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Chapter Text

Colin Bridgerton had had a rough five years, in that way that only the British could- the phrase meaning anything between mildly annoying and borderline Armageddon

To the majority it was the former of course, the pressure of raising a young family a long way from home and alongside a career that saw him spend as much time in airports as the nursery, a devotee of FaceTime and in a state of permanent apology, the kids barely knowing how to be around him full time until their mother wasn’t there at all.

The truth was something different.  Something much darker and only known to a few- his mum of course, on the train to Somerset so much this past few years trying to help them find a way through and then picking up the pieces of the aftermath.

Anthony in the background quietly weaving a safety net of support and legalities, expansive and tied strong yet not enough, not once the decision had been made: no doubt sitting in his office in Mayfair now full of guilt that he couldn’t save them- failure such a rare thing for the Viscount, when it came to someone else’s life anyway- he’d ripped his own apart enough times before Kate had plastered the cracks closed forever.

Lastly Ben, sat alongside him now as he drove the a303 for what he hoped was the last time for a while - he’d pay his father in law’s train tickets for visits if needed but he couldn’t go back there, not yet.  She’d wanted the twins to grow up around the farms and country lanes of the Mendips but for now at least he’d had to call it- well his family had really but they’d been right, simply made the choice he’d been too empty to make alone.

Now he was sat in traffic on the a39, a small box van with the last of their things, the kids gone ahead with his mum and Marcus two nights ago.  Ant and Kate had them all ready, had taken them to choose things for their new rooms at Bridgerton house whilst Colin had said goodbye- a night with Neil, Marina’s father, the man who had persuaded him to stay in the first place, a man just as bereaved as he, more really now adding the loss of his grandchildren and son in law from his immediate care as well, angry and heartbroken together.

The second night with Ben, sat at the top of the Tor with a can of cider overlooking the farm where she’d grown up, flat fields mist and sheep still foreign to his city heart. He’d wanted to say a final goodbye every day for years, taken all the steps needed- confided to his family, signed legal papers but how do you rip kids from their mother, even when you know their mother can’t be someone safe for them?

He’d lost himself in travel, his brother and the trust fund filling the gaps with staff around Neil’s presence, and then when that wasn’t enough returning and trying so hard, barely a shell until that hadn’t  done the trick either and he’d persuaded her father to sign the fucking paperwork to send her away.  A year later and…

Yeah. Him and Ben sat drinking cider in fleeces on a hill on a Monday night.  What a life he’d built for himself

He’d stared out the window of their cottage for a few hours when he got home, before taking his sleeping meds with a can of coke left behind from the packing and crashing on the camp bed beside a watchful Ben, clearly terrified he wouldn’t bring his charge home, scrambling to lock his meds away before following him into fitful sleep.

Chapter Text

It could be argued that Penelope Featherington had made a strange choice of career.  Well, her mum argued it anyway- trying to press home the advantage when she took to her bed for two days each July to begin the recovery, a mix of hangover and pure exhaustion that she knew she shared with all her colleagues.  It wasn’t those days that pushed it though- everyone’s job got them down from time to time, she knew that: it was mornings like this, crawling out of her yellow Fiat 500 at 7am with a coffee and bag of snacks, the folder of plans and box of supplies already in their place, room decorated and organised all ready to go when all she wanted to do was sleep.

Nights like last Thursday, sat hungry at a table at 7pm, listening to an irate parent near yell at her for the family needing childcare, wondering what she did with her time after three and why the class couldn’t just stay with her- she’d tried to explain that she rarely left before six, worked on lessons and marking, attended meetings just like the ones they were having then or wrote support paperwork for kids who were struggling, tried to keep up with advances in the field and organise the little things that made this first year of school special- she’d been sworn at, one of the male teachers removing the parents and getting them immediately barred from the premises, not the first time and certainly not the last.

The thing that made this different for Penelope was that it was a choice- working was a choice.  The daughter of a Baron, disgraced, dead by forty they’d sold the estate in Sussex and moved to Mayfair, the house her mother had inherited from her own parents but rented out until that point.  The money had provided them all with an income that was more than sufficient and her mother had taken well to Mayfair life, quickly finding her feet amongst a certain type of upper class single woman, settling into a mix of shallow affairs, lunches and hair appointments that truly seemed to make her happy: for Portia Mayfair was Cougar Town and she was loving it.  God knows she deserved it as well, married at twenty to an addict: never had the phrase life begins at forty (fifty but she'd swear blind that it was forty) been truer than for Portia Featherington.

Her sisters were now long gone, married, Philippa with two daughters and a part time job in her husband’s delicatessen and micro cheese production business, Prudence newly delivered with her own first daughter.

She hadn’t been like them.

Penelope had been different- academic, quiet, not built for life as a socialite nor overly bothered about fashion.  She’d only had one boyfriend, a rather serious chap who dipped in and out of her life for five years before vanishing completely to live with his dream partner (a gay penguin called Flipperz who lived in a zoo in Australia: yes she’d seen the documentary he’d made about it, yes it had been adorable, no she hadn’t quite forgiven him for wasting a half decade of her life between 18 and 23, not yet anyway).

She’d been the first of her family to study at university, Cambridge in fact, English Literature before shocking everyone by refusing a place at her mother’s friend Agatha’s publishing house and applying for her PGCE instead; she’d been in the job for six years now and loved the kids even if she wasn’t that keen on the parents.

She’d chosen  the school carefully: neither posh and rarefied, an easy option for those who’d otherwise go the private route, nor in special measures-  she knew she lacked the life experience for that, at this point anyway.  Somewhere in between, that mix London excelled at- a melting pot of wealth and poverty, owned five bed townhouses with original features and social flats, her bag bulging with snacks for the kids whose mums needed to go and queue at the food bank and snacks for the kids whose hung over au pairs had forgotten to pack them one, again.

She pushed her way into her classroom and dumped her bags at the door, sipping at her coffee before sporting a note from the headmistress, Helen, asking her to pop over.  Sighing she obeyed, expecting another lecture about the cost of pencils or complaint about a display (last term it had been a project she worked on with the year six kids, someone objecting to her including Edward Jenner amongst the great scientists- it was getting harder to predict what would upset the parents the most).

“Happy Monday Penelope.  Good news or bad news?”

“Good?”

“They’ve cancelled that training day at the LEA, the one you were dreading.”

She’d be relieved if she didn’t have the bad news hanging over her.

“Bad?”

“Two new kids in your class I’m afraid, starting today”

“But-“. she took a few deep breaths, “we’re full- there were appeals.”

“Twins, bereaved, they have an EHCP in place for behaviour.  I can’t see them staying long-“ she passed the file to Penelope and pointed at the address - “uncle wants them to settle before he decides where they’d suit.  Has offered to build us a new play area for the ks1 kids though.  Someone you know?”

Penelope stared at the address: certainly she knew of the family, they lived across the square from her own, but she wasn’t overly friendly with them: had met the eldest daughter a few times and liked her but they moved in different circles, hadn’t really chatted beyond a brief comment on the daughter’s DM boots and something about mojitos if she recalled, it seemed unlikely a Bridgerton would be particularly invested in Penelope’s work after all.

“You know them?”

“Not really, remember I didn’t move into that world until I was finished with my A levels so we never shared a school. I know a little bit about them, my mum is a fan,” she rolled her eyes and Helen grinned, having met Portia a few times now.

“Think they’re good for the play area?”

“They’re good for an entire rebuild.  Why the uncle? I know you said they’re bereaved, both parents?”

Helen shook her head, “mum.  Dad travels a lot, Uncle confided he isn’t coping, they’ve taken them both in for a bit.  Social Services had stepped in where they grew up, the oldest brother-“

“The Viscount?”

“Is he? Says Anthony here.”

“Yeah, the Viscount.”

“He agreed to step in with his wife and mum, support dad, if social services stepped back.  You know the drill, they were more than happy to step back and save some funding.”

“My mum knows the Nan a little, Violet.  She had eight children that she raised without a nanny or help, was known for it in fact.  If she’s involved-“

“is doing much of the day to day stuff, you’ll see her at drop offs.  Dad is around but…”

“I’m assuming it’s Colin?  You’ve seen his instagram and YouTube stuff yeah?  Went dark a while ago, makes sense now actually.”  She flipped through her phone for a moment and pulled up a blog, handing it to the woman across from her, who watched for a few minutes giving a low whistle.

“Posh, and sexy.”

“So very sexy.  Sure we can’t get him to do the school runs?”

Helen handed her phone back with a sigh, “would brighten the mornings but no, he wasn’t getting the kids to school before they moved back- is part of the deal for the meantime.  Give it some time though, we can but hope: if we can get him to the nativity we could sell extra tickets to the cougar nans.”

“Hasn’t the poor bloke been through enough?”

“Yeah- on that note when you have some time read the background in the EHC plan.  I know it’ll be hard work but let’s see what we can do for them ok?”

“Of course.”

Penelope grabbed the stack of paper work and shuffled back to the classroom, barely getting herself sorted before the first kids turned up, helping to induct the new LSA worker assigned to the kids and readying herself to meet them at lunchtime, for their first visit.

Chapter Text

By the age of 19 Colin Bridgerton had reached the height of 6’ 1”.  He was well aware that to many of his peers it would seem a blessing, a significant one to the few who had never quite reached the average in fact- but to him it was just another thing that marked him out.

His older brothers had both topped out at 5’ 11”, exactly the same height as their late father, Edmund.  Colin’s father had passed when he was just 12 and he’d been immersed in that pre-teen stage of idolising the construct without having had a chance to get to know the flaws- it had made it harder somehow to move past comparing himself, never quite able to be good enough (who could ever meet the rather imaginary brilliance of an adored father taken in childhood?) and he’d always grasped at every little thing that made him feel like a Bridgerton male. The wavy chestnut hair, his atheleticism, the touch of charm that seemed to help him mask when he was struggling. The traits that marked him out as his own man in turn made him uncomfortable, a little sad.

He knew he shouldn’t feel that way- introspective by nature the awareness of that fact only pushed him further into that strange sense of loneliness despite the crowd surrounding him at home: all his siblings had their own distinct personalities, the often subtle twists on the Bridgerton core that made them who they were.  Benedict had his arty nature and floated through existence on a somewhat arbitrary blend of his dreamer sensibilities and whatever narcotics he’d managed to procure that weekend;  Anthony had the Viscountcy, a sense of duty and a temper that frankly marked him out as a bit of dick on a fairly regular basis…

Colin just wanted to belong.

It wasn’t just the height of course- wasn’t that at all really, he knew that deep down.  He didn’t seem to be quite built like them in a lot of other more subtle ways as well, ones that mattered to a nineteen year old possessed of just enough charm and good looks to make others jealous, highlighting insecurities in a way that perhaps no other age demographic would quite understand. Ways that burrowed into his soul no matter how hard he fought against it.

His brothers might have somehow managed to get the results required to study at Cambridge and Central St Martin’s, but they’d seemingly shagged their way through sixth form, each milestone and story measured not by tales of academic prowess but how long it took to get someone’s bra off, how many dates until she (or in Ben’s case, they) put out, then later how many times they’d come or what they’d let them try- all things that felt alien to their sensitive younger sibling.

The awkwardness had peaked during the summer after A Levels, he and Violet away for a weekend settling him into his chosen university in Exeter, a very obviously planned meal out where she’d  delivered a pre-prepared speech about how it was OK if he didn’t like girls, if he was into men or both or nobody at all- he’d appreciated the message of course, he knew there were far worse mothers out there, but not the prying.

Truth was that he wasn’t completely inexperienced- there’d been a girl in lower sixth that he’d tended to snog whenever they found themselves at a gathering together, and he’d been rather smitten by Celine, the French exchange kid- he’d half broken his heart when she’d had to go back- but he’d never felt tempted to go much beyond kissing and even less inclined to share his experiences with anyone, especially his brothers who’d responded the one time he had told them about a girl (kissing Celine at a ‘welcome to the school’ reception) not with the pride and support he’d hoped for but instead a hundred pieces of advice on how to get her out of her dress.

He'd just nodded through that talk with his mum, pushing his fork through a plate of gnocchi, waiting for her to run out of steam before quietly responding with,

“I appreciate it but I’m not gay.”

“But if you are, if you ever…”

“I have kissed girls mum, I know who I fancy- I guess I’m just not as obsessed as Ben and Ant, that’s all.”

“It’s normal for them to be like that at their age, your father before I met him…”

He’d tuned her out then, not needing to hear another tale that to his mum was just a lovely memory of the man she’d adored with all her heart but to him translated as ‘here are yet more ways you can’t match up to Mr Perfect Edmund’.

A year later and he was back from uni, no plans to return for a second year after spending the entire year learning just how many ways one could loathe data science, trying to avoid telling his mum and Anthony that until the very last minute possible, signed up to a course on teaching sailing with the Queen Mary Club and dreading the moment when he’d have to tell his family that he had no plans to return, and instead was heading to the Caribbean to work as an instructor for the year whilst he worked out what the hell he really wanted from his life.

That had never happened of course.  In fact that plan had lasted less than ten minutes after the initial course sign up.

Marina Thompson had been everything he had ever thought he might like in a woman.  Fairly tall (who likes a cricked neck, after all?), a gifted sailor, stunning warm brown skin, soft curly hair that his fingers itched to touch… the moment he’d seen her, sat at the back of the room with a flat white and flapjack like all his fantasies come to life at once. He was immediately smitten.

Fortunately she’d felt much the same way- accepting his offer to take her to dinner that very evening, texting him all through the night after he dropped her off and stole a solitary kiss on the steps of her hotel building, meeting him for coffee and a walk around the reservoir before class the next day.

By Thursday night he’d pretty much moved into her hotel room, by Sunday he was in tears as he put her on the train back to her home in Somerset, and a week later he was on the train himself, bare basics stuffed into a backpack, a furious Anthony and rather amused Ben back home thinking he’d walked away from university and a future ‘at the first sniff of a willing pussy’: six weeks later he’d been in Vegas, sure he was knowing exactly what he was doing when he walked into that Little Wedding Chapel, heart eyed and so very much in love with the woman on his arm.

Or so he had thought. Reality was a cruel mistress.

Because it could never be that easy for him could it?  His mum and dad had married on a similar time frame, as indeed had his sister Daphne despite being a year younger than him- married at 18, pregnant not long after and every vocalised  concern batted away by his mum with a doting look and reminders that “I was the same age my dears, and I have never regretted it.”  In his family fast meant soul mates, devotion.

They’d been married two months when it happened, living in her childhood bedroom on her father’s farm, his days spent learning how to drive a tractor and nights curled up under a duvet, or in the hay shed, with his new wife; a world so detached from the one he’d grown up in that he had felt suspended, someone else entirely, completely free to reinvent himself into anyone he wanted to be- nobody in Somerset knew his links to the famous billionaire property developers, had a clue about his trust fund or his rather overwhelming family- they just knew him as that rather ridiculous posh kid Neil was trying to train to take over the farm; the one who was shite at fencing (the useful type; he was surprisingly handy with a foil, little value that it was), terrified of cows, and who liked to spend his weekends at Cheddar reservoir with his new wife and whatever dinghy or windsurfer he’d rented.

Well, perhaps he knew the last bit might have been a clue that he had money but there was a world of difference between the rural affluence not uncommon in the area and the Mayfair world he’d grown up in.

There was never any point in his life where he couldn’t recall every minute of that weekend.  He’d talked it through with therapists, itemised it in journals, constructed terrible poetry from the ghosts but he knew that it was too fundamental to who he became, too much a part of his story for him to move far past.

He’d woken early to drive into Bristol with Neil, he’d finally accepted that he had to introduce his new wife and her father to his own family and Neil had wanted his input on a new suit for the visit.  Marina had been pleased, professing herself rather enamoured by the growing closeness between the two men in her life, and had waved them off.  The morning had been fine- shopping for Neil and then choosing a necklace for Marina, lunch and a beer before the drive home: exactly what he had expected, novel, shiny in it’s newness but nothing extraordinary.

He'd returned to find Marina hunched over the toilet, green gilled and wet eyed, mascara smeared down her face, her phone calendar open and a positive pregnancy test lying on the bathroom counter.  His own internal voice, previously celebrating his transition into this strangely unfamiliar grown up life, now screaming that he wasn’t ready: pleading for him to make it go away when really it should have started practising the longest of goodbyes.

Chapter Text

“Come on bro, you know how it works- it’s never been any other way.”

Colin reclined in the chair and sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes, Anthony watching him carefully from the i-pad screen, concerned but not wanting to push: knowing all too well how quickly his third brother could be pushed away, crawl back into that shell of his and clam up entirely.

“I just wanted to go out for a morning with my father in law, you know?  It’s not as if I was hanging around Bond Street or anything, I pretty much had to blackmail him with Victoria sponge just to get him through the door of M&S, he actually threatened an annulment when I wanted to pop into Harvey Nicks for a minute.”

“He’s going to love Daph and Kate…”

“trust me, I’m already dreading this brunch.”

Realising Colin was more than just a bit pissed off Anthony stepped back, pausing to watch his brother on screen for a moment.  He hadn’t seen him for a while- not since he’d left London, saying he needed some time away to make new plans then adapt to married life- and Anthony had understood, he really had; it might not have been an option for him, not with his siblings as wards when his mum was so ill after his dad passed, but he knew the feeling well.  He'd found his relief in alcohol and inadvisable dalliances back then, needing his rebellion contained, able to fit inside a box he could close up when needed: the motivation was still the same, the need to be someone else for a while.

“They’ll take their lead from mum, and if she can see you’re happy then that’s all that matters- you know that, look at Soph and Ben: big difference between a council estate and a rural farm and nobody here minds her background, why would we?”

“I know, I really do- it’s more than that.”

“Spill.”

As soon as he’d said that, opened himself up he regretted it.  They’d been so understanding yet it would only take a tiny crack and they’d be in there with their advice and emergency interventions.  Still, what was he to do?

“I just thought- the old Colin wasn’t working, not for me anyway.  If I could get away, far enough for it to feel different but near enough to be an easy train ride- yet I leave the village for one day and it’s on all the gossip sites, and suddenly everyone knows that I’m married and where I am, what I’m wearing and even what the fuck Neil is wearing for chrissakes, trousers from Edinburgh Woollen Mill and a tweed jacket- who the fuck cares?”

“We’ve all been there mate, surely you’re used to it?  You couldn’t cover up your wife for ever.  We’ve had four different news agencies on the phone today asking for quotes.”

“What did you say?”

“True love, whirlwind, happiest we’ve ever seen you.”

“Cheers bro.”

“And now we’d actually quite like to meet the woman.  You know, as we didn’t get to attend the wedding.”

This: the matter they'd never spoken about, just talked around on the phone or stuck to texts in case it all turned a bit angry.  He knew they’d all be hurt, but it had all been so quick, he’d felt such a need to step away from the family for a while before he lost himself completely.

“I’m bringing her down for a stay next weekend, you know that- her and Neil.”

“I’ll pick you up from the station.”

“No need, Ant…”

“It’ll be much easier to be on your side against everyone if I've actually met her.  'Course you could say the word and I’ll be down in two hours, as I keep offering…”

“Friday will be fine, cheers.  We’ll take the offer for a pick up.”

“That’s a start.  You sure you’re ok mate?”

Colin closed his eyes for a moment: was he, truly?  He didn’t have a clue.  It had all been such a chaotic few months, head over heels, settling into the farm (and he liked it, found meaning in the constancy of farming, the lack of division between work and home- there was a strange solace in that lifestyle).  Then she’d started slipping away from him, leaving him feeling as if he spent more quality time with Neil than her- it had been mere months since they married, this was supposed to be forever.  Then there was the pregnancy test and those stupid gossip articles- he’d come here to escape feeling exposed and now felt more trapped than ever.

Anthony was, of course, having none of it; it would have been alright if he’d kept to the phone calls and texts but he’d accepted the damned facetime request without thinking and now he knew that Anthony knew and he was fairly sure mum and Ben would within an hour as well. 

“I’m just adjusting, it’s been a lot- a good lot but a lot.”

“I can see that.  Where will we see you next, snapped emerging from a farming supplies store?  A fudge shop on Wells high street?”

“Fuck off Ant.”

“You’ve got our PR team on hand, I’ve texted you their numbers, you need anything from me and you call me.  I’ll see you Friday, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I love you Ant.” He did, he really did- so much so that it was overwhelming at times, the expectations that came with the knowledge someone had made such a sacrifice for him, Ant's constant anger no longer just simmering beneath the surface looking for an outlet, volcanic:  softened by his sister in law but always understandable and maybe that was made it so hard- baseless rage was easy to rebel against, knowing your brother gave up every hope and dream to look after you and your siblings? 

“Love you too.” 

Colin could hear Kate calling him in the background, something to do with Edmund needing to be collected from a playdate- he fixed on that, in a few years that would be him, chasing after a son or daughter- he loved kids, couldn’t imagine anything better (even if it was a bit unexpected -  both 20, using contraception, fuck he didn’t even know if she’d wanted kids)- He just needed to break it to his family before he could truly celebrate- and get past the first appointment with the midwifery team.

By Wednesday the plans had changed: Neil staying on the farm with a poorly mare, clearly concerned about missing it- cornering Colin as he sluiced down the yard, “you will watch out for her won’t you mate? She gets a bit-"

Barely looking up Colin continued with his chores, hanging the brushes and stowing the buckets,

“Course I will, you have no worries there.”

“I know, you’re a decent fellow- but she gets into her head, it can be hard to pull her out.”

Not at all concerned, Colin simply nodded and wandered off: everyone got a bit like that at times, surely? It was fine.  It had just been so much, she was sensitive, it would all work out when she had a chance to adapt.

Friday afternoon saw them on the train to London, hands held across the seat divide, Marina staring out of the window whilst Colin read a pregnancy guide; he could tell how stressed she was about the visit- she jumped out of the seat every time her phone buzzed, seemed really withdrawn- she hadn't really spoken to him all week if he stopped and thought about it but he knew- remembered from his mum and sister’s pregnancies, heck this book laid it out in type- pregnant women were susceptible to moods, needed support and understanding from their partners, not a bunch of questions and neediness.  He was fine, he could figure this out for himself- she needed him to do that; it was good to be needed, gave him a purpose.

Anthony was waiting for them at the barrier, grabbing them into hugs and offering introductions before taking their bags off them and leading the way to the cab he had on standby.  Colin had always liked to step aside and watch, awed, as the crowd seemed to move around him, leaving the Viscount a free path and it was no less true today- a mix of his bearing that screamed ‘important person coming through’ (not hurt by an eye wateringly expensive Saville Row hand made suit that had cost more than Colin’s uni fees for his wasted year) or the charming natural way he had with everyone that simply made them want to be good to him- whatever it was Colin and Marina trailed in his wake, letting him guide their way. 

When they got to the cab Anthony held the door open for Marina, letting her take the front seat, following Colin into the back with a cheery, “sorry sister, hope you don’t mind, we've all been craving a chance to grab this guy for an overdue congratulatory hug!” Marina barely responded: a lift at the corner of her mouth- maybe- if you stared hard enough, no eye contact, barely lifting her eyes from the screen in front of her, strapping herself in one handed and tapping away with the other hand.  Colin felt a wave of disappointment at her lack of effort, hadn't he worked to build a relationship with Neil?  He shoved the emotion down, hard- it was all too soon, she just needed a bit more from him.  His family was a big ask.

He could see the flicker of concern on Ant’s face, a brief flash of confusion hidden almost as fast as it arose- the guy was a lawyer after all: it was his job to let it wash over him, hide it all- it had taken Colin a lifetime to learn the small tells and giveaways that meant something was bothering him. 

It was with relief that he watched her pocket the phone as they pulled up outside Bridgerton House, the obligatory welcoming committee already in place- El and Fran, Daph and Simon, Ben at the side of the house; Hy and Greg at college (Eton and Cheltenham Ladies, the paths well trodden) but due back soon.   Grinning, he leaned down to his new wife, whispering “watch this, the pincer movement,” trying to hide his laugh as Anthony moved to one side of him and Ben the other, diverting him towards the study whilst his mum dragged her new daughter away with delight, promising a tour of the house followed by tea and cake

The study door was thrown closed behind him, and the tumbler of whisky in his hands before he could even start to speak and apologise for all that had happened with the wedding- the tumbler whisked away again as Ben lifted him off his feet and swirled him around, chanting some nonsense about his little brother being all grown up now.  When he finally managed to get them off him and take a seat it was with a grin.  After years of dreading each return he finally felt good to be back here, as if he’d achieved something, earned his place as a grown up.

It didn’t last.

It started fine of course- Benedict giving out a low whistle and claiming that he’d somehow married one of the most beautiful women he’d seen in a long time (he didn’t bat an eyelid, standard Ben stuff), Ant handing him a folder of paperwork- new will to witness, changes to his trust fund, some kind of post nup agreement that Colin immediately balled up and threw into the nearest waste paper bin- he managed to squeeze in a few questions as well, something about an art show for Ben, Kate’s latest promotion- it was good: exactly how he’d told Marina it would be.

After about fifteen minutes his mum joined them, demanding another round of hugs, taking his phone to scroll the pictures of their new home, making the right noises in all the right places.  After a few minutes he could feel a sharp change in atmosphere as she slid the phone back to him-

“Dearest…”

He sighed, expecting  a lecture on how he’d handled the wedding and he knew he deserved it but…

It wasn’t.

“Is she well?”

He was confused for a moment, answers all ready for the expected questions, discombobulated: after a moment he met her eyes.

“Marina?  Fine, why do you ask?”

“She just seems rather quiet, withdrawn.  You said she was friendly…”

“She is mum,”

“but she wouldn’t talk to any of us, just asked to be shown her room and shut herself in.”

“We’ve been travelling, she’s probably tired.”

“I realise that my love but I would hate it if she was scared to meet us or thought we might be against her because of the unconventional way this came about.”

“I promise that I told her you valued a love story above all else.  She’s just a bit inside her head, she’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure son.”

Colin nodded, quickly turning into a grimace as Benedict ruffled his hair, before picking up his duffel bag and throwing it at him:  “get back to your wife.”

It was one of those moments where everyone would forever wish they could redo it, the horror becoming clear even as his bag flew open and the book he’d been reading on the train fell out.  Everyone in the room stood and stared for what was probably ten seconds but felt like an age until Anthony raised his head, looked at Ben and his mum and uttered those dreaded words:

“Out, now.”

As soon as the door shut Anthony turned to his brother, all sign of celebration now gone, replaced with a look of utter horror:

“What the fuck have you done?”

He collapsed into the chair, his body sagging, hands in his hair.

“I swear Ant, we used a condom every time- she’s on the pill.”

“Every single time?”

“I promise.  I want kids but…”

“you’ve known her five months?”

“No!  Well OK, I guess but not because I doubt her- us- but because we have so much learning about each other to do, time together.  Fuck we’d never even mentioned children, you know? I’ve always wanted them but has she?”

“You haven’t asked her this?”

The tears had started to flow now; he cursed himself, he thought he’d moved past this, was well into the excitement phase- wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t felt certain.

“I can’t get her to talk, she’s closed off, just wants to sleep or text her friends.”

“You know there are options if you are both struggling with this…”

“No!  This is my child, Ant- that’s not something I want.  And she hasn't raised that at all either.  It’s just-“

“That you’re both twenty, hardly know each other and live on a farm miles from your family.”

“With her family, on a family owned farm: we’re hardly abandoned in a shed.”

“No, but if the shit hits the fan you know which team Neil is on.  You promise you haven’t fucked up contraception, not even once?”

Colin shook his head, “no chance.  I’m not an idiot.”

“I know brother, I know.”  Colin looked up in shock as the lecture abruptly turned into support, he’d expected it to go on for much longer- that brought more tears and by the time they’d faded Ant’s arms were around him as they would have been when he was a kid, letting him cry it out.

“I’m here for you at any point, you know that?”  Colin nodded; he did really, didn’t he? Perhaps he’d come home seeking this, looking for a safe chance to break down.  “But now mate you’re going to wipe your eyes, fix a grin and go out and take care of that wife of yours.  Whatever happens next, you’ve got us, they need you.”

“Yeah.”

The weekend didn’t get much better after that- not for want of the Bridgertons trying, he'd found himself pulled into enough rooms for hugs and back pats, Marina clearly suspecting they knew but not wanting to say anything because that might start the big scary conversation- instead she withdrew completely, barely leaving their room.

It had started with the kids: Marina joining him and his family for tea, Colin jumping up to grab Hy and Greg as they came home and ran at him- he’d missed them so much, hadn’t really realised how much all their lives revolved around their routines, school runs and football practices, grounding them and bringing them back together no matter how much anyone wandered.  Marina had watched them from the edge of the room, turning away as Hy made a move towards her, leaving.  Colin fixed a smile, making excuses, trying to ignore how many times he'd already done that since they arrived.  Greg looked flummoxed but Hyacinth rose to the occasion as she always did, nodding, muttering about how much she hated train travel and always needed a nap afterwards: he made a mental note to double her Christmas budget, maybe name the baby after her.

In fact Marina only emerged from her room once during the weekend, when Violet hosted them all at a meal in a Chelsea brasserie, and he’d had to argue for that- persuade her.  If he mentioned that the baby needed her to eat she turned away, until he'd given up on that tactic and turned to straightforward pleading instead- she’d given him three hours.

By the time the weekend was over Colin felt his whole world had turned- his family watching quietly but not saying anything, obviously scared to risk some unspoken fragile boundary; Marina, shrinking, slipping from his grasp, his own self elusive yet again- the only thing he felt familiar with. Which was fine really, just fine. 

Chapter Text

“In those years after, when I tried to find something to pin the blame on or identify a moment where I might have been able to make a difference- this was often the time I settled on. The months after the pregnancy was confirmed. I have spent many hours of my life wondering whether a simple word, gesture or change might have made all the difference- perhaps if I’d given up earlier and left, would that have triggered something?  Was there something so obvious that I, idiot that I am, missed?”

“There were moments in that period that I thought were joyous, but I will never know if that was my imagination or whether she truly managed to join me at those times, if I’m really honest I suspect that a whole lot of our relationship, after the initial high, was unreal- something she was acting to try and feel connected.  All that time when I was riding high, getting to ready welcome our children she was just clinging on to survival, and I had no real clue.”

“It was hard to believe that it wasn’t all my fault- with everything happening so fast, married and a family on the way and then moving into our own place and trying to build something- she’d walked into that sailing class looking so confident and it had ebbed away over the time we were together.  Then once I’d started to blame myself it became even harder to focus on the reality of what was happening, find something to cling to that would allow me to look at it all with enough detachment to see that she was sinking. “

"I know there was no intention to mislead or cover things up, god the man had no more idea we'd be wed on that holiday to America than the rest of my family- we hid it like children, thinking we were clever, knew better than everyone around us.  And of course Neil didn't know me- didn't want to be the one who broke his daughter's heart on a word that might not be needed. His loyalty was to her and why wouldn't it be?  He's a good man, a father, not so far off being a male version of my own mother really.  But knowing that maybe he had a clue this could happen- that's hard to forget, and when it's the two of you, sat alone in a living room miles from anyone else every day for months on end, that starts to bite- the what ifs.  What else was he hiding?  Well I still don't know that actually, how much more he did know- seems unlikely I'll ever ask now."

"It was making the decision to sign that form that broke me more than anything.  By then it was all such a bloody mess- inescapable, at least the way I'd built it in my head- but the actual act of finding a pen, adding my name as next of kin, watching it unfold: it felt as if I was betraying her, all of them. Then she returned and left again so quickly- and all of that hurts- but it was that, the forms, the intentionality of it all- that was what broke me."

Chapter Text

Penelope dropped her bags by the coat stand and pulled out a file, before heading to the kitchen and opening the fridge to find some wine.  She poured herself a glass and sat down, shuffling the paperwork until she found what she needed and taking out her highlighter to mark the paragraphs that mattered the most.

She knew that she’d be told off by her mum for being here- Mayfair ladies didn’t sit in kitchens, they retired to  drawing rooms or studies, elegant feminine spaces created for the illusion of domestic productivity. Penelope, however, had not been raised this way: growing up in Sussex she had run with the tenant famer’s children, studied in her bedroom or on top of hay bales, watching the farm cats until late at night, never really missed in a house where everyone just survived.

She recalled being a teenager, reading an Austen on the lawn at the front of the house, making notes in her journal- even then she’d been obsessed with love stories and the obstacles people encountered, the complexities that created hurdles until they met the right person.  The house was spacious and refined but faded, gentility long past, mother absent whenever she could find an excuse and father either drinking, drunk or at a bookies somewhere- at first the nearest town then as his losses grew and reputation collapsed further and further afield: she hadn't seen him for a week, had heard him say something about heading to Brighton for the sea air to his PA- they all knew, were tired of pretending otherwise really, that he meant he needed a new casino, a fresh bookie because he’d been barred from those in yet another town. At least Brighton was a city, she thought idly, twisting her biro in her mouth as she transcribed Wentworth’s letter into her own pages, surely he couldn’t ran out of places to spend their money too quickly?  As long as he was gone things were good- oh her mum struggled with the emotional isolation- she had spied her sneaking another man in a few times, and she knew their finances continued to plummet, but the house lacked the shouting, slammed doors and, worst of all, the prolonged silences that his presence always brought: “Penelope can you please tell your father that the electricity bill is overdue, again.”  “Penelope please tell your mother that if she had a job she could pay the bloody electricity bill,”  “Penelope can you please tell your father… Penelope!  Where are you going Penelope?”

“Out,”  Out: anywhere as long as it was out and away from the tension and passive aggression that sucked up the oxygen when he was at home.  Away from parents too exhausted by each other to even bother fighting, a dad that she had adored once now a shadow of who he was (but just enough presence that she couldn’t hate or mourn him either, forced to just sit and watch his slow inevitable demise).  Away from a mum who could have worked once but had been kept for show, much like a pretty ornament or bejewelled brooch, for so long that she had become irrelevant, apart from the world.  He had created that person and now he begrudged her for it, and Penelope knew it was unfair, but it wasn't unfair to be stuck in the midst of it as well?  What choices had she been given?.

They were better off when he was gone.  Her sisters would leave their bedrooms again, often wary, avoiding their parents at all costs.  Prudence, 19, not quite  bright enough for university but struggling to find a job she could get to with the rubbish bus system in their so called rural idyll- bored, lonely and terminally online; Philippa, 18, a few months off from finishing her beauty course and planning to hotfoot it to London as fast as she could get a job and room deposit together.  Felicity, 7 (“ I can’t call her a mistake because she’s a blessing but we were both drunk and the sex was a mistake even if the outcome wasn’t”- "cheers for the details, mum"), playing with her dolls somewhere, as yet too young to understand much beyond the fact that daddy was away again and everything seemed calm.

She tucked the notebook under the corner of the shed in the little bag she used to protect it from rain and headed indoors to find some lunch, making sure to prepare some for Fliss, likely to be forgotten by everyone else.  As she spooned the mayonnaise onto her sister’s sandwich she heard the doorbell ring and silence descend on the house- she placed the bottle down quietly and slunk away from the windows, dipping down onto the floor underneath so no debt collector could see her if they peered through.  She knew the others would be doing the same wherever they were- her sisters not leaving their room or using their devices, mum placing the TV on mute, even Fliss knew to go quietly indoors and lock the door behind her. 

She listened for the rattle of the letterbox: either a card being shoved through or someone shouting, vague threats aimed at her father, promises of court action on a good day or last time a broken leg- neither came.  Eventually, when all was quiet, she finished the sandwich and went to find her sister, stopping in horror as she saw the police car on the drive outside, an officer stood quietly leaning against the porch, waiting.  She blinked twice before ignoring them and making her way up the stairs anyway, handing her sister the sandwich, calmly letting her mum know they had company and then- only then- opening up to let them in.

“Is your mum in?”

Penelope nodded, “but she’s a bit busy now, can you come back?”

“I’m sorry, that isn’t possible.  I’m Maria, a family liaison officer.  Can I come in?”

Penelope stood aside and watched them walk through the door, running upstairs quickly then following them into the rarely used sitting room and taking a chair opposite.  She sat in silence, watching them.

“Does your mum know we are waiting?”

“Yes”.  Just one word: no emotion or elaboration, simply a sufficient answer.  Maria nodded, clearly trained to deal with all manner of responses.  She took out a file and placed it on the table, her colleague wandered out to the kitchen and turned the kettle on.  It took Portia another ten minutes to arrive, hair freshly brushed, lipstick applied- a mask, Penelope knew.  She sat down opposite the officers and met their eye with a smile.

“So, he’s finally gone, then?”

Penelope had expected horror or even accusations from the officers but there was nothing, just the suggestion that Penelope be asked to leave the room for a moment and when she had left, standing by the door to listen, quiet voices mumbling.  She heard certain sentences: loan sharks, a car accident, ambulance but all over quickly- nothing they hadn't expected for some time.  She climbed the stairs and helped Fliss to put her toys away before returning to find her mother showing the police out, gently but adamantly refusing the presence of a liaison officer for the first few hours, then returning to the kitchen with her laptop and phone.  The first call, to her solicitor, asking them to give their London tenants notice; the second, an estate agency, placing the estate up for sale- she'd had it placed in her name years ago, didn’t trust him not to gamble it away, their only form of security except for the Mayfair home she had inherited from her parents, rented out, the income feeding them, keeping the estate ticking over and covering a small proportion of his debts each month.

Penelope took the untouched tea away from her mum and replaced it with a glass of gin and tonic, sitting opposite her with her own can of Fanta.  Portia smiled and nodded in thanks before beginning to speak.

“We were very happy here you know, at first.”

Penelope did: she'd heard the story a hundred times, how they’d married young for nothing but love and how perfect it had all been at first.  Then he’d lost his job- the country office closing, nothing personal Mr Featherington- and he’d spiralled.  He hadn’t needed to find a job quickly with the family money and he’d grown bored, looking for the next dopamine hit- and eventually the next drink or bet.

An hour later they separated, Penelope to her room, sobbing under her duvet not because her father was gone but because she’d lost him years ago and couldn't grieve until now.  Portia to tell her other girls, hiding her red eyes and tear swollen cheeks, ashamed to mourn the man who had treated them all so poorly, left them to face the threats whilst he sauntered off to take whatever new risk would give him that increasingly hard to find high. 

A few weeks later they buried him, a tiny funeral attended only by close family, the family liaison officers and their immediate neighbours, a few unwanted visitors quietly spoken to by Maria and turned away, no doubt collectors wanting to confirm that he was actually deceased.  Afterwards they drank coffee and ate cake, shaking everyone’s hands then immediately taking off their dark clothes to begin the task of packing up a house that had been in a family for 300 years, everything by now catalogued by auctioneers.

A month after that they arrived in Mayfair, debts cleared, a very healthy lump sum in the accounts and the slate wiped clean.  Penelope and Fliss started new schools where nobody knew their stories, Pru and Pip found jobs and Portia found Bond Street on a Saturday afternoon, completely reinventing herself, walking onto the tube wearing jeans and flat boots, walking back through in leopard print and stilettos, health club membership paid for in advance, lunch booked with her old school friends and, very soon after, a date with the 25 year old gardener who mowed the square opposite their house.

There was no choice but to move on: there were no photos of Archie allowed, no anniversaries marked with flowers or quiet words, bereavement counsellors all refused and offers of support turned away.  A neighbour visited twice, a widow, with empathic words and an open heart: Portia tried to befriend her not because of their shared loss- Portia’s loss was in no way like Violet’s, even now raw and prone to breaking open- but because monthly tea at Bridgerton House was how you met the right people.  Penelope liked her well enough, appreciated the efforts even but she had closed that side of herself off entirely and refused to allow anyone to pry at the wound, lest it open and bleed.

Penelope passed her exams, A and A* grades all around, immediately starting to study for her next courses.  On sunny days she’d sit in the square outside the house and read, watching the people go past, nobody stopping to speak to her- she’d moved at such a strange age, when her peers were settled into their little groups fearing the break ups that eighteen would bring and not opening themselves to new faces- and sometimes she’d watch as Colin, Violet’s third son, visited - wavy hair, dark coat and blue eyes marking him out as beautiful; age, obvious money and status marking him out as unavailable.  At some point he had vanished, and a few weeks later she herself left for university, unfazed and rootless.

When she returned three years later (long summers deliberately cut short by the need to work, a need they all knew was fabricated to hide a wish to stay away) Portia had settled: content in her group of glamourous fifty somethings, days spent at charity events, lunches where they only ate salad and drank sparkling water or G&Ts, short term affairs with much younger men enthralled by her overt sexuality and obvious wealth.  Fliss never in the house, always out with her friends, Pip married and Pru engaged- it had been good to see them settled, creeping out from under the fog of their father’s legacy but she hadn’t know what to do with herself so she’d signed up for a PGCE and moved away again, returning with a job, a purpose and a life far away from the concerns of the tiny community that her mother and youngest sister had embraced so whole heartedly.

She’d settled in well at the school, arriving early and leaving late, dedicating everything to each year group in turn, embraced by an ever growing cohort of former students that called her name in the street or came to say a shy hello as their younger siblings took their own place in her class.  She felt as if she belonged here, expected this to be the shape of her life from hereon in- a rewarding, happy existence she had worked hard for.  She didn’t see herself married- she'd tried a relationship, once: it had started out passionate and distracting and ended up years later with TV dinners for one as he worked late again, neither having the energy to call it until he’d moved with his work.  The quick downturn had reminded her of her parent's marriage, so she had decided that she wasn't going to follow that path again. Now she had her class, teacher friends, mum and sisters and she was more content than she had ever been in her life before.

Even now when she recollected her father's death she hoped to feel something- an overwhelming grief, anger, anything.  She'd sat at his grave for hours waiting for the rush of emotion, forced herself to stare at his photo, read the inquest report- nothing.  Prudence and Pip crept away on his birthday to eat cake and remember him away from their mum, having had more of his better years; Fliss, never knowing much different, showed disinterest but Penelope found herself stuck- neither recalling enough of the warm dad to miss it nor too little of him being around to notice a real change: she just had that numb heaviness.

Chapter Text

They settled into a routine over the next few months.  Colin would work on the farm during the day and Marina would study or sleep,  still trying to keep up with the part time degree she’d switched to after finding out she was expecting.  In the evenings she would curl up with her husband and watch the TV or go for a walk, and those times were some of the happiest Colin had known- the simple joy of holding her hand, feeling as if his entire future was there beside him. 

He spent alternate weekends with his family in Mayfair, Marina refusing to join him, the weekends gradually getting more and more difficult as she called him at every meal time or planned outing, Colin holing up in his old childhood bedroom calming her down about some imagined slight or worry.  After a few visits they shrunk down to a single day and night, Colin explaining that he needed to be close to his pregnant fiancé, "everyone understands that, yeah?"

When she was 24 weeks Ant and Ben took him out for a chat about what to expect, sitting him down in the pub with a pint and chips, regaling him with stories of terrible cravings and unreasonable demands- Colin crying with laughter at the hormone fuelled antics of his beloved sisters in law;

“and then- she bit me!” Anthony clutched his fake pearls in horror, mimicking Daph’s favourite gesture.

“Oh come on Ant, she was in pain... 4cm dilated!”  Ben patted his shoulder in a patronising manner; Ant shook his head,

“If only- she said after that she'd got it into her head that I needed something to remember the day by, a story to tell and that biting me would be perfect… I'm assuming the gas and air were involved, either that or my wife is a vampire.”

Ben almost spat his beer out, laughing so hard; Colin moved his chips out of the way, a grin on his face.

“So Col, where’s the scan pics?”  Ant grabbed his wallet from the table top and started to rifle through. Colin shook his head,

“Not yet, she’s seen a midwife and she said there was no hurry, that waiting lists and the like… it’ll happen.”

His older brothers shared a concerned look and he put his fork down slowly,

“that’s right, yeah?  I know the books say earlier but we all know the NHS can be slow.”

