighted. At eleven months she had learned to stand upright and do little hops when she leaned on others. In a matter of seconds, she had amazed everyone present.

"Isn't she the prettiest baby you've ever seen? She is so lovely!" commented Hyacinth excitedly, as she sat down next to her.

"She looks like all of you as a child" Anthony added, looking at his sisters in a tone that could only be nostalgic.

"Francesca, who is she? Who is Aggy ?" asked Eloise in a whisper.

A hush fell over the room. Aggy, for her part, looked utterly content at the attention, very pleased with herself, in Francesca's arms, her eyes fixed on the fireplace hearth.

Francesca raised her head to respond, but her eyes were fixed on the rest of the family. She was the first to notice that all the people present were now in the room.

"Aggy, look, your parents are already here."

What came next was hard to process. All eyes moved to the hallway leading to the front door, pinning directly on Colin and Penelope.

Eloise was the first to move; her pale face had filled with tears.

The rhythm of the room stopped in a silence that could be cut with a scissors.

For a minute, seconds turned into hours. Eloise slowly advanced to where they both stood, to embrace them. " I thought I had lost you.... both of you. I thought... I thought..."

Penelope and Colin looked at each other before acting. They both settled to wrap their arms around Eloise. Colin was the one to answer:

"How could you lose us? Aggy needs to meet his godmother."

Violet would have paid to portray her daughter's astonished and happy face.

Penelope hugged Eloise again before separating from them to join Agatha.

The scene was quickly interrupted by Anthony, who was in shock. As if Kate had sensed that something might happen, he reached over to take her hand.

At that moment, Benedict and Sophie entered the room, wearing layers of clothes, followed by staff bringing hot chocolate and biscuits. Benedict stood stiffly, his eyes locked.

"My dear boy, it's good to have you home," Violet said sensitively, taking his hand. "Don't get me wrong, it's a dream having you here with our dear Penelope, but I think we all deserve an explanation."

"Yes, Colin," Benedict began, moving closer, only to hit him - not hard, but hard enough to shock Colin. "You could start by saying how it is that for months you weren't able to answer a bloody letter, to let us know you were okay. I needed you, for months I needed to talk to you. I didn't know who to lean on at times when I knew the only one who could understand what I was going through was you ."

Before Colin could speak, Agatha burst into tears. Benedict's face, which had been focused on Colin, changed; his anger instantly relaxed. Only then did he notice the presence of the baby and Penelope. His mouth fell open in astonishment, and Sophie's face, which seconds ago had been confused, changed to immediate relaxation.

She let out a small giggle at her husband's reaction.

"There's no need to scare my daughter, Ben. I'm deeply sorry, okay?" replied Colin looking around the room. "It's a long story, and maybe it's not going to make sense when I say it out loud. You must know that the last few months have been agony for me as well."

All present were silent at his words.

"Colin, I will be brief, because I know I may end up saying something I might regret, but you must understand that you and Penelope must get married right now, this week if possible," Anthony commented with concern. "Because this is madness!"

"It's settled," Penelope commented, speaking for the first time that evening. Colin watched as she gracefully rose from the couch with Agatha in her arms. "Colin found us a few days ago, we immediately decided to go with Francesca, and well..."

"And well, being the Countess of Kilmartin made the whole process faster," Michaela commented proudly.

Violet gave her daughter a sidelong glance; Francesca was smiling complacently.

"The wedding will be tomorrow at noon, at St Martin's Church, before Christmas mass, with you, with the people I love the most. But first I had to do things as they always should have been. And now, if I may, I would like to introduce Agatha Elizabeth Bridgerton, our beautiful baby daughter," he said, looking adoringly at Penelope. "There's still time to plan for her first birthday."

"¡Colin, you ruined Penelope!" exclaimed Eloise indignantly.

Anthony's face could only be likened to a pressure cooker about to explode. Benedict could only raise his eyebrow suggestively. 

"It was worth it," Colin replied shamelessly. 

Violet felt her eyes water, there would soon be time to confront Colin, cause now all she could think of was that in front of her was Agatha Elizabeth Bridgerton, her granddaughter.

"Penelope, were you alone all this time?" asked Kate in a tone that could only reveal vulnerability. "How did you do it ? I've just become a mother for the second time and..."

"Miles, isn't it? Miles Christopher..." interrupted Colin, approaching Anthony and Kate to congratulate them.

"How do you know? " exclaimed Anthony impressed, but keeping a stern tone. "I'm sure the letter we wrote to Francesca hasn't reached her home yet."

Colin savoured his reaction for a second.