“You haven’t been to a single appointment?”

Colin shook his head, “it’s just been two, a booking one and when she was being sick all the time, she said not to, to save Neil’s good will for time off when more happened.”

“Another drink, I think.”  Ben jostled Ant and they headed for the bar, voices low.  Concerned, Colin picked up his phone and texted Marina,

Remind me babe, when’s the scan?

Don’t have a date yet, been delayed again.  No hurry.

When his brothers returned he held out the phone as if it answered everything.  Ben took the phone and nodded,

“Col, can I bring Soph over for a chat?  You know she’s a nurse.”

Colin shrugged, “you already know the reason but sure, bring her in.”

Sophie was there as fast as she could get over, accepting the pre bought pint with a grin and tapping Colin’s glass with a "cheers" as she took a sip and leaned back, sighing, “I needed that.”

“We were just  wondering babe,”  Ben began, “about whether Col should be going private with the maternity care?”

“Why? None of us did.”

“It’s just- it’s been fab here in Mayfair but they’re a bit more rural and it seems there’s delays, they haven’t had a scan or anything much at 24 weeks.”

“Where did you get that from?  Everyone there gets 12 week and 20 week scans, how else would they check the health?  Col?”

He shook his head, “nope, Marina says they’re all held up, she’s been told not to worry.”

“The tests? Some have to be done by 14 weeks Col, it would too late. That picks up some really dangerous conditions.  I can check of course but I can’t possibly imagine…”

Slowly, reality dawning, Colin nodded:  “can I take you up on that offer?  Please check.”

It didn’t take Sophie long,  a text message and a quick call to someone she’d studied with, and she was back, switching the phone off and placing it on the table.

“Now to be clear, I can’t ask about Marina and I wouldn’t; confidentiality matters.  It’s entirely possible she is having care and just not telling you.  However…”

Ben moved to sit at his younger brother’s side, draping an arm across his shoulder.

“There are no delays or waiting lists.  Either she’s cut you out or she’s not known to services, either way she’s lying.”

 Historically Colin had always been one to retreat into himself and this was no different- nobody at the table was surprised when he simply nodded and nursed his drink silently, finishing it then announcing “I’ve got to go.”

“Come back to the house, get your stuff Col.”

“Nah, I need to get back.”

“Let me drive you.”  Anthony downed his orange juice and stood, determined.

“I can get a train.”

“Not until the morning, you know that.  I understand why you need to hurry back, let me do this for you.”

Marina wasn’t home when Colin arrived so he sent Ant in to make a cup of tea for himself and headed out to find Neil, attending to lambing.

“Marina about?”

“No pregnant women near the sheep Colin, you know that- not worth it.”

“She’s not home.”

“You know how she is about you going up to London,  I told her she has to let you see your family but we both know how she can be.”

Colin gave it a moment of thought- did he?  She never seemed to have the energy to argue or object, she was clingy sure but that was about it.  He rang her number and didn’t get an answer, sending a quick text to let her know he was home and returning to the little annexe they had just moved into.

Anthony was waiting with a drink when he arrived, “any news?”

“Nope, but I let her know I'm home.”

They sipped for a few minutes, Ant asking questions about the farm and lambing until the door opened.  He stood, hugged Colin and paused to greet his sister in law before heading back to London.

Colin didn’t have much of a temper really, wasn't his nature but he had to fight showing it now.  He turned and gave her a hard look.

“You lied to me.”

“About what?  Col…”

“There are no delays on scans or anything else.  Either you had the tests without me or you skipped them, which is it?”

“Col…”

“Fuck off calling me that right now Marina.  Which is it?”

And there, in front of him, his wife collapsed.  Sat on their bed sobbing, admitting she hadn't known what to do about the pregnancy, didn’t want a baby but couldn’t hurt him either.  He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair,

“it would have been your choice.”

“I’d have broken your heart.”

He couldn’t argue with that; he wouldn’t have said anything, pressured her but it would have been true.

“You missed so many tests Marina; scans- left it too late to make any decisions anyway.  We could have talked about this, worked it out- instead you put yourself and the baby at risk.”

“I know.”

“Tomorrow we go to the GP, get them to make an emergency referral or whatever it is- we will go to each and every appointment together.  You can work out what you want to do with this baby, we can raise it together and I really hope you choose that or I can take it and move out but we get the tests first.”

“I’m sorry.”

That night Colin lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling as the lies and the events of the past few months ran through his mind, berating himself, trying to work out where he’d slipped up.  In the morning he rose for milking then the couple went to the GP, receiving a lecture about irresponsibility and an emergency referral to the obstetrician, with plans for the local midwife to visit Marina at home and a warning of a social services referral if they pulled any more stunts once their baby arrived.

Three days later Colin sat terrified as Marina had her first scan, dreading the news that there might be something wrong that had been left too late.  His terror only built as sonographer became obstetrician, staring at the screen, turning it to show two sets of limbs, two faces- twins.  He nodded along at the information, took the leaflets with murmurs of thanks, escorted his wife home and handed her to her father with explanations and then walked alone to the little country church, sitting with his back against the stone, trying to summon up the spirit of his father.

"What do I do, Dad?" he whispered as the tears came, "she couldn't face one, let alone two."  He strained to listen but nothing came to him, just eternal silence, broken only the distant noise of traffic, cows lowing in the distance.  Taking his phone out he sent a picture of the scan to Sophie, knowing he wouldn't have to explain;  then he picked himself up, walked home and splashed his face before sitting down and pretending all was well.

Three hours later they heard the noise of wheels on the gravel and a knock at the door.  Opening up he was met with his mum stood there, arms already extended: he stepped into them and sobbed, "did Soph send you?"

"No my baby boy, I just knew."

"I asked Dad for help. At the church."

"Well then, looks as if he sent me.  What's going on?"

He led her in and sat her down with a cup of tea, telling the story of the missing scans, news of the twins: Marina didn't look up once, staring at the door until half an hour later she simply stood up and left, neither even looking at each other.

"How did it get so bad, Colin?"  Violet watched him with concern, holding him as he sobbed, repeating "she doesn't want them, mum: she never wanted one, how will she manage two?"

"With your love, my help and her father's care- where has she gone?"

Colin shrugged, "I don't seem to know anything about her any more, she's either silent or disappearing, I don't know what happened- we were so happy,"  he sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve; she lifted her eyebrows then handed him a tissue, "other couples manage this, younger and with no jobs or home.  I don't understand."

"When are you seeing the midwife?"

"Day after tomorrow, home visit."

"I'll need to be back in London, take care of Edmund, can you make sure Neil is there?"

"I can try, I'm sorry you had to come all this way."

"I'm not.  You're sure she won't move in with us for a while?  Kate and Sophie's presence might do her some good."

"She's visited once mum and she hid, of course she won't."

"She's not the first to struggle with a pregnancy love, it'll get better."

Chapter Text

Penelope stood and paused for a moment to watch as the class TA handed out the snack pots, the children quietly sat with their water bottles, knowing that any time wasted now would shorten their play time in the school yard.  When she was sure they were settled she nodded and took her leave, walking to the little library at the end of the corridor where her headmistress was already waiting, a quick briefing before the twins joined them for an hour to play and see how they got on.

"So, anything come up in the paperwork?"  Helen looked at her over the pile of books she was shelving, never one to waste a moment; Penelope pulled out the admin the receptionist had handed her and set out two plastic cups of water, readying themselves to be welcoming.

"Nothing unexpected: they're traumatised, lost their mum, didn't know their dad that well- unpredictable, clingy to Grandad who they no longer live with.  Nan is their main carer whilst dad recovers, aunt and uncle involved as well."

"Dad recovers from what?"  Helen paused and turned to look at her, "is that in the file? The loss or was it more complicated?" Penelope could read Helen's expectations- an accident perhaps, both parents injured.  Instead she lowered her voice to convey the true horror of what she had read.

"We have the information, social work report.  Mum's death was a suicide, dad found her.  Wasn't exactly out of the blue."  Helen paused, placing the book in her hand down in acknowledgement of the sadness of the news.

"Oh.  That poor family.  There's no words, really."

Their conversation was interrupted by a rap at the door, opening to allow an elegant older woman access, two small twins in front of her, heads bowed and silent.  Violet turned to Helen first and shook her hand confidently, before turning to the younger woman in surprise.

"Penelope- I didn't expect to see you here."

"Miss Featherington is our Reception teacher, she'll be caring for the twins.  I know you are neighbours, I can reassure you that there won't be any confidentiality issues or breeches."

"No, no: that's not a problem.  If anyone wanted to find most of it they could, it's in coroner reports and the local press in Somerset after all.  It's just-"  she turned to Penelope- "I know this is a silly question dear, but does your mum know you work here?  She never mentioned it and you would think she'd be proud..."

Penelope didn't reply, just gave her a gentle smile as she flipped through the files to find the forms for Violet, one eye on the twins, observing all the while.  She handed over the sheaf and a biro, biting back a smirk as Violet quietly laid the pen on the table and rooted through her bag for her Montblanc fountain pen, the gold nib catching the light as she started filling in medical details and dietary requirements, adding a card for the social worker they'd been assigned, a faint look of embarrassment crossing her face as she did so, apologetic.  Penelope watched as Helen knelt down by the twins and asked them over to the book corner.  Penelope continued the induction, speaking gently, so that they could not hear.

"I am so sorry to hear about Colin's wife, Violet.  I don't think I ever properly met him but it must be so hard.  They will all thrive in your care, I have no doubt."

"Thank you.  It has been-" she turned to watch her grandchildren and sighed, "well yes, a difficult time, their poor mother never really seemed to have much of a grip on happiness.  I think they needed to move away from where it happened."

"I can see why you would think that.  And Colin, is he...?"

"As well as can be expected, they weren't exactly together but not really apart either- it was all rather a mess.  I'm sure you know that we have to do school runs at the moment but we will be trying to bring him along when we can, get him involved.  At his own pace."

"That is absolutely fine Violet, and let us know where we can help- obviously we have limited resources but we do pride ourselves on our pastoral care, and we will take our time to transition the children across. We were thinking an hour a day for a week, then mornings and after that I will do a home visit, see how things are going."  Penelope checked over the forms and shuffled them into order,  "would you mind stepping outside for a short time?  Alice on reception will make you a hot drink, we'll see how the children cope without you."

Violet agreed and stepped outside, allowing Penelope to take a seat quietly next to where Helen was sharing the book, trying not to crowd the group.  When Helen finished she introduced them to their teacher, Penelope started to speak but stopped when she saw that they did not react, moving to read to them again.  Still they did not move, so she handed the book to Helen; they turned to her and listened again. The back and forth was repeated for the next twenty minutes before Violet returned, looking hopeful.  Penelope joined her at the desk.

"They seem settled."

"They do, and their behaviour has been impeccable.  However they won't acknowledge me at all; would you be able to introduce us, perhaps that is the difficulty?"

She could see the drop in Violet's expression immediately, momentary though it was, her face immediately and professionally schooled to it's usual affable expression.  She remained sat, waiting.

"I will of course, but it is just that they are the same with their aunts, and indeed our household staff- indeed any women around their mother's age. From what I recall you are just two years or so younger."

Penelope could see that Helen was listening intently, despite still reading.  

"Their mother was very young."

"Yes."

"And if we separate them, just for a while?  How do they react then?"

"Not well I'm afraid, but it would be worth a try I suppose."

Penelope left Amanda with Helen, already settled and had Violet retrieve Oliver for a quick tour; the three walked together towards the play area, the teacher keeping a friendly monologue, showing the boy the rooms he'd use, letting him peek at his classmates through a window, settling him onto a swing and offering to help push.  He nodded when needed- progress she thought, gladly, almost ready to praise herself when her attention wandered and a hand grabbed for her hair and pulled, hard.  Violet flew into action and detached the child, apologising, before chasing after him as he bolted across the school field to the forest school area at the fence, climbing up into the tree house and sitting with his back towards them.  She looked around for Violet only to see her tapping something into her phone;  realising she was engaged she sat at the bottom of the steps and turned herself so that she could see him from the side but wasn't facing him.

"I see you've found our forest area, Oliver- very clever of you.  It's new this term, isn't it wonderful?"

She paused where she would normally expect an answer. leaving him space if he chose to join in: he did not.

"We use this area for lots of activities.  Reading sessions and play in any weather, you will have to make sure your nanny and uncle remember to bring your wellies.  Sometimes on nice days we come out here with our snacks for a little picnic, and on Fridays we join the year one children for a singing and music session.  Do you like music Oliver?"

Violet was back with them now, settled on a tree stump a few metres away, watching but not getting involved.

"I like to sing but really I am not very good, I do like playing the piano.  Perhaps we can try you on some instruments?  I believe your aunt plays very well, perhaps if your Nan agrees we could look at music lessons."  She watched Violet for agreement, the woman nodded enthusiastically- there'd been mention of music therapy in the file but nothing yet properly in place.

"I think maybe if it is hard for you to use your voice right now it might feel better if you can make noise in other ways, maybe drums or tambourines- it might be fun.  It's been a lot for you and your twin but we will find ways to get along together."

Oliver still hadn't even looked at her when she heard hurried feet from behind her, turning she saw an angry looking Viscount hurrying towards them, face slightly pink from exertion.

"Oliver Bridgerton, get down here right now!"  Reluctantly Oliver headed towards the ladder, taking each step two feet at a time, shuffling but descending.

"I am so very sorry, Miss..."  Anthony turned to face Penelope and screwed his eyes up, "I am sorry, have we met?  you look remarkably familiar."  

Violet stepped up next to them; "this is Portia's daughter, Anthony; the youngest."  Anthony sighed loudly,

"great, so he didn't just pull any teacher's hair, he managed it with the gossipy neighbour's kid: bloody fantastic.  How long before that hits the gossip pages?"

"I beg your pardon?" Penelope's voice rose somewhat, offended by his implication.

"Every part of these two's life has been documented in the gossip pages, we don't need any more of that."  He turned to his nephew, "apologise to your teacher."

Oliver remained silent, Anthony fiddled with his glasses, pushing them back up his nose.  

When he first headed their  way Penelope would have sworn she had an angry father figure to deal with but the more she watched the more she could only see concern- concern and heartbreak.  She spoke to Violet for a moment, turning to see Oliver curled up against Anthony's leg, fingers twisted in the fabric, Anthony's hand at his back.  Violet took his little hand and led him back to his twin, Penelope indicated a wooden table and fought to keep her voice steady,

"shall we sit?"

"Is it appropriate having them taught by a neighbour?"  he hadn't yet sat down and already he was managing the situation.  She settled herself before replying.

"You are in the legal business, I understand?"

"Yes, but how is that relevant?"

"You understand professional confidentiality, I assume?  Why do you think I do not?"  Her gaze was clear and steady; a smile but a challenge.  She did not like confrontation in most of her life, was avoidant really but this was her career, where she thrived- she would go down fighting, if need be.

Anthony shook his head, "I just want the best for those children."

"Then we are of one mind.  I know that you know my mother, she is a gossip certainly but I would never discuss my students with her.  There is a difference between a journalist selling gossip about who your brother is dating and the wellbeing of small vulnerable children who, frankly, have been through hell."

"Colin?"  he looked confused, "he isn't dating anyone..."

"Ben.  I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him but he's a soap opera nonetheless."

Anthony's lip twitched slightly and his defences slipped just a little: progress.  

"I assume today went poorly, is there a chance of recovery or do we need to find somewhere else?"

"That was never in question, Anthony.  It's how we approach this, not if.  I'm applying for funding for a TA, but that could take a while..."

"I'll pay."

"They're entitled, the paperwork will support it and it'll be a few weeks before we can integrate them anyway, at least.  If you want a way to help,"

"anything,"

"I was thinking about music therapy- get them making some noise, taking up space.  On the school premises ideally so they learn to feel comfortable.  I have some names I can pass on if it's something you might like..."

"as I said, anything."

"Well we have a plan.  Please don't panic: we will get there."

"He will speak to you, eventually: I can't guarantee it will be friendly, they've seen so many psychologists- it's not selective mutism or anything, it's just..."

"All new to them?"

"Yes."  he fiddled with his coat hem for a moment, Penelope thought it would be rather endearing if it wasn't for his reputation as a sharp lawyer and one of the last remnants of proper British aristocracy, "I need to say- my brother, Colin..."

"I know him by sight but not to speak to."

"He is not a bad person, everything that happened affected him deeply- destroyed his confidence in himself but also others.  He wasn't keeping them away from school because he didn't care, but because because he was terrified to lose them too- convinced himself that only he and his family could be trusted, thought the social workers would take them away-"

"We get that a lot, they're meant to help and often do, but families just think they'll lose the child.  It can put up barriers."

"Exactly!  And then he didn't engage so it became a very real risk and we had to attend a welfare conference and well- here we are."

"They are very lucky to have you all, I hope you know that.  Love, consistency, the help and support we will put in place- we will do all we can for them.  You just keep doing what you are, but you need to trust me.  This my speciality, as long as they're in my class they're my priority- well along with 30 others anyway."

"A big class, huh?"

"Yep!  Still if we have the TA, maybe there's something to be said about being lost in a crowd, a crowd of small children who know nothing about you anyway.  Often that's the best therapy, that level of acceptance."

Anthony didn't stay after that, just shook her hand and walked to collect the twins, Penelope wishing the family a good evening before watching them leave.  Turning to Helen she collapsed into the chair,

"life's a bitch at times, isn't it?"

"We've seen enough kids dragged through hell Penelope, you know that the ones with a loving family stand a chance of pulling through.  Don't despair for them quite yet."

Chapter Text

Portia Featherington leaned towards the magnifying, daylight mimicking LED lit mirror as she touched up the last coat of her lipstick- Louboutin Rose Exhibit, bought that morning in Selfridges, a bit gaudy on her skin tone but what was the point of spending £84 on a lippy if it couldn't be seen?- she smacked her lips together, blotted, and rubbed at her teeth just in case she'd somehow left an invisible spot on her expensive veneers. Satisfied, she added one more coat of Hermes mascara and smiled at herself in approval, before swiftly turning her lips back down in case she caused a wrinkle. She moved towards the full length mirror and checked herself over, lifting her breasts slightly (32E, every penny well spent in her opinion, a gift to herself on the first anniversary of her husband's death), and pulled the neckline of her cashmere top down just a little bit. She checked over her black satin jeans, added her precious leather jacket, one of the few things she'd brought with her from the country, and stepped into her Farfetch leopard print stilettos before grabbing her Balenciaga bag and heading out the door, a drift of Penhaligon’s Empressa in her wake.

Portia loved living in Mayfair- truly loved it.  She hadn't expected to at first, not really, but she'd have moved anywhere to escape the memories that flooded her former marital home; that sense of never feeling really safe, of waking up each day to check your phone to see if today was the day it all crumbled... losing herself entirely to the instability and just trying to hold everything together. She hadn't known how it all would all end- often laid in her bed imagining new season finales: Archie messing with the wrong sort of loan shark this time, one that would hurt her or, worse, one of the girls; Fliss or Penelope's schools calling in social services; Prudie and Pip walking away and never looking back at her; a call from the hospital, letting her know that one of the girls was... well she never dared fill in that blank: she'd lived in perpetual fear.

It had been a relief when the only person he'd taken down had been himself.  She'd never know if that had been his one decent move, an intentional separation of family from addiction, but she was genuinely grateful.  There had been so many good times since then- times she had never thought she was guaranteed; Penelope's university place, marriages, careers.  Grandchildren, even. That one gift from her husband had given them a escape, and she'd grabbed it- at a cost sometimes, she knew her girls thought her harsh and even detached but she had done what was needed to buy them a second chance: a new beginning for all of them, and now they were adults she wasn't wasting her own shot at a better life.

Her place in society was different to that of the genteel countryside: certainly Mayfair worked well with her newfound desire to keep her life on a superficial level in as many ways as possible.  Coffee mornings and impromptu volunteering, fundraisers and casual lovers- if they hinted they wanted anything more off they went, Portia was done with all that: this was her time.

Beneath all the botox and her beloved Versace stirrup leggings (in her signature leopard print, obviously daahling), however, there were deeper, more altruistic reasons for her love of the city, reasons she'd never admitted, pretended she didn't even have the capacity for really but had kept her going in her early months here, when building networks had been a precision thing, targeted, driven.

Everything had been first and foremost about her girls. She was certain she'd lose them if she stayed where they were- no question about that, apart from Fliss they'd all been ready to fly by the time Archie died, stifled at every turn by the limiting rural combination of no money and no public services.  She'd even had to apply to a charity to get help for Pip's college transport, a hardship fund had met the expense of her college equipment- she'd felt ridiculous, typing her address into the forms, listing the rent from the Square as their only income and then having to show how the rather large sum was swallowed by debts and estate expenses- it had been an embarrassment, just one more attack on her dignity.  Of course the children would all fly away from their limitations, she couldn't blame them- envied them, in fact.

It had worked out better even than she'd hoped- she was finding great joy in watching as they stepped out from the shadows of their father and found their own paths.  Prudence, often scratchy, difficult, now adored by her husband; Pip a doting mother and marital helpmate, happy in her cheesy bubble ("we are rather fondue of each other" she had said when she announced their engagement- Portia had closed the door on them for a moment in horror at the pun before fixing a smile and returning to the fray, warning them to proceed Caerphilly, not waste a Gouda thing)- and Penelope-

well Penelope.

She'd been against her teaching at first, worried that she wasn't resilient enough to cope in the state sector, that she'd be forever working too hard to meet anyone worth having and too poor to live life on her own terms.  The more she had resisted Penelope's pull towards education the more Penelope fought, until Portia had realised that not only was it a vocational calling - something she'd never really encountered in her own world- but that it seemed that the best way to manage her most complicated of daughters was to to oppose her choices, inspire a strangely dutiful rebellion: it reminded her of herself as a teen, really.  

For someone so committed to existing on the surface level Portia easily managed to fill her days; she'd been helping out at the community centre allotment this morning, lunched with Agatha Danbury and had a third date this evening- she had a five date limit on any man so she'd be starting to pull away soon but she still expected some good fun.  Right now, though, she was headed over to Violet's house- Benedict had offered Fliss work experience at his gallery after seeing her watercolours at a school open day and she had offered to walk her across to make the arrangements, always glad to get a chance to visit the Bridgerton household.

Really it had been pointless; Hyacinth and Fliss, less than two years between them, disappearing into the studio as soon as they arrived, planning a sleepover afterwards. Her daughter had come armed with a bag containing what looked suspiciously like a bottle of vodka: she pretended not to see, trusting Ben well enough; the man had a reputation but he was a good soul at heart.  They'd had their own brief dalliance back when he'd been single, and had retained a vague sort of respectful friendship after the fact.  She knew he'd be fine with the girls and winked at him over Felicity's head as she disappeared, nodding briefly towards the bag with a half smile.

Better here than passing out drunk behind a shrub in Hyde Park, anyway.

Once her youngest child was safely deposited into Bridgerton care she headed towards the drawing room, where she'd been asked to await Violet's company, a pot of tea already set out on the little table.

She hadn't been settled long before she heard the door opening behind her, turning to watch as two small children slipped into the room.  This wasn't unusual; Violet had passed her own unnatural fertility on to her own children, and there were usually a handful around- the cousins all seeming to carry mostly Bridgerton genetics, with just enough variation to help place them- Daphne's brood darker in skin tone, Benedict's somehow looser and more bohemian, the Viscount's painfully formal in a way that made them appear old souls- these two were not any of those, somehow their own version of themselves.

She watched in quiet interest as they shuffled into the room, hand in hand, eyeing her suspiciously.  It was clear where they were headed, the old doll's house in the corner, but they were somewhat uncertain.  Portia tried to catalogue their own differences-  a warmer skin tone, the girl's hair tightly curled but the boy's less so, quieter but something else, something she hadn't seen in a long time- something that took her back to when her husband was alive in fact, a wariness in their eyes that reminded her of Fliss when her dad had rolled up at the door drunk, begging for funds to gamble, unwilling to accept no as his answer.

"Well well well- who do we have here?"  Portia shot them the smile she reserved for her grandchilden, the only time she let her barriers down and truly relaxed.  Amanda kept stepping towards her goal but Oliver turned and met her eye,

"who are you?  This is Nanny Violet's room, you're not like Nanny Violet."  Intrigued, Portia tipped her head to the side, "well if I'm not llike Nanny Violet- what do you think I look like?"  Oliver met her question with confused silence but Amanda shot her an assessing glance and fired her answer,

"you look like an evil stepmother from a fairytale."

Someone else might have been offended but Portia just threw her head back and laughed- real, deep rolling laughs that stopped both twins in their tracks, curious but still clearly nervous.

"I'm not entirely sure that's the manners your Nanny would ask of you but now you come to mention it, I think you have a point.  I promise i'm all out of poison apples though, if that reassures you? My name is Portia."

"Portia?  Like Uncle Anthony's car?"

So they were yet more cousins then- Portia ran through the listings in her head, trying to recall which of the numerous children she had yet to meet.  Before she had a chance however she needed to answer Oliver; she slipped her heels off and padded over towards him, kneeling slightly and meeting him at eye level,

"near enough, sweetheart: it is nice to meet you."  She extended her hand to shake his, something Edmund had always been encouraged to do when she visited- Oliver simply stepped back.  She nodded and withdrew hers, "can I ask your name?"

"Oliver."

Of course it was, Violet kicked herself mentally: she'd known of the twin's existence of course, but had never met them, they'd always been down in the west country or wherever it was their father lived, and then of course their mother...

"and this must be Amanda, then?"  she tipped her head towards his sister and he nodded,

"we're twins but i'm taller."

"you're taller but i'm older."  Amanda might be the quieter of the two but she wasn't going to let her brother claim all the power that easily.  Portia fought to keep the laughter from her face and nodded seriously, 

" I am sure that it is very important for twins to keep such things in order."

"Are you Nanny's friend?"  It was clear Oliver was somewhat fascinated by her, despite his sister's attempts to draw him towards the doll's house.  

"I don't know about friend, we've worked on a few things together, but she is a very nice woman.  We are supposed to have tea but she has been held up."

"She's shouting at daddy again."

"Ah, is he here as well, for a visit?"

"No,"  Oliver shook his head quickly, the curls tumbling around his face.  "We live here now.  We came 2..3..." he counted on his fingers, Amanda sighed and spoke over him "6 days ago Oliver, you know that."

Portia was entranced by this pair: she always felt she'd missed out on much of her own children's childhoods, so constantly circling the drama and fighting each mini crisis, being around children now was a treat.

"So did you come in here to play with the doll's house?"  They nodded and she stood up, brushing imagined dust from her trousers: "would you show me? My own daughters had a lovely doll's house, but it wasn’t as nice as yours."  She grabbed a cushion from the settee- no doubt something antique- and cast it on the floor besides the toy before settling on it, gasping dramatically as they showed her that the house looked just like the one they were all in.

"And who is this?"  Portia pulled out two little dolls, clearly new, obviously created to resemble the twins.

"That's us!"  Amanda's voice lifted for the first time, a little bit of enthusiasm sneaking through, "Uncle Ben painted them as a gift when we moved back.  He said it means we belong here now, that this is our home."

"Well, that is very kind of him, the house looks older though."

"Our Grandad Edmund made it, for Daphne.  We don't know him,"  Amanda shook her head, eyes serious again.  "He died.  Adults die."

"They do, eventually.  I think he'd have loved you two, though."

"Daddy used to say the same.  Well, when daddy was happy."  Oliver elbowed Amanda and she changed the subject abruptly, starting to unpack the furniture and showing each tiny piece to Portia in turn.

Half the house was emptied by the time Violet bustled through the door, a harassed expression, throwing a pile of folders on top of the sideboard before looking up to find her guest sprawled in the corner with her two new friends.

"Oh Portia, I am sorry... children, I have a meeting with Mrs Featherington, could you go and find one of your uncles for me?"

Portia watched as Amanda's shoulders dipped, clearly sad to have her playtime ended so quickly.  Portia bumped her arm gently,

"such a shame, I was enjoying the company of my two new friends.  I hope we shall meet again, please say hello to your Uncle Anthony for me.  I think Uncle Ben is a bit busy with my own daughter."

"You have a daughter?"

Portia nodded; "four, but only two still live with me.  Fliss is still at school and Penelope is a teacher."

Oliver turned and stared at her for a moment, "we met a Miss Featherington today, at school."

"oh did you?  Did she have red hair?"

"Yes."

"Well there you go, did you like her?"

"No.  We don't like teachers, mummy said to keep quiet at school so nobody notices us."

"Well..."  Portia shot a look at Violet, clearly embarrassed at the side of the room, "I am sure your mother had good reason but I am rather fond of my daughter."  She stood and bowed, a bright smile aimed at each of them in turn.  "I am afraid I must run and speak to your Nanny but I am very glad to have made your acquaintances.  I do hope we get to do this again."

Violet stood and watched as the duo left the room, indicating a seat and taking the one opposite, falling back with a sigh.

"I am so sorry, Portia."

"Why?"

Violet screwed up her face, "why?" she repeated, confused.

"Yes, why?  They are delightful."

"They are... troubled.  They gave your Penelope quite the run around this morning."

Portia shrugged, "Penelope sees all children as a puzzle to solve, she'll be in her element."   She nodded as Violet pointed at the teapot and mumbled about it needing freshening, rummaging through her bag for a pen and notebook as Violet nipped into the corridor and gestured to one of the household staff. She returned and picked up the folder, beginning to skim the minutes of the last meeting before placing it back on to her knee.

"You never told me Penelope was a teacher."

"No.  I try and distance myself."

"Are you not proud of her?  As two mothers together."

"As a mother?  beyond belief.  But it is her achievement, not mine- I barely held things together when she was a child, I do not wish to claim her success: it is hers alone."

"It is difficult, isn't it?  You think you have the knack of this parenting thing and then...  Portia, are you busy?  if I sent away the tea do you fancy sharing a bottle of something a little more adult?"

"I do have a date later, but..."

"Oh no matter, I can't get in the way of true love."

"True love?  He's a coach at the tennis club Violet, he's good for a dance and a bit of fun, he knows what this is.  I can cancel, it was fading anyway."

"If you are sure?"

"Of course."  She tapped away at her phone for a minute, Violet watching as she did so, then tucked it away into her bag."

"Ah yes I'd forgotten, you're the fling type.  I'd forgotten about you and Ben."

"Violet, I am sorry, I..."  The other woman smirked,

"if I had an issue with that darling most of Mayfair would be out of bounds."  An efficient young woman brought them a pot of tea and Violet accepted it gratefully before placing another request, pouring them "a quick cup" and leaning back into her chair with a sigh, staying silent until a bottle of champagne arrived, downing the first glass then pouring herself a second: Portia remained quiet, sipping as she watched her.  Krug champagne: extravagant for a random afternoon at home but certainly not the best in the cellar by far- Portia heard the message.

"Portia," Violet leaned forwards, suddenly looking tired, the mask dropping. "We are both widows, perhaps we might find a connection."

"Certainly I would welcome that, I have not been in Mayfair so long that I couldn't use another friend- a decade is settled but it doesn't bring the deep bonds of belonging."

"I am sorry about that."

"There is no need- I am happy.  Yes, we are widows.  Rather young to be in this day and age."

"I was in my thirties when he was taken, there were charities and the like but they could not fill the gap.  I have a partner now, Marcus, but Edmund will always be missing.  Colin is in his twenties, too young to meet that same fate.  He has moved back because he wasn't coping, social services stepped in- well I imagine Penelope has told you."

"She never would and I would not disclose anything you tell me to her."

"Well it is that simple really- he could not cope, so we brought him back to offer support.  I thought, as a widow myself, that we might share that understanding- I was not close to Marina, she wouldn't allow it, but it seemed something profound to share.  It has not been long, but..."

"May I share an insight with you?  One thing, then we down the rest of this bottle and find something stronger- perhaps head to a bar?"

"A bar sounds good.  One with dancing?"

"Yes.  You told me your Edmund was taken.  A bee sting, I believe?  Tragic, a happy marriage."

Violet nodded and swirled the last bits of the champagne in her glass, staring at it with intensity.

"I do not know much about Marina but from what I have heard, even a few words from the children- my Archie was not taken.  He went, willingly: ran to it really, embraced it.  My loss wasn't of a partner and soulmate, not like yours.  I lost a youth, my hopes of family, my children lost something of their childhoods- we were always on the brink, just a touch off social services involvement ourselves; no seven year old should know to be quiet and hide away when the debt collectors come knocking.  There is an innocence I could not gift them no matter how I tried."

"I am sorry."

"I didn't mourn him- the girls don't know but whilst they were sent to grief counselling I went to therapy because I felt guilty for not feeling grief.  I felt free."

"Colin found her you know, the children were upstairs.  He won't talk of it."

"Perhaps he also feels guilty?  On top of whatever trauma there is from that.  At least Archie had the good grace to get himself killed away from home, the few things he did do for us were about protecting us from him- signing the estate over to me so I could sell it and start anew, not borrowing from the sort of lender who would hurt us, dying away."

"Get himself killed- was he murdered?"

"Oh yes, well- a car accident but there was a general acceptance that he'd finally upset the wrong people.  It was inevitable.  We were just waiting, had been for a few years."

"I suspect you know more of what Colin is experiencing than I."

"Perhaps; it isn't the same- I don't think Archie wanted to die, rather that the next bet was more important than not dying.  He had stopped choosing survival a long time before.  Our difficulties were about understanding what it was about us that could never be enough to make it worth changing, staying- it is very different from what you lost with Edmund."

"And yet we all had to learn to make our way again, in an unfamiliar world."

"That is certainly true."

"Now, forgive me the change of subject, it has been an awful few months and I really, really need a fucking break.  You look like fun.  There are good pubs nearby but in those monstrous shoes of yours..."

"Do not come for the shoes!  I'd run a bloody marathon in these before I accepted one pair of Penelope's crocs.”

Violet cringed, "awful things,"

and they both giggled, linking arms, Violet pausing only to shove her head inside the study, greeting Anthony and checking for children before announcing,

"I am going out."

"Anywhere nice, mum?"

"Anywhere that sells alcohol.  I intend to return fully pissed, don't wait up,"  then she exhaled in relief as she closed the door, her son gaping at her, stunned.

Chapter Text

Violet was not able to stick around for more than a day, and she didn’t really make him talk that much about what was going on with his wife either- a few pregnant pauses that he chose to ignore, grateful for the opportunity but not willing or ready to grasp the nettle just yet.  She allowed him to show her around their area, truly seeming to enjoy the beautiful scenery, forcing a laugh from him as she deliberately chose the tackiest souvenirs for her family as if she was on a holiday and not in the middle of an emergency intervention.  By the time she finally left for London he was starting to feel a sense of remembering who he was again- some silliness and joy amongst the melancholy.

Most of all he admired the fact that she hadn’t once asked where his wife was after she left shortly after his mum’s arrival: he couldn’t have answered. Usually when she vanished she was with Neil or even simply sitting in the garden with her phone, staring into the distance (thinking, she called it; she usually picked up a bit afterwards so he didn’t like to push).  Every now and again she’d simply vanish, usually for a few hours occasionally overnight- he didn’t probe, she was an adult after all and just because he made sure she knew where he was it didn’t oblige her to do the same.

Violet had also managed to form a bond with Neil- well Colin had never doubted that, it was her speciality really, but the two had shut themselves away whilst he made breakfast, talking no doubt about him and Marina: where once he’d have felt intruded upon he found he now had a sense of a net being woven around his little family- not restrictive or confining but just enough to catch them if they needed it whilst letting them breathe and try and form some shape of their own.  He knew that was why his mum had come, Marina would have found Sophie worrying with her healthcare background, Anthony couldn’t have helped being judgemental, Eloise would probably have joined Marina on her jaunt to god knows where and read him the riot act for even asking where they’d been- Mum got it just right.

Violet left as the sun started to lower over the horizon, and Marina returned not long after- taciturn as ever, clearly expecting an interrogation, picking at Neil’s spag bol in a manner that reminded him of El in the worst days of her teen years, when they all used to take bets on how long she could go before starting a fight with whichever poor fool managed to get in her sightline.  Colin said nothing that could upset her, sticking to questions about the farm work for the month and telling the pair about his mum’s visit but when she still stayed in her shell he decided to push the boundaries a bit and mentioned that he might ask one of the others down in a week or two, give them the full Avalon experience, releasing a breath as Marina just nodded and said that it might be a nice idea before the twins arrived. They discussed who would be first and Neil suggested that Daph and Simon might be a wise idea as they had kids and perhaps he could offer rooms in the main house- Colin had to bite his lips to avoid a laugh as he recognised his mother’s hand in the suggestion but he breathed a sigh of relief and just served himself more pasta, fetching Marina some milk to help with the heartburn, welcoming the distraction.

He didn’t share her bed that night, not yet ready- settled on the sofa with a fleece blanket, watching the TV on low until he couldn’t help but fall asleep to the background of old episodes of I’m A Celeb, feet hanging off the end of the two seater despite his attempts to curl into a tight ball.

It was Marina that woke him the next day, surprising him with a kiss, dressed nicely and with make up and hair done- something he hadn’t seen in a while.  He followed her around like a lost (and slightly confused) puppy as she moved around the annexe clearing up, monologuing about the importance of a good breakfast as she made them both scrambled eggs on toast, pulling part used cartons of juice from the fridge and sniffing them before throwing them down the sink (Colin wanted to object- he got through so many that he knew they were all fresh but he wasn’t such an idiot that he’d complain about anything that meant she was engaging), and opening a  new one for them both.  When they’d eaten she sent him into the shower then- to his utter bemusement- followed him, sitting on the bath side and chatting as he washed.  He couldn’t remember the last time they’d kissed beyond a peck, let alone had sex, and somewhere deep he was aware of a sense of growing unease as he let her pull him into the bedroom but he silenced it: this was his wife, this was normal- maybe things were changing at last.

It was mid afternoon when the midwife finally turned up.  Colin, stuck in the house waiting, had decided to use the time to start painting the nursery and Marina was sat outside with a cup of tea when she arrived, her red Corsa bouncing a little over the uneven farm track as she pulled into their parking area and climbed out with a bag full of files and equipment.  Colin texted Neil to alert him to her arrival, introduced himself then vanished to put the kettle on and leave his wife to get to know Susie.

Marina was actually chatting when he brought the tea in, answering Susie’s questions about the farm and the chances that they would be flooded in during spring when the baby was due (not impossible but they should be just outside the risky spell, fingers crossed).  She asked Colin a few questions about his accent and how he came to find himself in Somerset, handing him leaflets about a group for young fathers before stilling and facing them both with a serious expression.

“I know you’ve been lectured already and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot but that was some stunt you pulled, a twin pregnancy- the babies are viable now, they could come early.  It was worrying for anyone but especially…”

Colin didn’t bother to argue and didn’t want to ruin Marina’s mood so he simply nodded and apologised, absorbing as much of the blame as he could without directly admitting to any particular negligence on his own part.  A minute or two into the chastising Neil quietly entered and took the seat opposite the pair, introducing himself, putting an early end to the lecture.  Colin sighed a deep breath; he could see Marina was getting increasingly anxious, didn’t want to her to seem difficult or distant.

Then it was to business: blood pressure, paperwork, histories, and the sort of casual chatting about their support networks that was always anything but.  They already knew there would be more appointments, a closer watch and they listened as the plan was explained.  Finally she closed her files and asked,

“anything else I should know?”

Colin shook his head; no, and Marina did the same.  Susie started pulling her things together as Neil took a deep breath, shuffled forwards and closed his eyes briefly as he gathered his courage, and shuffled uncomfortable in his seat as he started to talk-

“well, actually there is something I think we all need to discuss.”

His eyes were on Colin all the time he talked.  He had already grown to love this young man, and it had been his hope that he was exactly what his beloved daughter needed- well he was really: he couldn’t imagine a more kindly, devoted young man and he’d told his mother just that the night before.  He’d also faced some pretty stern questioning from the woman he was already calling Mother Superior in his head, her demeanour changing rapidly once she was away from her son and his young wife, protective in a way that he could only really admire.  He understood her as well- they were both single parents, both deeply committed to their wildly different families.  She’d just shared her concerns about the couple at first, facing not just parenthood but twins at their age, clearly unprepared.  He’d been well aware she watched his every expression as he spoke, and knew what was coming well before she leaned back, crossed her arms, met him squarely in the eye, and asked:

“and Marina’s mother?”

“Gone?”

“That much I had worked out and I am terribly sorry for whatever happened, but could you be a little more- detailed?  I know I am being rude of course but I can’t say I actually give a fuck, if that's what it takes.”

He’d laughed then, surprisingly: never expecting this woman to use such language or be so forthright.  He hadn’t underestimated her as such, he’d just thought she’d be more the 'peck at him until he gave it up' type: matching cashmere jumper and trousers, elegant but ridiculously expensive silver diamond necklace, salt and pepper hair tastefully highlighted and trimmed to a shoulder length bob, a watch that was probably the same value as his beloved new land rover: he’d thought her a mama bear, and he’d definitely found the grizzly.

“Marina’s mum was difficult.  She didn’t really suit farm life, wasn’t used to it- not in the way your lad was new to the thing, he’s worked hard and learned a lot,”

“he did spend a fair amount of time at the family’s country estate, we’re not all Mayfair and Harrods you know,”

“not much of the slurry pits and lambing either though.  But yeah, she struggled- spent a lot of time in Bristol and Bath, wouldn’t get her hands dirty, worked in the town in fact- little cafe on the high street.  I thought it would be good for her and I was right for a bit, then she fell with Marina and-“

“she struggled?”

“No; the opposite, in fact.  First six months after she was born were fine, then she started getting erratic- nothing I could put my finger on at first, a bit moody but we had a baby that wouldn’t sleep, who wouldn't be? Overspending but she’d always liked nice things- heck it was part of what attracted me to her, she was a lovely looking girl.  Her sleep got worse, she started acting a bit strange, erratic.  I caught her one day out in the snow in just her pyjamas and wellies, another time she decided at 3am to start decorating the living room- put all the furniture out in the rain to clear it.”

“Oh Neil.”  Violet wasn't a walkover but she wasn't harsh either, she recognised the look of sadness on his face. “When I lost my Edmund- I was eight months pregnant, and I didn’t cope at all well.  Took to my bed for a year really, my older boys had to carry on for me and Colin and his sister Daphne stepped up when they could.  I know I did my best but I don’t think I can ever really forgive myself- it was too much for them, you think somehow you can pull yourself out from anything for your children and then when you can’t-“

“Yeah.  I did keep thinking she would, you know?  Look, if we’re doing this I need a coffee.  You want one?”

Violet accepted the frankly appalling mug of instant and feigned gratitude, coaxing him to speak again after a few minutes.

“Anthony struggled, too much for a lad his age; Benedict bumbled along helping everyone but I think his crash came later, once we were all safe and climbing back to whatever was going to be our new normal, he went a bit off the rails you know…”

“Drink?”

“A bit, some drugs, slept with anyone that would have him.  All things young men do but he took it to extremes.”

“Sounds tough.”

“Colin I think was the worst- he didn’t have a real role to help with and he didn’t have that way to make himself feel useful.  If I could go back…” she shook her head, “but of course I can’t.”

“Eleanor was a good mum.  No matter how odd her behaviour seemed she always was, Marina was clean, loved, fed and confident.  Then one day I came back to find Marina in her high chair asleep, Eleanor gone.  I looked for her, we had the police out, she was found in a car park in Bath, an absolute mess.  Diagnosed with bipolar and admitted to hospital.  When she left six weeks later- well that was the last I saw of her. She died about a year ago, drink, self medication I’m told.  She never wanted to see Marina after the incident.”

“Oh.  I am sorry; for some reason I thought that was going to go a very different way. That raises a lot of questions, Neil, my love.”

My love: he didn’t miss the change in tone, different approach.  He knew what was coming already though, he’d been avoidant but not stupid.

“You want to know if Marina shares her mental health patterns?”

“I do.”

“She’s sensitive that one, prone to taking offence and shutting down.  I've watched her like a hawk all her life-“

“of course,”

“and I never really came to any conclusions.  She’s always been a bit different to her friends but then she was the only one that lacked a mum, lived out here all isolated- but never in a problematic way, not really, just teen stuff.  When she brought your lad home I thought good for her, and when it got serious I thought I’ll have to have a chat about Eleanor but then they-“

“fucked off to Vegas without a word to anyone?”

He chuckled, “that.  And I didn’t want to do this big whole reveal- no ‘oops lad I forgot to warn you’ because that makes her sound like she's somehow less than a prize and she’s not, she's amazing and he is lucky to have her.”

“I can see that, actually: how do you let someone know that without it seeming like some doom and gloom prophecy and warning?”

“Right!  So I thought- well she'd probably told him herself and he’s not someone who’d judge, so why not say something if it’s needed instead.  And then she did start slipping away and- oh god Violet.”  Neil turned away and took a single heaving sob, she resisted the urge to go and hug him thinking that he wasn't the sort who would appreciate it- in a minute or so he’d calmed himself.  “I read up on it and she had the risk factors for postnatal depression and I didn’t know then but it can kick in months after a baby and maybe that’s what pushed Ellie over the edge, I don’t know- how can I? She just left.  It’s like history is repeating itself and I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, I rather think you do.”

“Talk to the midwife?  And if she hates me, doesn’t that mean one less person to support her if things get worse?”

“Or the chance to intervene, stop it now.  She has Colin, I know they are struggling but he will stand by her.  He deserves to know what’s happening.  I mean, twins Neil- don’t misunderstand me, I can’t wait to meet my grandchildren but they don’t need that.”

“I’ll be here.”

“I know, and so will I- but still.”

He’d agreed to her pleas to talk to the midwife, knew he had no choice really, and now here he was- sat on the chair, Colin looking confused, Marina staring daggers at him and Susie looking at her watch as if she needed to be somewhere.

“Marina’s mother is gone now, we were divorced anyway but she passed a year ago.”

“I’m so sorry, Marina were you close?”  Susie watched Marina’s reaction, Marina shook her head, “I never knew her, not that I can remember.  They divorced when I was small."

“Marina sweetheart, I’m sorry,”  Neil’s voice cracked and Colin found himself shuffling towards him, ready to console him- he’d bonded with Neil, found a father figure in him: he'd never seen him this distraught.

“My wife- ex wife- she had bipolar.  We didn’t know, not until it was too late and she needed hospitalising.  It was when Marina was six months old.  I’ve always worried about Marina but these last few months- she was in such a good place you know?  After her wedding, Colin is such a lovely lad but then you think why did she marry so quickly, was that a sign…”

“We love each other Neil, it wasn’t…”

“No, no lad and I know that and you two were so happy but you have to admit, something is off- it’s gentlemanly of you to take the blame but Susie needs to know that you thought she was having healthcare, it was all my daughter avoiding- and well, you can’t pretend she’s well. Marina?  You know we love you darling but you must know…”

“You think I’m going to be like mum and leave my babies?”

“No!  I know you better than that- but I don’t want you to get so sick that we even risk it either.”

Neil had quietened then, what more could he say?  His daughter was retreating into herself, Colin distressed- leg tapping in an agitated manner, not seeming to know whether to reach out to his wife or Neil, or pace: as if he wanted to weep and shout and plead all at once.  Instead Colin lifted his head and faced the midwife,

“Well we’ve all had some new information then and I need to process it but I am presuming there is someone we can speak to yeah?  I know when mum was widowed there was a psychiatric nurse and agencies, lots of people floating around all the time.  I assume that’s where we’re headed?”

Susie had already pulled out her bag and started writing, making notes on paper.

“I don’t want anyone to get ahead of themselves here, and Marina this is about you- I can see these two are worried but I don’t want you feeling overwhelmed.  Are you ok talking with them here?”

Marina hardly answered, nodding, eyes on the ground.  Susie kept her words focussed on her nonetheless,

“are you worried about your mental health Marina?”

“No; well not really.  I messed up with the scans and things, I didn’t cope too well with the news but I think I’m doing OK.”

“That’s good.  Do you think your husband and father feel the same?”

Marina shook her head.

“You’re not alone, and this is really early days and there is no reason to assume there’ll be any problems but your dad's intervention is helpful.  I’m going to refer you to a specialist team just to meet them and know who they are if you do need them, if that’s alright with you, and there is charity out here that can match you with a volunteer to befriend you a bit.  Would that be ok?”

“I get a choice?”

“Absolutely.”

Marina looked between the men warily, clearly seeing how worried they were, weighing up her options.  Eventually she looked back at the midwife, a few tears escaping, and agreed.  She then stood and watched as Susie left, arms wrapped around herself as the midwife was followed by her father, leaving just Colin and Marina alone together.

“I’m sorry.” 

Colin was with her in two steps, arms around her and pulling her in.  “Hey hey, what are you sorry for?”

“Not telling you everything.”

“There wasn’t anything to tell until there was, and then you had enough going on. Don’t blame yourself my love.  Blame-“

“Dad?”

“Oh I am pissed at him for dropping his now but nah, Neil loves you.”

“Mum?”

“Doesn’t sound like she had much of a chance either.”

“Who then?  Who do I scream at and rant at?”

“Me? For getting you knocked up, my super sperm…”

“gross…” he noticed the hint of a smile though, felt a thawing.

“I don’t think there is anyone to blame sweetheart.  I fell in love with you as you are, that won’t change.”

They stood arms around each other, both feeling the weight of the day but hopeful that something good might come of it.  Marina took a deep breath,

“Col, I need to tell you something important.  About the babies.”

He shushed her, knew she was exhausted.

“It doesn’t matter, whatever went before- we are here now, it’ll be OK.  We will make fab parents, our kids will be loved.”

“But Colin…” she tried to get his attention, desperate to talk to him whilst her nerve held.

“I won’t have it Marina, the hard stuff is done for the day, we need rest and fun.  I’m going to check on your dad, put your coat on and we’ll go get some lunch.”

“Please…”

“No.” 

She nodded at his insistence, giving in: maybe she could make this work anyway, he loved them all, it would be OK.

Chapter Text

They didn’t invite Benedict for a visit, or anyone else for that matter- certainly they had intended to but matters soon spiralled out of their control, caught up in events far bigger than either of them.

In truth, and completely outside expectation, it was some of the happiest times they’d spent together.

The start of lockdown brought significant worries for them all- Violet worried that she was stuck 158.5 miles (she’d googled it) from the couple, prevented from accessing them this time not just by a rather unwelcoming and sometimes surly daughter in law but the full measure of the law and threat of a new disease.

Somehow it forced them all into new ways to share. They missed the physical presence of each other but there were quiz nights, Eloise and Hy always winning, Anthony tending to vanish halfway through frustrated with everyone messing about or disappear into his study with a glass of brandy and a very firmly closed door. Neil was always a welcome participant, setting himself up on his own laptop in his living room, and Marina joined when she was in the mood- somehow seeming to find it easier to deal with the large crowd of boisterous faces from a distance. They were all surprised to find out that she was great at quizzing, and far more competitive than anyone, even Colin, had anticipated. He hoped that her growing familiarity with the family and their bond with Neil meant she would find it easier to socialise with them once the rules were lifted.

Neil’s fear that Colin would somehow blame him for withholding the family history were soon proven foolish; Colin understood them of course, yet he found that once he knew what was happening it was so much easier to understand. He snuck into the living room at 2am whilst she slept, reading all he could on mental health and ways to help her when the twins came. Marina’s shyly admitted fear of attending the support groups and therapy sessions she was pointed towards ebbed when faced with the same offerings over Teams, needing her to travel no further than the kitchen table.. The complete lack of outsider interference in their lives led to the family finding their own routines- Neil often commented that farming was farming in a pandemic or not, nothing much changed; being able to wander across their own land meant they saw in the spring content in their bubble. His family had invited them to Aubrey once they were allowed to move en masse, but they declined, Marina seeming more well than she had done in months.

They spent the evenings preparing for the twins- they still had regular hospital visits although Marina had to attend alone, the consultant agreeing to her facetiming the appointments on the phone for Colin given their past history. He was welcome to attend the delivery, of course, although there were restrictions even then, and they lived in fear of the twins arriving early, with all the complexities of lockdown healthcare and the underlying fears of infection. The midwife still visited, Marina’s newly assigned antenatal psychiatric nurse still popped by and the Home Start volunteer they were trialling (Colin with enthusiasm, Marina reluctantly) dialled in a few times to get to know them before the twins arrived. The rest of the time was spent in a vague haze of board games, a shared love of terrible movies (Colin: The Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes, Marina: I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle), each taking it in turns to pick for a weekly movie night with popcorn, over decorated fruit juice cocktails and Colin’s old Clifford The Big Red Dog duvet thrown over them.

Colin had been warned to watch out for mood swings as the babies arrival drew closer, but even whilst watching like a hawk he could find nothing to concern him- she slept more and more as delivery approached and he applauded that, catering to her every food craving and celebrating as she laughed, got excited about the future and helped him with the preparations for the day they brought the twins home.

It was only later, sat in counselling sessions, that he realised that he’d completely absorbed her existence for that time- hadn’t given her the space to spiral or just think, not a moment to follow a destructive path but neither a second to breathe- he didn't know if it was a bad thing really, certainly there were occasional moments where he’d look in the bathroom mirror and not necessarily recognise the seemingly much older person staring back at him but he was meant to grow up, wasn't he? There were twins on the way, he had a wife to care for, there was a worldwide catastrophe for goodness sake- of course some of that boyishness had ebbed.

There were moments as well- moments where he’d turn and catch her seemingly shut down, staring into the distance, face entirely blank before reviving and regaining the smile as if she’d hit a reboot button, mornings where she’d stay in the shower just that bit longer or seem to lose her energy but he put that down to pregnancy exhaustion or his imagination- they were never moments that seemed to add up to anything, just occasional slipped stitches in the warm blanket they were supposedly knitting together.

The twins arrived on a Wednesday, when Marina had been in hospital for two days with raised blood pressure, Amanda (for Marina’s grandma) first- screaming and red, a good weight for a 37 weeker, and Oliver (Neil’s middle name) ten minutes behind, smaller, quiet and requiring a quick check over but not needing to leave his parent’s side. The happy couple cried in joy, Marina worked hard to establish breastfeeding and they were home within days, spending their days in the usual blur of exhaustion, ecstasy and confusion. They devised a system, taking turns overnight, Marina sleeping in the mornings, a time Colin spent mostly online with his mum or siblings, Colin sleeping after lunch when Marina would visit Neil and, unbeknownst to Colin, either settle herself back to sleep on his sofa or when he was working wander the farm paths with the off road buggy, returning when they needed changing or feeding, always a little brighter and relaxed.

There was just one faint cloud over them still- Marina just occasionally trying to tell Colin something, him always making excuses not to listen, to walk away, scared that whatever it was that she had to say would break through their bubble, wash away some of the joy that they had found. She never persisted, he reasoned that if it was something big she would have done- there had been moments where she’d apologised and made romantic gestures in her guilt at the way her mental state had impacted them when she was first pregnant, and he assumed it was probably related to that- accepted the first few expressions of regret and even pleas for forgiveness as something he needed to do to move forwards, eventually starting to distract and, when especially resolute, refuse her when she started down that path, feeling that reliving the darker times was only destructive. He’d noticed that those times came when she was particularly tired or if he’d been tied up with farm duties so he rejigged and juggled their timetables until she either gave up or stopped worrying- he was never truly sure quite which, only that his heart would hitch in a painful way every time she raised it, a way that left him slightly panicky and breathless, and when she stopped his anxiety seemed to fade.

Gradually the world began to open up, fits and starts, odd reconstructions of what went before that never quite worked- an evening with friends whilst Neil babysat spent at prebooked outdoor picnic tables, driving to Devon for a few days away and standing socially distanced on the seafront, masks for antenatal care and weight checks. Violet travelled down and spent a while with them when she was able, isolating at in Neil's house for a week before Marina would let her handle the babies, accepting but gently probing Colin for other signs of her being germ phobic or anxious, enquiries turned away with a roll of the eyes and the set phrase “there’s been a global pandemic, mum!” Violet and Neil quietly agreeing between them that there was something wrong beneath all the perfect domesticity, a strange shallowness to the connection, as if both thought the other so fragile that they dared not poke too hard- their relationship all blossom and no roots. Nobody felt there was enough good reason to dig deeper, and no access was given anyway: any vague mention resulting in a shut down, week without phone calls and the realisation that they had been taught a severe lesson indeed.

It was early September, the twins almost five months, when Benedict and Sophie finally managed to arrange a visit. Colin decorated the spare room for them, learned fancy recipes to impress them and drew up an itinerary of visits to the surrounding area, Ben and Sophie taking the twins so the duo could have some time alone, a bizarre lunch date spent eating take away on a park bench inside Glastonbury Abbey gardens, neither knowing quite what to talk about other than the strangely coloured nappy Amanda had produced that morning or Oliver’s inability to sleep without his squeaky giraffe toy. They watched as the dragonflies darted around the fish pond, spooning Gu chocolate puddings from the glass pots with teaspoons that Colin had stashed in his bag (the changing bag, repurposed) and drinking tinned M&S wine before sitting in silence, Marina’s head resting on Colin’s shoulder, occasionally pointing out one of the bigger fish as it came to the surface.

“Col… can we talk?”

He sighed, “this again? Marina no, it’s done with. We move on, it’s all we can do. You’re doing well, the kids are thriving, everything is good. Don’t mess with fate, love.”

“Yes, but Col…”

He stood up and brushed invisible crumbs from his trousers, “No, Marina: whatever it is you want to say let it be for chrissake. Just be bloody happy in the moment will you? You know, sometimes…” he turned and sighed, pointing himself towards the abbey ruins, smiling slightly at the rather dramatic backdrop.

“Sometimes what?” She was still sitting, peering up at him, hand shading her eyes to see him in the autumnal sunshine, something that didn’t quite fit with the need for sweaters and brollies shoved into the bag but that gave her an air of really listening, being engaged.

It was easier to talk to her when turned away he found, he wasn't studying her every move, expression, trying to analyse her tone and wondering if that pause in her breathing showed stress or… “It’s been so good since the twins arrived, more than I expected really- I knew we’d love them, but I hadn’t expected this level of togetherness.”

“Things could have been so much worser, I have you to thank for that…”

“No, everything we have we built together- but sometimes don’t you think it just feels a bit surreal? A bit as if we’re floating, detached- watching every word we say, always worried about upsetting the other one.”

“Isn’t that how it should be? Kindness, keeping the other happy?”

“Is it? My parents were so in love but they argued, snapped at each other sometimes, had days when they were grumpy and horrible and the next day they laughed and put it behind them. I’m terrified that if I say one wrong word you’ll get ill or I’ll somehow blow this whole thing open.”

“You won’t let me talk to you about anything deep Col, I try and you deflect it. You’re treating me like I’m made of china and I can’t quite break through that.”

“Maybe I need to ask for help, move past everything…”

“and attract more scrutiny? Is that really a good idea? I still can’t get the twins weighed without the health visitor doing that damned head tilt;” pulling him towards her she tipped her head in parody, “awwwww, Marina dear! Is that lovely husband of yours looking after you now? Is everything alright, yes? You feeling better now?” she mimicked the woman’s high, reedy voice exactly and he laughed in recognition.

“Yeah there is that I guess. I just feel a bit adrift, need to set anchor.”

“So go and do that: you were about to teach sailing when we met, go and do it Col- a few months.”

“Marina! I’m a dad now, that’s not on the cards.”

“We’d cope.”

“I’m trying hard not to be offended but you would get to stay right here with your dad and the kids, do you really think I want to be separated? They’re not even a year old! Would you want to be away…”

“I don’t want you to be tied to us, Colin. I need you to know that you are free, if you feel the need.”

“I mean a few mornings out on the reservoir sure, thank you very much and I appreciate it but more than that? “ Colin shook his head ferociously, horrified, “are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Did you want to live in each other’s pockets for ever?”

“Well you know- marriage, infant twins- kinda yeah, didn’t you?”

“I’m stuck Colin, they rely on me- you don’t have to be the same.”

“Are you dumping me?”

“No! God no. I just thought…” she shrugged her shoulders and stood to join him, “never mind. Shall we go for a walk, get a coffee before we need to get back? Soph has bottles but I’ve had a drink, I’ll need to pump and dump.” She snuck her hand into his and he curled his fingers tightly around hers, the strong grip that always left her feeling that he was trying to pull her back from something unknown.

Ben and Soph were waiting for them in Colin’s newly installed hot tub, the twins asleep in their prams beside them, mugs of tea in the cup holders, grinning.

“You kids gonna join us?”

Marina shook her head, “sorry no, need to go pump the wine off. I’ll leave you with Colin.” She waved and left them, Ben nodded at his younger brother,

“you getting your trunks then? I mean I love you dearly but I’m not quite sure it’s a skinny dip with us sorta love, you know?”

Colin smirked half heartedly, taking a seat on the chair next to them. “Nah, I trust Soph but you give off that vague air of syphilis and chlamydia Ben.” Ben swore loudly and threw his towel at Colin’s head, Colin laughed and ducked, snorting again as the towel landed in the rose bed.

“Prickly bastards.”

“Funny, that’s what Anthony used to call you as a teen.”

“Twat.” He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, laying back in his chair, only opening his eyes quickly to nod and smile at Soph as she she stood up and grabbed her robe, muttering about grabbing a shower. Colin mumbled something about the post-spa-with-Ben antibiotics being in the bathroom and she ruffled his hair,

“funny boy.”

They watched her go in a shared silence, waiting until she was out of sight. Ben watched his brother carefully as he asked,

“how was the date?”

“Yeah. It was- yeah.”

“you talked?”

“She suggested I go sailing for a while.”

“A weekend away, would that be so bad?”

“Months, Ben.”

“Fuck. I thought you said you two were good?”

“I did, we are, it’s just-“ he shrugged.

“Yeah, I get it, yeah.”

They didn’t talk about it any more, Colin flipped open Ben’s laptop and they watched Boris Johnson giving his address in confusion, tutting loudly as the policy changed to groups of six, Ben yelling “capitalist wanker” at the screen before Colin shushed him,

“you’ll upset Neil and besides if you haven’t forgotten, you’re the second son of one of London’s richest families.”

“yeah, soooooooooo much worse than being the third son. Such a fucking example of moral purity there Col.”

“Better than that fuckwit,” Colin nodded at the screen where Boris was still talking, muted.

“Yeah.”

Two days later Benedict arrived back in London and sought out his elder brother for a drink, closing the study door behind him as he settled into the comfiest chair, waiting until Ant finished his phone call.

“So how’s Colin?” Anthony looked at him with trepidation.

“You should go and see him, get to know Marina a bit more. She’s ok.”

“I’m scared the rules will have changed three times by the time I arrive. Besides I haven’t been invited. How is he?”

“Joking, welcoming. The twins are gorgeous, thriving.”

“All’s well then? That’s a relief, mum said it was better but…”

“But. Soph and I brainstormed a word to describe it as we drove home, trying to put our finger on it. The only one we could agree on was foreboding.”

“Shit. Mum said similar, that it was all a bit Brady Bunch and for a young couple trying to care for twins they never even had one word out of place, but not just not bickering- no teasing or anything.”

“She suggested he go travelling for a bit, he refused; the twins obviously.”

“What does Neil think?”

“Told me to keep my Londoner arse out of it, that they’re fine and he’s on top of it.”

Anthony walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass and Ben a second. He sat down and rested his elbows on the desk,

“fuck.”

Chapter Text

Three weeks after the twins started at the school Penelope sat her kitchen table alone, her laptop and a notebook on the table, elbows on the high thread count tablecloth her mother always insisted on, hands over her eyes.

She wasn’t exactly new to this- she’d had kids who’d been through trauma of all sorts, often with far less access to resources and lacking anything like the love Oliver and Amanda seemed to be surrounded by- children taken into care after their single parent had become ill, families without so much as a roof over their head or children who had been removed from their parents on child protection concerns.  The school she’d trained in had been near a homeless shelter, families crowded into a solitary room, students barely getting settled before being whisked away again to who knows where- many already having moved schools four or five times in their primary school career, completely unused to the idea of being established in any one spot.

These two were a new lesson.  Materially they had everything- in fact she’d had to talk Anthony down from all sorts of cackhanded but sweet gestures, explaining why he couldn’t buy new coats for that family he saw walking in thin jackets or intervene with the mother crying at the gate because their rented home was being sold from under them (she was fairly sure he had anyway, the purchaser had agreed to keep renting to the same tenants with no increase and all under a corporate name but she wasn't going to waste valuable energy worrying about it, if this was his belated introduction to the working classes then so be it).  The family was strong as well: Ant of course was a sweetheart, she’d only met his wife a few times as their children were obviously studying somewhere expensive with much better resources and a predictably twee uniform, Violet was a gem and the brief chats she’d had with Benedict (who was going to run an art workshop for them all) and Daphne had reinforced her conviction that they were fundamentally decent people and that she could never, ever even begin to measure up to their innate style, no matter how many of her mother’s personal stylists or restrictive diets she invested in.

She rose and walked to the counter to make herself a cup of tea, dunking the bag in her mug and adding two sugars for energy- tomorrow was Friday, she was already exhausted, she had babysitting duty later- she needed all the help she could get.  Cradling her sunshine coloured mug in two hands she returned to the table just as her mother arrived home.  She had barely seen Portia these past few days, she’d been making the most of the last days of her fling with the tennis coach and then scouting out a new tennis club to join after he reacted unexpectedly poorly, something Portia was always surprised by despite it’s frequency, perpetually convinced that men were incapable of deeper feelings beyond hunger and a general sense of annoyance at the way of the world when things didn’t go their way (which, with Portia, they never did).

Portia opened the fridge door and took out a kombucha, her latest health food fad, undoing the lid and emptying the contents into a Waterford crystal tumbler, always refusing to drink directly from any bottle or can.   Usually they barely even spoke in these brief interludes- Penelope reluctant to lose her train  of thought to whatever society disaster her mother was fixated upon this week, Portia not wishing to interrupt her clever daughter.  Penelope could tell this time would be different by the way her mum hovered slightly, nails tapping briefly against the marble counter before turning.

“Can I tell you a story, Penelope?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, not when I’m trying to solve this puzzle.”

“Humour me, I might even be able to help.”

“There’s a first for everything,”  Penelope grumbled but she closed the laptop and covered the paperwork, vaguely aware that inspiration was evading her anyway.  Perhaps the banality of her mum’s afternoon at brunch might help.

“Once upon a time there was a woman - oooh shall we say late thirties, early forties”-

“Rules you out then, mum.”

“Rude!  She was a very beautiful, accomplished woman, always volunteering for charitable endeavours, a paragon really.  And nicely dressed! Always looking her best- designer outfits, make up perfect, heels- never crocs!”

“Okaaaaaaaay, sounds familiar but I’m getting older, maybe sixties or more”….

“Again, rude.  Anyway, being the social delight she was a neighbour invited her over for tea and she went; this poor, drab neighbour had so little fun in her life and well…”

“If you’re talking designer twin set and pearls, probably a billionaire’s mother, wife to the late Viscount Violet Bridgerton mother, I swear…”

“Shut up, Penelope.  I’m not taking about anyone, that would be breaking a confidence.  It is a story, a light tale to amuse, you hear me?”

"Oh ok." Penelope was intrigued now.  She put down her biro and Portia snapped it up, holding it at the end with disdain.  Really? This is the message you wish to give out?  Raised to use a biro?

“The kids would nick anything else mum,  or more likely a parent.”

“You’re at home now Penelope.  Tools at work, style at home.  I shall buy you something nicer, perhaps a Dupont, I saw a lovely white and gold one last week…”

“Mum!”

“What?”  Portia had already opened a tab on her iPhone, ready to shop.

“The story?”

“Oh yes. Well obviously the young lady was very nice and approachable so she was sat having a nice cup of tea when these two adorable orphan children in their rags and with thin pitiable limbs…”

“Orphans? Violet is not running an orphanage, mum.”

“Gives off that bloody vibe doesn’t it? Place is swarming with kids, I actually have a spreadsheet on an app to try and work out which Bridgerton is which at this point. Cross matching by age, accent and preferred clothing designer.”  Portia took a sip of her kombucha before continuing; “nobody but you mentioned Violet, love. A simple fairy tale, remember.  Anyway these two adorable street urchins…”

“Nephew and niece of a frigging billionaire.”

“Street urchins took a liking to her and confessed to our heroine that they may have visited a school earlier that day but that they did not like the teacher- poor, underdressed, crocs wearing, poverty stricken creature that she was.”

“Fuck sake mother.  I don't even wear crocs at work. You are the reason why I drink.”

“You hardly drink at all.  I wish you did, more anyway- we could go on a few mother and daughter outings…”

“you are the reason why I should drink.”

“Right.  Well come back to me when it works and you’re up for some fun. Anyway it seems they didn’t like this teacher. Not because of anything she did but because their late departed mother had taught them to be wary, in fact one of them actually said ‘we don’t like teachers’, something about their mummy saying to keep their heads down and out of notice at school.”

“Oh. That’s rather useful.”

“Yes well obviously that doesn’t apply to anyone in particular, it’s just a thought you understand, a story between us?”

“Thanks mum.  You’re a pain in the arse but a star when it counts.”

“And definitely in my late thirties.”

“It is a tragedy though.”

“What is, darling?”

“That I’ve lost my sisters, you’d have been a kid when Pru was born if your story was true.”

“Penelope Anne Bridgerton…”

“39 mother, puhlease!  I mean you look good for your age, really you do,”

“it’s entirely effortless.”

“Yeah.  I believe you. The women on the make up counters at Selfridges that you're on first name terms with might not, but I do. But for your age, not that age.”

“Benedict believed it.”

“Benedict did not believe it mum, he’s just a tart.”

“Hmph.”

Penelope cast a rare fond look at her mum’s disappearing back as she left the room, opening her laptop again and staring at the screen.

It wasn't that the children were acting up- she could handle that, there were resources for such things: educational psychologists and behaviour support teams she could call.  No, on paper they were settling well: they’d managed to move to half days, their relatives were always waiting outside ready for the end of session and never late, they were dressed, fed and washed (Penelope snorted at the memory of her mum’s mention of rags-  the school uniform was basic but Violet had already found ways to put a monied spin on it, she’d had to tell her she wasn’t going to take responsibility for Burberry raincoats last week). 

No, it was just that they were so distant.  It was clear they didn’t trust her no matter what she did, always polite and adhering to every rule, one word answers to any query, no spark or joy.  Not really anything she wouldn’t expect from two children whose mother had been taken from them of course but this was the first time in her teaching career that she hadn't been able to break through, at least a little bit.

Annoyed that she was emulating her mother's mannerisms she drummed her fingers on the keyboard, trying to evaluate the wisdom of her chosen next step.  She read the paperwork another two times, scanning for any sign, a single clue, something else to try: nothing.  Their mother had pulled them from preschool weeks before she died, and the teacher there had described them as shy but happy; their grandfather had raised them whenever mum and dad had been away but she didn’t have his number- that left her one person.

Sighing dramatically for the attention for a non existent audience she dialled Violet’s number, closing the kitchen doors as she did so, making sure her mother was nowhere near.

“Miss Featherington?”  She could hear the worry in Violet’s tone as she picked up; she was used to this, slipped straight into teacher mode.

“Hello Lady Bridgerton, please don’t worry, there’s no emergency.”

“Oh thank goodness!  I know Gregory has taken the twins to the park, I thought maybe something had happened.  Call me Violet, dear.”

Penelope considered the request- she didn’t call any of her other parents by their first name but they weren’t neighbours or her Mother’s newfound bestie either. 

“Off premises that would be lovely, Violet- and call me Penelope, please.”

“That would be lovely, how can I help you?”

Penelope had been struggling with wording this call, not wanting to cause unnecessary worry- the school had a caseload of children who were close to having social services called on their behalf or whose behaviour had pushed them to the brink of suspension.  The twins were not in that cohort, truth be known she couldn't quite say why they mattered to her so much, except for perhaps the tragedy of their situation.

“I just wondered how you felt it was going so far.”

“Ah.”  She could hear Violet deflate, what she thought was the rustle of soft furnishings as the older woman settled herself down to talk.  “It’s not terrible; it could be much worse.”

“It could.”  Penelope endeavoured to add a soft tone to her voice, understanding Violet’s worries.  “The twins are a delight, but they don’t seem to be opening up to any of the adults.  I have seen them with you, with the Viscount and his siblings- they are different children at school and I worry about them.  I would like them to feel safer before they start full time.”

“As would I; I know they are due to do that soon but I don’t think they’re ready.”

“We agree then, that’s a positive start.  They’re entitled to a full time place and if you insisted I would have to take them but I don’t think it is for the best, not yet.”

“No.”

“I was wondering- we’ve spoken about almost everything but never their mother.  I know it must be so hard, I am truly sorry for your loss, I just wondered if there was some insight into how she engaged with education and services when she had their care.”

“Marina?”  There was a hardness to Violet’s tone that Penelope had not expected: interesting.  “Penelope, I hardly knew Marina, sweetheart.  She wouldn’t visit us here and disappeared whenever I visited Colin, there was a short time after they were born when I thought we might build a relationship but…”

Penelope gave thought to this: if she had to conjure up a perfect mother in law she would consider Violet a candidate for the post.  Oh she was sure she could be a little interfering at times, but she had a heart of gold and her entire personality screamed mother in a way her own had never quite managed: Portia was more troublesome dorm mate, perhaps.

“I don’t think Marina trusted anyone, really.  She had her father and she had Colin.  She was making progress and then it happened- and after that… well we hardly saw the twins, then she became ill and well-  they didn’t go to nursery or leave the farm until Colin took over their care the first time.  Then they were pulled out when she returned and really all they knew until now apart from a brief period was the farm.”

“I suppose it was remote, hard for her to take the twins anywhere?”

Violet’s laugh was darker than Penelope expected.  “Darling, it was a short drive to the village, thirty minutes to the closest town.  Rural yes, remote no.  Marina chose to remove herself from society, and the twins were unfortunate casualties.”

“That makes sense.  I don’t suppose you have any other insights you might offer up?”

“Colin.”

“Colin?”  Penelope was curious; he’d been in the background of course but she didn’t get the impression he had much of a say at this stage, the family taking over the minute he left Somerset: she could imagine it would feel overbearing and knew he had little choice with social services always hovering ready to intervene.

“It’s about time he stepped back up, don’t you think?  He hasn't even visited the school and I know he is supposed to do that with us when he is ready but he should be there, shouldn’t he?  Not shut in his room like a recluse or watching endless cartoons with the pair of them.  He only seems to leave the house to go to the gym or for a run, he has to step up at some point.  Lord knows I know what it is like to mourn a spouse but at least I liked mine.”

Ouch, Penelope cringed: She had assumed that he’d been close to Marina at least.

“Well I am sure Colin will recover at his own speed, but…”

“No, Penelope: I am sorry, this isn’t your job but really- he is the only one who can give insight on Marina.  It’s him you need to speak to, it’s time for a Bridgerton intervention.  The twins still have a father, he needs to act like one.”

Penelope said her goodbyes and hung up, pausing to think about teenage Penelope and how she’d have reacted to the chance to speak to 💕💕🌈Colin Bridgerton💙💙 as she'd thought of him then- or likely not so much speak as watch in awe, losing her words and turning into a giggly mess. She was a grown professional now but she hoped to goodness that he’d aged appropriately and preferably really badly or she might just make a fool of herself anyway- she shook her head at the mental image of what that would look like; she was beyond that, surely?

The alarm on her phone rang and she started to pack her things away, ready to head out to visit Pru and her niece, rather glad of a night away from both her mum and her job.  She showered quickly and pulled on a t-shirt, jeans and her beloved crocs (Mother be damned!) before grabbing the car keys, filling her travel mug with strong coffee and heading out to her little Fiat, ready to take the short trip to Hammersmith.

It was a reality of London living that parking was at a premium and her car had been blocked in again- a van inches from her bonnet, the workers who knows where installing internet and likely impossible to track down; she climbed out and examined the distance between her car and the navy E-Pace parked behind her: it was doable, with care- might take a few back and forths but she’d grown up driving here, she was more than able, wasn't the worst she’d faced this week even.  She climbed back in, settled the seatbelt across her curvy frame and put the car into reverse, ready to make that first move: tapped the accelerator and-

“Fuck!”

The car shot back at speed, the back of her croc firmly wedged between the pedal and the car mat: somehow everything slowed down enough to allow her to anticipate the impact as her boot crunched firmly into the vehicle behind her, her head going to the steering wheel to rest for a second as she paused to breathe, shooting back up again as her car door was wrenched open.

“What the fuck did you just do…”

She dropped her shoulders and inhaled before turning her head to meet the furious eyes of the man standing next to her, the man whose car she had presumably just reversed into.  When she immediately recognised him she actually laughed- noting the understandably incredulous look on his face as she did so- before engaging the handbrake, switching the car off and leaning over to untuck her trapped shoe from the pedal so that she could step out. 

It was immediately clear that whilst she knew his face all too well, he didn’t have a clue who she was; instead he was staring at her footwear in disbelief.  She couldn’t argue- that had been a stupid move, really.

“Yeah, I guess crocs are not made for driving.”

“You think?” 

She was all to aware of his presence next to her- he was tall, taller than she’d realised in fact- his brothers were all a few inches shorter and distinctly more Mayfair in their attire and appearance: he wore a brown leather jacket and blue jeans that looked as if they had seen a few days of hard labour,  “that’ll be the farming then,”  she mumbled to herself.

“You what now?”  He looked confused, patting his clearly empty pockets in a futile attempt to find a pen, instead resorting to pulling out his phone.  “You do not know how much I need that not to have happened, fuck- fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah, I get that: fuck.  You’re not the only one who needs their car you know.”

“I’m not the one trying to reverse out of a space in fucking crocs!  What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking – yeah,”  she shook her foot, already cringing at herself as she did so, “I don’t suppose I was thinking much at all.  Sorry?”

“Sorry!  Some of us have responsibilities you know!  I have to get the kids to school tomorrow!”

Penelope was usually a fairly quiet person- dedicated, wallflowerish, neither a killjoy nor given to frivolity in any great degree.  Occasionally, just occasionally another, more reactive Penelope crawled out from under the cord skirts and Boden frocks to make herself known, and to her utter horror now was just one of those times.

“Like fuck you do, who are you kidding?”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Look mate, I know this is my fault and I’m insured to the hilt and you don’t have to worry about that but school run?  Like hell.  I’m pretty sure one of your siblings can loan you a car for a few days anyway, but why bother lying?”

“You have the audacity to even think you know who I am…”

“I'm Portia’s daughter.”

“Portia? Oh- mum’s tarty mate.  Makes sense.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Well she’s not exactly given to deep thought and sobriety is she, mind you I couldn’t see her in crocs either… I mean really?  Who the fuck wears crocs to drive around? You might be visiting your mum but…”

“You’re judging my fashion choices when you’re dressed up like the singer from a 90s boy band?  Some bloody cheek. Give us a shimmy love, wave to the fans... but no I’m not visiting my mum,”  she slammed her car door closed and took a few steps away, “I live here so if you want to speak to me about details after you’ve found your manners you can come and knock.”  She turned her back and began the walk home, cringing as he called out to her,

“Aren’t you going to at least shift the car forwards so I can see the damage?  It’s currently sitting half in my front grill.”

“Are you going to play nice?”  She turned, holding her keys out to him so he could move the vehicle- she wasn't getting back in with the crocs, she’d probably end up wedging the Fiat into the van instead.

“Play nice- your yellow monstrosity just hit my car!”

“Bad luck doesn’t mean we get to be rude now, does it?  Perhaps we need to think about our temper.”  She realised she’d overdone it as soon as the words left her lips- his spine straightened and he turned, pointing.

“You- you’re the teacher daughter aren’t you?  I’m not one of your five year olds you know, you are firmly in the wrong here.  There’s probably a law about driving in those shoes.”

“Yeah, probably. Sorry?”

“I should probably call the police or something but you teach the twins, right?”  he looked at her with curiosity, “makes sense, they were drawing pictures of dragons with red hair last night.”

“They were?”  Penelope’s voice had dropped now, embarrassed.

“No, but I wouldn't blame them if they did!  Miss Featherington- Patricia is it, sure mum calls you that.  Stupid citrus car looks as if it belongs to a Patricia, maybe a Pearl.  Someone dowdy, anyway.  ”

“Penelope.  Miss Featherington.  And you're making a mountain of a molehill- i'm sorry if my stupid citrus car hit yours with it's buttery boot but at least I haven't knocked anyone over with my yellow bonnet, it is just metal.”

He ignored her outburst, valiantly she thought, begrudgingly. “Yeah, I knew it was something that sounded like a maiden aunt.  Penelope, is this some jokey attempt at a parent’s evening or something?  ‘I know, he won’t come to the school so I’ll just reverse into his fucking car then have a go at him on the street?’”

“Clearly not but seeing as you have my name and now my keys, perhaps you’d like to sort this out and you can drop them through my letterbox? I’m sure your brother can handle this for you like he does everything else.”

“You what now?  Are you fecking kidding me?”

He was right, that was the worst of it: this was entirely her own fault, her mother had been on at her to bin those shoes for ages and instead of showing contrition and the embarrassment befitting someone who had just introduced herself to the the parent of children in her class and who- she paused to glance at him again, just to be sure: yep- seemed to be the prettiest man she’d seen in quite some time by damaging his car, she’d turned into quite the sarcastic harridan, goodness knows how he had this effect on her: she had to pull this back somehow.

“OK, let’s do this properly.”  She held out her hand, “Penelope Featherington, Miss. I seem to have hit your car, I do apologise, I will have my insurance details with you within the hour.”

“Colin Bridgerton-“ he extended his hand and pulled it back immediately, “what the hell am I doing?  Look, just let me move the cars and see the damage, go and fetch the details and bring it back here.”  He kicked the kerb, muttering, “just what I fucking need.”

"You and me both Colin Bridgerton, you and me both."

Chapter Text

It is an unkind truth that we are often the last to know when our lives are falling apart and that was no less true of Colin than anyone else- as his family watched from a distance with a growing sense of horror, hidden by bright smiles over facetime chats and silly jokes on messenger, but no less true for all that: it seemed inevitable that there would be a crash, some kind of catastrophe that nobody could define and that they were powerless to find a way to prevent it without alienating their son and brother, collectively agreeing that the best they could offer was a safety net, the surety that if- when- it all fell apart they’d be there, quiet and never judging.

Colin in contrast bounded through that first year of parenthood, feeling he’d finally found his place in the world- he was a young father of course, possibly even younger for a husband yet he quietly and effectively tailored his world so that the family was the centre of his universe, something easier to do in their farming isolation than it might be in Mayfair surrounded by other calls on their time:  extended familial duty served mostly over internet connections and quick visits, the twins strapped into the back seat, Marina- somewhere else.

He did not regard the abbey picnic as the disaster someone else might: read her words as a need for space and used that to reclaim his time at the reservoir, sailing on a weekend, making a few friends on a Saturday and letting her do the same on a Sunday, enjoying the freedom of the water and that sense of reclaiming his youth that he found amongst his peers.  There were moments it was awkward- women who had never seen him with a partner let alone a spouse making a play for the handsome young man, Colin learning to mention his wife early in conversations, intentionally flashing the wedding ring and showing the photos of the twins he carried in his wallet.  He was aware there was a small group he couldn’t break into as well, more local sailors who held themselves apart, a group his friend Will labelled “Marina’s friends”-  he gave up after a few attempts, deciding rather deliberately that it was healthy to have something apart, that it boded well for their future.

All in all he considered himself happy, perhaps for the first time since his father had passed all those years ago, only wishing that Edmund was still around to witness Colin at the helm of his own little ship- not realising that by now Edmund would be sending out the lifeboats and flares, silently awaiting the expected storm.

It was with surprise, then, that they all received invitations to  visit the twins for their first birthday, a  party organised in a local hotel.  Aside from Ben and Sophie nobody else had been welcomed by the woman of the house, Violet inserting herself on a regular basis and building an intentional friendship with Neil but the others only meeting the children on Colin’s short visits, stays of a single night when the family flocked to try and slip relationships into the tiny gaps left open to them, determined.

It was, in fact, Neil’s doing: his worries growing with the widening gulf between Marina and all that held Colin dear, wanting his grandchildren to have a family that wrapped around them rather than separate branches as if the parents were already divorced- as someone more immersed in the couple’s life he did not see their separation as inevitable but he knew something felt awry, especially with his daughter- something he could not put his finger on, at least until it was held up for all to witness and then it made sense, as if he’d always known: perhaps he had, if he'd been brave enough to see.

The Bridgertons descended in a flurry of elegantly appointed cars, some with drivers (Daphne and Simon, Violet and the younger two), some delighting in the chance to run their beloved chariot out for the weekend free of the restrictions of the city (Anthony, Eloise); Sophie and Ben making up the rear guard, coaxing the old family jalopy on one more of what was always referred to as ‘one last run out’, the couple forever intending to replace it with something more reliable but never quite getting around to it.  Francesca arrived on the train, fresh with news of a university place in Bath that delighted Colin and horrified his wife, new boyfriend John in tow, silent yet devoted. 

Colin waited at the hotel  to greet them all, Neil fetching Francesca from the station, somewhat bemused at the knowledge of yet another sibling that he had not yet met- despite the couple being close to two years married now Francesca and Eloise had somehow managed to slip through the gaps.  As someone who had no siblings or cousins he found it strange, knew how much he had longed for the ties of close family but he supposed everyone had to find their own paths and if the Bridgertons were not as close- well if it worked for them.

That weekend Neil learned just how far from the truth that was. 

A sociable man forced into solitude by profession and circumstance, Neil delighted in the strange sensation of being immediately accepted by all as an honorary member of the clan.  He already had a good friendship with Violet, both bonding over the love they held for their own children and somewhat traumatic if very different ends to their own marriages.  He liked Ben well enough and held Anthony in a certain amount of awe yet experiencing the whole group together was something entirely new: something he had never witnessed in his life, their closeness combined with the self assured way they swept up anyone who had even the smallest claim to kin.

Marina, however, refused to be swept up.  Colin, Neil and  Violet watched separately but were equally disappointed as she stayed on the sidelines.  The twins were handed off to anyone willing to take them, her eyes at times barely leaving the phone screen.  Kate and Sophie descended in a pincer movement, carrying drinks and stating a clear intention to pull her into their little sister in law support group: Colin’s brief sigh of relief was short lived, the irrepressible and until now seemingly irresistible duo barely acknowledged, the drink left to sit on the side as Marina’s eyes drifted elsewhere in a dismissal so blatant Colin found himself apologising profusely for her lack of manners, receiving only hugs and promises that they knew some unspoken ‘it’ was hard.  Even John tried, utilising his status as newest addition in an attempt to quietly draw her out- earning him nothing except a sympathetic smile before Marina wandered off.

The twins delighted in the chaos that such a large and devoted family brought- toddling from one adult to another, uncles and aunts pulling faces to attract their attention, sneaking sweets and treats in exchange for cuddles or cutesy bumbled attempts to pronounces name- ‘Unc-Ann’ proclaimed a wild success by a delighted Anthony, Daphne clapping as Amanda extended her own name to a wildly generous “Daffffffffffffffffffffffff’, hissed as if blowing bubbles, repeated endlessly as soon as she realised the reaction it gained.  Gregory became Ger-Ger to Oliver, his new status as favoured uncle secured by a pocket full of jelly babies; Eloise declared them all brain dead and baby mad before sweeping Amanda up into a corner, reading her the history of Ada Lovelace in a voice so animated that Amanda was enraptured by the lilt of her monologue, and Eloise claimed an early convert for her cause.