"As I said, it's a long story, there will be time to talk about it. I'm sure my wife would like to answer the question my sister, Kate, just asked."

Penelope smiled while her cheeks were still flushed.

"I'm not your wife yet ... And no, I was not entirely alone, Kate," Penelope said in a mere whisper, smiling slightly and turning her gaze to Lady Danbury.

"Of course she was not, we wrote to each other every week, I never lost track of her, nor of the little girl," explained Lady Danbury. "Anyone who had kept an eye on Mr. Bridgerton that season would have realised that Miss Penelope was being seduced by Mr. Bridgerton. I suspected the pregnancy on the night of the engagement, for I fainted all the time when I was pregnant."

Violet wondered how the possibility had not crossed her mind.

Gradually, the family members approached Aggy, who despite her tiredness seemed unwilling to miss any detail of what was going on, even if she didn't understand what it was all about.

To the surprise of those present, Aggy found comfort in Eloise's arms.

For a few seconds, all was silence until Hyacinth approached Penelope.

"Now can I call you sister?"

Penelope smiled at him, tears in her eyes.

"You can call me sister," she replied before hugging her.

"Excellent. Colin, don't mess this up again."

"I won't" he replied confidently. "I'd rather die".

"There's something I don't understand, how did you find Penelope?" said Gregory, who looked as confused as a fish out of water.

"The last we heard from you was thanks to Francesca, we didn't even know if you got our letters and clearly Lady Featherington doesn't know where Penelope is...it doesn't make sense, does it?"

Penelope and Colin looked at each other. Penelope patted Colin before he began to speak. "I found Pen thanks to our father..." said Colin earnestly.

A stately silence fell over the room.

"It was our father who led me to both of them, to my dear Pen, to my little Aggy. I dreamt of him. I know it sounds crazy, I know , but there are things I saw during those dreams that incredibly make sense, and so far, it all seems to be true. Agatha, the birth of baby Miles, Sophie..." he concluded, looking at her sister-in-law, who blushed at the out-of-nowhere mention, but returned a sincere smile.

Violet could tell that, though she remained silent, Sophie seemed excited at all that was happening.

"My mother, on the other hand, should receive a letter one of these days; I wrote to her before we started on our journey here. Once we get back to Mayfair we can finally talk things over," Penelope commented, ending the subject.

Since Penelope had disappeared, Violet had seen how Portia had become more private; her absence from the balls had been discussed on more than one occasion. While Violet understood her pain as a mother, she was also able to understand why Penelope had run away, even if she did not share her decision.

Things were going to get better for them; she knew in her heart.

For the first time in months, Violet felt at peace . Her heart was pure happiness, she knew there was much to ponder, she wanted and needed to know more about her son's dream, for it was clear that he was not telling everything he had seen in his dreams.

Edmund had kept his promise, he had made things right, he had brought Colin back to where he belonged, to those who loved him.

She looked for a second at her son; his sensitive, tired eyes looked back at her, a sincere look, full of gratitude.

"You saw our father..." Anthony said in a whisper. "How?"

Colin returned to his side, standing in the middle of his two older brothers.

Violet knew, deep down, that Anthony might question a lot of things in his life, except for his father's word.

"He said I deserved a second chance, that I could still change things, that I had to come back. I think he was right," he concluded with tears in his eyes.

Violet felt a tear also fall down her cheek.

"Yes, our father was right," Benedict commented before hugging him.

"¡ugh, Gregory!, no matter what happens in our lives, they will never be as romantic or exciting as our siblings'," Hyacinth said, sinking into her chair.

Even Eloise smiled at the comment.

For the first time in months, Violet slept peacefully.

Even if there was a wedding to celebrate the next day.

Chapter Text

Since he'd found her,

hadn't gone a night without kissing her.

Without their bodies becoming one.

It had happened at Lady Danbury's cottage.

At her sister Francesca's house.

At every inn they had visited.

And, of course, in the carriage.

Colin was obsessed.

Touching her had become a necessity,

a way of coping with reality.

Each caress was as delicate as a poem.

Her voice, close and confident, charged with desire,

had become his drug.

His daily goal was to see her eyes darken,

fill with pleasure,

fill the room with moans.

That was the best payment,

the most sublime reward.

He had thought his life without Penelope was meaningless.

And he was right.

Because he had never felt so alive as he did now.

Not by stepping foot in another country.

Not when kissing another woman.

Not even the first time he'd done it.

No one could compare.

Nothing could ever compare.

Penelope had given him his life back.

And he wanted nothing more than to live it.

🐝

His sister Daphne had hugged him so tightly she could have hurt him. Until that morning, Colin hadn't realised how much he missed her.