The party closed with the inevitable pile of baby gifts, Colin seated in the middle of a circle, the twins on his lap pulling gaudily printed paper off a seemingly endless pile of offerings before taking their turn to toddle around holding their father's hand and little baskets of thank you cards and cake- everyone declared it quite delightful, the twins descending into an exhausted sleep the minute they were strapped into their car seats, Marina wiping their faces and grimacing about the amount of sugar they’d eaten.

That evening Violet and Neil hunkered down for a hybrid babysitting and crisis meeting, allowing the young people to congregate at the hotel for a meal. 

What Colin did not know was that Marina had tried to get out of it, letting Neil know early that his babysitting wouldn’t be required: he had already seen enough of her behaviour, decided to make a stand.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“Would you like it straight or shall we hedge around it forever?”

She’d sat through his little lecture, sullen faced but quiet, as he told her that he’d been ashamed of her behaviour, had raised her with manners and that he had expected her to make an attempt to at least welcome people who had travelled to spend an important day with her family.  He carefully but firmly pointed out that her husband had moved his entire life to be with her, and she had made no effort at all to show the same kindness- in the end she had agreed to accompany her husband, admitting that one weekend was worth it as a thank you for the effort they had all made. 

“And then?”

“What do you mean, they’ll be back in London.”

“Marina…”

“What?”

“Baby: talk to me.  Or talk to Col, but talk to one of us.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to, I can’t bear to see you slipping away like this.  The Bridgertons don’t know better but I miss the friendly outgoing kid you used to be.  You can’t go on like this sweetheart, whatever it takes.”

“I can’t go back, either.”

“Do you want to?  To which point?”

She stayed silent but it was enough for Neil to know that she realised there was a problem, that whilst Colin bumbled along singing nursery rhymes and tying tiny shoelaces, she realised she was struggling.

“We’ll get you help my love, you just have to agree to accept it.  You know it’s just waiting for you to ask.  Are you ready?”

She nodded, once, almost imperceptibly but it was enough.  Whilst the young people laughed and drank until the early hours, Neil and Violet had the agreement they needed to begin to put their support plan in place, leaving messages for the psychiatric team and health visitor, Neil reaching out for a part time farm labourer to help lift some of Colin’s load so that he could help support his wife, a leaflet for a local support group for the husbands and partners of those affected by mental health difficulties printed out and tucked into Colin’s bedside drawer.  Violet wanted to buy the two a holiday, offering to come and help Neil take care of the twins but he shook his head- “not yet, Vi: she’s not ready.”

Colin waved his family off the following day with a banging headache and heavy heart, walking back into the annexe to find Neil and Marina waiting for him, ready to unveil a plan of support and healing that left Colin simultaneously stunned by how loved they were and how much he had somehow missed whilst picking up the slack- Neil reassured him but he was quietly devastated, wrapping himself around his wife and making her his first thought in everything- until it happened.

Three months later

The Billionaire Bridgertons: Inside The Brother’s Marriage, Two Years On

Anthony was first to see the headline, sent to his email account with a note from the editor that it was going out in the early edition and just sent over as a courtesy.  He groaned as it flashed up- he’d only woken for water before returning back to his warm bed, glancing at his phone screen just to find the time.  He clicked the email in a disinterested fashion, probably nonsense, they were always finding lies on the society gossip pages or filling the gaps on the websites run by the former red tops, they weren't exactly immune to it but they’d learned to live with it- it was obvious that a family as large and successful as they were would garner attention, it was impossible for them to be invisible after all and mostly they made it work for them, all taking roles in a number of charities and philanthropic endeavours.  This read differently and his mind immediately went to Ben- he was settled now, but he’d had his fun before and it wouldn’t surprise him to find out that he and Sophie got a bit wild at weekends: would surprise him if they didn’t, really.

He filled his glass and pulled out a seat at the kitchen breakfast bar, closing the door before putting the light on, not wishing to attract attention, then clicking on the email to read the copy.

Within ten minutes he was on the phone, reading the words to Ben and his mum as he shrugged a shirt on, apologising for waking Kate.

“The Bridgertons: the ideal British family- successful, beautiful, charitably minded- everyone knows them and most of us will have our favourite, whether it’s the cheeky grin of the second son, put together perfection of the eldest daughter or the childish mischief in the eyes of the youngest two as they combine navigating college with their exploration of London’s social scene. No upper class party is complete without at least two family members, and they are arguably the last universally popular aristocratic family.

Amongst the eight siblings one has always remained something of a mystery: Colin Bridgerton, third son, who married at a young age and left London for a life of bucolic domesticity and wedded bliss: or so we thought.”

“ Oh no, no no”, Ben mumbled as he realised where this was going: of all of them Colin was perhaps the most vulnerable, all by now knowing that Marina was struggling, the poor lad already caught up in enough heartbreak for anyone twice his age.

“Hold your panic a minute Benedict, it doesn’t get any better.”  Anthony was now tying up his shoelaces as he continued, determined to get to his car and brother as soon as he could, but knowing that Ben would be needed to head up the home response, Violet the motherly support.

“Right… hang on, a load of crap about the farm value, Neil’s age- did you know he was that old?  Christ, looks good for it doesn't he, must be all that fresh air… Marina was educated at, yeah yeah OK nobody needs to know that- fuck they didn’t have to mention her mum, really pushing the boat out- here we are.

As a teenager Marina was known to hang around with the sailing set at a nearby boating club, competing at a high level and often found at clubs around the country,  one of the most successful British junior sailors of her generation.  Did you know that, either of you?”

Violet just made a murmur to the negative; Ben replied with “not a clue, but explains how she got together with Col.”

“Yeah- OK, getting to the meat of it.  She was known to be dating George Crane, two years her senior, Olympic hopeful and general man about town.  They split shortly before she turned twenty and not long after it was revealed that she had wed Colin Bridgerton, brother to the billionaire Viscount- oh fuck off, I am more that a Coutts account and title- a wedding followed a year later by the birth of twins.

Right, let’s get to it- sources known to the journalists here at The Express can reveal that despite the seemingly idyllic nature of the young marriage, Marina has in fact repeatedly revisited her first true love, spending days alone at their sailing club and overnight trysts at - fuck that’s the same hotel we stayed at.  Our informant raises the question: does anyone know if the twins are even Mr Bridgerton’s?  We have reached out to the family with no comment so far- well no, of course not, it’s the middle of the fucking night”.

The trio all fell silent for a moment, processing, before Violet spoke,

“the twins are the spitting image of Colin, they have his hair and eyes…”

“We don’t know what this George looks like Mum, although the later edition will have photos of them meeting which is lovely, just what that poor fucker brother of ours needs.”

“I do; he’s easy enough to google,”  Violet responded, quietly.  “I’m not saying they’re wildly  different- if this is true and we will wait to find out- but he’s shorter, stockier, brown eyes: nothing like the twins.  Those twins are all Bridgerton, Ant.”

“Yeah, I hope to god that you’re right.”  He kissed his wife on her forehead and told her to check her messages when she got up, no point in dragging her into this early morning dash- “what response do I give them?  Our PR team won’t be awake before it goes out.”

“Keep it simple love,”  his mum responded, audibly shaken but in control.  “We have always been pleased to welcome Marina to our family and the twins are a delightful addition to the Bridgerton line.  The couple has our full support as these rumours surround them.”

“Not perfect, what if it’s true?”

“It is enough for now. Are you picking me up on your way?”

“I’m on my way now mum, I’ll be passing yours in five minutes.”

“That’s OK, I’m already outside.”  Anthony sighed, he hadn't wanted company for the journey, but he knew it was inevitable as he swung around to meet her.

They drove mostly in silence, the weight of the day already on their shoulders, only the occasional bleep of their phones drawing them from their thoughts.  Nothing from Colin yet, he would probably be waking as they arrived with the dawn, ready for milking or shearing or whatever it was he did on that farm- neither had a clue, really.  Anthony’s response to the article received a thumbs up from the editor, a man he had met at a few charity gigs; Kate called, sleepily, when she woke at five, surprised to hear that he was almost in the Mendips, signposted to Benedict for the whole story so he could keep the phone clear.

They were ten minutes from the farm, watching the colours of the sky above the tor, when the email came in, Violet clicking it nervously to find images of Marina with her arm wrapped around the man she had earlier seen online- some very clearly old, dated from before Colin even met her, a few more recent.  She scrolled down, narrating quietly.

“Maybe they’re just friends?  I see Serena at parties, doesn’t mean…”

“Yeah.”  Violet stared at the handset for a minute, silent, contemplating.  “Most of these pictures would fit that theory.  But this one…”  she held then phone out and he glanced at the screen, swearing hen pulling over to take the handset. 

“Fuck.”

The final photo was a bit blurry but they both recognised Marina, pressed up against the wall of the sailing club, a man with his back to the camera, hands in her hair as he kissed her.  Her eyes were closed, both Anthony and Violet’s eyes landed on the same spot.

“She has her wedding ring on, it’s definitely after Colin.”

“Yeah.  This is gonna kill him.”

“You know when I went down to visit she vanished for the whole night, I thought- but he didn’t question it, I assumed he knew where she was.”

The farm was still quiet as they pulled in, just a light on in Neil’s kitchen as they arrived; they parked behind his car, unable to be seen from the annexe, and knocked.  Neil opened the door in confusion, inviting them in and putting the kettle on before accepting the phone, the article already live.  He sank into the nearest chair, head in his hands, and wept.

Chapter Text

They spent some time with Neil, first calming him then trying to discuss the situation, a new tension between them as if sides were already forming.  It was increasingly clear that Anthony did not completely believe Neil’s promises that he knew nothing of Marina’s supposed cheating, a situation not helped, as all admitted with sadness  and defeated looks, by Neil hiding Marina’s ill health in the past. 

He did of course know George- once upon a time he had been the teenage boyfriend and Neil hadn’t really thought much of it, he’d thought there might be something more than just passing crushes between them but her sport had been one that often brought the sailors to his house, scattered across the nation as they were, looking for somewhere to meet and settle, a large farm being an obvious candidate.  He had asked her when George had disappeared, and she had said it was over and left it at that, with all the discomfort of a teen discussing boyfriends with their father- and not long after Colin had appeared, full force and inclined to formalise everything before anyone even had a chance of finding their feet. 

Neil had never admitted it before, even to Violet, but he spoke then of the time after Marina’s marriage- a call asking him to pick them up from the airport after a holiday (a holiday!  It had seemed such a natural thing for the active young duo), the pair excitedly shoving rings and photos in his face at the airport.  Neil had retreated to the toilets for a moment to gather himself, the world swaying slightly, but when he had emerged it had been with smiles and congratulations and a firm belief that his role was to support, not question.

The Bridgertons admitted to feeling much the same way- Colin wed to someone they didn’t know, the son who always seemed vulnerable because he loved so hard and openly abandoning everything he knew to build a new life away from them, with someone who seemed very resistant to getting to know them.  Violet had felt she had done something wrong and created a world where he hadn't trusted her enough to talk to her, Anthony had regretted all the petty sibling arguments and missteps, sitting up awake with Kate night after night, wondering what he could have done differently with the lack of emotional resources and experience he’d had at the age he’d been when he’d had to step into his father’s shoes- it had led to a bit of resentment and a lot of hurt, hurt they had struggled with, at least for a while.

It made for a morbid self reckoning, everyone finding their own fault in the situation long before they spoke to either of the couple.  There had been a brief moment where Anthony had asked if they were sure the two did not have an open marriage, had agreed on something unconventional but that was swiftly put to bed, Violet’s certainty that Colin could never countenance such a thing recognised by all.

When all the coffee had been drunk, all the toast nibbled or quietly set aside, and words had seemingly run out it was agreed that Anthony would go and knock on the annexe door, try and separate Colin to talk to him so that Neil could find Marina.  There was a brief moment of sadness where Neil reached for Violet’s hand, certain that he would lose his new friend in all the pain and difficulty that seemed inevitably headed their way. Violet squeezed it, recognising the emotion:

“We will still be the grandparents Neil, we only have to take sides if we choose it. It will be hard watching the young people struggle- I should not want to lose a friend as well.”  He nodded gratefully, choosing to hold on to the optimism and not chase that extra loss.

Anthony took his time heading to the annexe, pausing to type a text to his wife, google paternity tests- he felt dirty even typing it in- and stare out across the flat landscape, only now emerging from it’s habitual morning mists.  He’d been on the road since the day began, give or take an hour and was tired in ways he never knew himself capable of- bone deep, emotionally drained, and ill equipped for this coming day.  Still there was little choice and although he wished his mum had stepped up he knew she did not wish to be confronted with Marina, was scared her inner mother would take over and she would say something harmful, especially with a woman so fragile.

There were no obvious signs of life so Anthony knocked once, quietly, then tried the door, fully expecting that it would be locked, hoping so really- a reprieve already longed for.  What was another hour?  He knew that if it were Kate he’d want the not knowing to last as long as possible, perhaps that was the only kindness he could offer?

To his disappointment and surprise the door pushed open, the quiet revealing the figure of his brother at a table, hunched over his laptop, Oliver sat in a highchair waving a spoon in the vague vicinity of a bowl of porridge whilst watching the uncle he barely knew silently take a seat at the table and pick up a banana, splitting it with the toddler.

“I see you were chosen then.  I’m surprised- I expected Mum, maybe Ben.  You’re an odd choice.”

“Mum is with Neil, it wasn’t about choice- I left as soon as I found out and mum insisted I bring her.”  Colin nodded, his fingers hovering over refresh, eyes firmly on the screen.

“Col, mate-“ he took his hand gently and Colin immediately pulled it away, slamming the laptop shut and standing up to put the kettle on.

“Don't worry about me, we’ve been here a while already, Neil has me so full of caffeine that I might fly home to save fuel.”

“You must have left early.”

“Yeah, they wanted a comment-  Matt contacted me on my own number, otherwise we might not have seen the story until start of business.”

“Matt?  The editor, do I remember him?  Think you might have introduced us.”

“Probably, he was a year or two above me at uni, you know how it all goes.  Look, Col…”

“No, Ant: it’s OK.  Thank you for coming but you can go home.”

He’d made Anthony a coffee despite the older brother's refusal and placed it in front of him, even after his dismissal.  Anthony sipped at it, quiet, waiting for something he couldn’t predict but was inevitable.  Eventually Colin lifted Oliver from his chair and handed him to his brother, Ant quickly wiped the food off his face then grabbed a baby book from the side to start reading.

“I’ve got to wake Marina, she has an online lecture at ten.”

“She’s asleep?  Does she even know?”

“I haven’t said anything and I’d ask you not to either, hopefully her classmates don’t read The Express.  Better if we can keep this on the down low don’t you think?”

“That’s not going to work mate.”

“It could, it’ll all be fine, marriage is like this isn’t it?  You and Kate have had your issues, happens to everyone-“

“Issues like who has take a day off when childcare cancels and when one of us is grumpy with a hangover, not…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away”

“It might. What do we know here?  A  woman that we all know has been struggling kissed an ex one time, hardly worth ripping the kid’s lives apart for is it?”

“You don’t need to do this Col, we can get a lawyer, fight for custody.  Ben is at home, one call and he can have rooms ready.”

“What?”  Colin looked confused, dazed and Anthony considered fetching his mum, he decided to give it one more try, walking over to kneel by the chair he had now sat on, placing a reassuring hand on his sleeve.

“We can get genetic tests done, quickly- they only take a few days now, we could send them off today-“

“No.”

“Colin, I know this is hard,”

“You haven’t got a bloody clue”

“You’re right, you’re right mate.  Of course.  Shall we start again?”

“On the condition that nobody mentions paternity tests ever again, got that?”

Anthony could hear the resolve in Colin’s voice, underlaid with a strange sort of panic- it was clear that Colin needed help but this, for the moment, was insurmountable. 

“Yep OK, we can do that- it’s all your call mate.  You can't hide it from Marina though.”

“I can try.”

“Neil and mum are next door, it’s on about fifty gossip pages already, it’ll be all over the other sites in an hour tops.  You can’t protect her mate, whatever the story is she’s going to find out.”

“She can’t handle it.”

“Handle what?  Anthony- what are you doing here, I didn’t-“

Both men turned in horror to see Marina enter the room, stretching in her pyjamas, heading for the coffee.  “Has something happened- is your mum alright?”

“Mum is fine, she is with your dad.”

“So…”

“Ant, can you leave us for a minute?”

“Col…”

“Sorry, what I meant to say was- get the fuck out of my kitchen so I can talk to my bloody wife will you?  Now.”

The older man held up his hands as a sign of acquiescence. “Shall I take the kids?  Mum’ll want to see them.”  Amanda was toddling behind Marina now, clearly looking for breakfast; Anthony scooped her up and took Oliver’s hand ready to lead them away.  Colin nodded, reluctant but resigned to the reality that the children would be better off next door, “you coming to see Nana, kids?  I am sure she’d love a hug and they have toast in there.”  He walked away but turned once, “Col, if you need me-“

“I fucking won’t.”

Neil was ready to go to his daughter when he arrived but Anthony put a hand on his shoulder and persuaded him not to, that the married couple deserved a chance to talk.  Together they put on fake smiles and  happy voices for the children, crawled under tables to play, cuddled and sang songs- all whilst their hearts broke with worry and sadness.

“Why’s he here Colin?  You know I'm not keen on surprise visitors.”  She stood in her short pyjamas, hands on hips, glaring at him as he found her a mug and  handed over her medications.  He thought briefly that not so long ago he’d have been blindsided by the sight of her, sleep ruffled and slightly angry yet when he thought about it  he couldn’t even remember the last time they’d kissed, somehow all lost in the confusion and parenting.

“He came for my sake Marina, I know you might find it odd but they actually care about me.”

“And you are saying I don’t?”

It was already an argument, something he’d promised himself he’d avoid- they so rarely argued, he’d thought theirs was a deep friendship but now he was wondering if he’d been deluding himself, shoring up something that didn’t even exist.

“Probably not the day to be asking me that if I’m honest, love.”  The sarcasm on the last word was biting, so full of venom that she spun on her heel to stare at him, shocked- he didn’t think he’d ever spoken to her like that before, hadn’t wanted to then but the adrenaline was wearing off now and the conviction that it was just a blip, a mistake gone with it- he blinked furiously to try and stop himself crying, slowly aware that he felt as if he was choking, couldn’t get his breath: he doubled over, head swimming, gasping.  She ran to his side,

“Jesus babe, breathe, breathe: come on, it’s a panic attack, breathe with me: square breathing, in- hold it… copy me…”

He mimicked her, holding on to the back of the chair to steady himself as the terror slowly wore off.  Still shaking he pulled out his phone, navigated to the Express and almost threw it at her, passing it with such force she had to steady herself as she took it then stared at the screen.

“Tell me it’s not fucking true.”

“Colin, I…”

“I don’t want explanations Marina, no excuses or guilty admissions: just tell me it isn’t fucking true.  Tell me!”  he’d long given up fighting the tears now, trying so hard to keep his voice steady but almost screaming the last bit anyway: he heard the door click and knew Anthony or his mum was stood back there but didn’t bother turning, he had no energy for anything but the unfolding disaster in front of him, he could worry about dignity later.

“You can see it’s true- I did, oh god Colin I did kiss him, at the club- I’m so sorry.”

He nodded as another thought hit him, his brain desperately searching for something safe to cling onto. Reaching forwards he took her hands, his voice changing tone, “don’t worry love- I know- I know you couldn’t help it, it’s the meds or the depression or  bi polar like your mum or whatever- I’m not going to blame you, I know you wouldn’t have chosen…”

“Colin, no…”

“No, no: we can get better help, I have my trust fund…”  he heard what was definitely Ant’s voice behind him but he ignored it, “you’re a Bridgerton…”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be.”

“You don’t mean that!”

“I don’t know if I do.  Look love, sit down a minute- let me explain.”

Colin did exactly as he was told, settling himself onto the armchair that sat in the corner of their open plan kitchen diner, eyes closed.  She sat at his feet, holding his hand.

“That picture isn’t new, I will start by promising I haven’t seen him in months-“

“So before you started on the meds then?  That’s good right? We can”-

“It wasn't my mental health babe.  I could pretend it was I guess but you deserve better.  You and me- you can’t pretend this is healthy- I love you, I love you so much, you are such a great dad and quite probably the nicest man I ever met and George- well he’s a bit of a wanker really…”

“So we can work it out yeah?  We love each other, that’ll be enough.”

“You’re like a brother to me, Col- the one man aside from my dad I could trust with my life but George- I can’t seem to stay away.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry a thousand times.”

“You can’t – this isn’t fair, I don’t want this.”

“Nor me, but maybe it had to happen.”

“And the kids- what they said about the father-“

“I don’t know.”

“You what- you can’t…”

“I wasn’t taking the pill Col, I thought a condom would be enough- with both of you.  It wasn’t.  You’re their dad though, I’d never take them away from you and I’d pay for a paternity test.”

“I won’t take one, I’ll never do that- they’re mine Marina, I’ve practically raised them whilst I gave you space to get better or study or – well- fuck some other man…”

“Let’s be clear here: you have every right to be angry,”

“you think?  Gosh wife, how kind of you to say so…”

“But it was never planned.  It was never, like, an affair- well not on my part.  Not an actual relationship.  He started turning up at the club and following me around, I couldn’t resist I guess.”

“Ah well that’s ok, good luck to you, I’ll just pop off then shall I…”

“No, it’s not- it’s not- I know it’s not… it’s my fault and I know it, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Col.”  Broken as much by his face as the situation Marina leaned onto his lap, still holding his hand, and started sobbing.  After a few moments Anthony gently picked her off and walked her outside to where her dad was stood waiting, Violet now in sole charge of the twins.  He returned to the kitchen, pulled a chair up next to Colin and threw his arms around him, holding him tight whilst he sobbed.

Eventually, when he was a cried out red faced mess, still clutching at his brother’s shirt sleeves, he caught his breath.

“It’s my fault, Ant, it’s my fault.”

“How could it be?  You’ve been a great husband.”

“No- I  knew she was struggling with something, wouldn’t let her tell me.  Maybe if I had listened.”

“Did you cheat on her?  Lie to her?”

“No, never- how can you even ask…”

“Look mate, I don’t know what happens now but you have looked after her, cared for your children, given her so much love and time and space…”

“that she used to fuck someone else,”

“If she had been truly in love with you she’d never have done that, no matter how much space you gave her.  You saw her: she’s really cut up about how much she’s hurt you.”

“She got to make the choices though didn’t she?  She can throw me out and take the kids, all this time building this life and she can take it just like that.”

“I know, it’s really shit.”

“What do I do now, Ant? I went straight from uni to Marina, if she won’t take me back…”

“Take you back?  Col, the ball is in your court, she cheated on you.  The rest- we can find you a fucking farm if that’s what you want, get you in with one of the Aubrey tenant famers for experience or fuck, I’ll buy you one if it helps.”

“Oh god no.”

“No?”  Anthony stared at him in confusion; “look if you want to try and make it work with Marina we’re all behind you, we love you and you have to know that.  But I have to be honest, it isn’t looking good…”

“I have to try and make it work Ant, I can’t imagine not being with her but if I can’t, if the whole fucking world collapses then if there is just one good thing that comes from this it’ll be-“

“Colin?  Go on,”

“If I never have to see another fucking sheep again, stinking, stupid fuckers- well…”

Anthony stared at his brother for a moment, dumb founded: very slowly Colin  began to laugh, giggles at first then heaving, deep, breath stealing gaps of hysteria.  Anthony kept his hold whilst he waited for it to pass, grounding him and silent.  Eventually the episode passed and he started crying again, head against Ant’s shoulder.

“Fuck Ant, what am I going to do?”

“You’re going to survive this day, and then tomorrow and somehow the next until it’s OK again.”

“I’m glad you came, I was so scared, she gets so upset when you’re all around…”

“Yeah, we had noticed.”  Ant’s voice was dry, but not judgemental. 

“I’m so sorry, I've fucked up everything, you thought I was a silly little boy and here I am proving it to you…”

“No!  Look at you. All you’ve achieved- I am so amazed with the man you’ve become, the husband and dad- I don’t know what comes next but you should be so proud of yourself, I know Dad would be too.”

“Oh fuck.”

“What?”  Ant asked, eyebrow raised.

“Now you’ve mentioned Dad, I don’t think I’m ever going to stop this crying.”  He wiped furiously at his eyes, pulling a face at himself.

“No, probably not for a while if I’m honest- I was bad enough after Serena, and that was never meant to be forever… you got any handkerchiefs handy?”  Colin nodded and pointed to the cupboard where he kept the tissues.

“I can’t stay here tonight Ant,”

“No.”

“I can’t go back to Mayfair either- I have to try, I don’t know- to work things out or understand or – and the kids.”

“We’ll find a hotel.”

“Not the one she was meeting him at.”

“No, of course.  Of course not Col.”

Chapter Text

Marina Thompson was surprised by how much she looked forwards to the trip to London, not used to navigating cities bigger than Bath or being so far from her only family member- growing up in Somerset she’d only been away for weekend sailing competitions or senior school, and even then she hadn't gone far- weekly boarding just twenty miles away in the county town,  her father keen to help her find friends outside their small rural community, friends whose parents didn’t remember the day her mother had vanished, police at the farm and going door to door, locals hungry to help and even hungrier for the gossip afterwards, neighbours they’d never really spoken to beyond a quick good morning or comment on the weather (“raining again”, “that’s England for you, better win the lottery and move somewhere hot”, “ooh that would be nice, bye!”) suddenly queuing at the door with heavy casseroles- did anyone even eat casseroles these days? Marina’s family was more of a pasta, sausages, fast food on a Saturday family- and cakes. 

The better ones faded away quite quickly, a  few genuine souls offering to help with the practical stuff- finding childcare, taking in a bit of laundry, a few dad and daughter play dates even.  One or two hung around a bit more- her dad still spoke about those in hushed tones, farmer chasers he called them, strange predatory women already marking him out as their territory before her mum had even been discharged from hospital.  A decade later and she might have been inclined to set him up with someone but he was still married back then, learning to deal with being a single dad, not knowing what faced them long term.

She had always known she was a bit of an oddity: a rural girl at heart yet mixed race in a county and world that was so very white; child of a single dad, considered beautiful- she knew that too, enough people had told her over the years- yet more  at home mucking out the cow shed than trying to be seen in one of the nearby cities. School had been a bit different, she fit in there, lots of international students, and she’d briefly considered university abroad but her dad had been too nervous, needing to be able to reach her in a crisis, the ghost of her mum's path always close.

It had quickly become just the two of them, once the initial novelty of their situation had worn off for their neighbours- Marina helping on the farm after primary school, taking riding lessons, reading to her dad on the sofa in the evenings.  She’d been unhappy about the prospect of going away for school but weekly boarding had suited her- the chance to make girlfriends, learning to sail at the school club and still able to go home to the farm and her horse at the weekend.  It worked far better than either of them had expected and by the time she had taken her A Levels at 18 both father and daughter had seemed settled into a happy routine.  She had spent half of each summer at sailing camps or travelling for contests, and she’d become a confident young woman, loving her life and planning to go and study modern languages at Bath, envisioning a life of seafaring adventures and excitement.  She didn’t want to settle down or have children, the knowledge of what happened to her mum haunting her, a strange certainty that she would meet a similar fate so instead she planned for adventure, and she planned big.

The summer she turned 18 had been a formative one- days helping out on the farm or at one of the local tea shops, evenings hanging with friends or her first boyfriend George, home from competing and a superstar in all their eyes- Olympic hopeful and winner of all the cups in his class on their circuit.  He was, as with so many teenage boyfriends, completely unsuitable: never pretending he wanted to hang around or build anything serious, always with one eye on the next big thing, but Marina was the prettiest girl at the sailing club and their time had been about fun and experimenting before they said a perfectly amicable farewell and moved on to the next stage, both agreeing that the draw of their relationship was the power of chemistry over compatibility and timing, George off to join the Navy, lured by the duel promise of sailing and a regular wage.

That first year of university had been hard on Marina- she’d found the girls in her halls to be a bit cliquey, struggled to build the same sorts of friendships she’d had at school and found that it affected her positivity.  She stayed in touch with her friends who’d scattered to universities across the globe, social media and face time calls, but it wasn't the same and when the year ended she’d bought herself a small car, found herself a part time job and resolved to move back home, commuting in each day. 

Twelve months later, with just one more year to go,  she’d headed off to London, trying to get her plans together so that she could head off abroad the day she graduated- she’d already lined up a work placement with the family of an old friend based in Malaysia, working on weekly charters, her dream job.  She’d London sailed at the club before, attending a few open events, found herself equally nervous, excited and optimistic, knowing the city just well enough from her competition days, the club and  hotel familiar – the same one each time, the managers getting to know her dad when she was younger and they travelled together, now keeping a gentle eye on her as she journeyed alone.

When she'd arrived the night before the course, grinning happily as she’d stepped off the train with her wheelie bag, she’d met up with old friends, celebrating at a club before crawling home just after 3am, shattered and slipping off her high heels as she climbed out of the taxi, falling asleep fully dressed and made up then barely crawling out of bed in time to make it the shower and induction, just enough make up to cover up the green glow she was fairly sure she maintained until well into the day, sunglasses, and a hasty dash into Costa to grab her favourite flapjack and double shot flat white before crawling into the club just before the doors closed, signing the register and collapsing at the back of the room in an attempt to hide through the welcome speech and safety briefings, knowing she’d heard them all many times before anyway. She might not recognise the faces here but these were her people, she felt as home in this room as she did back in Somerset- she would be fine as long as she found a bit of peace to let the hangover pass.

She had not been in luck: in no time at all she’d been joined on her table by a lanky, wavy haired young man.  Polite certainly, he’d asked if she minded him taking the seat next to her, and friendly- his accent marked him out as upper class, certainly not unusual in the sailing world, an observation backed up by the small tells that she’d learned to spot- the Barbour jacket, the Jaeger Le-Coultre watch, the casual confidence.

She sighed internally and watched him for a few moments as he hovered, clearly hoping for an invitation to sit.  Eventually she gave in to the inevitable and gestured towards the chair, still feeling faintly nauseous from the night before and hoping he would let her be once he had taken his spot- she was not in luck.

“Hi, my name is Colin.”

“Colin?  Don’t meet a lot of those these days, thought that name had gone the way of the Keiths and Grahams, only for the over fifty brigade.”

He laughed, eyes pointing forwards towards the instructor unpacking their bag in the front, reaching into his own pocket for a mars bar.

“You’re not wrong there, my parents I’m afraid- named us all in alphabetical order, all 8 of us.  Apparently we all received good, strong classic names but I think they dropped the ball on mine- it’s the chap from The Secret Garden, apparently: the sickly kid.”

“Were you all named after literary characters?”

“At the start- Anthony is from Anthony and Cleopatra, Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing- well they modernised it, can’t call a kid Dick these days- though it might have suited Ben come to think of it…”  he paused to listen to the instructor asking those who were new to the club to raise their hand and lifted his, still talking.

“Daphne- well Apollo obviously, then they slipped up. Eloise was my mum’s best friend growing up.  Francesca was Francesca Caccini, a composer- appropriate, she’s planning on studying music at a conservatory; then Gregory because mum fancied Gregory Peck and Hyacinth for dad’s favourite flower.”

“Bloody hell, there’s loads of you- are you all super confident fashion model types?”

He blushed bright red, surprisingly endearing, and allowed a small smile to break, still pretending to be paying full attention to the instructor.  “Would you believe me if I said we all look almost identical, small things of course- Daph’s hair is a shade lighter, I’m a bit taller, Ben is- well Ben.”

“I’m liking the sound of this Ben already, should I meet him?”

“Careful, I’m the jealous type.”

“Good to know, Colin- er last name?”  He groaned,

“Bridgerton.”

“Course you are.  At least I’ve found someone to buy me lunch I suppose.  Come on,”  she grabbed her fleece and threw her cup in the bin, “they’re all heading out- can’t attract attention and reveal the hangover, you can be my stooge.”

The day wasn't overly challenging- she’d been helping with the kid’s club for years by now- and lunch had been fun, a group of eight of them in the end. Colin had paid as she’d jokingly demanded, refusing her last minute attempt to step in and cover her own bill, “what’s the point of lunching with a Bridgerton if you have to pay for your own sandwich?”

“I should have ordered lobster.”

“Darling we’re in Subway, join me for dinner and I’ll show you proper Bridgerton fine dining.”

“Oh of course, you just call up anywhere you fancy and give your name and…”

“Well, yes.  I could pretend otherwise but yep.  Where do you fancy eating?”

It had been sushi in the end and it had been clear he’d been trying to impress her; she’d had to run out and get a suitable dress but his suit was clearly tailored for him, a relaxed flowy fit, grey with a t-shirt underneath- effortful but just shy of too much.  He turned up with a gift of a box of flapjacks- “no point buying flowers when you’re in a hotel”- and entertained her with his jokes and what she slowly realised was a far more genuine interest than she’d initially assumed, thinking this was her chance for a quick fling to chase any lingering thoughts of George from her mind. They ate, laughed and shared stories of their wildly different childhoods, his juvenile longing for one to one parental time and a peaceful home counterbalanced by her perpetual wish for siblings, both knowing what it was to exist in the shadow of a lost parent, even if those parents and what most people remembered them for was very different- apparent perfection versus only loss.

She'd mentally prepared herself to invite him in when they walked back along the river, the native London boy knowing all the best viewpoints and seemingly having a story for every place they paused, his hand taking hers without fanfare or comment, just a natural gesture that made her feel inexplicably young, free and brave.  He’d handed her the box of treats (because he’d carried it, of course he’d insisted on carrying it) at the hotel entrance and leaned forward to kiss her, chastely, open eyed, hands behind his back as if he was fighting to resist going in for more.  Then he’d thanked her for a lovely evening, watched her safely through the doors and walked away, turning once more to blow her a little kiss, as if he’d known she was stood by the glass doors watching his retreat.

He was already at the table- their table?- the next morning, white v neck t-shirt half tucked into blue jeans (she’d told him how much she’d liked his t-shirt the night before hadn’t she? She was sure she could remember doing so), two coffees on the table, hers made just as she liked it in a brand new reusable mug printed with roses: it was 8am, what on earth kind of time had he had to get up to find that, where had he even found that overnight?  She sat down next to him, “smooth, Bridgerton.”

“I prefer Colin, well unless you’re taking my last name of course,” he winked at her and she’d sat there gaping until he gently reached over and closed her mouth, “now come on sweetheart, teacher’s here, time to work.”

The strange thing though had been the way he relaxed as the day went on, and the evening after that- the smooth lines and painfully curated romance soon ebbing away, replaced by a slightly insecure but still charming and kind, so very kind young man.  Her hopes for a fling drifted into something more as he listened to her talk about her home and her poor start at university and shared her dreams- dreams that seemed very aligned to his- over dinner and later drinks at a small club, and this time he hadn’t left her at the door, following her into her room, her last barriers broken down when he had whispered shyly that he was a virgin and he’d let her guide him: willing student, self professed devotee.

Although he’d left in a black cab afterwards he’d been there on the Wednesday, sat on the wall outside her hotel to greet her with breakfast, and on the Thursday night he stayed, not leaving her side until she had to return home on the Sunday, both seemingly bewitched by the other, on the phone making promises as soon as the train pulled away, laughing at each other's tears.

A week later she’d met him at Castle Cary train station, his life shoved into a rucksack, cheeks still streak marked from his tears at Anthony’s harsh words but eyes unable to leave hers.  She’d driven him home and introduced him to her dad as her boyfriend, moving him straight into her room- two weeks later Neil had all but dragged him out, telling him that if he was staying then he’d have to learn the ways of the farm, throwing wellies and overalls at him as he taught him how to make himself useful.

The intention hadn’t been to stay- at least not for long.  They’d booked a holiday to mark six weeks together, a week with some of Colin's school friends at the Nevada yacht club followed by a weekend in Vegas before flying home; on the first night, drunk but not so much that Colin didn’t know exactly what he was doing and fully believe that Marina did too, they’d walked to a nearby wedding chapel, paid $170 dollars to be married by a Prince look alike and well- that had been it.

In truth he’d been a little upset at the shock on her face when they woke the next morning and he had offered her an annulment- hoping to goodness that she’d refuse- and she had promised that she was happy.  It wasn't as if it would hold them back- they had plans, she was going to pause her degree, and they were going to fly out and teach sailing together, travel round the world, see as much of it as they possibly could.  They didn’t talk about life beyond that yet but Colin envisaged returning in a few years, settling down, having a few kids- she saw herself travelling forever, returning when her dad needed help from time to time, but otherwise just the two of them, free and happy, chasing the sun.

The honeymoon period had lasted just a few weeks- Marina shocked by how trapped she felt, even when Colin had done or said nothing any different to the promises they’d made before.  She found herself hanging out with her friends whilst he sat home alone or with her dad, and then when George had returned it had all gone awry.

It hadn't been planned.  They’d been drinking, some silly shots game he'd learned in the Navy, a large group of friends that had known each other for a while,  and at some stage in the evening she had realised that it felt inevitable.  Sleazy: she’d very much not wanted it to feel anything like the romance and domesticity she shared with her husband and it had been a mostly dressed quickie in the changing rooms, George pinning her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his hips: fast, dirty and so fucking needy that she’d screamed when she came and then cried for days afterwards, telling her husband she wasn't well, crying even harder as he treated her to chocolate and a romantic movie night in an attempt to cheer her up.

It had happened twice more: both times George passing through just for a few days, drink involved, both swearing to the other that it was the last time, a definitive goodbye. The final time she’d completely cut him off- telling Colin she was handing in her membership to focus on finishing up her studies ready for travelling, deleting the numbers of their mutual friends: she’d meant it.

Then of course she’d found herself pregnant and terrified, trapped between her own lifelong decision not to have kids and the shocking awareness of just how much he longed for a family, caught up in the guilt of what she’d done, feeling she’d somehow cheated him by not telling him about her fear of turning into her mum or indeed her mum’s history at all; her husband only knowing that she’d left after neglecting her as a baby and then passed away later.  He’d looked so damned fucking hopeful, even when promising he’d support her no matter what, and she knew she had screwed up but she loved him so she’d gone along with it because she thought he deserved it after the way she had let him down.

She’d spoken to George twice since then: once when he heard she was pregnant, friend of a friend gossip that permeated through the sailing networks and reached him wherever it was he was training, her promising him faithfully that the dates didn’t line up even though they did, reminding him they’d used protection and claiming that she and Colin had not. It had been when Violet was staying with them, she'd walked away, her and George spending the whole night sat on rocks by the waterside talking it out- he wanted her to run away with him, keep the babies or not, find somewhere they could both settle: she’d laughed at him, knowing the babies needed much more, finding motherhood impossible to imagine at all but even harder to picture without Colin at her side, admitting she’d messed up but still declaring herself in love with her husband when George had tried to pressure her.

The second time was a party, reunion for a teen team- she hadn't expected him to be there and they’d kissed, the kiss in the newspaper.  Of course the paper hadn’t shown that she’d shoved him away immediately afterwards, told him to never come near her again and it hadn't really mattered anyway because she had been unfaithful and she had already broken the marriage vows, but she was trying and it felt like damnation that the kiss that had seen them caught was the one where she had finally found the strength to say no.  By then though she had realised she wasn't in romantic love with Colin any more, she adored him and thought he was quite likely the love of her life but no longer in the way he so clearly loved her.  She tried to tell him and he wouldn’t listen, so she waited, knowing it would catch up with them someday, that she didn’t deserve this life of care and the gentle protection he had somehow woven around them both.

Now the worst had had finally happened and the truth was out there.  They’d argued, both said some harsh things, her more so perhaps in the desperate desire to make him see that she couldn’t be what he needed but hadn’t stopped caring- it had come out the wrong way of course and she’d hated that 'like a brother' line as soon as it left her lips but it had made him listen and maybe-

Marina stood by that: maybe it had been needed? Because it was true, heartbreakingly so.

She’d spent the rest of her day with her father, Neil alternating between anger that she had destroyed the man he considered to be his son, and fear at what it meant for the twins now, scared he’d lose them to Anthony’s lawyers and Marina’s habitual apathy.  Colin had been taken to a hotel in Taunton and she’d retreated to the twins and the annexe after dinner, sitting up all night with her laptop, trying to work out what came next.

The following evening she stood at the open door of the Castle Hotel, watching as Colin sat in the lounge area with his mum and eldest brother, a shared bottle of wine on the table in front of them.  Violet had her hand on his back, supporting him (god she wished she could be like Violet, such a natural mother, so full of warmth and devotion-it was part of the reason why she’d struggled so much with her really- that and the gut wrenching guilt, anyway), and Anthony was talking into a phone as usual, making notes on a laptop open in front of him.  She simply stood until he noticed her, raising his head for long enough that she could see how red his eyes were, how drained he looked; he nodded at her once and then walked to the bar, she stood alongside him as he ordered her a glass of sparkling water, just one sentence- “you driving, or…” she nodded and he knew what to order; Marina almost buckled from a painful rush of awareness, the devastating knowledge that she would miss that sense of being known but they couldn't go back, she couldn't be so deceitful as to even consider selling him a dream she no longer shared.

He led her to a table just out of earshot from his family, pulling out her chair and settling opposite, nursing his pint.

“Are you-“

“Are the twins-“

They laughed awkwardly after speaking over each other, the tension fading just slightly as Colin took a deep breath,

“are the twins OK?”

“Yes, yeah of course- I thought you would want to come over tomorrow, visit.”

His head dropped then, hand wiping away tears, “God Marina, visiting my own kids.  How the hell did we fuck this up so badly?”

“We didn’t, I did.”

“Do you think I don’t know that I didn’t always listen- I knew you didn’t want to continue the pregnancy-“

“Col-“

“No, listen: I know you love them, I really do but I did know.  And you tried to talk to me so many times and I wouldn’t have it, didn’t even ask where you disappeared to because I didn’t want to hear the answers.”

“Right, I’ll clear that one up- I went to see school friends.  Except once, yes to see George, but not for some lovey dovey rendezvous: it was when your mum came up, George had heard I was expecting, wanted to talk to me about the babies- I had been putting it off but thought fuck it.”

Colin looked around the old fashioned bar for a sign anyone had noticed her swearing but found nothing to worry about, shrugging he urged her to carry on-

“I told him that they were definitely yours, lied in fact, because as far as I am concerned they always have been- you are their dad.  He asked me to leave with him and I refused.”

“You could have left it there, nobody would have ever known, we could have still-“

“After that I saw him once, yes we kissed- you know that, you saw the photo- but I pushed him away and told him never again.  I meant it, I have absolutely no intention of seeing him again but that doesn’t mean I can keep hurting you.  I’m not glad it came out but maybe it had to?”

“I always loved you, always.  I knew you were- well suspected you were seeing someone else, but I didn’t want…”

“I wasn't seeing him, not the way you mean it: it was sleazy emotion free escapism at best, self harm really.  He was a symptom, not the problem.  The problem was us rushing into adulthood way too quickly- marriage and twins and you being so far away from your family-“

“You hate them.”

“I don’t.  Being around them reminded me of what I’d done, it was on me, not them.  I mean Anthony is a bit-“

Colin gave a sad smile, “he is, isn’t he?”

“And Eloise is something else altogether, god knows how you put up with her,”

“She always felt sorry for you, thought I’d coerced you into giving up your youth- well I did, I guess…”

“No!  You didn’t coerce me into anything.  I rather suspect that you’re the love of my life, it is just that I never really wanted that, thought I’d change myself to fit the idea and it never happened.  It is not your fault.  Some bits are all mine and some bits are neither of us- the twins, the fact that I have spent my entire life waking up every morning wondering if this is the day I turn into my mother, the day it all starts to end.  I never wanted to do that to a child but you- you are a wonderful father, I found a copy of my dad really, didn’t I?  I couldn’t deprive you of that chance.”

“I meant what I said, I would have supported you.”

“Hey, I know that”: she reached out and placed her hand over his, squeezing gently.  “I do, it was my choice- and I can’t regret it Colin, they’re my babies, I love them.”

They sat there like that for a while, knowing it was probably the last chance they’d be able to take physical comfort from one another, even if it was just a hand hold.  Eventually Colin broke the silence,

“so what now?  I take a flat in Taunton, miles away from everyone I know or love, no job, visitation twice a week?  You move George in, get the twins to call him daddy?”

“I will not be moving George in.  I- I have something for you but I don’t want to give you the wrong message.  Can you promise you will listen?”

“Ok.”

“First, to clarify: joint custody.  Always.  If you ever turn around and want a paternity test that’s ok but otherwise nobody needs to know, I told George you and I slipped and forgot to use a condom and that will stay as my story.  They are yours, you are an amazing dad.  But the flat bit- that sounds so miserable Col, your life was so heavily built around me and I am so very sorry for that, I should have reached out more- well there is a lot I’m sorry for.”

“So what’s the idea then?” 

She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope, unfolding the printed paper therein.  She took a deep breath before she started to explain,

“I booked you into a yacht master course, in Phuket.  I want you to have your dreams Col and that seems as good a place to start as any-“

“Two weeks away from the kids, Marina?  No"- His eyes flew to hers in some distress, she waited for him to calm.

“it would be more like a month with medicals, getting your hours up.  And then when you return I’ll do the same, probably a bit nearer home, France, you know I speak fluent French- you can take the twins to your mum’s or stay at the annexe.”

“A month on, a month off you mean?  They’ll fucking forget who I am- you might be OK with that but I’m not…”

“How will they forget, Col?  There’s facetime every night, bedtime stories- plenty of people work away from home, Anthony does sometimes when he has a case- you know that, your dad did when he was off on parliamentary business…”

“Yeah but…”

“I want you to chase that dream Colin, you deserve it.  Find out who you are beyond wonderful husband and amazing father.  I want that for myself as well- god, you just turned 23, you supported me all the way through my studies.”

“I don’t want that, I want to be with them every day.”

“How, without being miserable?”

“And if you got ill again-“

“I’ve discussed this with dad, he’ll help me and then when you come he’ll be your back up as well.  I think I've broken his heart if I am honest, he loves you to death, he’ll miss you as much as any of us.”

“And if I did go?  What then, what comes after?”

“Well I envisaged something similar. I’d like to sail competitively again, you could take on bookings or even buy your own boat- we’ll work out a routine that works for both of us. Some kind of partnership.”

“I need to think.  The idea of being apart from the kids is killing me-“

“We can't come back from this.  I know it's hurting Col but I don’t want to do this any more, it’s been a lie for too long, you deserve a future.  Maybe meet someone else,”

“yeah I’ll be such a catch- hey I’m Colin, on even numbered months I sail around the planet and the other months I live on a farm in the back end of fucking beyond looking after the twins that I adore more than life itself and that I had with the love of my life before she cheated and decided I was a brother to her.”

“I am not the love of your life.  I know that someone way more suitable for you is waiting somewhere, for when you are ready.  Someone who copes well with domesticity and wants a hundred babies and doesn’t spend their entire existence feeling as if the sword of Damocles hangs over their mental health.”

“Do you think that’s it then?  The big why- your fear that you’ll turn into your mum?”

“Maybe, it’s hard not to feel that way, that this might be my last day of coping, that every mistake or wrong choice I make isn’t somehow down to time running out- god that was your first thought wasn’t it?  That I did it because I was ill, not because I was just an idiot?”

“I suppose.  And if I do accept this idea– no promises, every bit of my brain is screaming at the idea of not seeing them every day- what happens when they are at school?  If I took them back to Mayfair- they need more stability than that, Marina.”

“I don’t know Colin, but we can work that out when we get there, maybe one of us will be ready then-“

“I’m ready now.  One word from me and Anthony will file for full custody….”

“I know and I half expected that.  I’d fight it but I would understand.  But I don’t think you’d take them from their home, from my dad; I don’t think you’d take them from me.”

“Christ, Marina.”

“I know. For what it is worth I am sorry.”

Colin stood up hurriedly, not wanting to cry in front of her, not again: “I’m going back to mum, I’ll be over for ten tomorrow, I will let you know what I think then.”

He didn’t say goodbye, just turned and walked out of the door to the gardens, followed soon after by his mum, Anthony shooting her angry looks and mouthing ‘fuck off home’ across the bar: she nodded in acceptance and walked away.

The next morning Colin turned up several hours early, sitting in his car until Neil brought him in, making him a cup of tea before letting Marina know he was there; Colin had always done the morning routine, couldn’t face the idea of the twins waking up to find him not there- Marina stayed in her room and let him feed, wash and dress them, only emerging once she knew everything was done and they’d be playing happily.  She made a drink and sat at the table with him.

“Have you made any decisions?”

“I can’t just sit in a shitty flat and know I am not allowed to be with them whenever I want.”

“I can’t imagine a Bridgerton in a shitty flat but I know what you are trying to say.”

“I’m going to do it, one month- a trial.  You’ll sign papers though, no me going away and you claiming abandonment or refusing to piss off yourself.”

“Fair.  I'm surprised you don’t have them already.”

“They’re in the car, Anthony drafted them last night.  It’s a trial, nothing more- I get to break it at any time.  Face time every evening and other times if discussed, we have shared parental responsibility anyway because I’m on the birth certificate so no big decisions without me.”

“OK.”

“I’m furious at you Marina, you need to know that- I won’t let the twins know but you have destroyed me.  I’m saying yes in a big part because I feel that if I can’t get away from this, this place where I thought my life would be I think I’ll go mad.  I am making no promises about after the course though, it’s a two month thing: me then you.  Afterwards if I decide to get a job with a British sailing club or run charters off the Kent coast- well you suck that up.  Ant thinks I could get custody, send them to school in Kent, live at Aubrey, work at any number of clubs there- “

“Is that a threat?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Right, that seems fair actually, I’d do worse in your shoes.  Look I’m going to fuck off to see dad and leave you with them and then you can come back every morning like this until you fly out.  We will arrange face time and we can buy books so we both have copies and all the things that will tie it together- and if it fails then we will try something else.  I dunno, maybe I will try living in London-“

“You need Neil.  You know that.”

“Yes, now, but maybe one day- maybe when they’re school age, or whatever.  I plan to use this time to get well Colin, properly well- I can’t live with my dad forever.”

“There is one more clause.”

“OK.”

“No George.  Well, I can’t tell you what to do apparently but living here, around the kids.  Unless I know and agree, anyway- I don’t want a 3am call from a five year old asking why Uncle George has asked her to call him daddy.”

“Oh Col, I promise that will never, ever happen.”

“You promised forever.”

“We married in a Crystal Wedding Palace Col, two lines and we’d been drinking- we barely promised anything at all.  But yes, point taken, there is no reason for you to believe a word I say so of course I would sign that too.”

“Do you regret us?”

“No, actually: no.  I regret how we went about it and I suspect we were meant to be for a while rather than forever but no, I couldn’t.”

“I do...”

“I can’t pretend that isn’t hurtful but OK.”

“And then it hits me just how much I love you and want to shake you and beg you to take me back but I know that can’t happen, shouldn’t happen- and if I didn’t have you we wouldn’t have the twins and- oh god Marina, I’m so scared.”

“I can’t find your answers for you.”

“I know.  I think I am hoping that they’re out there in Phuket waiting.  But if not at least I’ll be miserable and lonely with a tan.”

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

The car was taken away for repair before school the next day, Penelope reluctantly accepting a grey loan car in exchange, feeling the loss of the yellow ray of sunshine in her bones.  She called her headmistress, explained to the other staff in case anyone said anything at the gates and cursed herself for making such a stupid decision as to drive in her house shoes.

She had worried that the Bridgertons would be angry with her and was surprised to find that she was upset about that- usually she was happy to be a scapegoat, whether for kids whose parents expected more than they could give or an over stretched system that inevitably dropped the ball from time to time: she’d somehow come to rely on the little chats with Violet or jokes with Kate, a small touch of sanity and companionship amongst the comfortable predictability.

In fact she was surprised to find that Ben greeted her at pick up, a smirk across his face, waiting until the other guardians had departed to approach her, clapping and laughing as he did so.

“Oh teacher, well done!  Why make an entrance when you can make an –“  he spun on one foot, arm in the air, voice raised with dramatic effect- “entrance!”

“Ha bloody ha Mr Bridgerton, it was embarrassing.”

“Mr Bridgerton? Since when?  You knew me before the twins, Ben if you please. After all,”

She sighed and crossed her arms, facing him, lip twitching with laughter.

“After all?”

“I could have been your stepfather!”

Shocked she spluttered out a laugh, hand quickly covering her mouth and looking around her to check the other staff members had already left the yard; “Ben!”

He shrugged.  “How’s the car?”

She explained that it had gone to be fixed and the insurance would contact Colin, that she had thought it best to minimise the contact between them; he nodded, concerned.

“You know he doesn’t mean it, yes?  It’s not who he is-“

“I hit his car Ben, I suppose most people would be royally pissed off.  It’s ridiculously bad luck, just as I thought I was starting to build trust with the twins, Violet was hoping to get him doing school runs.”

“Oh mum will be dragging him along, no mere prang will come between her and her goals for his independence.  You know Violet Bridgerton; do not under estimate the woman, heart of marshmallow, spine of steel.”

“I’d gathered that. Seems to be a thing in her generation.”

“Nah, if you opened your mum up she’d be leopard print and stilettos all the way through and don’t get me wrong, you have to love her for it but there’s no point in pretending, she is who she is and she likes that to be Versace.”

“It’s a strength really.”

“Oh it is and I doubt anyone would change her for the world.  Listen I have to grab these two and run back to Soph but you’re OK yeah?  You can pay for it all, don’t need any help…”

“Nope, all set Ben, thanks.”

Somewhat relieved by the interaction she was home within the hour, pizza in the oven, marking spread out over the table, radio blasting as she danced along, enjoying the peace in the house; her mum out  with some friend or another, her sister still annoyed at her for missing babysitting so unlikely to phone.  She had a weekend away planned with her college friend Genevieve, flying in from Paris and meeting her in Bath Friday evening, and frankly she was ready to put her guilt and embarrassment over the car thing to bed.

It was with some annoyance, then, that she became aware of her phone ringing, the familiar ringtone (Chaise Longue by Wet Leg, mostly because it horrified her mum- really she knew she had to interrogate that instinct, she was well past her teen years now) just audible above the radio.  She turned down the volume and swiped to answer, the familiar cut glass tones of her mother immediately making her wish she’d left it to ring out.

“Penelope!  Where are you?”

“Home mother, where else would I be on a school night? Nobody else is going to sign off thirty pages of 5 year olds marking the letter J, are they?”

“Well you made that choice my dear, you were the one determined to work.  Now, I need you here.  As soon as you can get here and please, please- not wearing crocs.  Have some decorum, put on a clean cardigan or something.”

Penelope mouthed fuck off at the phone before asking “where is here, mum?”

“Bridgerton House of course.  Violet is making dinner and has requested your presence, has a place laid ready.”

“Oh no no no, no chance.  You know what happened yesterday mum, I might have chosen to take a teaching job in a difficult school when I could easily make your day and stay home painting my nails and learning to walk in heels but even I’m not that gullible.”

“Nobody said you’re gullible Penelope, just a bit… well I’ll tell Violet you’ll be here and see you in fifteen minutes.  Do put on some lipstick, there is some on my dressing table if you don’t own any.”

Portia immediately slammed the phone down whilst Penelope sat and stared at it in shock, horrified, before dialling her mum’s number immediately to tell her that it was a firm no: Portia had already switched the phone off. She shoved the papers in the file, all the while wondering why she was listening to the maternal instructions but heeding them nonetheless.  She dampened her curls and scrunched some curl crème through, dug out an old clumped mascara (promising herself she’d get Gen to help her choose more in Bath that weekend) and swiped a peach lipstick across her lips.  Staring in the mirror she grimaced as she heard her mum’s voice in her head, pulled off the chunky beige cardigan that topped her Popsy sunflower dress and replaced it with a navy blazer, adding converse then grabbing her bag and running across the square, all the while wondering what was so wrong with her that she didn’t just turn around and return home to her pizza, now congealing on the side where she’d pulled it from the oven in a hurry.

She’d feared arriving to find a crowd but was relieved to be greeted only by Portia and her mother, hovering by the drawing room door, immediately offering a strong drink (she accepted a vodka and coke and knocked it back quickly, to her mother’s annoyance and Violet’s apparent understanding, judging by the flicker of a smile she threw her way).  They went through the motions, sharing greetings and enquiries after each other’s wellbeing in a slightly awkward way.  Portia whispered that she was meeting Violet’s other half for the first time and felt rather outnumbered amongst the slew of Bridgertons and Penelope calmed slightly, accepting the logic of this, but wishing that her mum might be the sort who considered that her daughter might feel a touch awkward here just a day after she’d run into the son's car and sent him headlong into a tantrum.

The other Bridgertons and Bridgerton adjacents filtered in gradually; first Marcus, greeting Violet with a kiss before being introduced to Portia and Penelope; Penelope almost swooned, Marcus might be older but he had the gaze of a movie star, that charm she’d come to consider a staple amongst the males of the family and a way of moving that meant she struggled to keep her eyes off him.  Violet noticed with a nudge and smile, whispering as he disappeared to refill their drinks,  “he has that way about him doesn’t he?  Kate offered to fight me for him when I first met him.”

Penelope wrinkled her forehead, had she misunderstood the family dynamics?  “Isn’t Kate married to your eldest?”

“Well yes but you can’t blame the poor woman for looking.”

“How much have you had to drink, Violet?”

“Not enough dear; it’s been a fucker of a few months and your mother is introducing me to the concept of letting my hair down.”  Penelope gaped, expecting to find herself shocked but in fact just finding herself strangely at home amongst these people who had not only accepted her mum’s oddities but clearly relished them.

“I never thought of my mum as an altruistic type, bringing relief to those in need.”  Violet and Penelope giggled together, Portia pausing to watch them suspiciously from where she was helping Marcus with the refreshments,

“well perhaps sometimes altruism has it’s limits and we just need to learn to be a little selfish and enjoy ourselves as well.”  Penelope cast Violet a look and the older woman raised her hands in surrender, “Ok, OK: I know you hear that enough as it is. It does seem to be Portia’s catchphrase.”

The second drink was stronger and Penelope sipped at it gratefully as the other Bridgertons slipped in.  She’d wondered how the others would feel to find her in the mix but they were all welcoming, Ben throwing a hug at her in delight before properly introducing her to his wife Sophie, a friendly, gentle looking Korean woman who seemed to glow as her husband proudly called her over and wrapped his arms about her as he explained who Penelope was, enthusiastically and somewhat surprisingly claiming her as an old friend; Anthony simply patted on the back and whispered a hello as he passed by, seeming no more shocked to find her there than he might any one of his siblings.  She was in awe at elegant Daphne and starting wonder what was happening as she met Simon- surely no one home could host so many beautiful women people at one time?  And if it could what on earth was she doing there, entirely normal and a good foot shorter than the majority of them; thank goodness she’d at least heeded her mum’s warning about the cardi, just a shame she hadn’t had time for six weeks of facials and manicures as well.

Then only three missing were Colin- she raised a quick prayer of thanks to any deity that happened to be passing by Mayfair- Eloise, due to join them shortly, and Francesca, the latter still in Scotland, deciding to remain after early widowhood eighteen months before.  Penelope noticed Kate and Sophie exchange knowing smirks at that explanation and resolved to dig later, they must have registered her interest as they pulled her away to meet Eloise, just arriving home from work and muttering expletives in the corridor as she realised she was walking into an impromptu party.

Kate led the three younger woman to a set of comfortable sofas in an alcove before nodding to Anthony as he mimed 'drinks?' at her.  Penelope tried to refuse in consternation,

“I have an early start, Kate.”

“I’d have thought a permanent alcoholic stupor was a bonus if I was faced with 32 five year olds every weekday morning.”  She pulled a grimace face and Eloise looked towards her in interest,

“Perhaps,”  Penelope laughed, “but a hangover? Not so much.”

Nonetheless she agreed to a third, final drink and sat back to listen to the gossip (apparently half the family was convinced that Francesca’s reluctance to return home was at least as much to do with the ridiculous levels of chemistry between her and her late husband’s cousin Michaela as it was to do with any preference for the cold and isolation of a rural Scottish winter), and watch the two married women flirt across the room with their husbands, feeling a strange sense of longing that she hadn't really experienced since splitting with Alfie, firmly believing that the kind of loneliness one experienced within a relationship such as the one she’d had with Alfie was much worse than anything singledom could throw at her. 

Eloise tapped her arm and leaned in to whisper, “it’s sickening isn’t it?  Aside from the fact that I can’t for one minute understand how my goofball brothers captured the interest of such vivacious women, they are all perfectly matched- I’ve never really fancied marriage for myself but I watch them and…”  she gazed with just a hint of envy before switching her attention back to Penelope.  “And you?  I assume you’re happily settled, three kids…”

Penelope shook her head.  “Did you ever watch that documentary, Flipperz and me?”

Eloise nodded, “the  penguin was cute but the presenter was a creep.”

Penelope laughed, loudly enough for others in the room to shoot her an amused look.  “Well, that creep was my partner until he decided to follow that penguin so…”  Eloise looked horrified and Penelope shushed her apologies, “I’d say more of a bore than a creep but frankly it’s great to meet someone who isn’t gushing over how cute he must be to care about Flipperz and his boyfriend so don’t worry about it.”

“Flipperz was cute,”  Eloise replied, considering; “did you ever get to meet him?”

“No,”  Penelope laughed, “it’s weird enough when your long term boyfriend is in some kind of platonic threesome with a pair of penguins, I wasn't going to add to the polygamous vibes.  Each to their own but…”  she started giggling, clearly fuelled by the vodka on an empty stomach; Eloise joined her for a minute then stood up, announced “I’m not sharing this one with anyone, she’s a delight!” and dragged her from the room.

They spent the next half hour before dinner and most of the two courses chatting, Penelope caught with a strange feeling that somehow she’d found a soulmate in this energetic, confident young woman.  Indeed she was aware of Violet leaning towards her mother, indicating the pair of them and announcing “see, I told you so” with a  smug smile; Eloise took the chance to stare at her in disbelief, “neither of us are gay mother,”  Violet just shrugging, “well it was worth a try, lovely to watch a friendship forming anyway.”

The family began to drift not long after the coffee, Daphne’s family due to return home the next day, Kate and Sophie wanting to retrieve their children from the nanny to say goodnight.  Penelope was in the hall pulling on her shoes when she heard a cough and looked up, straight into the face of Colin, possibly the last person she wanted to see.

“May I have a word?”

“It’s your home, I guess.”  She shrugged, embarrassed but not knowing quite how to refuse.  He settled on the bench beside her, but not after reaching behind his back and presenting her with a bouquet of flowers, a mix of sunflowers, white roses and yellow gerberas, a blush on his face.

“I assumed that the – well shall we say unique colour of your car meant yellow was a favourite and now I see I’ve matched your dress, so…”

She glanced down at her cotton dress in embarrassment, “it’s- well it’s complicated.  But thank you, I’m not sure why you’re buying me flowers when I hit your car, though.”

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back oh his head nervously; Penelope almost rolled her eyes as her brain registered that when he wasn’t shouting he was at least as hot as the other residents of this ridiculous house.  “The insurers will deal with that, wasn't an excuse for me to behave like an absolute dickhead was it, I figured you deserved an apology.”

“It’s fine,”  she brushed it off, still very aware that it was far from fine; “I know things have been a bit tough for you lately, and…”  her words ran dry as she stared at the flowers on her lap, picking at the paper wrapping.

“Yeah, but none of that’s your fault is it?  Still, I wanted to say sorry, last thing I want is to fall out with the woman who teaches the kids, so there you are-“  he indicated the flowers with both hands- “sorry!”

Penelope was vaguely aware of a sense of disappointment that the man dismissed her as the teacher of his children rather than something else- maybe a very good acquaintance of the family, neighbour, woman- but it was so heavily buried in anxiety and acute embarrassment that she didn’t give it air time, only indicated her trainers, muttering something about the crocs hitting the bin the night before.  He nodded and started to say something but the door swung open and Anthony stopped and stared at the two of them, clearly worried that he’d stumbled on an argument or something that was likely to become one.  Colin stood quickly and muttered something about needing to check on the kids, Anthony tried to reach out to him but was ignored.  He turned to the guest instead,

“You OK love?”

Penelope finished tying off her lace and gathered herself, “perfectly fine Anthony, he was just apologising, gave me these in fact.”  She waved the bouquet at him with some embarrassment.

Anthony’s whole body seemed to relax with her explanation, “ that’s good- really good.  He’s a kind soul at heart but the last few years- they’ve fucked him over, he’s still a bit lost.”

“It’s what, nine months since he lost his wife?  Hardly a surprise.”

“Oh they weren’t together, it was- it was something much more messy in fact.”

“My mistake. I assumed he was working away, I didn’t realise they’d split…”  she pretended to straighten her dress, she was getting more useful information from this quick chat than an entire file of dry notes.

“They shared custody, a month at a time, until- well he came back after that and then fuck knows,”  Anthony raked a hand through his hair before seeming to remember that Penelope was in fact the teacher of his nephew and niece and not a close friend.  “Well, you’re right of course, it hasn’t been that long.  Is your mum ready?  Do you need someone to see you across the street?”

“I think mum will be staying but it’s visible from here,”  she pointed at her home and laughed, “I think I can make it.”

“Usually yes but you seem a little… wobbly.”

“I realise the old maid vibes are strong,”  she sent him a wink and a smile to show she was joking, “but I survived university, I can make it on three vodkas.”  She started to walk down the steps and almost went flying, he caught her and yelled to Kate that he was going to walk her home, make sure that she arrived without breaking her neck or walking into traffic.  Kate shouted out her acknowledgement and he took Penelope’s arm, starting to lead her back towards the  square before Penelope’s arm was wrenched from his grasp with a frustrated complaint of “my friend” and Eloise took over, guiding her safely (and unnecessarily) homewards.

"What are you doing this weekend, Pen?"  Penelope stared at her, unused to her name being shortened.

"Erm, meeting a friend in Bath."

"Can I come?"

"Well- uh- oh fuck it.  Let's call Gen when we get back to mine, see how the two of you get along."

Chapter Text

Not all intermissions come in the form of quick breaks, sat with small overpriced tubs of bland ice cream or ridiculously large vats of fluorescent iced beverages, entered into knowingly, peacefully waiting for a restart, perhaps even finding peace or remission in the pause.

Sometimes an interval is much less obvious at the time- something one can only truly recognise after the event, looking back with jaded eyes and a wiser brain; for Colin the next two years fit that description, seemingly seeing him step into a bizarre subplot outside of anything he experienced before or after, one where he simply bobbed along of the current of events, powerless to resist or enact any real change, flotsam, the time serving no purpose except to place a pause on the sort of twists that seem predictable only after they have happened.

Phuket was one of the most beautiful places Colin had ever seen- sun drenched beaches, lush green vegetation and palm trees that contrasted with azure seas to create a paradisical setting. Tourists sunbathed, partied, and sought spiritual rebirth in the shadow of a stark white giant Maravija Buddha statue; Colin watched them in a daze, casting empty expressions at those who tried to strike up conversations, fighting hard to resist the temptation to rail at them- how can you be so relaxed?  Can’t you see it’s all an illusion, life is just a big fucking mess, enjoy your time in the sun because it will destroy you too.

Frankly, he knew his company was a plague on the young carefree people joining him on the course, choosing to spend his time alone instead, staring at the horizon with a pensive, moody attitude or, if obligation called and he had no more excuses left, following the group on their days off, dragging his empty soul on tours of elephant sanctuaries, evenings spent kayaking across bioluminescent displays, lunchtimes at a luxurious floating beach club.

Heartbreak in the land of the gap year kid and trust fund baby.

It confused him: his misery should have set him free from the social obligations, made him the pariah that he wanted so badly to be but instead the hopelessly optimistic young people saw him as someone that could be saved, a project, a cause worthy of their time (he was under no illusions, well aware that all that set him apart from the examples of  down and out humanity that they habitually ignored was a trust fund, Eton education, and (as they kept telling him) 'the bone structure of a tortured angel').  Whether it was the drink and drugs as in the case of the straight men or the frankly endless offers of sex from the gorgeous, long legged women and glamourous gay men, he knew his brothers would be in their element but all he could so was wave his ring and mouth “married, with kids”- it didn’t stop them, they liked a challenge this lot, but all he saw was Marina’s beautiful golden legs in the bikinis, her curls flying behind as they jogged or ran- she was everywhere as much as she was nowhere.

His family tried, of course: they hadn't been happy about him going at all, terrified he’d lose custody altogether, but Eloise had stepped in and persuaded them to back away, suggesting that perhaps space and the chance to actually be a young person was what Colin needed- a few brainless flings or drunken nights out, a chance to see a life beyond the graveyard he and Marina had built for themselves.

He was obliged to check in with the Bridgertons every two days- Marina had paid for the course (Neil; everyone knew it was Neil), but Ant was funding the rest of it, and had made a deal for the continuance of communication- and the calls always went the same way; overly friendly brothers feigning excitement about the opportunity, forced cheerfulness, finally asking Colin how he was feeling-

“I’m not not having the fucking worst time of my life ever.”

The two youngest never seemed to process the double negative, the rest gave up trying to coax him into talking, the calls quickly becoming performative penance instead of the supportive measure they were so clearly meant to be-  he appreciated the intention, he really did, but all he wanted to do was disappear into the mindless fog and let it subsume him until either a path and sense of self emerged or he lost himself entirely.

Against his worst expectations Marina kept her word with the nightly calls, Colin reading the twins a story each evening, their bedtime at his lunch time, barely enough time for the tears of goodbye to dry before he was back on the water, throwing everything into the training because it was better than letting reality kick in, pretending just for those few hours that he was simply working away, that his family was intact. 

By the time the month was up he’d managed to alienate everyone, taking a dark perverse pride in that very fact, finding meaning in the act of being left alone, inner and outer worlds briefly matching in their emptiness. 

He especially enjoyed the bitter irony of flying back tanned, fit and looking younger than he had in a few years- no more dark circles from sleepless nights with the twins, curls wild with neglect and sea salt, slimmer even, from the very fact that his appetite had all but abandoned him:

Colin Bridgerton, without an appetite- the world had never seen the like.

He headed to Mayfair first, arriving in London a few days before the handover was scheduled, his family briefly placing optimism in his changed appearance but finding only bitterness and anger beneath the brightened exterior.  He went through the motions- lunched with his mother, football with Greg, Kate and Anthony talking him through paperwork, Ben taking him to a club where he sat and watched his brother gyrate with his wife on the dancefloor whilst he threw back drinks.  Marina had applied for the divorce the day after he left, a painful parting gift that Anthony had sworn was the height of cruelty when he was so far from his loved ones but somehow he knew her, knew she’d think it was a gift to him- a quick escape: one of the most fucked up gifts of his life perhaps but if there was one thing he’d realised about Marina it was that she saw herself as a curse, on her mum, her father, herself and then him- she’d think of the divorce as a way to release him, not for a minute registering that there was even deeper cruelty in the speed.

He caught the train from Mayfair, expecting Neil to meet him in the farm land rover, in truth looking forwards to a moment with the man he saw as a surrogate father, the only person he knew who could find it in themselves to see Marina as something other than a mess- not instead of: they were both hopelessly accepting of that by now, but something more as well, the wife and daughter they both loved still there somewhere, buried under all the layers.

Instead to his eternal surprise Marina met him, long legs dangling over the front of Neil’s car as she sat on the bonnet awaiting him, waving as he exited the station.  Her presence took him by surprise and he paused to stare and whisper a lone ‘fuck’ into the wind but her smile never broke; had he been an onlooker he’d have sworn that she was a friend there to welcome her bestie home from adventures and travels, not the unfaithful wife preparing to hand her children over to an ex so she could disappear for a month of making her dreams come true after forcing that bizarre privilege on him.

“Hey Babe!”  She kissed him on the cheek, clicking the car lock so he could throw his duffel in the boot, climbing into the driver’s seat beside him.  “How was the course?”

“Yeah, all qualified.” A three word answer: it was all he could manage.  She didn't give up.

“How was Phuket?  I know I’m off to Saint-Tropez tomorrow but I have to say I’m a leetle bit  jealous, was it fun?”

“Are you taking the piss, Marina? I survived it. That’s enough.”

She quietened at his harsh tone, “OK.  The kids are excited to see you.”

They drove in silence until they pulled into the farm, he threw his bag in the spare room and went to find Neil for an awkward reunion, clutching the kids and desperately trying not to show them how much he’d hated being away from them because he’d promised his mum, they couldn’t know anything about the mess they were caught in- it was the one real gift he could give them.

After a while Neil made his excuses and Colin and Marina headed back to the annexe, both sitting at the table for a cruel mockery of a family teatime.  They settled them for the night together, the familiar routine clicking straight back in, before closing the door on the bedroom and standing warily in the living room, staring at each other.

“Colin, I am so very…”

It didn't matter what she was going to say and he never found out- he simply burst into tears, the pent up emotions that he’d been forced to put on hold for the past month in his attempt to simply survive finally overwhelming him; she stepped forwards and gathered him into her arms, waiting for the sobs to ebb, hands slowly circling on his back.  Colin closed his eyes and drank in the familiar smell and warmth of her- clinging on to them like a life raft, hoping they might somehow help him claw his way back to a familiar shore.

When Marina tried to step back, Colin pulled her back into his body, whispering “please” as he did so, his head resting on hers for a moment before lifting her face and dropping a small kiss on her forehead.  When she didn’t try to step away he kissed her cheek, spare hand slipping to her hair to remove the claw clip that held it away from her face; when she still stood there he lowered his lips to her and kissed her, eyes screwed tightly shut so he didn’t have to do anything except feel, throwing his everything into it so he didn’t have to listen to the voice screaming at him to walk away, that he was only making it worse.

What surprised him more than anything was the way that she kissed him back; hungrily, as if she was trying to find a way to keep them both in the moment.  She stepped back and unfastened his shirt, her eyes fixed intently on every single button, slowly peeling it from his chest; he watched as her eyes raked over him, finger lifting to drift through his chest hair, tangling.

“Colin, I…”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But…”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters except this second. Just- do whatever you want Marina.”

She nodded and finished undressing him before turning to her own clothing; he stared rapt as she disrobed in front of him, skirt and utilitarian underwear soon landing in a pile on top of his own abandoned T shirt and jeans.  Then he pulled her by the hand towards the rug in front of the fireplace and fucked her so tenderly that they both managed to shut out reality and the truths they still knew had to unfold.

Colin awoke to find himself on the rug alone, a blanket over him and a pillow under his head, Marina clattering in the kitchen beginning to put together a breakfast for the twins.  He pulled on his clothing and headed for the bathroom, cleaning his teeth- his toothbrush still in the cabinet- and splashing water over his face, staring at the image in the mirror,

“what the fuck did you just do? You absolute, complete twat.”

She was waiting for him with coffee when he returned, perched on a chair at the table, indicating for him to join her.  He took the drink and his seat warily.

“You know I’m still going, Col?  Last night was- well it was a goodbye I guess.”

“I know.  We can’t come back from what happened, I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t want you to put your life on hold in the hope that I’ll change my mind or anything, it’s just- well I missed you, and you look amazing”-

“incredible pain and deep emotional turmoil will do that for a man, it seems.”

“If I could go back to the beginning and never sleep with George I would, but I can’t, you’re not the type to be able to live with that, and I need to cure whatever the fuck is wrong with me that makes me take those stupid fucking decisions over and over…”

“Has he been back whilst I’ve been gone?”

“What?  No- I promised.”  He nodded, accepting her answer.

“Well that’s OK then.  No explanations needed.  What time is your flight?”

Marina shut down slowly as the day wore on, refusing his offer to see her off from the airport with the twins, instead slipping away quietly with her dad after farewells.

The month went well; Colin slipped straight back into caregiver mode.  If anything he was less lonely than he’d been in a long while, long before the marital breakdown- Violet drove down for a few days, he and the twins caught the train to Clyveden to stay with Daph and her family for a week, he took then kids out on playdates and resisted the charms of the other single parents that spotted him there alone.  After two weeks the wedding ring finally came off, tucked instead into his coat pocket so he could grab it in the panicky moments but it was progress, he felt he was moving on, slowly coming to a tenuous form of acceptance.

Marina was diligent with the phone calls and bedtime stories at first, but it started to slip when he was with Daph, the odd day missing, then a couple days- he wasn't surprised, he knew she loved them in her own way but, as he explained to Neil over tea after he settled the kids to bed one night, she never seemed able to latch on to anything hat wasn't in front of her eyes- was always easily distracted by the next thing, chasing an adrenaline high then crashing.  It wasn't that she didn’t love deeply or understand the consequences, she just couldn’t step back from the moment or see beyond the next thrill.

“You don’t seem angry.”  Neil had been quiet with him since his return, clearly awkward and fearful.

“I’m still furious.  It just seems inevitable.  When I was here full time my role was to pick her up and keep her afloat, now it’s to circle and wait for whatever mess sha makes next, protect the kids, hand her to you to rescue.  She has us both trapped in her vortex, circling.”

“I know.  I want more for you than that though.  She’s my daughter, it’s my job to save her- she’s your ex.”

“She’s the mother of my kids, Neil.”

They’d half expected her to simply not return, but she did, on the same flight she’d told them she would, bearing gifts for the twins and full of stories, excitedly explaining that her old school friends had given her a job leading weekly trips, three, a few days off at each end, then home for a month and back again- the same role she’d always wanted for herself after university.  They put the kids to bed, had confusing but not terrible sex and in the morning Colin drove off, on his way to stay with Anthony so that they could invest a chunk of trust fund in his own charter boat. 

They went on that way for months, all the while the custody paperwork and divorce proceedings ticking along in the background; the ring was put away when the divorce was finalised, she changed her name back a few weeks later, claiming the association only brought scrutiny and attention.  He visited her in hospital when she booked in to have her fallopian tubes tied, adamant that she couldn’t risk any more kids (he agreed that she shouldn’t, fervently in fact) and she brought the twins to Caroline's baptism in her custody time, even agreeing to stay on site at the castle, albeit sitting quietly away from everyone, typing into the screen.  She was supportive when he had to fly to Scotland for a month, Francesca's marriage barely even a year old when John died suddenly and his sister needed him.

A year in she sat him down and explained that she’d been seeing people, that it wasn't ever serious but she didn’t want him waiting for her- he hadn't been, hadn’t even thought about the idea of anyone else but knew it was long over between them; he adhered to her wishes and began to fuck his away around the Med, hating himself for it, not recognising the man he'd become, flitting between women (and even a couple men- something he decided wasn't for him but had to be worth a shot if it filled the gap for a few hours); but always there to read to the kids, always back on time for handover, always losing himself in his ex wife for one night before custody changed hands and reality set back in.  He learned to fake being OK, build a whole new persona around himself but he knew his family didn’t believe it, that everyone was waiting for a collapse: he was too.  In the end it didn’t happen quite as he expected it, but it marked the first step towards a decision that changed everyone and everything he knew.

Chapter Text

Even the strangest of existences can become routine and after the second year passed Colin found a peace in the rhythm: a man constantly shuttling between two distinct lives but somehow tethered- mostly by his family, who kept up the visits no matter where he was, Violet and Neil’s friendship never fading- for a while Anthony had worried that there was a romantic edge, an awkward situationship, yet nothing that way developed and indeed Marcus joined them, a guest of his daughter at a society fundraiser Violet hosted, surprising both their families with a whirlwind and curated romance- Marcus kept a home in NYC as well as one in London, their shared time very deliberate, yet their relationship in no way the lesser for it.  If someone asked either of them if they’d ever be more they'd laugh and just say “we already are”, both more than happy with where they were.

Marcus met Neil and they got on but rarely spent time together- Violet travelling down when he was abroad working.  Colin’s siblings travelled to Somerset to visit him and he to them in London but what surprised him was how often they would time holidays to his stays abroad, sharing evenings on the terraces of the med whilst he worked in the day.  As the third year approached Colin found himself finding more meaning in relationships with his family and felt himself able to step back from the chaos, something that reassured them all, feeling as if they were witnessing their loved one grow as he finally stepped out from the shadows and into some form of recovery.  The life had stopped being a penance or, as he had considered it, parental extradition: it had become his normal, with rewards alongside the difficulties, consistencies and always, always his children, whether he was with them in person or not.

After trialling a few places in the Med he’d eventually decided to base himself in Cyprus, finding that the people and lifestyle suited him.  He bought a small whitewashed apartment, three bedrooms with Marina slowly agreeing to the idea of the children accompanying Colin to his new home for occasional holidays once the school years began and providing somewhere for family to stay; Ben helped him move in, Daph took over the interior design and for the first time since his marriage ended he felt settled- indeed, when he thought about how his family had deliberately enmeshed himself into his new life, perhaps now was the most he’d ever felt truly connected, even if his life still spread itself across the continent.

September was spent in England, the twins now 3 ½, the split with Marina just over two years in the past.  He loved this time of year in the Mendips- the end of summer came slowly, bringing with it a magical light and an almost mystical edge to the change of seasons, harvest festivals and celebrations of the autumn equinox keeping the town busy and alive, perhaps his favourite time.  Marina now barely contacted them when she was away and acceptance had come, they’d each had to find their own paths and there was pride in the fact that they had managed to without loathing each other, still a team where it mattered most. 

Away from the children and the many activities he busied them all with Colin had noticed a slowly growing wedge between him and Neil, the man on edge but refusing to open up, never hiding away, seemingly glad of his presence indeed, yet somehow distant.  His mum had said the same – that he seemed to be holding something back, and both had tried to dig for answers- Colin wondering aloud if Marina would find someone permanent and new, thinking Neil had been uncomfortable about a new relationship; nothing, digging carefully with shared acquaintances, listening extra carefully to the stories the twins told their cousins when they all hung out, wondering if a clue would emerge there- eventually he began to think it was all in his own mind and relax, finally believing he had found his answers when Neil joined him at the table one evening, Colin pausing his Netflix show and accepting the glass of wine, pulling snacks from the cupboard for what immediately looked to be a bonding session.

“So… the twins should start school in a year, what then?”

Colin must have looked confused for a moment, running through the situation and shared routines, failing to find a reason why it couldn’t work. 

“I guess the teachers will be used to kids having shared care arrangements, will anything need to change? The twins seem secure.”

Neil swilled his wine in his glass for a few moments, thoughtful.

“They need to be in pre-school now, I know they have many cousins and they are lucky for that but they barely know anyone here.”

Colin shrugged, “OK, i'll make some calls tomorrow; have you spoken to Marina about this?”

“She wants to home educate, Colin.”

It was the first he’d heard of it and whilst he couldn’t tell you why, a chill went down his spine at that announcement, foreboding: he looked at Neil for a heartbeat and the older man nodded, “I know.”

“”Is there something wrong with the local school, or…”

“Or.”

“How long?” The two words came with an acceptance, the look on Neil's face reading clear, a sense of the past repeating itself.

It had been so long since he’d even felt the need to check in on her mental health, his ex seeming to thrive with the space their arrangement gave them, willing to cover for the oddities and inconsistencies if it meant she returned well, able to parent effectively.  Although he was embarrassed to admit it they still indulged in their handover sex, more habit now than anything, never discussed or referenced afterwards: he didn’t know what it meant to her but for him it had come to define that strange transition between the two worlds, flicking a switch between lives, a throwback moment that hurtled him between personas.  She had never spoken about it or referenced what it meant to her- indeed she usually initiated it- but he assumed similar, perhaps with a stress factor, her separation and reunions somewhat more concrete.

“How bad, Neil?”  Colin tried to flick through memories of their brief conversations and moments, looking for clues and finding none- if anything she had seemed as settled as he was himself, chatty even, she’d managed a few story times and bedtime calls since he’d returned for September, the calls were always on speaker or facetime with everyone joining in and she’d seemed happy.

“I couldn’t tell you mate, we fell out a few months ago.  I didn’t say anything because…”

Colin stared at him, horrified: Neil had always been the conduit of stability, the reassurance- his involvement was why the services had remained away even with Colin gone, the twin’s consistency.

“Does mum know?”

Somehow that was Colin’s first concern- the idea that his mum knew and hadn’t said  anything, that the emerging bonds of trust and friendship between him and his family, once so fragile, had proven to be nothing but imagination and smokescreen: he didn’t know whether to be pleased or furious when Neil shook his head, relief slowly fading to anger as he gathered his thoughts around him.

“You did it again,” he whispered, suddenly hurt to have been shuttled back to his memories of that dark time when Marina was pregnant, Neil hiding truths in a misguided attempt to protect his family.

“I thought it would pass, I thought- if she didn’t trust me, if I pushed too hard she’d back off completely, she might stop coming home, lose her own kids.”

Colin rocked back in his seat, hands covering his eyes, groaning.

“Why couldn’t you learn, Neil?  You’re a father to me, you know that- but every time we really need to rely on you somehow it gets buried, and I’m the last to know.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“Amanda is my daughter, Oliver is my son.  I have to protect them,”

“I can’t say anything that might lead you to take them away from her.”

“When, Neil?”  Colin stood up, pacing in his frustration, fighting down the urge to let his anger flow and cruel words take over.  “When did I ever suggest I’d do that?  I could have, so many times- I only had to ask Ant or Kate, do you really think we didn’t have the paperwork drafted when we split? How am I supposed to make decisions without information- I could have returned, been nearby, instead yet again you kept me oblivious.”

“Parents fall out with their kids Col, especially adults all sharing a house- there’s always been little differences, mornings she wasn't chatty or days I was too busy with the farm.  It’s the same with us, I guess it faded and it took me time to catch up.”

“There’s always an excuse isn’t there?”

“No, only one: I love you but it’s my job to protect Marina above all else.”

“Is it?  Not the twins?  So, what happened?”

Colin didn’t take a seat next to him- he felt betrayed more than anything else, the many promises of the past, that he’d never hide anything again rendered meaningless- and he wasn't surprised, not really: he'd known that this was both Neil’s biggest strength and flaw, his blind adoration of his daughter.

Neil shrugged.  “I couldn’t tell you.  She fades, you know that- no real reason, happens all the time.  It’s only when I dig that it becomes a problem and I made the mistake of digging, asking how she was going to manage with her disappearances and lack of routine when then kids started school.”

“Woh- Neil hang on.”  Colin took deep breaths, a sense of panic and dejavu overtaking him, “disappearances? Lack of routine?  Nobody told me anything, why didn’t I…”

“Does it matter?  Why shouldn’t she go out, she’s young Colin, she can’t be expected to answer to me- as long as I’m in the house.  You’re both still kids really.  And the routine- I tried, I tried to help her establish one, we had something- an afternoon walk, morning trips to shops or the library- and then it vanished, she lost interest.”

“Right, OK- I need you to clarify.  YOU say she disappeared but you also say she has you on site- which is it Neil?”

“Once, just once Col- I came in after hearing the car pulling off, thought she’d taken them to the park, she’d just left them.”

“You-“

“That was when things began to turn.  I took the car keys away so she had to come to me, couldn't…”

Colin stood abruptly, moving to gather jackets and shoes, shoving water bottles and snacks in a bag before shouting for the kids to finish their game up.  He faced Neil,

“I need to get the fuck out of here.”

“I can’t let you take them from her.”

“I’m going to the fucking park, Neil!” he pushed his hands through his hair, “I need to think- I don’t want to fall out with you, I…”

“An hour.  If you’re not back in an hour I’ll…”

“What?  Call the police?  I have parental responsibility and currently care.  If I want to take them to the park I can, if I want to pack their things and head back to Mayfair I can and let me tell you, I may very well do so.”