They had both been like twins as children, defiant at Anthony's words, curious at the things they could and couldn't do, rebellious at the differences society offered for them both.

"Next time you need something, remember that you have a sister willing to give up whatever it takes to help her family. That always included Penelope, even before you realised you were in love with her," she had said decisively, as she took him by the hands. "Maybe you needed to be alone, but isolating yourself wasn't the answer, it never was."

They had both made their way to the entrance of the place, along with his mother and Simon. They would be the last to leave Audrey Hall before leaving for church.

It had snowed continuously all night, and Colin was convinced: the scenery must be the first of his wedding gifts. After all, his father, unlike him, had always been a fan of this cold weather.

The snow was about to reach the front step of their home when a pale-yellow carriage pulled up. Colin was unable to recognise it.

But he smiled as Philip Crane stepped out of the carriage accompanied by his two nephews, Amanda and Oliver. The three of them had arrived just in time for a day of chaos in the Bridgerton family, one of those days that never come around more than once in a lifetime.

It was then that Colin remembered his dream. Eloise in Philip's arms had been the least of his worries at the time; now, now he could only smile at the thought of seeing his sister in love. She deserved it. She deserved to find love, deserved the chance to be happy that way. Even if Eloise didn't know it yet, Colin was sure of it. After all, no one loved as loyally as the Bridgerton family.

After a brief explanation and Philip Crane's confused and shocked face, both carriages left the site in the direction of the church.

Colin hadn't realised he was holding his breath.

Seeing Penelope at the entrance to the church was something Colin wanted to remember forever. Not just because of her beauty, or the way the snow fell behind her back, but because of the simplicity of the situation. His family was not dressed up, the great society of Mayfair was not in place to gossip about it, there were no great expectations: just his family, his beautiful daughter and the woman he deeply loved.

Colin could only look at her. With her long, flowing hair, she looked like a delicate painting, the kind that could only be drawn by a bohemian in love, desperately seeking to capture the feeling of the moment, even if it was impossible to capture that kind of bliss.

He could only smile as he saw Penelope put aside her coat; her flushed cheeks betrayed the cold she felt. And though Colin knew she must be freezing to death, he also knew that this was her wish. She had confessed it to him the very day they had met. They had been seventeen months apart, and yet Penelope had kept her wedding dress.

The dress she and Gen had designed for this occasion was a vow, a talisman to hold on to in difficult times.

Colin agreed: a dress like that deserved to be worn.

"And not even the heaviest snowstorm is going to stop me from wearing my wedding dress, the dress I made with you in mind, Colin. Us," Penelope had said as he'd watched her pack her things. "Now close your eyes. I'm not a superstitious person, but I think we should play our luck."

Colin smiled again after remembering her words.

“I, Penelope Featherington, take thee, Colin Bridgerton, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold. With my body, I thee worship”.

To hear those words was all he had longed for the last few months.

He kissed her delicately as they were pronounced married. An unruly tear escaped his eyes. It was then that a small sound of attention came from Aggy's mouth; his daughter was in the arms of her mother, Violet, who stood between Daphne and Kate.

Without thinking too much, Colin let go of Penelope's hand and went to find his daughter. In the blink of an eye, the three of them were at the altar, looking at their family.

Amidst applause and signs of support, Colin took a second to thank his father, his grandfather and even Lady Crane, for guiding him through the night that had changed his life, he was grateful for the chance to have a second chance with the women he loved.

Although he did not consider himself particularly religious, he knew that his story was not an ordinary one. Something had happened, something incredible, and he was going to be thankful for it every day if he had to.

Here began the first chapter of their lives together. They had had a long prologue, a story that began in different ways. He didn't have to strain to visualise it all quickly: the first time he saw Penelope in his life, and her distressed face from the fall; the first time he found her in his house, sitting next to Eloise, both reading Don Quixote animatedly; the first time they shared a dance, and the incredible smell Penelope had, like coconut and almonds, and the look of excitement on her face when she wore a dress that wasn't yellow.

A part of him felt that on all those occasions he had already loved her, even if he wasn't aware of it. Something inside him knew that the feeling had always been there, like a fruit that doesn't blossom overnight, that starts small and helpless but grows stronger until it reaches its perfect state.

The first kiss they shared had caused that in him. He knew he had never felt anything like it. That kiss had awakened him, transported him to a different reality, where it seemed that the only thing that had ever mattered was her.

Penelope was the only road she wanted to travel, the only world she wanted to inhabit, his eternal home, his national anthem, his most precious sacrament.

His own Christmas miracle.

Now he could confirm it: Colin was sure, there was nothing more perfect than now.