“We’ll get her help, it worked last time.”

“How?  If she isn’t talking to you, she only speaks to me to… well, look just give us space.”

The twins came running in, excited by the impromptu trip out; Colin gathered them up and asked how they fancied a trip to the park followed by lunch out- he shot Neil a glare and the older man nodded, leaving the room: Colin assumed either to call his mum or Marina, but was shocked when he was already in the barn as they drove past, head firmly buried back in the sand.  Colin would usually beep him or wave up: he did neither.

He took ten minutes to play with the twins at the park before stepping back, leaning against a tree and pulling his phone from his pocket.  Amanda was kicking a football around the field, shooting at a makeshift goal of jackets and rucksack; Colin’s heart hurt to watch her, knowing how much she was looking forward to starting school and the local football team attached, already covering her room in images of the England women’s team; Greg had promised a few coaching session over the summer, and she’d been watching games with Ant’s kids on facetime; Oliver crawled in the grass with a crayon and paper, taking rubbings of the bark of the trees, always a bit quieter but still busy, always exploring, both so very ready for a next step.

He wasn’t sure who to call: Violet would be hurt by Neil and want to interfere, Anthony immediately out with the paperwork.  He didn’t know quite what to do yet but he knew starting by threatening and scaring everyone would only add to the problems.

He called Sophie.  Lovely Sophie who had helped last time, her medical knowledge the catalyst to recognising the situation, someone who had come as close to befriending Marina as anyone else ever had on their trips, always willing to listen and advise without judging.  He knew she couldn’t do anything real, but he needed to speak to someone to help him choose the next path.

She was home alone when he called, Ben in the studio and kids at school: perfect timing. 

“Hey Col, two minutes please, let me finish up and I’ll be with you.”

He grunted an agreement, flicking to a message coming through from his mum asking how everyone was- charmingly oblivious, at least he had them all on his team- he wasn't sure he’d felt so safe that last time.  Last time: how many more? Was this it, or was it just the next in a chain of crises that he and the twins would have to navigate until they both reached adulthood?

She wasn't long, he could hear the sounds of her settling with a cup of tea, stirring spoons and scraping chairs- he sighed: of all those he knew Soph truly knew how to listen and was adept at making someone feel that they’d set aside time, god Ben had done well in his choice of wife.  He batted away the sense of failure: their family might not be exactly typical or what he’d wanted but they were doing their best weren’t they?

“Wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon Col, your mum said you were hoping to pop over next week and I’d see you then.  Everything OK?”

He sank down onto the grass with a muffled sob, quickly covering his mouth with his hands as he looked around to check the kids couldn’t hear him: Amanda had joined Oliver at another tree, both examining the trunk closely, peering at something, probably a spider.  He raised their attention and pointed towards the bag, miming for them to have a drink.  They shook their heads and went back to whatever had captured their attention.

“Soph- it’s Marina.  It’s happening again.”

“It?  What do you mean, 'it'?”

He detailed his chat with Neil, hearing a shocked “fuck” as he explained about her leaving the kids- he hadn't realised Ben had returned, could hear.  He called out a miserable hello to let his brother know he’d been heard, Ben grabbed the phone.

“Col, you can’t…”

“What?  I can’t what?  She has a right to custody in the agreement, Neil would never admit it if I told anyone, he can't see past his bloody daughter, not even for the sake of his grandkids.”

“What if Soph and I called social services?”

“I’ve lived there for five years Ben, on and off- Neil is supposed to be a close family member and I can’t seem to get past the defences, what chance would anyone else have?  You think he’s going to admit to anything, if it means her losing the twins?”

“You can’t just leave it mate, what if next time Neil doesn't realise, or it gets worse.”

“How? How do you think it will get worse?" He was too scared to let himself spiral, wanted to ehar someone else spell it out.

Ben didn’t answer but he could hear the unmistakeable sounds of the couple bickering, Sophie telling Ben to step back, Ben swearing about Marina’s irresponsibility, muttering that if Colin couldn't sort it they’d bring the twins to them, get them settled in time for school.  Eventually Colin coughed really loudly, waving to the twins who looked up from their nature hunt to check on his wellbeing, stopping his siblings stone dead.

“Remember I'm here, yeah?  I can hear you threatening to- well, the twins are with me so I won’t repeat it.”

“Sorry Col,”  Ben sounded sheepish and handed the phone to his wife;

“So what are you going to do then?  You’ve what, two, three weeks before you fly out again?  If you were nearby, but…”

“I thought I could trust Neil.”

“He has some serious issues when it come to Marina, Col, it’s not the first time.”

“No.”

“So?”

“God I need to think.”  He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped an arm around them as if he was hugging himself; “I don’t want to push her over the edge, if something happened- I could never forgive myself, more importantly the kids wouldn’t either.”

“What do you think would happen?”

“I don’t fucking know do I- I see her a few hours a month, handover and then we only, well- how am I supposed to know?”

“Well?”

“Don't ask.”

“You absolutely fucking idiot Colin.  I’m surprised Neil hasn’t kicked your arse.”

“I doubt he’s switched on enough to know.”

“So, what next…”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Is that what you need?  Us to take over or support you?”

Colin went silent, cradling the phone in his hands, watching the twins.  He jumped up as Oliver pushed Amanda off the swing, rushing over and redirecting him, checking Amanda over and giving her a hug.  It was five minutes before he could get back to the call, apologising.  Ben brushed him away,

“I could hear mate, we’ve all been there.  Well, no but you know what I mean, multitasking.”

“Yeah, I do.  I don’t know, Ben.  Last time I was in the house, had Neil…”

“You still have Neil.”

“Can I trust him?”

“When you split with Marina, we were worried-“

“’We?’”  Colin's voice almost held a sense of humour, this was the Bridgerton coming through, he knew it as he knew how to breathe.

“Yeah, we- same as 'we' when Nigel went after Daph, when Ant got in too deep with Edwina- you know the 'we' well enough.  We were worried obviously, our brother the single parent but mum pointed out that you weren't, not really- you had Neil there with you both, she didn’t like the month on month off thing but it gave you both space to grow, it wasn't as if you were stuck in a single bedroom flat fighting bailiffs and never getting a break.”

“No, it’s been far from that.”

“Right, but without Neil?  Where is your back up?  If you can’t trust him, with Marina fragile…”

“Is she, though?  Yes she struggled but that’s not rare, we all assume she is battling herself because of her mum but what if she’s just- if she just doesn’t care?”

“You believe that?”

“When I’m away I call every day, read a story, say goodnight.”

“And Marina?”

“Good months?  Twice a week.  Bad ones? Never.”

“I can’t imagine a month without speaking to my kids.”

“No.  Well, I don’t think I have missed one evening, no matter where I was or who- well yeah.  No, I lie:  I switched to lunchtime one day because I had to sign the contract for the apartment.  That was it.”

“You;’ve been remarkably reliable.”

Colin sniffled, and made a vague warning sound; Ben took the hint, backed away from the praise.

“Ok, ok: the kids are with you.  I’d suggest Ant first but instead I'm offering- let me take over this end, pull things together.  Go and entertain the kids, feed them, I’ll be back when I have news.”

“Please, I think I need that.  I’m sorry Ben.”

“No need.  Speak later, love you bro.”

The phone went dead and Colin pocketed it, exhaling.  He checked his watch and kicked the ball abandoned at his feet towards the duo, shouting at them to join him for a kickabout before getting lunch.  One man against two three year olds should have been easy but he kept tripping over them and they didn't play fair, giggling as they tripped him up and distracting him whilst the other twin used their hands- by the time they’d all fallen on to the grass, giggling and breathless, Colin was very sure: he'd do whatever it takes and if he could save Marina then great but this was what mattered, this was his place in life.

Mayfair.

Ben took a minute to hold Sophie, watching his own kids battle for the controller on their x-box, allowed an hour before dinner.  His eldest Charles shot him a look of disdain, groaning as he always did when they hugged or kissed in front of him but the others ignored him, used to it.  After a moment Soph kissed him on the cheek, pushed him off her lap and whispered “go, I know you need to.”  He kissed her a last time and made his way to the little annexe that served as both of their offices, Ben point blank refusing to have a study in his own home, reminding everyone that he wasn't his brother.

He deliberated before picking up the phone, knowing that any choice came with risks; a big part of him wanted to report Marina to social services, but he Colin was right about Neil closing ranks and anyway, would an over stretched service really do much about her leaving them, with another adult present and willing?  There were enough art therapists in his creative cohort, all with stories of funding shortages; he doubted anything would happen except the alienation of Colin- he breathed deeply, pressed a button and waited for the phone to ring.

“Hi mum, I think we need a chat, are you sitting down?”

Somerset

Colin stayed away as long as he could, lunch stretched into a cinema visit and shopping trip, but eventually the kids started drifting towards sleep and he knew he had to return.  He felt absolutely no surprise to find Anthony’s car on the drive, sighing deeply as he climbed out, putting on an excited voice to the kids who went darting after their uncle and aunt, over the moon when they also found Violet sat at the table, waiting for him, already settled in with drinks and biscuits.  He was surprised not to see Neil, and asked after his father in law.  Anthony shrugged,

“haven’t bothered with him, let ourselves in, he hasn’t been in to see us.”

“Figures. I’m just surprised you didn’t drag Ben as well.”

“Someone had to have the kids Col, he sends his love.”  Kate walked over and threw a hug at him, that opened the floodgates and his brother and mum joined in, before Kate kneeled down, whispered to the twins that she had come to see them not their stinky dad and could they please take her away and entertain her?  He shot Kate a grateful smile and sat down for the war council.

Colin laid out what had happened, shaking his head when Violet suggested things might even out when school began: “she wants to home educate, Neil told me today.  She’s isolating again, I can feel it in my bones.”

“She has a right to make choices of course, but…”  Violet sent Anthony a look, Anthony shook his head:  “with her mental health and Colin having parental responsibility we can push for school, especially if we can get Neil on side.  That stunt she pulled when she was pregnant- I don’t want to use that, but-“

“Whatever it takes to protect the kids.”  Colin nodded, “I agree.  Get something in writing, Ant.”

“And when you’re not here?  It’s not as if you’re down the road.”

“I know.  I've thought about returning of course, but I still have contracts and the apartment, it’s not like I could never fly back is it?  And there are friends, people I need to say goodbye to.”

“Have you met someone, Col?”  Violet seemed to brighten; he squashed it down, quickly, “nobody serious but she deserves a proper explanation and goodbye, I won’t be breaking anybody’s heart but basic respect and all that.”

“Fair enough.  What about Marina?  Has she got anyone, friends or – anyone who can help support her?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“No boyfriend, nobody she was-“

“Sleeping with, apart from me you mean?  Come on I know Ben told you.”

“I really could punch you right now for that.”  Anthony shook his head, Colin nodded;

“go ahead, I deserve it.  I’d have to ask Neil, he said she goes out, so I presume there must be someone she meets but can she rely on them?  Unlikely.”  Violet nodded and stood up,

“I’ll go ask then,”  closing the door behind her quietly, leaving her facing Anthony across the table.

“Did you- were you hoping the two of you would get back together?”  Ant sounded frustrated, Colin fought to explain.

“Not once, we were too toxic- I guess, it all felt outside the real world you know?  I’m off partying and working for weeks and then I step back into this place which is more like a memory, wife or ex wife and kids and all that- I expect it is even more so for her given her lack of contact when she is away.”

Anthony nodded, “promise me that ends now.”

“Promised.  No question; I'm not sure I want to be in the toom with her at all any more, but there's no choice.”

“Do you want to go for full custody?”

Colin shook his head; “I thought about it, of course I did but if there is a way to avoid that- we’ve shown she can’t do it alone,”

“or with Neil,”

“but if we can find one last way to help and if that fails- then we go for custody, and we go all out, back to London- if her contact history is anything to go by she wouldn’t manage to stay in touch if I have the kids, I have to be sure if that’s the road we go down, knowing they'll lose their mum.”

“What do you suggest?”

“They have to go to school, Ant.  She has to seek help,”

Ant nodded, agreeing.  Colin kept talking,

“Until she does a nanny in the house, and she can have a copy of a custody application typed up so she has a very real sense of what will happen if she doesn't comply, if she puts them at risk again.  Kids stay in Neil’s overnight so she can’t vanish, she can’t be in sole care of them: review in six months.”

"Expensive.”

“We’re rich as fuck, may as well spend some.”

“Right, it would keep them safe and I get what you mean about needing to be sure- think she’ll comply?”

“Not a fucking clue, did I ever? The Marina I thought I knew would never do anything like this.”

“You going to call her back?”  Again Colin shook his head,

“No, a couple weeks to cool down would be useful if I’m honest, have a nanny in and trained before I go, I can meet her from the airport, let her know what’s happening.”

“I can have the paperwork with you in a week, but you don’t need a nanny.”

“No?”

“No, well not at first- mum’s moving in, she insisted, for the next six weeks anyway.  She wants eyes on the kids and Neil, Col.  That way you can-“

“get rid of the apartment, sell the boat, yeah I know.  It was nice whilst it lasted"-

“Was it?”

Colin shook his head, a wry laugh- "no, it was fucking hideous.” 

They chatted for the rest of the evening, Anthony scrawling on his legal pad, half general chit chat and half custodial paperwork; shortly before they called it a day, Anthony heading to Mayfair and Colin to bed, Violet returned, sitting exhausted, somewhat bleary eyes: at a guess she’d been crying but they knew she’d never admit it.

“It’s a deal, I’m staying.”

“What about Ant’s kids, Daphne’s?” Colin was concerned; he desperately wanted his mum but knew his siblings relied on her.

“It’s your turn, I think: you always held me at arm’s length, they’ll cope- there’s enough of them to juggle.”

“Did you learn anything?”  Violet’s lack of response drew immediate curiosity, she looked between them in concern.

“Nothing concrete, no: Neil has suspicions but…”

“George.”  Colin stared at the ceiling, he’d known, hadn’t he?  Marina’s strange fixation, even after all these years.

“He’s definitely back, Neil doesn’t know if it’s him, or…”

“I’m not doing that paternity test.”

“I can’t think of a worse thing for you to do right now brother, we’re with you on that one.” Ant was gathering his things, pausing to slap him on the back for support.

Violet settled quickly, despite the tension between her and Neil- Colin had heard raised voices between them a few times but didn’t interfere, understanding that they needed to navigate their own way through this, their friendship was an entity in itself.  She didn’t say much bar venting her frustration one evening in front of the TV-

“it’s not as if he didn’t step up, he thought she'd gone and he was with them in seconds- but I can’t trust him if it happens again, and he keeps making excuses for her.”

“I know.”

“She’s an adult, she has to take some responsibility, what happened to her mum was awful but she can’t hide beneath that forever.  He has to stop enabling her.”

“I know, honestly I do mum."

“But then I look at you, at my kids and well- if I thought one of you might go the same way as Edmund I doubt I’d be any better at coping, keep you locked away inside, away from the bees.  At least with something like that it’s possible to understand that it was unpredictable, nothing could have helped- he blames himself for his wife.”

“He’s not a bad man, just as confused as we all are.”

“Right.  So you go fetch Marina when she comes home, I stay here and we’ll see.  If I say it’s not safe"-

“Agreed.  I will be guided by you; whether a live in nanny is enough or it’s custody,”

“and I’ll push her to get help.  I can’t promise we’ll manage this, but we’re fighting Col, not just for the kids and you but for her as well, even if she can’t see that yet.  She's still family really.”

The next few weeks felt like one big exhale, the strange intermission of the last few years at an end, something more sustainable in view.  He found a flat to rent in a nearby village, looked at enrolling on a distance learning course to keep him occupied, whether that was around the existing agreement or something very different.  By the time she was due to return they both felt prepared, Anthony’s paperwork in place, Neil on board albeit reluctantly, Violet firmly established in the guest bedroom, unmoveable.

He had dreaded this day, but as he pulled off to fetch her he knew it was needed, that he was ready for something to be decided.  He texted her to let her know where he was waiting but didn’t leave the car; she slipped in besides him, silently.

“Dad told you.”

Colin nodded as he turned the key and put the car in gear, checking over his shoulder as he pulled off.

“Quite a bit in fact, some definite and some guesswork.  Wanna start?”

“Where?”

“What were you thinking, Marina?” he tried to keep his voice steady but it shook with the force of his anger, “leaving them alone!  If Neil hadn’t checked-“

“they were asleep.”

“and you think that’s enough?  Where did you even go?”

She chuckled, he felt himself repulsed by the sound; “nobody else thought to ask me.  I think you know the answer.”

“We guessed but I needed to hear it from you.  So you’re back together?”

“No, he was only here for a few weeks- don’t worry, he never visited the house or kids, I kept to my promise.”

“Why?  Why risk it?”

“I can’t do it the way you do Colin, I can’t be as good as you; I just get in my head and convince myself"-

“So you’re not safe to have custody, are you?  Not really.”

“You can’t take them.”  She went white: he found that reassuring, his real fear was that she would agree, walk away. 

“I can, Anthony has the paperwork but perhaps against my bloody better judgement I don’t want to.  There are caveats.”

She nodded her head, “anything.”

“Mum stays for the next month-“  she looked horrified and went to argue, but bit it back when she saw how determined he looked, instead whispering a reply, “OK.”

“Neil said- home educating.  They go to school, regular school, nothing online, nothing alternative.  They attend daily.”

“But schools interfere, they stick their noses in- what if they think I’m not…”

“It’s not optional, you can accept it or we force it.  If you’re worried about what they might find maybe just do the thing properly, then there’s no risk is there?”

“What if I can’t ?”

“Do you think that’s the case?”

“I don’t know, my mum- what if I…”

“Fuck sake Marina!” Colin swung into a parking space and slammed the hand brake on.  “We all have trauma, I lost my dad too if you remember, you can’t blame every stupid decision you make on her. You’re not a teenager any more, if you can’t prioritise the twins I’ll let Ben call social services, he’s been itching to do that for weeks.”

“You can’t-“

“I fucking can.  I haven’t because I want to believe you can sort your head out, get back to therapy, choose to make it work.  Ant has a custody application drawn up, I'm coming back to the UK after the next trip- it’s up to you now.  When it was just us you could fuck up as much as you wanted but not the twins, you don’t get to fuck them up as well.”

“I don’t know if I have that in me.”

“Fine, just say that again to confirm and I’ll call Anthony now, we’ll pop by for supervised visits and maybe when they’re old enough to be safe if you fuck off to see some bloke then we can look at it again, so what- a decade? More?”

“I don’; want that.”

“It’s your choice.”

She said nothing, crossing her arms and drawing into herself; he started the car and they drove home in silence.  When they pulled in Marina touched his elbow,

“I’ll do it, Colin:  I’ll make it work, let your mum help me, whatever.”

“You have to be serious about this, when mum is here it’s OK- after that, we’ll get a nanny anyway, you obviously need space and help but that’s it- that’s game over.”

“I promise.”

Colin flew out the next day, two weeks notice to serve on his contract and appointments with holiday lettings offices booked, thinking it would be better to have the income from the apartment; he spoke to Violet three times a day, spoke to Marina before the bedtime tale.  Everything seemed fine- difficult, Marina clearly resented Violet’s presence but tolerated it, thinking all was OK:  it wasn't.

A week into her stay Violet was growing concerned.  It wasn't that Marina was doing anything wrong exactly- the kids were cared for, entertained, nurtured even; it was something more tenuous, niggling in the background.  For a start the woman never seemed to sleep, still awake after Violet settled and up before her; she ate little as well, excusing it as an athletic diet which Violet had believed until she spoke to Gregory, also a sportsman and horrified by the sheer lack of calories and volume in her meals.

She attended her meetings as well but she didn’t engage, just nodded  along and  agreed to anything.

Violet told Colin all this and he shortened his stay, aiming to return home as soon as possible.  He never got to make that decision.

At 2:25am on October third Colin’s phone went off, three times in succession.  He slept through the first, had to make his way to where it was charging so missed the second, and answered on the third: it was his mum, in the background he could hear Marina crying and screaming, Neil soothing.  Immediately his thoughts went to the twins, horrified-

“Colin!  It’s not the twins I promise, they are fine, everyone is safe"-

“Oh fuck!” He let out a whimper with that, his body sagging with the adrenaline, images that had been flashing before him still tormenting him.

“It’s Marina, well- George died.  On Naval training. A week ago now. She’s- she hadn't told us and now, Colin I think she's going to be sectioned, she's in the middle of a breakdown, not safe, she had her tablets out.  Please, you need to get home.”

He was at the airport by 4am, on a plane by 7, landing at Heathrow at 2pm, met by Ben who informed him that Marina had been medicated by the doctor and they were all waiting for him.

“Neil is her next of kin, Ben; why me?”

“She still has you on her paperwork, and Neil wouldn’t make the decision without you.  I’m sorry Colin, mum had found her a place as an in-patient even before this happened, sixth sense I guess, and then when she broke tonight- it’s this or state care.”

And so Colin Bridgerton, ex husband, father of two, cherished third son and sometime drifter found himself, at the youthful age of 25, persuading his former father in law to allow his daughter to be sectioned by a private psychiatrist, forcing her into mental health care against her will, knowing the only alternatives were worse.  He didn’t know it then but it was a moment that would play out for the rest of his life, always wondering if he could make any other choice, his mum adamant that he could not, that Marina had been a danger to herself, Neil too shocked to process anything at the time but gradually growing to accept the conclusion that it had been both inevitable and the moment he started to lose his daughter, a gradual inevitable decline that somehow he’d always known was coming, but couldn't admit until afterwards.

Chapter Text

By the end of term Penelope had come to the firm belief that the Bridgertons were less of a family and more of a cult: had they not resembled each other so much, as if someone had fed Violet and Edmund into Chat GPT and requested images of their offspring, she’d have seriously wondered if that was the actual truth of it all.

It wasn’t just their constant striving to pull them all in, even Pip and Pru had visited and Albie was a new favourite with the women (she couldn’t blame them there, it was impossible not to adore him), it was the way they quietly worked in the background, as if moving chess pieces on some mythological board, Greek gods the lot of them- she shook her head to dispel the image, the Bridgerton men lined up in chitons, golden wreaths upon their head: she didn’t know where that thought had come from but it needed to be gone, she wasn’t quite sure whether these people were friends or some strange secret nemeses, but she sure as hell didn’t need to imagining their half clothed selves!

She was trying to explain this on the end of term staff outing, rather glamorously held at the Wetherspoons nearest the head’s home (so she could easily wander back whatever state she ended up in), inebriated hands waving in the air as she argued her case, fully aware her colleagues were biting their lips and glancing at each other; if she focussed she could even see a TA (the twin’s TA?  That made sense) filming her on their phone.  Still, the NQT had put the table number on Facebook, they’d all shared it and all their family and friends had been sending a constant stream of bizarre alcohol and inadequate foodstuffs to the table, she’d be amazed if anyone remembered it tomorrow.

“And have you noticed,”  Penelope lowered herself to the table, remembering not to name them but not much more, trying to whisper conspiratorially but just shouting with a slur, “that since we've known them every grant application or funding request has been agreed?  It’s as if they have a member on every board in London, don’t you think that’s weird?” she thumped her hand to the table like a gavel: “cult!”

“Interesting theory, maybe we’re just horribly rich and interfering.”  Penelope’s eyes shot to the side of her in horror, almost toppling off her chair as she noticed a highly amused Benedict kneeling at her side.  She pointed at him, accusingly:

“Why are you here? You’re too posh, it’s illegal for you to be in a Wetherspoons.”

“I shall turn myself into the police immediately.”  He turned to her colleagues with a grin, “is she always like this?”

They shook their heads, not knowing whether to laugh hysterically or half die of mortification for a beloved colleague. 

“Shame, she’d be much more fun- I can see where her mum’s genetics came into it after all, I was starting to wonder.  Penelope, will you be able to get home safely?”

“I am not,”  she pointed at him, head resting on her arm, “getting in your car, you’ll take me to the cult house and lock me up, I don’t care how good you look in a toga.”

“Chiton,”  Helen whispered, “Greek gods wear chitons, remember?”

“Chiton.  It’s creepy, go ‘way, take your perfect curls far, far away.”

The sole sober member of their party, a Muslim teacher who swore every year that she’d never attend again until she remembered how much ammunition she always got from the event, clamped a hand firmly across her mouth: “he’s a guardian, Pen- zip it.”

“Oh it’s OK,”  Ben pulled a chair up, Pen groaned but he ignored her, “I was almost her step dad once, forget the more formal relationships, I am purely here for the shits and giggles. Ladies,”  he nodded at the sole male staff member, “and gentleman, sorry- bloody hell you’re a brave man- pretend I’m not here, I’m just enjoying this whole new side to Penelope.”

“You were not my step dad, don’t be a… a… what’s the word, liar.”

“Oh now, your mum and I were very close, once.”

“For a month!  A month, Ben.  Where is your wife?”  she pointed accusingly, not enjoying the way that the other teachers were clearly melting over his smirking face.

“Soph is at home, sent me out for supplies,”  he waved his bag, “she’s expecting again, popped in for coffee before I headed home, she can’t stand the smell so can’t have it there.”

“Oh my fucking goodness, are you the perfect man?”  Penelope’s TA seemed to entering a swoon, Penelope jumped into the fray-

“No!  Don’t get any ideas- he’s all flirt and no play these days, purely a front.  Meant to drag you in before they lock you in a cellar.”  She stood and swayed a little, he caught her at the waist,

“You alright there?”

“Mmm, just need the loo.”  She staggered off and he watched her, wincing.

By the time she returned Benedict was standing, having furnished each attendee with a drink, her usual vodka and coke (how?  How had he remembered that?) in her place alongside a very deliberate bottle of water. “You sure I can’t give you a lift, Pen?  Col is swinging by to grab me in about five minutes, I’m sure he’ll…”  she gasped, horrified.

“Mean man can go fuck off!  He’ll shout at me because of shoes.”  She downed her vodka in one go, pointedly, aware she sounded like an inebriated toddler: perhaps not her best look.

“Oh come on Pen, he’s not that bad- you can’t keep avoiding him, you know.” 

She had been, of course: she never went to the Bridgerton home voluntarily but it didn’t seem to matter, her mum and Violet dragged her there most weeks anyway, rarely accepting excuses.  She’d always managed to disappear when Colin made an appearance, a mix of guilt for hitting the car and annoyance at the way she still felt angry at him for his response despite his flowers and apologies: she could get along with most people but that man knew how to rile her.

“Go on Pen, maybe it’d be wise?  We’ve all got to head home anyway.”  Penelope shook her head;

“Nope, kids in my class- unprofesssssss… not good.”

“As of,”  Helen checked her watch, “three hours ago, they were not in fact in your class at all, but it’s either that or we call you an uber.”

“I can call myself an uber,”  she produced her phone from her pocket with a flourish and tapped at the app, waving it at the table when she’d completed her mission, standing, pulling her cardigan on and picking up her bag with just a slight wobble.

“Is she always so…”  Ben gestured at her, she scrunched up her face in annoyance.

“Pissed or pigheaded?  Either way, yes… only at the end of year bash but yes.” Penelope glowered at Helen, mouthing traitor silently in her direction.

“You moralising?”  Penelope pointed at him in frustration, “you shagged my mum.”  He collapsed on the table, shoulders shaking with mirth, nodding,

“I did, she’s quite right I suppose.  Portia is a MILF though…  right if I’m not needed I’m out of here.”  He patted her back and left with a wave, Penelope glared at the women sighing after him, only Samuel seeming unmoved: she rolled her eyes, “we all know you’re gay mate, you can go all moony eyed as well, don’t mind me.”  Samuel laughed and he nodded,

“fair enough.  You going to be OK, Pen?”

“Yeah, see you guys next term.”  She saluted them and walked to the roadside, unsurprised to find herself being watched by two men sat in a Jag parked up outside the pub, both laughing intently: she shoved her middle finger up to the younger one, curtsied to the elder then almost stumbled into the Uber, head lolling back against the seat until her phone bleeped, twice: first predictably a message from Ben,

‘just checking you got into the car safe love, see you soon.’

Second from her mum-

‘Violet wants you over tonight, 8pm?”   She tapped her reply quickly,

“No frkinl wae mum’, she sent it, stared at it then retyped it more carefully,

‘no fuckinz ware mum,’

she glared at it for a minute, gave up, pressed send and switched it off.

Clearly her mum had got the message whatever, she grabbed a bag of crisps and headed straight for bed when she arrived home and nobody tried to wake her, letting her sleep through, crawling out from under her sheets at 11am to find a delivery bag by her door, in the Bridgerton name, containing bottled water and paracetamol- she threw it on the bed, jumped in the shower, then gave up and glugged the drink with two tablets, almost grateful.

She had a strict routine for the start of every holiday, transitional habits (ones that assumed she started it with a hangover)- breakfast, packing away her work kit for the first few weeks, and then a stroll: she closed the cupboard, threw on her sunglasses and left the house, ending up in Hyde Park, on a bench, sipping at a coffee whilst she watched the swans on the Round Pond.  She closed her eyes and pointed her face at the sun, choosing to ignore the way she’d be one big freckle by the end of the week, and closed her eyes.

She sat that way until she felt the bounce of someone joining her and the smell of expensive cologne; she grimaced,

“if you walk away now I’ll never know which one of you has interrupted my lunchtime.”

“Sorry Pen, no chance of that.  Feeding the ducks?”  He indicated the pond and she opened her eyes quickly, recognising the voice with some horror.

“Swans.”

“Swans?”

“They’re not ducks, they’re swans.”

“Is that relevant?  I feel as if it might be relevant but I’m not quite sure why.”

She sat for another few minutes, hoping he’d walk away, before giving up.

“Did you want something, Colin?”

“Did you get the delivery?”

“Yes, thank you- I had assumed it was Ben.”

“El, in fact.  You know how it is with these cults, everyone knows everything.”

“Cheers Ben,”  she sighed, “that’s going to stay with me isn’t it?”

“In truth I am quite impressed- I’ve had similar feelings about my family myself but never quite found a way to put it into words, cult sums it up quite nicely.  How are you feeling?”

“Better than I deserve, worse than I hoped.”

“Got you out of one of mum’s gatherings anyway, she was going to go and fetch you herself but Benedict said you’d probably throw up in one of the antique vases, that stopped her.”

“Laugh a minute your brother, isn’t he?”

“It’s how he shows people that he cares.  Listen,”  he got up and shuffled awkwardly, “I need to go- daddy duties, but you’re OK yes? No existential crisis or anything?”

“Just term end drinks, go play chess with your family,”  she waved him away; he looked confused,

“chess?”

“Don’t worry about it.”  He nodded and wandered off, no doubt thinking her very strange: hopefully it might mean they backed away, left her to enjoy her summer in peace.

She did, in fact, get several days of peace before her world was intruded upon again, far more than she had expected, almost enough to lure her into a feeling of safety and, strangely, a lurking sense of sadness.  Her mum had barely been seen as ever, and the phone calls had stopped; she felt a sense of peace as her world became more familiar again, the quiet that she had learned to appreciate, no surprises waiting around the corners.

It was on the fifth day that she came home from a trip with Eloise to find her mum leaving, and Violet sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea.  She joined her at the table, feeling the pull of the inevitable.

“Violet.  Everything OK?”

“Well I was just checking that you were, actually.  The drinking- one off party or regular problem?  We can get help for the latter.”

“How much has my mum told you about my dad?”

“Very little.”

“He was an addict Violet, I promise it’s a very rare celebrations only thing.  You need not worry, you can reassure your whole brood now.”

Violet tipped her head in acknowledgement; “fair.  You must understand- I was with Marina when she tried to overdose and had to be sectioned, Colin- well.  We’re cautious, can’t help it.”

“I’m not a lame duck.”

“Nobody thinks you are, I am sorry if we gave you that impression- we like you, Penelope: Eloise is considers you a good friend, your mum has become something of a fixture in our lives, and you by extension.  I’m actually here to extend an invitation- your mum is joining us in the countryside for the whole of August,  Eloise has asked for you especially, you would be very welcome.”

“I’m very grateful, but…”

“No, I thought you’d say that.  It’s a shame but understandable.  Could I beg a week from you?  Your own suite, no pressure: it’s mostly swimming and lunches, we throw one party for the bank holiday but otherwise it’s about relaxation and family.”

“I’m not family.”

“We have a very loose definition, you are, like it or not.  Not many people can cope with El for long, what you managed with the twins this year…”

“That’s my job, Violet- I’m glad they’re doing well but it’s a team effort.”

“Still, your mum would like you there as well, and I would love your company.  Marcus is coming for the first time, the twins have never- their other grandfather, Agatha Danbury and your mum of course. I think you’d fit in well.”

“Why didn’t Eloise invite me herself?”

“Oh she wanted to but I wanted to check in on you and well- she can be a bit forceful, I thought it would be better from me.”

“Where is this house?”  Penelope felt herself giving way to the inevitable.

“Kent, between Canterbury and Whistable.”

“I usually spend my summer writing, it’s the only chance I get.”

“Your mum said as much, I can arrange for somewhere quiet to be set aside- I won’t lie, it’s quite grand, been in the family for almost 300 years, space is not a concern.”

Penelope poured herself a cup of tea, considering; “my instinct is to refuse, my summers are precious.”

“But you won’t?”  Penelope shook her head,

“no, I don’t know- maybe things need shaking up and some time with El especially-  I’ll drive myself, if it gets too much, if Colin gets-“

“Colin is fine with you now,”

“I’m not sure I’m fine with him; if it gets too much I’ll come home.  If not, a week away would be lovely.  I’ve really enjoyed getting to know El, maybe it’s time to try something new.”

“Excellent!”  Violet stood up and pushed her chair underneath the table gracefully, Penelope wished she knew the trick- she always managed to make it squeak, much to her mother’s annoyance- “and if a week works out maybe you can stay longer?  The invite for the month stands.  We shall see you on the first!”

“Violet”-

“Ciao, Penelope.”  She left and Penelope shook her head, feeling as if she’d been dismissed in her own home.

She spent the rest of the week preparing: Eloise joined her on a shopping trip, calming her as she panicked about the fact she hadn’t even owned a swimsuit for three years, her friend quietly guiding her away from the skirted cover ups she’d usually have gone for (“you’re not eighty Pen,”), helping her choose a few sundresses, threatening to call Colin when she paused to eye up some crocs longingly.  They shopped all morning and then settled into the nearest pub for lunch, Eloise sniggering as Penelope ordered strictly non alcoholic options.

“Actually I’m glad you’re coming,”  Eloise stirred her mojito thoughtfully, “it helps reduce the awkwardness.”

“Awkwardness?”  Eloise nodded.

“Colin’s ex father in law- is it ex when they’re dead?  Anyway Neil, he’s coming down, he’s quite tight with mum.”

“OK, isn’t he a bit old for you… not that I’m judging.”  Eloise grimaced and laughed,

“God no!  He’s decent enough but… when Colin left he rented the annexe out to a researcher, something to do with the wetlands flora.  He’s coming along for a few days and he’s quite cute…”

“Yeah?  Anything established?”

Eloise shook her head, “I can barely get him to speak to me, much too shy.  I figured I’d take this summer to see if it could become something, if it doesn’t- well so be it.  I’d really appreciate someone on my team.”

“I’m always on your team, El.  I know we haven’t known each other long but I value this friendship.”

“Me too, and if you want to invite Gen for a few days that’s OK as well-“

“Is there space?” Penelope looked confused and El laughed,

“she didn’t show you any pictures of the place, did she?”  Penelope shook her head, El rifled for her phone.

“Here”- she held the picture out- “18 bedrooms, and of course some of of my lot are partnered up so sharing rooms; but there’s some lodge homes as well that we rent out the rest of the year and a few old farmhand cottages that nobody lives in, the farm itself was leased out after dad died.  I’m sure we can squeeze Gen in somewhere, at a push.  Well, her and 150 others, if the mood took us.”

“Blimey,”  Pen took the phone away from her and peered at the screen, “I knew you were all filthy rich of course,”

“because you’re all so poor, living in Mayfair…”  El rolled her eyes and Penelope looked at her,

“you’d be surprised; there were times, when dad was still alive… but this is ridiculous.”

“Your dad?  I don’t think I know much about him.  You must miss him.”

“He wasn’t like yours, El.  He had his demons, drinking and gambling, if mum seems wild now it’s because she spent two decades fending off bailiffs and bankruptcy.  You wouldn’t have known it, our country house was nothing like your palace, but it was certainly genteel- by 15 I was a lot more used to chasing away debt collectors than social gatherings and upper class life: it’s why I do what I do, and mum well- she never looked back when he passed, can’t blame her really.  Except Felicity does, hence why she rarely comes home, she was just a bit too young to know what dad was like.”

“I’m sorry Pen, I never realised.”

“Well we all have our tragic back stories don’t we? It’s the way of it.”  She stood up and started shuffling around, uncomfortable?  “see you at Aubrey?”

“Sure you don’t want a lift?”

“What, so you can all hold me hostage…”

“Sacred rituals in the woods Pen, they don’t bother with the goat sacrifice any more but there’s still midnight covens and induction ceremonies, Mum’s having your robes custom made as we speak…”

“El?”

“Yes, Pen?”  She smirked, pulling an innocent face.

“Fuck off.”

Chapter Text

Eloise’s description and the photo hadn’t done the house justice, Penelope thought to herself as she indicated left and turned into the beginning of a long tree lined drive, not unlike something snatched from the page of the stories she both wrote and devoured: clearly modernised of course, a sign pointing campers off to a field at the edge, instructions on how to find a local farm shop posted on a tree, lines of wooden cabins visible in a clearing close to the horizon only serving to emphasise the size of the estate.  A large pond sat near the entrance and she wondered idly whether it was where they all swam, thinking it didn’t seem likely- she knew all about wild swimming of course but there, really?

Violet was waiting to welcome her, instructing her to leave her bags so someone could fetch them in later, offering a drink and tour, explaining that the others who'd already arrived were all out on errands, picking up shopping orders and grabbing lunch; Penelope thanked her, grateful for the chance to find her bearings.

The house was even more impressive inside than out- Violet had apologised and explained that most of the antiques were in storage, always better when the family had a large number of younger members, but even then it had the air of a film set: large portraits adorned the walls, vases on high shelves, even an olde worlde orangery, heated as Violet was keen to point out by solar panels, “the fact that we could afford to ignore the environment doesn’t mean we should actually do it.” Pen tried not to smirk as the older woman explained that the last head groundsman had held little interest and the place had become a bit dilapidated, but Neil was bringing along his lodger who had an interest in the hope he had some ideas; she was sure Violet noticed but said nothing.

The gardens were even more impressive- her host laughed at the idea of swimming in the front pond, explaining that it had been for fish once upon a time, intended to feed the family and staff on the many religious days scattered throughout the year; now it was just filled with ornamentals and a bit of a white elephant.  The actual lake, situated a full ten minute walk from the rear of the house, forming a boundary between lawned park and woodland, was much larger and in possession of a pier with a few rowing boats tethered, and a small tree covered central island that she was informed held a tree house but they didn’t let the kids know because- well, safety first: Penelope nodded in agreement, wondering quite who had thought that was a good idea in the first place. 

The penultimate stop on the tour was a small garden room, in fact one of two but much the smaller, glass fronted wood with a small terrace and white venetian blinds:  Violet held out a key and pointed her towards the door,

“your writing room, whilst you are here, or indeed any time you wish for a break and escape even if we are in London, you only need to call.”

Penelope gaped at her, “really?  Violet, that’s too much, it really is-“

“Why?  When it’s empty and a resource we have available?  My family has been blessed but i've never seen the point of hoarding that when others could benefit. We’ll have a desk and chair in here by this afternoon all ready.”  Penelope gaped as she turned and walked away, making eye contact with her guest only to summon her to show her where she would sleep for her stay, a stay that Penelope was already starting to think might just be extended, cult or no cult- if a few rituals and chants meant she had access to this, well… bring on the incense.

As she closed the door and locked it she asked what the other room alongside was used for, Violet shook open the unlocked door and indicated a mess of an interior, toys scattered and a few couches set in front of a huge TV, camp beds at the back, “Colin’s, for when the kids need a bit of a break-  I do hope they’re not too noisy for you, it seemed a good idea, they have their own suite at Bridgerton…”  Penelope shook her head at Violet’s concerns, as if she would ever complain at that.

Her room was part of a suite, separate bedrooms sharing a bathroom and sitting space, her and her mum, a smaller guest room at the side that Violet said would be Genevieve’s if she chose to join them.  Eloise had the room next to them, the women’s corridor ending with a second suite occupied by Violet herself and presumably Marcus- the opposite wing had similar but with half given to the Viscount and his family, “practical but also a hangover from history.”

“That makes sense, Dad’s cousin lived in the house attached to the Barony, his heir with us all being women, but it was a smaller version of the same.”

“I’m sorry my dear, did I catch you wrong- your dad was a Baron?  Portia never mentioned-“

“Oh goodness, please- don’t tell her I let on, I assumed-“

“No, no dear, she doesn’t really speak of him I suppose. His cousin inherited?”

Penelope nodded, “he did, he’s gone as well I’m afraid- very different circumstances, but the title is in abeyance.”

“Oh no, I am sorry- these things mean so little when it comes down to it don’t they?  When we lose loved ones.”

“Oh- no,”  Penelope blushed, “please don’t think less of me, I didn’t know the man but he’s on the run, for fraud- South America I think.”  Violet stared at her in shock for a moment before doubling over, laughing.

“Well- no wonder Portia didn’t mention it then.  Right well I’ll leave you to unpack, we’ll meet for dinner at seven but if you want to head down earlier for drinks you are very welcome, if not…”  Penelope thanked her, eager to settle in.

She delayed as much as she could but eventually she found herself back in the garden room, now furnished with a desk and chair, couch and- she thanked whatever deities these people worshipped- a coffee machine, fully stocked with bottles of water in a cupboard.  Every drawer seemed to hold something personal- sun cream (as a redhead she would never leave home without her own but she appreciated the gesture), snacks, a beautiful blank moleskin notebook, a selection of pens including a fountain pen- she supposed it fit, these people seemed to float between centuries, in their own insulated bubble- and ink.  She unscrewed the lid to the ink bottle to sniff the contents and blinked, staring at the label: fragranced ink, was that even a thing? Grass scented- she loved the smell of freshly cut grass, how did they seem to know so much about her?  It bordered on creepy but she was willing to go with it if this was the pay off.

The shelves held a selection of pictures and books, everything from a dictionary and thesaurus to the current paperback top ten, pictures mostly of the grounds- she pulled one from behind the others and emitted a loud “fuck” as she saw someone had framed two photos of her, clearly taken by the camera in Colin’s car, one of her curtseying and another of her throwing Colin the bird; Ben, it had to be.  She heard a knocking on the wall and stuck her head out of the door, just as Colin did the same-

“can you limit the swearing, it’s hard enough explaining that they shouldn’t use Daddy’s bad language, if their former teacher is at it too…”  she blushed in embarrassment but he was smirking, “you found the picture?”

“Ben?”

“Nope, mum- she thought it was great.  Prepare for a week of it, that's my honest advice…”

She cringed; “sorry, didn’t realise you were all in there…” he shook his head,

“No worries, I just got here- oh shit!-!  she shot him a look as he swore himself, only to find the cause: two small people pushing him out of the way to stare at her in awe.  She dropped to her knees,

“Hey kids, having a good time?”  Amanda simply nodded, slipping behind Colin to peer from behind his knees:  Oliver stared at her in confusion,

“You live at school, this is Uncle Anthony’s house.”  Penelope laughed, this wasn’t the first time she’d heard this.

“I only live at school in term time, my own mummy is friends with your nanny and they invited me here for a small holiday.  Is that OK with you two?”  She prayed they said yes, it might be awkward if they didn’t- thankfully they both nodded,

“do we have to do lessons?”

“Oh no sweethearts, no: it’s a holiday for both of us.  Lots of playing and yummy food, yes?  Here I’m not your teacher I’m just Penelope.  Can you call me that?”

Colin stepped in and lowered himself down to the level to join them, “we can do that, can’t we?  Miss Featherington,”

“Penelope,”

“Penelope, she works hard in school so she deserves a holiday just as much as we do.”  Amanda nodded and rushed forwards, hugging her: Colin went to pull her back but Penelope shook her head,

“I’m not allowed hugs in school but here- as long as your daddy is okay with it-“  she sent him a look and he nodded- “I am very happy indeed to have them.”  She hugged Amanda back, blinking her eyes at the memory of the child just a few months ago, barely even acknowledging her existence.  Colin noticed and stood, shuffling the kids away,

“well I think we should let Penelope settle in, don’t you, whose turn was it, you were enjoying Ludo until you saw her”- she returned to her room, relaxing but ensuring that this time she kept the language strictly PG.

Dinner was easy, a simple buffet and drinks- not much different to the meals they shared most weeks back in London, Violet holding court with Agatha, Marcus at one end, the younger people at the other, kids already fed, Colin absent, Penelope constantly turning away Ben’s attempts to get her drunk.  Violet explained that the last members of the party would join them the next day- Neil and his guest, Eloise, Francesca and Michaela (“same room?”  Kate asked with a hopeful smile; Violet shook her head, “no but adjoining, I’m doing my best here!”), Gregory’s friend Hermione, perhaps more due later in the month.

“Friend?”  Ben lifted a curious face towards his younger brother,

“Friend!  She’s uh- she is involved with someone, it’s complicated.”

“Riiiiiiiight, and you invited her here because…”

Greg shrugged and Ben threw a cushion at him as everyone laughed, muttering that they remembered being his age: Greg mumbled something in annoyed voice and stormed out, only earning himself more laughter.

She grabbed the opportunity to excuse herself early, relishing the idea of a night of peace before her mum turned up- at least Portia wouldn’t be on the pull here but she still kept alarming hours when she wanted- retiring happy but slightly nervous, hardly surprising.

She was woken the next day by Eloise pounding on her door, only waiting for her bleary “who is it?” before tumbling in, eager to seer her friend. Penelope laid back on her bed in relief,

“thank god you’re here, I need a defence against the hordes!  What do we have planned today?”

“It’s a hot one so swimming mostly, in fact mum is serving brunch on the deck when the remaining guests arrive in an hour so I’ve been instructed to tell you to be there.  Brought your new swimsuit?”

Penelope nodded, “I’m not sure though, maybe I’ll just wear a dress, it seems a bit…”

“Everyone else will be in swimmers, add a sarong if you want but otherwise you’ll stand out.  Do you have one?”  Penelope nodded and rooted through the drawers to find hers, holding it out- Eloise shook her head,  “put in on.”

Penelope disappeared into the bathroom to change, piling her hair on top of her head in a clip and slathering herself in factor 50, tying the skirt very carefully before peeking her head around the door. 

“Are you certain?”

Eloise nodded, "come on, show me the spoils of our trip"- jaw dropping as Penelope stepped out from the little room, “Pen…”

“It’s too much isn’t it?  I can skip it, go into Canterbury, buy something less…”

“Don’t you bloody dare!  It’s not too much, it’s just that- well I’m not used to seeing you out of a cardi, and your shapeless dresses- which are very nice shapeless dresses, of course-"

“Cheers El, not at all awkward,”

“I didn’t even realise you had-“  she pointed, accusingly, “those.”  Penelope sighed,

“they’re a bit much, I try and hide them.”

“Really?  Most people would pay a fortune for something half as wonderful, can I touch?”  she held out her hands, Penelope covered herself and backed away, laughing:

“no!”

“Oh go on Pen, please?  They look so… squishy.”

Penelope watched her for a moment, before rolling her eyes- “go on then!”  Eloise cheered and lunged forwards, pushing her friend back onto the bed, squeezing so hard Pen yelled.

“If you ever decide to pull a woman, you need to refine your technique, love.”

“Never had any complaints before,” Eloise shrugged, “but you’re safe, saving myself for Phil,”  she waggled her eyebrows and they laughed, Penelope sending her off to change into her own costume: at least Eloise had someone worth impressing.

They went down to brunch together, Penelope’s arms firmly closed across the underwired part of her sweetheart neckline, attempts to vanish foiled as Eloise bounded into the room, pulled an open mouthed awed face, and pointed directly at her top.  Ben immediately fake-dropped his book, Kate applauded and cheered, Gregory coloured up and disappeared, looking somewhat horrified- Anthony immediately apologising for him and chasing after him ‘for a word about respecting our guests’.

“Well, well well- the power of a flattering outfit!  You have always been beautiful dear but- stunning!  You must let me take you shopping whilst we are here, see if we can’t play up-“

“No, Violet: thank you but cardis and pinafores are perfect for work, thanks all the same.”  Violet shrugged, and offered up the tray of mimosas; Eloise was giggling at Ben and Sophie, Penelope crept over and whispered, “what are they bickering over?”

“I believe Soph just suggested to Ben that they open up their marriage, now she’s seen-“  El indicated Pen’s chest, Penelope covered up again and stepped back, horrified: everyone laughed,

“Don’t worry, they have the argument any time a new guest under forty turns up, they’re far too besotted to actually share, those days are in the past.”

“I told you this was a fucking cult,”  Penelope bit into a bacon roll and looked around horrified to check that there were no little ones close by, “I hadn’t banked on it being a sex cult.” Thankfully nobody looked offended, just smirked at her.

“Nah, it’s all for show, results of the British boarding system.  Shame though,”  Eloise indicated the door where an older man in shorts and t-shirt had joined them and was hugging Marcus and Violet, his companion behind him, looking as nervous as she had felt ten minutes before, towel across his shoulders and swimmers on, staring at the floor.  El pointed at Ben, whispering, “you can’t have him either, she's my friend and he’s well- look at him: terrified!”  That broke the tension and they settled in their loungers, reading books, kicking balls and generally relaxing, small groups forming then breaking again, mingling and getting to know the others.  Her mother turned up eventually, resplendent in a pink leopard print bikini, greeting her but quickly settling with her friends in the corner.

Once the sun was high in the sky and the water warmed the party all moved closer to the lake, the kids who could swim jumping straight in, Anthony sat on the pier watching them, kicking water at any who dared get too close: the laughter filled the garden in a way Penelope couldn’t really remember from any time in her past.  She’d certainly shared holidays with Alfie but they had been planned around his work, her usually relaxing in hotels or visiting sights alone whilst he joined her for dinner, it hadn’t been awful exactly but it hadn't been… this.

“Swim?”  El pointed towards the lake, already shedding her own wrap; Pen nodded, more in her desire to stick with her friend than anything else, slipping quietly from the wooden slats rather than jumping as the others did, well aware her splash would be far less graceful than their athletic dives.  They both swam out to the centre, perching on a rock, joining Ant in his game of splashing the children: Penelope noticed El staring at the shore and looked over, spying Philip watching her in return, albeit far more shyly, trying to pretend he was chatting to Colin, who had just joined them, children with Violet hunting for iced lollies.  Penelope turned bright red as she gaped, turning away quickly: the man was a walking nightmare, what right did he have to look so…

Eloise, oblivious to her brother’s abs and biceps nodded, “Phil’s hot isn’t he?  Mine though,”  she winked and Pen giggled as expected, “good choice El, I’m sure he likes you.”

“Yeah?”  Her friend perked up, “you think so?”

Penelope nodded, earnestly: glad for her friend and very, very certain that if this was just day one she didn’t have a hope of surviving this trip, especially when she caught Ben mouthing “tits!” to Colin and pointing to her, the blasted man’s face lifting as his eyes opened wide and he mouthed “woo!” back to his sibling, both entirely unaware of her watching them, quickly distracted by the return of an embarrassed Gregory, very pointedly NOT looking at the lake, grimacing at the inevitable teasing: she laid back and closed her eyes, images of her nemesis burned into her brain, from his full beard and wild curls through to those pecs and his long, long legs- she covered her face with a hand and groaned: it had been an age since she had thought of anyone that way, Alfie being such a waste of her time and energies that she’d all but given up, much preferring a slice of cake and good book to a date or handsome man- there was no way whatsoever that she was going to allow herself even the mildest of crushes on him, of anyone she knew: and when she drove to Canterbury later that afternoon with El and chose herself a bikini for the first time in her life it was definitely not Colin she was thinking of- it was entirely about the support the bra offered and the sustainability of the fabric, as she informed El: definitely nothing else- nothing else at all.

Chapter Text

As is the law in Britain, Penelope’s purchase of swimwear triggered two days of torrential rain, leaving them all trapped inside for the majority of the time.

She did not find that a hardship: the garden room allocated to her alone proved a delightful respite, disappearing shortly after breakfast.  It was not difficult to find inspiration in the beautiful surroundings, even when shrouded in the eternal greyness of the current weather, her brief borrowed-oilcloth clad walks allowing her to take time to spot patterns in the way the way the raindrops fell upon the lake, or how distant birch trees bent in the winds; rivulets on her window heightening her sense of isolation, a welcome thing.

There were more human joys as well: the snacks that Violet made available for everyone at all times, the family split across those who lounged with books and board games and those who took the chance for solitary endeavours, regularly assembling in the drawing room to partake of hot chocolates with marshmallows and whipped cream, or freshly made biscuits- Violet leading the children in baking activities to give their parents a break, scolding Penelope when she tried to help, reminding her that this was supposed to be a break for her as well.

Then there were the morning runs- Bridgertons and energetic adjacents gathering regardless of weather to pace the park, Penelope’s cracking of the slats of the blinds to observe quickly foiled, Ben and Simon spinning to wave at her with each pass, Portia and Agatha visible inside the house through the patio doors doing much the same: all in good humour, and Penelope felt only fair recompense for their lakeside behaviour.

If she stayed too long without checking in she would find herself brought back to reality by a knock at the door, opening it to find a snack or small meal at the door, always followed by the noise of small children settling, presumably Colin having been used as messenger.  She rarely saw him, Violet having explained that he liked to hold a certain distance, keep his family unit separate, a hangover from years spent elsewhere and the need to be forcibly absorbed back into a bustling family home after: Penelope understood the power in that use of after, and worked to give him space.

She was starting to feel a new sense of yearning as well; similar weather on a holiday with her own sisters and Mama would have meant bickering, blame apportioned for ruined plans and wasted time off work, quite possibly someone escaping home early- it didn’t escape her notice that her mother seemed to be appreciating the sense of family just as much of her, and of course it wasn’t the same- a vast country estate very different from a holiday cottage or shared apartment- yet perhaps she was growing up.  She had been a teen at the start of her only relationship, no interest in permanence or the trappings of traditionality: there were moments now when she looked about her with wistful eyes.

The afternoons were mostly spent with Eloise and whichever assortment of other women would join them, running errands or curled up watching films.  She found it easy to build a friendship with Francesca, her comfortable silences as appealing as the buoyancy that attracted her to Eloise, and a camaraderie with Michaela.  The married women spent more time with their families yet were charming and welcoming, always striving to include her where needed.

The one person she spent very little time with was her own mother, not from any desire to avoid her- their relationship was unique but never exactly poor- but they slipped into different groups, their main contact being at the end of the day, a quick catch up in the shared suite, both women appreciating seeing new sides of the other but not yet ready to express that.

The fourth day saw an end to the poor weather and a planned day of activities, several of their cohort departing for a day out at Whitstable, kids piled into MPVs, grandmother, Marcus and friends following on behind: only a few remained, Gregory who knows where with Hermione and her friend that had turned up a day before, Violet thinking the poor girl needed back up; Penelope, Eloise, Philip, Neil, and presumably Colin, for all they’d see of him.

She found herself surprised: she’d emerged at lunchtime to the smell of a barbecue, finding herself being waved over by the man himself, the others all gathered around on loungers, the twins at the centre on a picnic blanket, lying on their fronts with colouring books and paper.  She slipped on her shoes and headed over to join them, the smell of the food remarkably tempting.  She waved away the invitations to pull up a seat and instead kneeled down with Amanda and Oliver, praising their efforts, asking to join in.

“You don’t have to do that Pen”- Eloise was quick to try and relieve her of the task but she shook her head,

“I know, I want to- I’ve barely seen these two champs, I’ve missed them.”  She had done- she always missed the children, it was the bureaucracy, parents and red tape that she needed the summer to hide from, not the kids themselves: she’d started seeing herself as a spinster aunt after her split from Alfie, she knew it was ridiculous but it had just never been worth the effort, and she loved to be around other people’s children.  These two in particular were a blessing- they had their struggles certainly but there was a gentleness she rarely found behind their eyes, one she had glimpsed in their father’s eyes when he was relaxed, on the rare occasions she had seen him.

Most of the entertainment was provided by Eloise, flirting with a somewhat oblivious Philip, Neil and Colin shooting each other amused knowing looks as she tried to catch his attention- her neckline pulled lower, hair flicks more pronounced, legs crossing and uncrossing.  After a while it seemed that Colin took pity on her, attempting to engage Philip himself, finishing up serving the food then taking a seat alongside them all with a beer in his hand, cap placing his face in shadow as he battled against the bright early afternoon sunshine.  Penelope tried to keep away from the conversation, let the siblings have a chance to chat, enjoying her place at the periphery.

“So, Phillip- how did you get to know Neil?”  Colin tipped his head slightly to urge El to take an interest, El sunk back in her chair defeated, not happy that her brother had felt the need to intervene.

“I’m a botanist, field work on the wetlands, unusual flora. Renting Neil’s annexe for the duration of the survey.” Colin screwed his face up confused, Penelope felt a shiver down her spine: she didn’t know what was going on but from the way Neil had quietly shuffled his seat back there was clearly something brewing.

“I remember how strange the area seemed when I first moved there, how are you finding it?”

“Ah no, I grew up there: moved away years ago for university, no family left so I never went back but it’s home in a way.”

“Oh I’m sorry, it’s tough to lose family.”

Penelope wondered at this place: usually she was the only one in a group to have lost a parent so young, here everyone seemed to have been bereaved- she wondered if Violet deliberately kept an eye out for those like her children.  She wasn't sure her own experience compared.

“It is, I don’t remember my mum and dad- we weren't close, my brother died a few years back now.  We didn’t see each other, not much in common, but a tragedy.”

If he’d been paying full attention Colin was sure he’d have caught on earlier- his interest had been captured by the strange little picture the twins made on the floor, entirely settled with the redhead friend of his sister in a way he simply never saw with anyone else: he could see why she’d chosen her profession, it was just a shame there hadn’t been any more chances for him to glance at her other assets since the day at the lake.

“That sucks, what’s the family name- anyone I might know?”

Neil was out of the chair and walking towards Colin, Eloise seemed to cotton on before Colin, pinned to her seat, mouth open in horror: clearly the others here knew some secret neither she nor Phillip had been let into.

“Crane, he wasn’t there often during your time, not that I’m aware of anyway, but your paths might have crossed at the reservoir.”

“Kids, we have ice cream at the shed, are you in the mood?”  Colin's voice dropped strangely low as he stood and fixed his attention firmly on them, they cheered and started to follow them: Penelope looked on in bewilderment as Neil indicated for Phillip to stay, asked Eloise to explain and followed Colin.  She gave them a few minutes and headed across herself, knocking on the glass door carefully, smiling gently at Colin’s confused face as he opened the door.

“Yeah- ah, I’m sorry- I just wondered, as there is obviously something going on, if I could borrow the kids for the afternoon? I've barely explored the gardens, could do with some tour guides…”

“El explained then,”

“No, I didn’t stick around- not my business.  I just thought you might like space and it’s not as if they don’t know me.”

“Go on son, please…” she heard Neil’s voice from inside the room, Colin muttered something under his breath which she took to be a threat at him for using the term and nodded,

“Perhaps it would be a good idea.  Thank you.  Can I collect them from next door when I am ready?”

“Of course.”  She held out her hands for the twins, still sticky from their hastily demolished ice creams, and grimaced:  “I should know better,”  wiping her hands on her skirt before heading off, pointing to the woods, an area she hadn’t yet visited.

It was a few hours before Colin knocked at the door, she opened it and slipped outside, the twins absorbed in a game on her laptop.

“Neil still alive?”  Colin nodded, sheepish: “alive and unharmed, thank you.  Perhaps a bit tongue lashed…”

“Ah we’ve all been there.”  Colin grimaced, “yeah, sorry…”

“You said that before.  You OK?”  He didn’t reply to her thrown out automatic question so she tipped her head to the side and asked again, “Colin, are you OK?”

“Got time for a cuppa?  I don’t really want to head back in there,”  he indicated the family house, “and some company would be good.”

Did she?  Certainly he’d been well behaved if distant since she arrived, and in another circumstance she’d be clamouring for his attention, Greek god of him and all that- she wasn’t quite sure of him yet though, still he appeared distraught, had been crying by the redness in his eyes so she nodded.

Colin pulled two chairs out to the grass outside and went to make the drinks, bodily lifting the twins from the desk and telling them to go and kick a ball, burn off some of their energy.  She waited until they were occupied, a little distant, then opened the conversation.

“We went down to the woods, I hadn’t been there before, I didn’t realise…”

“Dad’s memorial? It’s OK, it’s not a sacred spot or anything, we all go down there and chat to him, Edmund and Belinda are always climbing the trees nearby.”

“Chat’s good, I’d hate to intrude.  We don’t really have anything to remember dad by so I wasn't sure what the etiquette was.”

“You lost your dad too, of course:  I’m sorry.”

It was a strange conversation, both of them with their eyes fixed on the kids, awkward, yet neither willing to move on.  They sipped at their mugs for a while, quiet.

“He died of an allergy, bee sting.  We didn’t know, didn’t have an epipen.”

“That’s harsh, I’m sorry.”

“Your dad?  I know mum said he was an…”  Penelope filled the gap,

“addict,”

“yeah, sorry- was it a heart attack or something?”

“No, are you sure you really want to know?”

“Do you mind?  Might be nice to indulge in someone else’s trauma for a minute but only if you don’t have any objections.”

“Dad was an addict, yes: alcohol and gambling.  Some drugs too I think but he never got in so deep with those- but no, not a heart attack.  If you google it’ll say a car accident.”

“Was he drunk or something?”  Penelope gave a dark laugh,

“was he ever not?  No, not that,” she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, he reached over and took her hand; he’d misread it really, she wasn’t exactly struggling with the memory just not used to talking about it- still the contact was nice and she returned his squeeze.

“I was a kid, but I already knew the stuff the kids of addicts know- how to respond to a bailiff, what to do when he turned up out of his skull, don’t loan him money- you know the stuff, or if you don’t you can imagine.  He’d gone to Brighton, we thought he’d used up the credit at the bookies nearer home,”

“You don’t have to-“

“No, honestly it’s OK.  Turned out he’d been receiving death threats, some betting ring stuff.  He’d gone to lure them away from us,”  she laughed again, he looked confused.

“I know, it’s not really funny but- he did love us, in his own way: just a really fucking stupid own way-“  she glanced at the kids and pulled a face, he squeezed the hand again,

“don’t worry, they can’t hear from here."

“Well, they found him there. He was mown down in a hit and run, nobody can prove the link but everyone knew.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Sometimes death can be a relief, we had never expected anything different- if anything we had practised, talked about what would happen when the police finally came, all of us knowing.  I have a younger sister,”

“I didn’t realise- your mum-“

“She has very little to do with us, and I can’t blame her.  She was only seven, and already knew about hiding from bailiffs. She can’t remember enough of the rubbish stuff to understand that it was to protect her and she’s only Hy’s age- I hope she does one day, and when she does we are here for her.”

“Portia doesn’t seem the type to put up with an abusive husband.”

“This Portia you know,”  Penelope indicated the general direction of the house even though she knew that they were all still out, “she’s a different person: an entire new construction.  I used to think she was masking but no, she rebuilt herself entirely, started the day he died- we sold the estate, she’d made him put it in her name, and moved to the Mayfair home her own family had left to her- et voila!” She detached her hand from his and settled it in her lap, feeling unsettled: hardly a surprise.

“If I’d known I’d never have asked.”

“What you can’t understand is that was never a loss in the way your dad was to your family.  Of course I loved him, he was my dad, but life got better afterwards.  Mum has no memorials, no pictures- firmly in the past.  It’s not the same.”  He just nodded, thoughtful.

“I suppose you want to ask what happened back there?”

She shook her head; “I’d never ask, but if you want to tell me I am happy to listen.”

“I’m sure you know about Marina from school.”

“Precious little, just an outline- that’s not a dig for gossip, just fact.  Heartbreaking though,  ridiculously young age.”

“She wasn't anything like your dad, I mean she wasn't lost to the world or anything but between us we’d managed to create quite the mess.  She wasn't well,”

“Poor woman, poor all of you.”

“Yeah.  Nobody really seemed to grasp just how much it was true- anyway we split years before she died but…” this time she took his hand, he clutched it.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?”

“No, it’s fine.”  It had, but not enough to worry about.

“She’d cheated on me a few times when we were still married, an ex boyfriend- it seems he wasn’t a huge thing when they were together, but she didn’t really let go- I think it was symbolic, she wasn't ready for kids, they were a surprise- a blessing, to me anyway,"  Penelope thought that his phrasing spoke volumes, "but a surprise, she was clinging on to her past.”

“That’s hard.”

“He died, well before her, a good year before- he was in the Navy, an accident- and it seems his brother… whom I didn’t even know existed, well-“  Colin pointed- “Phillip.”

“Shit.  I can go and ask him to go home?”

“Maybe, or I will myself anyway, this fun is supposed to be your holiday-“

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll talk to him, I’m more pissed off at Neil- it’s just typical of him, a long pattern of half truths- apparently he’d leased the place to the university and Phillip was settled before he knew the link, I do believe that- he never let on to anyone then mum met him down in Somerset and invited him up to look at her dahlias or some such.”

“Orangery.”

“Eh?”

“She told me she’d invited someone to look at her orangery,"  Colin looked at her strangely and she bit her lip, "not a euphemism."

“Figures, and here we are.”

“You know El has taken a shine, well of course you do- bloody unmissable.”

“So unlike her as well, we know she’s had one night stands from time to time,”

“good for her, never tried that myself,”

“No?  You should try it. But she has never had an obvious crush like this.  You not paired up then?”

She shook her head, pulling a stupid sad face,

“abandoned for a penguin.”

“Oh fuck yes, I remember Benedict telling me- shit!  Seemed funny then but I didn’t have a face to put to the name.  Man’s an idiot, etc etc.”

She nodded, “clearly, and five years of that idiot means I am really quite happy the way I am.  I hate to tell you this but your kids are in need of some intervention and I am on holiday time, as you so rightly pointed out.”  She indicated to where Amanda was sat on Oliver, holding the ball out of his reach: he sighed, “cheers, I'll ask Phillip to pop up for a chat.  May as well sort this out before mum gets wind.  Thank you, Penelope-“  he side-eyed her, “Penny?” she shook head, “Nel? Pen?”

“Pen is fine.”

“Thank you.” 

Colin hauled the twins inside and read them the riot act, before marching them back to the house for a bath, the pair now filthy, Oliver’s shirt torn; he hated when they fought but could remember the days after his wife’s death, everything a blur except for the kids, confused by the strangeness around them and crying for their mum, then silent in their grief- he’d thought they’d be OK for a while, Marina had spent six months living away from them in hospital after all, but even without the same concept or permanence they’d somehow known: any amount of fighting and shouting was better than that horrible silence, always.

He scrubbed them off and dressed them in clean outfits then handed them off to Daphne, newly returned and gathering children for a picnic tea; exhausted he sought out Phillip, the younger man not even needed to be asked to follow him as he saw Colin approach, taking a seat opposite him in the library.

“I’m sorry mate, I wouldn’t have come if...”

“Yeah, it was clear it was a shock to you.  So yeah, your brother was knocking off my wife, I only met him once or twice, but- I suppose Neil told you what happened after he died?”

Phillip shook his head, “I know Marina died, that you were divorced and taking it in turns to look after the twins.  I didn’t know George was involved, I’m sorry.  Like I said we weren't really in contact, my dad was- shall we say not the best- well you’ll find out, I can’t avoid the swimming forever.”  He took off his top and showed Colin scars across his back; Colin winced, “and he and George were close, once mum went I decided to just clear off, stay away and study.  If Neil had told me-“

“Probably was struggling himself, to be fair: she reacted so badly to his death that she was sectioned.”

”I am so very sorry.”  Colin sighed, what else could he say? It wasn’t Phillip’s fault.

“You’re aware my sister has a thing for you, yeah?”  Phillip nodded,

“but I wouldn’t- not now…”  Colin peered out of the window towards where El was trying to escape Daph’s control, failing at every turn.

.

“I want to be angry at you but I can’t see how it’s your fault- I already ruined a potential rather lovely friendship by losing it out of place, and I'm not going to make El pay the price… stay, if something happens with El fine but just- I dunno,”  Colin shrugged, “yeah.”

Phillip nodded, somehow able to parse the meaning even if unspoken.

“For what it’s worth you’re doing a fab job with the kids, they’re ace.”  Colin’s face tightened before he remembered that hardly anyone knew that Phillip might actually be their uncle, panic fast but subsiding. 

“Cheers, they’re my world.”

“I can imagine.  I don’t know how I’d cope, not with work and everything.”

“Welcome to generational wealth; embarrassing at times but bloody helpful when the world ends.  It’s not everything but- you know what I hate about being out of work?”

Phillip shook his head.

“You know when you go out for lunch or something and everyone says ‘what do you do?’ I can't answer: no job, don’t want to say ‘I raise my kids alone, their mum died’ because they’ll just tip their heads and go ‘awwwww’”- Colin tipped his own in an impression of the same expression Phillip well knew from when he told people he had no family, nodding in recognition,

“yeah, same for us orphans.”  Colin cringed;

“should have realised, sorry.  I don’t want to say I don’t work because accent and everything- yeah I never wanted to be seen as a trustafarian,  so… I just mumble something and move on.  I saw something online begging people to ask people their favourite dinosaur when they met them, god that would be better!”

“I don’t know much about dinosaurs, but- “Hi I’m Phillip Crane, what’s your favourite plant?”  Phillip extended his hand, Colin waited a beat then shook it,“Hi, I’m Colin Bridgerton; much as I would like to say psilocibin mushroom and pretend to be cool, it’s probably the olive trees where I used to live in Cyprus.  You?”

“A good choice, a sign of endurance and…”  Phillip grinned, “fertility, we know that from the twins anyway.  Mine would be the lesser water plantain.”  He smirked at Colin’s confusion, “I’m not expecting you to know what that is.”  Colin stood up and fetched them each a drink, handing Phillip his with a half smile.

“So, the redhead, Penelope isn't it?  You two a thing?  You looked cosy.” Colin spluttered,

“No, I- uh, she was the kids’ teacher until recently, she was doing me a kindness and listening to me.  Don’t get me wrong, she is a pretty girl-“

“Impressive…”

“They are aren’t they,” Colin snorted, “but no; definitely not in the market for anything like- well anything these days, and she said she’s happily single as well, so… well that's the potential friendship I ruined with an outburst.”

“I guess the twins must take a lot of your time, all of it really.  You’re allowed a life though.”

“Yeah, anyway, back to the dinosaurs… mine’s a diplodocus, yours?” 

They chatted nonsense for a while, both still uncomfortable- Phillip feeling a strange guilt for his brother's actions, Colin wondering if the meeting meant reopening old wounds- but they were joined by Eloise and Penelope later in the evening and walls slowly fell down.  Anthony had pulled him out, worried after hearing the tale but Colin had reassured him- he’d had no contact with George, wouldn’t have a clue- trying to reassure himself as much as anything, but he found himself drawn into the conversation between the others and for once he wasn't tempted to return to the garden room, not overwhelmed by having everyone so close.

Chapter Text

Violet had lied.

Well, she was sure Violet would have some excuse about misunderstandings and doubted that there’d been any malevolence intended but it  was how she had found herself in this current situation, 10am in the morning, on the sunniest and penultimate day of her holiday, being stared at in her undies like a prize cow at the local show.

The last few days had been quite special- the rain seemed to have helped people settle into their breaks together, new bonds forming and old ones strengthened.  Colin and Phillip seemed to be developing- well she supposed friendship was pushing it, she’d caught Colin looking confused after their interactions, as if he couldn’t quite work out what he was doing at times- but they were enjoying each other’s company, Eloise jumping in every time, leaving her occasionally sidelined but able to do what she enjoyed best- watching from the edge, trying to understand how the different relationships worked: she supposed it was the writer in her, a fascination with people and really, this eclectic household was a truly intriguing place to watch as a huge mix of personalities, some well known and some new, interacted and found their way through.  She hadn’t really understood the popularity of Regency house parties, aside from the lack of a TV and ability to drive over to visit people for a day anyway, but now?

Yes, she was starting to understand.

She and Colin hadn’t had any more heart to hearts but he’d knocked on her door at 11 each morning with an offering of cake and they’d chatted for a half hour, something she was surprised to find she had enjoyed, the shouty Colin of their interaction replaced by something more personable: not  exactly chill Colin, except with the kids anyway, but there was warmth there, enough redeeming qualities that she wouldn't necessarily be avoiding him on her return to London.  She could see that El was making progress in her quest for romance as well, poor Phillip sometimes seeming overwhelmed between budding romance and bromance, perhaps seasoned with a touch of pointless guilt for the behaviours of his brother.

Breakfast this morning had been early, an excursion to Canterbury on the books.  She’d planned to make herself toast and head back to her writing but she’d clearly interrupted a conversation in the kitchen, Colin throwing a piece of fabric at Phillip, avoiding his eyes, “here mate, not sure if this will help but it gives you choices”, slowly closing the door, heading to the family buffet instead, settling next to El and Daph in the corner.  Colin had apologised to her ten minutes later, shuffling up besides her, waiting for his sisters to head up for more coffee before explaining.

“We’re swimming later, and well- Phillip has a few scars on his back and seemed a bit embarrassed, I have plenty of rashguards from my sailing days so it seemed easy enough… sorry if I banished you from the kitchen.”

“That’s really thoughtful,”  she smiled at him as he placed toast and eggs on the twins’ plates, trying to avoid a smirk as he flushed in response,

“I don’t spend all my day yelling at women in the street you know, sometimes I like to surprise people and be half human.”

“I’m not going to excuse that,” he grimaced, “but it wasn't quite that simple either- I deserved to be called out, just not- you know- that.”

He nodded, apologised again and rushed off to find fresh bottle of juice, she switched her attention to Violet and Daph planning the day, her concerns growing as she listened.

“Violet- sorry- don’t mean to interrupt, but you said there wouldn’t be a party this week, just one on the bank holiday; I haven’t brought anything suitable.”

She regretted it as soon as Daph and Violet started sharing grins, wriggling slowly  in her direction, impossibly glamourous kidnappers trapping her at the table. 

“Well, that’s just a little misunderstanding dear; we have a big black tie dance where we invite locals and tenants then, but we have a little party every Friday, cocktails and dancing.  Eloise didn’t mention it?  No, I suppose not-   no matter,” she clapped her hand and looked to Daphne: Penelope thought that this had definitely been at least partially planned, “a shopping trip.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly, I…”  she just meant that she was so close to finishing her draft, something she’d worked on for years and never made anything like as much progress as she’d made here- Violet took it the wrong way,

“don’t be silly, we’ll pay, we know you’re on a teacher’s salary.”

“I think you’ll find I’ll pay, as long long as I’m welcome on this little trip?”  she audibly groaned as her mum settled next to them,

“I’m not wearing leopard print mum!”

“Well of course not,”  Penelope was now aware that they had the attention of all the adults in the room, perhaps excepting Phillip whose head, as ever, was stuck in a journal.  “That’s my thing not yours.”

“Leopard skin looks fabulous on your mum,”  Ben wolf whistled, Portia bowed and Sophie slapped him good humouredly, Anthony rolling his eyes-

“can you at least keep the comedy until after breakfast?”

“But we each need our own style.  Your mum is about the va va voom,”  Portia glowed and Ben mimed closing a zip on his mouth, “you’re about the shape.”

Penelope looked mortified and Violet began to stumble, wondering what on earth she’d done to offend the girl.  Kate leaned over, making eye contact with Violet and pointing at Pen:  “she thinks you mean  she needs shapewear and a cabbage soup diet,” then switching over, finger jabbing at her mother in law, Pen in her sights: “she means your boobs, making them front and centre, where they should be.”  Benedict simply turned and faced the wall, shoulders shaking, Greg stared at them with a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth and Anthony gawped at his wife, who simply shrugged, “well, they’re not wrong.”  She didn’t dare turn to look at Colin and Phillip, she was already about to either bolt or open an Only Fans account, she wasn't sure which seemed more sensible at this moment.

“Well that’s decided then, we’ll see you out front in half an hour, Penelope,”  Violet said as she started to move away; she felt a tap on her shoulder as she began to stand herself, Colin:

“I think that just means ‘welcome to the cult’, there’s no escaping now.”

“There’s my car outside, if I need it.”

“Ant probably took the wheels off, you may as well give in,”  he laughed and walked away, she returned to her room and changed for the new plans.

An hour later and they were in an exclusive boutique, somewhere near the castle.  She’d expected to head to Whitefriar’s shopping centre, thinking that Next or a department store must surely have something adequate, but there hadn’t been a chance of that- it seemed the Bridgertons had accounts with some independent traders and made a point of using those: she’d sighed, loudly at this point as nobody seemed to listen anyway, experience telling her that those places were not meant for people with her figure but these willowy women didn’t understand that- no matter, they would soon.

The party dwindled quickly, Sophie off looking for maternity wear, Kate demanding that Anthony take her punting on the river, him complaining about tourists but not very secretly thrilled to get a morning of peace with his wife, Simon on nanny duty back at Aubrey.  That just left Violet, Daphne, a very annoyed Eloise tagging on behind, and her mum, tottering slightly behind them all on her stilettos, clearly loving every minute of this- initiation or outright torture?  She wasn’t sure.

They were met by a stylist, the shop manager and a tray of Bucks Fizz, the family members sprawling on over-stuffed cream sofas as Penelope was led towards a changing room and asked to strip down to her underwear.

“I’m not after a wedding dress, just something for a family party.”

“Or perhaps a little makeover?”  Penelope glanced down at her jeans and ruched blouse, “I’m more than happy with my look, thanks.”

“Of course, but doesn’t everyone need a little do-over from time to time? Call me when you are ready.”  She drew the curtain and stepped away, Pen stared at herself in the mirror.

It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her clothing, exactly: it was fine in fact, she’d replaced her entire wardrobe after walking away from her ex, getting away from him seeming more important at the time than packing- she’d never been overly attached to possessions anyway, had never had the chance to learn to be, a coping mechanism for the  years when Christmas presents disappeared out the door with her dad on the 27^th, the things she really valued hidden under a floorboard- a few books, a journal and enough money to buy them food for a week and pay for a bus into town.  She’d grown and achieved some measure of success but that girl was still there, buried deep.

She had to admit as well that that the immediate aftermath of a failed romance wasn't necessarily the best time to choose new clothes- he’d left her so that he could go and make his ridiculous twee documentaries but there had been some cruel words- he couldn’t take her to media events ‘looking like that’, he’d never planned to stick around anyway, she was a university shag that stuck around, not a serious life choice- he’d apologised but it had been too late, by the time his carefully worded text (she was sure it had been constructed by his publicist) had arrived she was already in the taxi on her way to her mum’s, her lone bag at her feet.  She’d felt dowdy and unwanted though so she had chosen clothes that were dowdy and perfect for hiding in to confirm that.  Now- some time on- she was starting to like herself again, and feeling that it might be time to spread her wings again soon, just a  little bit: she was more a sparrow than albatross but the idea appealed.

“Katherine!”  She called the stylist, trying not to catch sight of herself in the mirror, cotton pants and utility bra glaring white against the pinkish tone of her skin.  Katherine pulled the curtain back and pointed her to a dais surrounded by mirrors and her friends: she baulked.

“We’re all women here Penelope,”  Daphne called, already a bit tipsy on the cocktails, “don't be shy.”  Katherine nodded and Penelope breathed in deeply before following her, her eyes closed as she stood there under everyone’s gaze.

“Oh my fucking god! Mother I need to come out, I’m not straight.”  Eloise stared at her, breaking the silence and the tension; Violet tutted at her in amusement,

“you came out as bi in 2019, Eloise, and we know that hasn’t changed the way you’re following Phillip around!”

“Yes, but look at them!  They’re glorious! She’s glorious!”

Penelope was bright red by now but it was hard to keep feeling embarrassed with such approval, she’d never met anyone like these people- she reminded herself that she was exposing less now than she would in her bikini later anyway.  Her own mum was leaning forwards, chin propped up by a hand.

“Your problem, dear, is that…”  oh here we go, Pen thought: bye bye confidence, “you hide it under layers of fabric, perfectly nice clothes on the right people just not for you.  The trick isn’t to know what looks good on other people, but what looks good on you, what makes you feel like yourself.”

“Painting overalls and a chunky cardi make me feel like myself.”

“There’s a place for that,”  Portia nodded, “at work but- you’re young, you’re independent in a way I never managed, you’re fabulous…”  Penelope turned and gaped at her mum, shocked: she didn’t think her mum had praised her that much in the last ten years, yet she seemed earnest.  Portia blushed slightly, “too much time around the Bridgertons I’m afraid, I’m turning into a sap.”

Trying to break the atmosphere Katherine finished measuring her, handed Penelope a robe and stepped back,  whispering to Violet who nodded and followed her.  They returned with a pile of options that looked as it they had been designed in the 1950s, everything from full skirts to wiggle dresses and little pedal pushers.  Penelope silently flicked through the rails, shaking her head at a few colours she knew would look awful with her hair, carrying a pile into the dressing room.

In the end Violet paid for the dress, insisting that the expense was her fault for failing to inform Penelope about the dress code, and her mum covered the rest, beaming at being allowed to do so.  After she made her choices Eloise threw herself on the mercy of the group, much to Violet’s shock, Daphne informing her that no amount of strategic reinforcement would give her a figure like her friend’s, Violet just murmuring that maybe there was something real between Phillip if she felt it was worth actually following a dress code.

They were back for lunch, although Penelope skipped it to put her clothes away and hang the dress ready for the party.  Halfway through her mum knocked on the door, entering sheepishly, pausing to smile at the hanging dress then seating herself on the bed, waiting.

“Everything OK mum?”  Penelope barely looked at her, rooting through her bags for the jewellery she knew she had with her, laying it out on her little dressing table.

“Can you leave that and spare me five minutes for a chat, darling?”

Penelope nodded, leaving her bag hanging half open and sitting down, concern overtaking her at the worry on her mum’s face as she fiddled with the scalloped edge on the crochet bedspread.

“It has come to my notice…”

“Mum?  If it’s the clothes- I can take them back, it’s not a problem,”  she placed her hand over her mum’s and Portia sighed,

“that’s another sign of your childhood isn’t it?  The immediate thought that it is financial.  No darling, not at all.  I might seem profligate but we still live on the interest from the estate sale, I have changed,” she held her arms out half heartedly, her usual exuberance somewhat muted, “but I don’t think I can ever get past that hypervigilance.”

“I assumed so, with the Mayfair home not having a mortgage.  So- are you OK, mum?”

Portia nodded, slowly turning it into more of a shrug, something less certain.

“It’s just- this place, I’ve never been around people like this, I don’t suppose either of us have, for long anyway.  It’s made me think.”  She wasn't making eye contact, Penelope was growing concerned, put a hand on hers.

“You’re worrying me now.”  Portia gave a small half smile but it didn’t last long.

“This- this is what I envisaged when I married your dad.  Not the vast acreage and society elegance,”

“a bit of that,”

“Maybe a little,” she held her fingers up to indicate a pinch, “but I’d have married him to live in a rented flat, you know that, before.”

“I do know that mum, you know I do.”

“It’s the way they are with each other, the teasing and jokes, hugs and declarations- I wanted that, instead I gave you insecurity and fear.”

“You didn’t, dad did.  You gave me-“  she thought back to her childhood, “you want honesty?”

Portia nodded, wincing.

“If I knew a child was living in fear the way we did I’d get social services involved and I know you were terrified of that, but- it was never you.  It was never ideal either, but we- the women- it felt as if we were a team, surviving against the odds. I don’t look back and think you failed me, I look back and think he failed us, and you kept it together.  You might be…”

Portia’s laugh was stilted, “I probably am,”

“but you were what we needed then, I don’t know how you did it.”

“You grew up too early.”

“I did, but what were the options?”

“I worry about Fliss, what if she never forgives us… being here amongst this family reminds me she is missing.”

“I know, I was thinking the same.  Invite her, there are still three weeks of this left.”

“But you-“

“Mum, I have to go home Sunday but I was going to ask Violet if she minded me returning after a few days, Eloise has invited Gen anyway, this place- well it’s magical, isn’t it?”

“Violet asked me why I wasn’t more proud of you, of your career.”

“I often wondered that myself.”

“I am, Penelope I really am- I see so much strength in you, I just- I was scared that I might make you weak, vulnerable.  I thought if you had something to strive for- god I’m sorry.”

“I know you think I should be at home, living it up.”

“I don’t, not at all- not you, not my gifted daughter.  I thought you thinking that might be a push, seeing you with the twins, with all the children- it’s been a revelation.”

“Thanks mum.”  The women were both crying by now, eyes reddened and slightly giggly with the embarrassment.  Portia reached over and wiped Penelope’s tears away, “I still want so much more for you.  Just because my love story went sour- look around here, so many examples of why it is worth trying anyway.  That Alfie chap- I was so glad when he left you,”

“Mum!”

“Because he didn’t help you fly, he made you small.  There’s someone out there for you, but someone who magnifies you- otherwise why bother when there’s harmless fun to be had?”

“You realise you’re the second person to suggest one night stands to me this week?”

“Yes? Maybe there is some wisdom in the water here then- or alcohol, there’s definitely enough alcohol!  Now, I’ve said my piece, everyone is outside in the sun and you have that incredible swimming costume…”

“Actually I was going to wear this…”  Penelope opened a drawer and pulled out her new bikini: red polka dot, structured cups and flirty tie sides on the briefs.  Her mum winked,

“you’ll have to try that at the local pool, get those gentlemen queued up!”

“Mum!  One step at a time please, but…”  she returned the wink, “that’s  the idea.  Not sure it's exactly a gentleman I'm looking for though!”

Portia left her to it then and she fiddled around for a bit, adding a touch of waterproof mascara, putting her hair up into a chignon, choosing the sandals with a bit of a heel.  Finally ready she headed to the gardens, feeling younger than she had in- well ever, probably.

Most of the family were already in the lake, the kids with inflatables, Hy, Greg and his guests sitting at the side with their feet immersed, eating ice cream, everyone else swimming circuits or just bobbing along gently, chatting.  Her mum was sunbathing on a lounger chatting to Neil and Marcus, Violet running around with platters of sandwiches.  She stepped forwards,

“let me help, Violet…”

“Oh no dear, you’ll be going home soon-“  she looked Penelope up and down, subtly but clearly impressed- “enjoy yourself, there are plenty people here I can ask and besides, I enjoy it: it’s a choice, I could get caterers after all.”

“Actually, I meant to speak to you- I have to go home as planned, meetings, but would you mind terribly- and I will be fine if you say no, I am so grateful- but would you mind if I came back after a few days?  It’s been so nice, and even mum seems to have thawed…”

“Oh Penelope, we would love that!”  Violet threw her arms around her then stepped back, straightening Penelope’s hair, absolutely beaming: they agreed on Tuesday and Penelope made her way over the water, desperately trying to keep the blush from her face, well aware she was being watched.  She had managed to get into the water and start to make her way towards Eloise when the ribbing started.

“Portia!  Portia!”  Portia sat up and shaded her eyes to get a clear view of the lake,

“Ben?”

“You never told me Penelope had a twin!” 

Portia laughed, “oh we keep her in a cupboard, the glamourous version, only bring her out for special occasions: this is the one who got my genes.”

Resisting the urge to either run or throw her mum a v sign, aware they were surrounded by small kids, Penelope made herself lie back instead, floating on the water, slowly propelling herself along and ignoring everyone else.  As she drifted backwards she found herself slamming against a solid force, scrambling to her feet as arms came down to steady her and prevent her going under,

“shit Pen, I…” Colin stood, speechless, staring at her: she backed away slowly, “no, my fault, I’m sorry, I should have…”  He blinked rapidly: reset mode, she thought.

“No, I was distracted with the twins- sorry, I – uh-“

“yeah, uh-“ she giggled, high pitched, a voice inside her head screaming at her to get a grip, walk away or turn around, either was fine but standing there, boobs out as he stared at her…

Not cool Penelope, not cool!

Chapter Text

The dress was fabulous. Penelope knew that, the sort of thing she’d have usually looked at longingly, before choosing something based on practicality and ability to be laundered at home and something she could wear to kneel on the floor at storytime, her social life so bare that everything had to do double duty.  There was definitely no way any of those would apply to this: emerald satin, a shawl like attached wrap that gave it the illusion of being strapless, belt with silver buckle and wiggle skirt so tight that she could barely walk; she was glad for her mother’s insistence on control underwear at least, just for the aesthetic, and for the pair of sky high black satin shoes Daphne had loaned her.  Her hair was in a loose top knot, artful waves escaping, and she’d finally got some use out of the red lipstick she’d had in her toiletry bag for months but never dared to open.

She didn’t recognise herself in the mirror- she turned to check her appearance from all angles: she didn’t feel like Penelope the school teacher tonight, she felt like- something more, someone who belonged at these parties: she also wondered how the hell she was going to top this for the black tie event but she pushed that aside, she had weeks before that and an entire internet to search.

She didn’t have to walk down alone, Eloise came to call for her, stunning herself in a full length strappy silk sheath of a dress, Penelope sighing in envy- she’d never be able to go braless the way Eloise could, but she supposed it was swings and roundabouts- El would (had, frequently) say the same about her own assets, after all.

They walked into the party arm in arm, accepting champagne and finding a quiet corner to gossip and people watch; it was only family and a few closer friends but everyone had still risen to the occasion, she was glad that Violet had persuaded her to buy a dress, even if she still felt bad about accepting it as a gift.

“She does this every year, says it forces us out of our usual worlds,”  Anthony pulled the empty glass from her hand and handed her another, something different- she sipped it, “French 75,”  he supplied, “I can change it for something else, or…”  she shook her head.

“I won’t be getting drunk tonight, made enough of a show last time, but this is nice- thank you.”  He nodded and leaned against the wall behind her, his well fitting suit moving fluidly across his muscles: he flashed a smile at his wife who blew him a kiss in return, herself stunning in a beautiful sari, cobalt and turquoise with gold embroidery.

“Mum used to hire string quartets for these things but we persuaded her to liven them up a few years ago- tonight we’re blessed with Simon and his playlist.  Can you even dance in those shoes?”

“We’ll see won’t we.  Daphne’s Simon a secret DJ, eh?  I hadn’t put any money on that.”  Anthony grinned,

“we all take turns, it turned into a bit of a battle, mum had to bring in a system.  Not so bad these days of course, most of us are fairly much of an age but when we were young- El’s Ned’s Atomic Dustbin phase did not go down well with the Dowager.” 

Penelope laughed at the deadpan way he said it, eyes still fixed on Kate as she moved through the group welcoming people; she felt that yarning again, that new sense of there being something more out there for her.  He bid her good evening and slunk off, busy fulfilling his host duties- Penelope often had to remind herself that he was the true owner of the house, Violet’s status as hostess and Queen Apparent was given through love rather than anything more formal, she didn’t envy her that – it was great fun to dress up and show off for a night but she couldn’t do it too often, would find it exhausting.

The night proved to be a fun one; once everyone had eaten their share of canapes and the children had been taken (dragged) off to the lodges for cocoa and bed by the hired nanny Simon cranked the music up and everyone seemed to end up on the dance floor, Penelope smiling to see that all joined in- in fact Marcus and Neil seemed to have a great time, putting on a bit of a show, pulling everyone in, even the youngest guests.  As the music slowed down the couples took to the stage, Pen pleased to see that Phillip had his arms around El, her head against his chest as they moved to the song- she was about to sneak off, see if she could grab a snack before heading to bed when she heard a cough at her side and turned to find Colin standing beside her, looking shy.

“You OK, Colin?” 

He smiled, slightly sheepish. “Yeah, I just wondered if you’d like to dance?”  She looked around, flustered before remembering all the things she’d told herself before coming here this evening and extending her hand-

“I would love to, I am of course fully aware that Violet sent you here to ask,"  he looked slightly ashamed but the puppy dog eyes did nothing to reduce his appeal, "but thank you, very much.”  He led her to the floor, finding a space at the edge, slightly away from the actual couples, taking her into what seemed a very polished and practised hold, whispering “dance lessons, mum made us,” as he did so, “just follow me.”

“You assume I can’t dance a waltz?”  She quirked an eyebrow, a challenge: he accepted, mirroring her response, pulling her slightly closer:

“Well come on, Featherington: show me your moves.”

They laughed as they spun and swirled, Colin rapidly realising that he’d underestimated her. She whispered “dance classes, no child of Portia Featherington grows up unable to hold her own at a society event”, he thought her delightful fun and soon people were stopping to watch, coming to a standstill as Lifehouse’s 'You and Me' finally segued into something far too openly soppy for their tenuous friendship, the cessation of activity finding the pair breathless, giggling amongst impromptu applause.  He squeezed her into a tight hug of thanks, she closed her eyes and inhaled his cologne -  the room stopped spinning just for a minute: awareness  of how close they were coursing through her.  He obviously felt her pause, stiffening himself, just a millisecond before pulling back, trying to cover the moment with awkward praise, 

“that was fantastic, you carried me so well- my own dancing is so rusty, really…” he looked embarrassed.

“No, no- it was all your talent, you quite swept me off my feet…” she knew it was rubbish even as she uttered the words.

“Indeed no, and you- in those shoes, the extra height- not that you’re short or anything but I’m unnaturally tall…” he kicked himself mentally, of course she knew she was short- tiny in fact.  What was he even saying?

“No offence taken, I really am quite petite…”  she backed away from him slowly, heart tearing at her chest, suddenly grateful as Phillip swung in front of her, asking for the next dance.  When she turned he was still stood watching her, before being dragged off to help his mum begin the clear up: she thought he seemed relieved at the chance to escape.

An hour later, fully debriefed over hot chocolate by a breathless and excited Eloise, she headed back to her room, shoes swinging from her hand, humming along to herself- something from a musical, she wasn't even sure what really, just a nice little tune she could manage without being too off key. She opened the door to the apartment, aware of a rustling noise inside, her mum jumping to her feet from the sofa, clasping the unbuttoned top of her dress to herself, bra on the rug to her side: besides her was a red faced Neil, half sprawled, completely still, face down from where her mum had moved so quickly- Penelope backed away slowly.

“Oh god, no, no- sorry, I’ll ah-“

“Penelope, no- you don’t have to go, we’ll just take it to the- ah-“  her mum indicated the bedroom: horrified Penelope bent down to grab her flip flops from the little rack by the door,

“No, you carry on, I’ll..." she turned and let the door close before sprinting away, collapsing against the wall at the end of the corridor, breathless.  She texted Eloise to see if she was still up, sending her a meme of eye bleach but there was no reply so she pulled her tights off and slipped her flip flops on: it was a beautiful, starry night- perfect for a walk down by the lake, she might as well make the most of the magical atmosphere, if Portia was still busy... yeah: she shook her head to dispel the memory. She'd sleep in the garden room, anything but head back there tonight.

There was a light on at the lakeside as she headed over, she slowed down for a moment but couldn't see anyone so perched on the little wooden bench at the perimeter, listening to the rhythmic gurgles and slaps of the water as it moved around the rocks and plants close to the edge, lifting her head to watch as the bats flew past, almost silent, silhouettes against the indigo of the summer sky.

She was so absorbed that she barely heard him approach, noticing that he spoke to let her know he was there before he got too close- “it’s OK Pen, don’t want to scare you"-  he held his hands up in surrender, she shook her head,

“i appreciate the gesture but I’m not scared, join me?”  he did, settling against the wooden slats, struggling to arrange his long limbs- she watched him as he crossed his leg over and draped an arm across the back, seeming to need the entire bench for his frame.

“Everything OK?” 

“Yeah, it’s just-“  she shook her head again, “you don’t want to know.”

“Try me.”

“I am keeping my mouth closed for your own welfare, Bridgerton!  Let's just say my room is not where I want to be right now.”

“I'm sure I can handle it- oh, unless it’s Phillip and El,”  he scrunched his face up, “I don’t want to think about that.  But good on her, I suppose…”

“No, not those two- not yet, anyway.  Doubt it’ll be long.”

“Hmm, seems likely.”  He stared at the water, “perhaps it’s something more mystical- I know!  With hair like this-“ he stroked a curl, she fought to resist leaning into it, “you’re a secret mermaid, can’t resist the call of the water.  Am I right?”

“I never understood the interest in mermaids,” she slipped her shoe off and dipped her toes into the water, prepping herself for a cold shock but surprised to find it still warm.  “Don’t you think they smell a bit- well, fishy?”

“Maybe they sell special perfumes for mermaids?  A secret counter behind the tills at Jo Malone,”  he lowered his voice, “Acqua di Kelp,”

“Sewage Leak Pour Femme,”  he faked a body blow as she parried, reaching up to loosen his tie, discarding it on the back of the bench and loosening his collar just enough that she could see a few chest hairs escaping: interesting she thought, not something she usually went for but there was a temptation to find out how it felt between her fingers- she shoved the idea to the back of her mind, exhaling.

“Chanel Kraken.”

She nodded, tipping her head to the side,

“Goldfish, Frankincense and… Myrrh-maid.”  He bowed,

“I think you had me there.  Besides, like you I never really saw the attraction- if they’re fish, aren’t they… you know… down there? Like Barbies, and action men, no sign of gender- or well, whatever fish are, sexually.  Everything is above the waist isn't it?” 

“Fish have a waist?”  She turned to him, giggling, “I didn’t like to say but yes, I think so- cloaca.  I realise I’m not one to say much, I was dumped for a gay penguin, but at least you’d hope a long term partner had…” she shrugged.

“It doesn’t seem that much to ask- hang on, gay penguin,”  he narrowed his eyes, “Benedict said it was a penguin but… was your ex Alfie Debling, of Flipperz fame?”

 She groaned and threw her head back, “See? Everyone loves that fucking penguin, and I'm here, cuckolded... are cuckolds men? They are, aren't they?”

“In my experience yep,”  he smirked, knowing he was making her feel awkward but having too much fun to care. She groaned and threw his tie at him; he ducked, hands up, “sorry, bad joke, carry on ranting, as you were...” he rotated his hand in an appropriate gesture, she resumed her speech,

“cuckolded by a fucking penguin!  And of course everyone loves bloody Alfie, the sweetheart activist who gave up everything to follow the flipper fucker around with a camera for a measly- well I don’t know what he was paid but I bet it was more than my teaching salary.”

“I always thought he seemed boring, self satisfied,”  he looked at her questioningly, checking that character assassination was the right choice, she nodded, “and well...he left you.  What could be more damning?  Aside from someone whose judgement was so poor that they gave him- was it five years? Yes five years of their life!  What were you thinking, Penelope?”

“Thank you, I'm not sure if that boosted my ego or cast my sense of judgement into terminal if justifiable doubt.”

“So, will you tell me what happened in there?” He gestured towards the house, she clearly framed a silent no with her mouth,

“you don’t want to know, honestly.”

“Are we not friends?” His tone was careful, persuasive.

“Are we?  I suppose- are you sure?”

“Try me.” He wriggled, an impression of someone settling in for a story.

“Your loss, I imagine your family keep therapists on call anyway,” 

He winced.  “Harsh but fair and actually very accurate.  Now you really owe me the gossip.”

“I got back to my room and there on my sofa was…”

“Ben!  It’s usually Ben up to that, could be Ant though actually, that’s happened a few times… at least it's with their wives, these days anyway.”

“Are you all on aphrodisiacs or something? Viagra for breakfast? Anyway, no.”

“Tell me it wasn’t Greg, got no idea what’s going with that little trio but…”

“He likes Hermione and she’s in love with Lucy's brother, meanwhile Lucy has the hots for him and he’s oblivious.”

“How the hell…” 

She shrugged, “it’s a skill.  And no, not those- in any combination.”  He stood up and walked the five steps to the shore, picking a pebble from the ground and skimming it across the water, then turning to her.

“Go on then, spill.”

“My mum…” he pulled an exaggerated horrified face and she tipped her head in sympathy, “and Neil.”

“My Neil.”  He sat down, “I… no.  Do you think if slap my head against the bench hard enough I can banish that image?  Neil.  Years I’ve known him, not once… not since his divorce, decades ago, not a sniff from what Marina told me.”

“Well, man is getting some now.  Or about to anyway, mum still had half a dress on but they were heading towards her bedroom.  I didn’t want to stick about for the,”  she mimed nausea, “soundtrack.”

“Oh good god, no!  I've been feeling a bit like Neil’s responsible adult lately, maybe I should issue a written apology.. although you have to give the man credit.”

“Do I?”

“At least he’s getting some, better than either of us.  Still in my mid twenties and here I am, feeding the ducks...”  She made a show of peering around dramatically, seeking the ducks, knowing they were all gone for the night. He nudged his shoulder gently into hers, “come on, it is a bit funny.”

“You didn’t have the actual physical demonstration, they’re not in your room.”

“I can wake mum if you want, she’ll know which rooms are available?”

“Nah, I was going to sit out here for a bit, I’m fine, you can go if you want?”  She shivered, the night just cold enough on her bare arms to make itself known; she pulled the shawl down as best she could.

“Are you kidding?  Kids with the nanny, beautiful- and may I say hilarious- young lady for company,"  he shrugged off his jacket, “take it, I’m fine.”  She didn’t bother to argue, just wrapped it around her shoulders, he pulled her closer and put an arm around her, “can’t have you getting cold.” 

She closed her eyes, his smell surrounding her now, remembering their moment earlier.  She sat in silence for a good few minutes, cogs whirling, trying to decide whether to be brave or sensible. “You know what you said the other day?”

“Which trauma dumping moment was that?  I think I've lost track.”

“It wasn’t… as you said, are we not friends?"  He gave her a small chin dip of acknowledgement, "it was what you said about one night stands.  It made me think.”

“Corrupting the teacher, am I?  Blimey.  Levelled up again, Bridgerton.”

“No- it’s just- I've been hiding so long now, and this place- it seems to be opening me up again, making new paths possible.  Colin, do you think- would you…”

“Pen…”

“it wouldn’t have to mean anything, I'm not asking for more, but I have to start somewhere, right?  This place isn't exactly littered with single men, I draw the line at queuing up for a go at Neil.”

“Flattering.  I can find the old bloke who does mum’s roses if you want, see if he’s up for…”

“No!"  she laughed and leaned into him, head flush against his chest, noticing how his breathing stuttered for a moment.  "Obviously- I mean you’re gorgeous, you know that…” she elbowed him as he smirked, “and you’re… but it’s OK, you don’t want to…”

“Pen…”

“No, I uh should get inside,”  she stood and started to move away, mortified but trying to hide it for the sake of dignity; he grabbed her hand and pulled her into him, his hands going to her hair: her awareness of time paused.

“I should warn you, it’s been rather a long time,”  he whispered, a hand at her jaw, lifting her face towards his.  She lifted her eyes to his face, stilling, eyes fixed on his lips, unable to do more than whisper:

“please.”

He leaned forwards and brushed his lips across hers, so light he barely made contact, immediately pulling back and leaning his forehead against hers: "fuck." 

She retreated, horrified. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't..." he stopped her, 

"No- Pen- it wasn't that- it was just, god, I hadn't realised how much...it was good, OK?"

"Your place or mine?  Yours lacks a selection of old folk, I suppose..."

He laughed and took her hand, "I have a bed in my garden room?"

"Perfect."  She started to walk away, towing him across the lawn; he hung back, noting the way her hips and arse moved in the tight pencil skirt of her dress, the way she giggled as she looked back at him, half-down hair bobbing around her shoulders.  He blinked, time slowing, overcome. His heartbeat was surely audible, he thought, as he followed her to what he thought might just be a sailor's demise, surrendering to the siren before him.

Chapter Text

Colin blinked at the bright light peeking in through the slats of the blinds, groaned and pulled Penelope’s body into him, burying his face into her hair, desperate for a few more minutes in this bubble.  Last night had been amazing- his lips twitched at the memory, how could it be anything else-- he hadn’t even looked at anyone else since Marina had been hospitalised, constantly terrified any wrong move would push her too far, set her back or worse; then she’d- and yeah, the idea of even risking caring about someone again- he’d kept it strictly to family and a few old friends, even chatting to Pen as he had done this week…

He brushed the hair from her still sleeping face and dropped a kiss on the exposed side of her neck, desperate not to wake her, wanting to savour every moment. 

It had been something of a revelation.  He was no stranger to one night stands and even the odd fling from the time immediately after his divorce, always seeking that extra bit of human connection in the midst of a life that wouldn’t quite allow him to settle or put down the roots his soul cried out for, and there’d been some notable exploits- sun drenched decks of boats moored far out at sea, remote beaches under evening palm trees, back rooms in pumping rooftop bars and exclusive hotel suites… he had money, charm and a decent enough smile, he’d never been without offers.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had connecting sex either, he’d been happily married once, lost in a newlywed daze of romance and hope. Well he had, he couldn’t speak for her of course, he never truly had known what it been about for Marina and the knowledge that he'd never find out had been the topic of more than a few counselling sessions.

He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, carefully shifting his hand down to cup her hip, pausing as she shifted but releasing a relieved breath as she hummed quietly and settled back into the curve of him. He’d be delighted with a replay of course but right now all he wanted was this joy, curled up naked together, the evidence of their night scattered across the little room, her dress draped across his coffee table, bra hanging off the door handle...he resisted a laugh as he remembered how it got there, knickers under his pillow, useless now, teeth torn and frayed.

It hadn’t been intended to be tender, both of them mixing desire with long built frustration and, probably, an element of loneliness, but it had ended up that way anyway. She’d started to strip as soon as they entered the room and closed the blinds, before he’d stopped her, wanting to finish the job himself, audibly moaning at the sight of her naked self; soft, curved, and abundant. His hand sunk into her luxurious flesh as if searching for the meaning of life itself, well, perhaps that analogy was a bit overdone but he could forgive himself that, couldn't he?  His own shirt needed new buttons now, ripped open in a desperate search for skin as he knelt before her, suckling at her breasts and then moving lower, to the delicious taste of her, a leg thrown over his shoulder, kissing her through it then carrying her (performative really, a few steps at most) and depositing her on the bed as he finally removed his own suit, finally sinking into her and the strangest feeling that after a life of wandering and restlessness... no, it was too much, post coital smog, no more.

“Good morning.”  She tugged the duvet close around her, nestling into him, her behind pressing into where he was already at half mast just thinking of her.  He kissed down her neck, suckling on her collar bone, resisting the urge to leave a claiming mark this first night but promising himself that one day… she shifted in his arms then so that she was on top, slipping down his chest, fingers tugging and twisting in his chest hair as she nipped at his sensitive nipples before sliding lower, taking him in her mouth until there was no way his hips could remain still, then pulling off…

“Pen, please baby…”  she smiled at his desperate face, her mascara smudged and lips kiss bruised, before asking for a condom and sliding it on to him, climbing over and moving until they were both a mess of thrusting hips and clawing hands, Colin’s eyes fixed on her breasts as they bounced in front of him, an image he knew he’d take to the grave.

Satiated they curled back into each other, Colin’s head nestled on her pillowy chest, her fingers combing through his beard, nails scratching, his eyes closed as he found refuge in the dreamlike space.  Eventually, reluctantly, he glanced at the clock and sighed, hating to break the spell.

“I’m so sorry, the kids are only with the nanny for another hour and I think I’m going to need a tidy and shower…”  he smiled sheepishly, hating the intrusion of real life.  She rolled away quickly,

“oh of course!  No...oh god!”  Her head dropped into her hands as he panicked slightly, “walk of shame… in that dress, within your own home.” 

He laughed, heartily. “Tell everyone you slept in your room, they’ll never know.”

“On the floor?  You think they will believe it?”  He shrugged,

“it might make your mum feel bad for the… experience.”

It had been so perfect then, that feeling that something had changed, that there was brightness somewhere ahead until it had all come crashing down.

“Colin?” 

“Hmm?”  He was shuffling around, tidying up, pulling up toys and books, readying himself for the imminent return to normality. 

“I...thank you.” 

He turned to her, confused. "Thank you?”

“Yes; I know this was a favour, I…”

“Oh no, no…Pen...” he was in the process of walking across to gather her in his arms, determined to try and persuade her that this could be about far more than that, if only she’d consider him.  As he did so he glanced down at the book in his hands, dropping it with a whimper.  She looked at him, eyes curious, then picked the book up, scanning the cover with a horrified face.

“Mummy and Me…”  she turned the book over in her hands before examining the picture on the front, a younger version of the twins curled up on a sofa with an incredibly beautiful, smiling woman.  “Oh Colin, is this…”  he snatched it back from her, holding it against him, immediately feeling guilty for both snatching the book and stepping outside the narrow box he'd carved for himself.

“I’m sorry Pen,  I…”

She slipped on the flip flops and held her hand at his cheek for a moment, “are you going to be OK?” 

He nodded. “I just need a bit…”

“Yes, yes of course. I am so sorry Colin, she was beautiful,” she gave him a gentle smile then slipped out. He stared at the book for a few minutes, sent a text to his mum asking her to keep hold of the kids then sank back on to his mattress, slipped under the duvet and wept.

Penelope managed to slip into the house unnoticed, her mum still shut in her room- she didn’t even want to know if she was alone or not- and into the shower.  Eventually, damp hair plaited and dressed in her new pedal pushers and striped Breton top, she rejoined the family for breakfast, unsurprisingly ravenous.

“No Colin?”   She felt herself blush at the question, realising the twins were there without him. Violet shook her head and went back to her conversation with Francesca, something about dates for her recital tour, waiting until the table was empty of all but the two of them before pouring them both a second coffee and slipping into the seat next to her.

“Colin has these days…not the way he used to, you understand, it’s been a while... for a long time this was his normal, but every now and then.”  Penelope nodded, sipping at her coffee, trying not to let on that her concern might just be as more than casual friends.

“I don’t suppose that’s surprising, it was a horrible loss. I saw a picture, she was so pretty.” 

Violet sighed, “she was, wasn’t she?  It was such a mess.”

“That’s the word Colin used- oh no details obviously, just that it was a mess. You've all done such a good job though, the twins are so lovely, they were so young.”

“Have another piece of toast dear, try my home made jam. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t unload on you, but it’s hard to find someone who wasn’t there who is willing to listen, you don’t mind do you?”

She knew she shouldn’t, somehow it felt wrong and intrusive now but she nodded, not wanting to leave the poor woman unsupported, “of course, Violet.”

“Their marriage- well they were too young, hardly knew each other really, and so different. He was, well he can be a bit like a puppy dog sometimes.”  Penelope smiled in recognition,

“yeah, I can see that,"

“and she, she was a strange one I suppose, not wanting to speak ill of the dead but... he couldn’t see it but she kept us at arm’s length, it was lucky that I was able to befriend Neil. For a while I thought she was deliberately abusive, separating him from us, you see it don't you?  On TV and in books... but in the end, I don’t think she was that engaged, just didn’t really know how to extend herself beyond him, it had always just been her and Neil. Her mum…” the older woman's shoulders shook slightly, hand gripping the arm of the chair.

“Violet, if it’s too much…”

“It is, but it does no good… her mum vanished when she was a kid, left her alone and never came back, had died a while before, serious mental health problems herself. Neil said bipolar disorder that showed up after post natal depression, well we didn't call it that then, manic depression, but thank god we know more now.  Anyway, six months after the wedding she was pregnant."

“That’s not so unusual, is it?”

“He was 20, they both were, had plans to see the world.  Anyway there were all these lies and she wasn’t getting the help she told him she was, midwives and the like. It came to a head and his brothers had to step in… fast forward a while and it turned out she was, well you know the situation with Phillip.”

“That must have really stung.”

“Colin found out about it after everyone else, can you imagine?”  Penelope visibly cringed and Violet patted her hand, “a long time ago now.  They divorced, shared custody.  Then one day she just upped and left the twins and went out, luckily Neil realised and well he told Colin, not immediately mind you- we had words about that- and I moved in, just to give Colin a chance to sort out his life abroad so he could move back.”

“They were lucky to have you, Violet, so many don’t have that kind of back up.”

“No well it wasn't enough, was it?  I got up one night, could hear movement and… no it’s OK sweetie, you don’t need to hear this, I’m just being daft.  Colin having a bad day spooked me I think.”  She stood up and started gathering plates, stacking them ready to take to the kitchen.

Penelope felt a wave of guilt wash through her, “no, Violet, if you want to. No pressure but I am more than willing, you’ve been so kind and…”

“are you sure?” 

Penelope nodded, the older woman settling back next to her, wiping at her eyes, apologising quietly. Penelope put an arm around her and pulled her close, “it’s OK Violet.”

“She’d been acting a bit weird, always awake, not eating, hypermania they called it, after, you know.  I’d been worried and Neil and I had watched her but it never went over. Well you look for that one thing, don’t you?” 

“I know what you mean Violet, we have kids like that at school. You think you know something is wrong in their lives but you can’t quite, it needs that extra trigger before we can do anything.”

“Yes!  And Colin was coming home, and oh my sweet boy, remember they were divorced, had been for a few years but he didn’t want to take the kids away, he was trying to find a way to keep them together safely.  It’s been horrible, horrible but I’m so proud. It cost him so many years and I feel angry and then I look at what she lost…”  Penelope walked over to the sideboard and retrieved the tissue box, handing it to her and kneeling next to her, an arm around her.

“He’s a lovely father, Violet- so good with the kids.”

“You’ve barely seen them. It was always Ben and Ant at school, or me. You must have thought…” Penelope stayed silent, “well, that night- I found Marina and she was pacing, up and down.  It wasn’t a big place, Neil’s little granny cottage really, but she kept going.  I managed to settle her, get her talking enough to find out that a few days before she’d heard George, you know Phillip’s... he’d been killed, on a training exercise.”  Even Penelope was crying at this point, silent tears, wiped away on her sleeve.  “Anyway, that night I was telling you about- I watched her and realised that she was, well, she was in the middle of overdosing, we had  to call 999, get her taken to hospital.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Neil went into a panic, shut down. I suppose it took him back to his wife, they'd had the police out searching for her… A&E called a psychiatrist and he wanted her to be admitted, she refused and Neil wouldn’t cooperate with the sectioning until Colin was there- begged them to wait, really. He flew home that day, she was sectioned and she was in for six months.  She wouldn’t even speak to us for the first three, then they were allowed visits and there was some therapy for him and Neil as well. I kept saying, why?  They weren't married any more, how would he ever get another chance if… he was 25, how could he spend his life caring for her? she was his ex, she cheated on him, threw him out really, and he wouldn’t listen.”

“He sounds like a good man, if an overly self sacrificing one.”

“Six months she was home, settled. He was miserable, you could tell that, but he was never quite ready to start custody proceedings, always worried it would be too much… then," Violet shrugged, hiding her face, “well, in the end it wasn’t enough anyway was it?”  Violet stood and started to clear up, obviously talked out.  “So we still get days like this where he’ll hide away and maybe in a day or two we’ll see him again, but they’re rare and getting more so.”

“I suppose he blames himself?”

“Wouldn't anyone? There was nothing he couldn’t or didn’t do for her, but it wasn't enough, she didn't ask or anything, she was just empty really, and we were worried about the kids being around her, how it might impact them. I think he felt the need to save her, thought if he couldn’t save the mum of his kids how could he even be worth taking up space?  He’d turned her into his mission, and then…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes well…”  she looked up quickly, realising someone was approaching, wiped her eyes and fixed a smile  on her face. "We still have him don’t we?  Poor Neil… ah there you are Portia!  You missed breakfast, can I get you a coffee?”  She jumped to her feet without waiting for an answer, Portia watched her go, seeming to realise something was awry but not liking to ask.  She turned to her daughter,

“Pen, I am so sorry…”

“No Neil?” 

Portia shook her head, “you know me- can’t let them stay; did you find somewhere to sleep?”

“I did, mum.  Look, it’s not that I don’t want you to..."

“I know, I know: we’d had a few, it was…”

“Neil has a room, maybe take it there next time?”

“If there is, I will.  We’re OK?”

“Yes mum, we’re OK.”

Portia clapped, happy, taking her cup from Violet with a thank you.

“Well now as everyone is up,”  Violet sent a small watery smile to Penelope, “we have the twins to entertain today, Colin is feeling a bit off.“

“Probably drunk too much last night,”  Portia nodded, “a wonderful party Violet.”

“Probably.  It’s Penelope’s last day for a bit as well so we’re all heading out to the seaside, let Colin sleep it off in peace.”  Neil joined her at that point, the tiniest touch at Portia’s elbow, only noticeable to someone who knew to look. He nodded at Violet,

“Colin, hangover, or…”

“Or.”  Neil nodded,

“best we all head out then.  I’ll get the twins readied if you’re OK with that?”  He made up a jam sandwich and walked off to retrieve them from Sophie, Violet turned to Penelope,

“Is that OK?”  Penelope nodded,

“Of course, do you want me to take a sandwich to Colin?”

“Oh no need dear, we know his routine. Anthony will pop something in this evening, nobody else will be allowed until tomorrow.”

Dismissed, Penelope went off to find her beach things, slipping out to knock gently at Colin’s door but not getting a response. She left a few biscuits wrapped in foil there anyway and joined the family for the day.

The day was full of all things British- ice cream, chips on the beach, followed by ball games and shopping for souvenirs for the children, the twins choosing little presents for their daddy, Amanda a necklace made of shells- Penelope couldn’t see the point but didn’t say anything, just took the girl to the till and paid for it- Oliver a huge stick of pink rock with ‘best daddy’ running through it; Penelope added two other sticks, much smaller, one for each of them, only wishing she could do more for the poor family, worried that her own little grab for independence had somehow made things worse- she pushed the thought away, it was a step he’d have to take with someone eventually, at least he was home, around his loved ones.

Everyone was tired from the day and the night before so they drifted early, the few that remained watching comedies on the family TV- Mr Bean before the kids went to bed, Brassic after- the group diminishing until it was just her and the youngsters left, Penelope wishing Hy, Greg and Greg’s women goodnight and taking herself to her own room to pack, knowing she had to leave early the next morning, sad to go without checking that Colin was OK but knowing she’d be back in a few days, she still had time.

Chapter Text

It was Colin’s turn to slip into breakfast late the next day, not at his best and in need of a tidy but he knew his family would understand, would be grateful for him showing up at all even- one of his shortest descents so far, the destructive wound of the early days slowly being stitched closed with something new, forever scarred perhaps, frayed but rebuilt, remade: indeed he was somehow glad for the truth of that, he could not be the Colin of the before, or even the during- had only the after to shape.

Even that realisation indicated a new frame of mind, he realised: his bed ridden musings less on his lack of a future or the ever rolling fears that he usually managed to suppress, always surfacing at this time, but knowing he needed to replace them with something new- not easy perhaps but different, manageable: sadness, a sense of loss of course, but perhaps also a slow fade of the past belief that his own life ended when hers did, tiny glimpses of a future not just defined through children and family starting to break through the gloom.

He sat quietly, picking at the bacon and eggs Violet had heaped on his plate, more in hope than expectation.  Family members and friends drifted in and out, shoulder slaps and hugs- the younger guests eyeing him warily, he hoped they weren’t yet old enough to understand grief, an extra pang of sadness when Lucy leaned in and squeezed his hand, whispering that she’d lost her own mother- he’d long known his mum liked to collect people who’d mourned, didn’t realise that Greg was now repeating her path, aware or not: he wasn’t sure whether to feel sad or proud, wondered how it would have been if there’d been someone like that around when they lost Edmund-  their dad’s siblings had tried, buried as they were in their own grief, but he’d often asked himself how it would have been had Violet had siblings of her own to step in, another degree distanced from the loss, and relieve the load on Anthony a little.  He’d thought about it with his father in law as well, hadn’t he? On those occasions when Neil had overstepped, seemed to cling on- the man had only had Marina, had lost everything in different but still terrible situations, twice.  He had the twins and the power to choose their path, with or without Neil, and a whole family uncertain yet determined to somehow help.

He tried to grab the quiet moments between his family’s incursions, no sooner making eye contact with his mum than someone would interrupt, searching for an ever wider range of things, toast to misplaced shoes or contact details for someone he hadn’t even heard mentioned in the past decade- it was starting to feel like a comedy sketch really, with him as the butt of the joke.

Eventually it quietened, Violet settling in front of him with her own drink, smiling quietly over the rim as she sipped, saying little.  He slowed his breathing, rehearsed what he wanted to ask, praying for the help of the gods of nonchalance if any such existed- his mum had a radar for anything like this, he didn’t need to be the blip on her sonar.

“No Pen this morning?”

“Penelope?”  His mum raised an eyebrow, but he thought it seemed more like guilt than suspicion- interesting.

“Yes, you know: red headed lass, about so high”- he indicated halfway up the table leg, she gave him a small laugh, “Portia’s daughter, cracking…”

“Ok, ok… you don’t need to…”

“cracking professional abilities, Mum!  Honesty, your dirty mind…”  he returned to stirring the eggs around his plate but met her eyes with a small teasing smile.

“She left yesterday Colin, had some meetings in London-  work I suppose, you’d think they’d let her have a full break.  Still, not as if we won’t see her soon.”  He nodded: they would of course, neighbours and the school gate but it wasn’t quite what he was after.  He needed to explain, see if there was any chance she might be interested- he couldn’t do that at Bridgerton House, surrounded by little ears and bigger gossips.

“That’s a shame, she seems to fit in well.” A shame: that barely broke the surface of it, did it?  He’d come down here today, braving the centre of the family’s morning, all ready to make some pre-prepared speech along the lines of “perhaps- ugh- you know, trying something, just casually, it might be alright, yeah?” knowing that his brain would be begging please Penelope, fuck me again, heart well,- two steps forwards, one point ninety nine steps back but for the first time in ages maybe, just maybe it was pausing to do a little shimmy in the middle, a sign of life before the retreat?

“She does, and I’m hopeful we can get Agatha to read her manuscript, if she’ll let us have it.”  Colin nodded; Agatha had only stayed a few days, would return at the end of the month but still worked for a publisher part time as a consultant after her retirement- he’d wondered himself, had planned to have a chat if it wasn’t overstepping.

He shuffled his chair back, pulling his sweater off the arm.  His mum told him to take a seat, she needed to talk to him- he wanted to talk to Penelope but if she wanted to hold onto him- she’d done this before, when she thought he needed pulling back into the group: it wasn’t the same this time but he could hardly admit to a crush on the woman could he? say that he’d slept with her and it had been magical, before ghosting her the morning after: if she’d known she was leaving, why hadn’t she mentioned it?  Was the meeting a ruse, an excuse to get away from him?

“Actually I wondered if we could have a chat, about Penelope anyway.”

“Christ.”  He hadn’t meant to say it, but he’d been so into his thoughts there and she’d said the one thing he was hoping she wouldn’t- what was he going to say?  “yeah well, your mad mate was banging my father in law in her room so she asked if I would mind fucking her to fill the night and well, then I kissed her and something happened- and god she’s a great shag, mum.  Nice, too."

Maybe he should, it might shut her up- perhaps not, she’d survived enough years of Anthony and Ben’s exploits, he’d even heard her referring to Greg’s little party as the threesome or harem a few times, you could never quite predict what Violet Bridgerton you would get: compassionate widow and devoted mother or, well, best friend of bloody Portia and somewhat commitment phobic partner of Marcus, a relationship none of them had dared pry into: perhaps he would, if she tried it on him, god knows what else he’d do to amuse himself now the one interesting new person here had gone.

“I have a confession to make, Colin.  I’m sorry- I overstepped the boundaries perhaps, it’s just you haven’t had a bad day in so long and well, obviously it’s worse for you and Neil but the rest of us, we love you,” 

“I know, mum.  Spit it out.”  So many caveats, what had she done?

“I had a bit of a mini breakdown I suppose, to Penelope, over breakfast.  Told her a bit of Marina’s story, from my side- I should have asked, checked- but I know you two don’t really know each other,”  he pinched his thigh under the table to force himself to resist the urge to groan loudly, “and well, you’re a dad, you know how it is to worry about your kids, even giant grown up ones.”  The groan escaped anyway, somewhat less dramatic than he felt was due but enough to earn him a wince.

“Oh mum.  I get it, I really do but sometimes it’s nice to have someone around who doesn’t know about all the history… I mean she was aware of some parts, it wasn’t all new to her...

“School, of course,”

“No, well that I suppose but we’re practically neighbours out there on the lawn, we do chat when we run into each other.”

“So you’re not angry with me then?” she tickled his chin, pulling a face at his beard, and he scowled:

“not angry but perhaps a little dignity? If I’m ever going to move forwards- it’s not just me that has to move on, is it?”

Penelope arrived home just before the rush hour traffic, little Fiat carefully parked in her mum’s parking space, now thankfully abandoned by  her mother and their few staff, all away for the summer.  She unlocked, shuffled the mail and headed to the laundry room, throwing a coloured load in and setting the machine ready for drying later.  Pausing to sit on the counter she opened the letters addressed to her and found the one she was looking for, setting it aside whilst she made herself a snack and called Gen to confirm her arrival, extra texts to El and her mum, checking in. 

The meetings that first day were simple enough- a call to Helen, questions asked and hesitant agreement given, then a Zoom before heading out for dinner with Pru and Pip: she’d spent so much time around other people’s children this past week but she missed her own family, she usually spent a lot of the summer babysitting her nieces but they’d understood and encouraged her to go and have some fun, she’d been quite surprised really, pleasantly so.

They were at Pip’s house this time, Albie quietly busying himself in the background, the most natural of hosts and always enjoying making others feel comfortable- Pen knew Violet had invited them to Aubrey for a few days as well but he hadn’t been able to get the time off work; Prudence’s husband Rob was the chef for the night, always a skilled cook.  Penelope enjoyed playing with her nieces, splashing in the paddling pool before baths and a story after their tea, settling them in bed with their furry bears and cuddles.  The adults all then settled together in the dining room, sharing Rob’s seafood platter before tucking into boeuf bourgignon and finishing with chocolate torte, all Penelope’s favourites.  They gossiped and laughed, sharing stories until finally the mood grew quieter and more stilted; Penelope found herself uncomfortable, aware that her sisters wanted to speak but were unsure.

“Fire away then, out with it.”  She poured herself a coffee and grimaced as her sisters exchanged a look, the husbands still around but removing themselves from the centre.  Pip flashed her a fake smile,

“Here, have some wine.”  Penelope shook her head and covered her glass, “driving, remember? I had Ribena, stole some from the kid’s supply.”  Pip nodded and mouthed a simple  “oh of course,” before Pru shuffled forwards.

“It’s just that- well- you know…”

“I don’t, sorry.  I’d help if I did but this is a mystery.”

“Yeah- it’s just we’ve had Fliss here all week, staying, helping out with the kids.”

“Really?”  Penelope beamed, placing her glass on the table and giving her sisters her rapt attention.  “How is she?”

“She’s OK, enjoying study, getting along fine.  She said mum invited her to Violet’s party.”  Penelope nodded,

“I believe so.  With Violet’s permission of course but you know what she's like, more the merrier.”

“We’re- it’s just that mum hasn’t done that before.  She hasn’t rejected her or anything but she never reached out, and for something so full on as well… Fliss would be stuck with her the whole time!”

“You’d be surprised, place is overflowing- there are a few her age, Hy and Greg, Lucy- Fran isn’t much older, Fran’s… friend, Michaela… it’s a mixed bunch, really.  I do know mum was really keen on her coming, it seems Violet has been having quite a dramatic effect on her, thawing her a bit.”

“She’s not shagging her through Kent, then?”

Penelope took a huge sip of her coffee,  “he is from Somerset actually.” Pru rolled her eyes and Pip spluttered into her own wine,

“please tell me he’s not 25…”

“He’s older than her I think, but not by much.  Don’t go assuming anything, as far as I know it could have been a one night thing, probably was- Neil can be a bit grumpy, but seems like a decent bloke.”

“Is she growing up Pen?”  Pip bit her lips as they all giggled,

“seems unlikely.  But it’s been a nice bit of respite.”

“So, Fliss is tempted but she’s worried about you as much as mum…”

“Me?”  Penelope wrinkled her forehead, confused; “why me?”

“She wasn’t sure how you’d feel- you two, you’re not exactly…”

“Well no, but I’d like to be… she just…”

“and here we have the problem.”  Albion settled down on the arm of the chair, arms around his wife, legs crossed over each other.  “You and Portia, both guilty in your own ways about her childhood, never putting any pressure on her, thinking she’ll come back when she’s ready.  Fliss interpreting that as nobody really caring and her presence not needed, staying at the periphery…”

“Oh.  Really?  I thought mum maybe, but me?”

Pip nodded, “it’s just with you living with mum, and always being so busy and career orientated, and Alfie…”

“he’s long gone…”

“she didn’t know if she really was welcome.  Is she?”

Pen wiped her eyes; the past few days had been a bit of a rollercoaster of sorts, trying to shrug off the Penelope she used to be and move forwards, had she really been a barrier to her sister returning home? Pru reached forwards and held her arm, “nobody thought anything badly of you Pen, it’s just- you were holding it together as much as mum really, Pip and I were already half out the door, you were as much of a mum to her as a sister…”

“I never thought of myself that way, but there was precious time between dad and school, I suppose.  Can I- would you mind if I sit with that a bit?  Let her know she is not so much welcome as desperately missed, please?  If she comes i’ll talk to her a bit but there’s a whole house there full of people who had a brother take their dad’s role, maybe it would be good if she did get along with Hy and Greg?”

“Penelope nobody is getting at you, we all did what we had to- fuck, I think we all did bloody well to get out of there intact really, not one drunk or addict amongst us-“  Albie sat behind Pip nodding fervently at her words, “and look at us now- two of us married, you a teacher, even mum… we broke the legacy Pen, we just need to finish the job and sort out Fliss.”

“Yes, yes please.  Thank you for telling me, that can’t have been easy.”

“Only because we all know you’ll blame yourself.”

The dinner broke up soon after and Penelope was glad for the chance to get away, a quiet drive to gather her thoughts.  She’d have to gather her thoughts of course, get past the weird sense of hurt that nobody had ever told her before but if her mum could manage to grow she could, surely?  What was the point of a whole new wardrobe and outlook if she couldn’t learn a bit more about herself as well?  It had been easy to grow insular, just her and mum most of the time, always facing down one crisis or another- there were still times where she didn’t quite know what to do without the adrenaline rush, found it in her workload instead.

Monday morning brought a very different sort of reunion and it started early, in a coffee shop opposite her old flat, hair primped to the max in big loose waves,  her new pedal pushers and little sweater on, even a touch of make up- not too much, she certainly didn’t want to seem desperate but she needed confidence with this date.

She didn’t carry much with her, just a laptop, pen and notebook, and deliberately arrived early, treating herself to a cinnamon bun and latte before they were due to arrive, half curled up in the biggest armchair she could find, making a start on the work of editing her manuscript.  She’d only just managed to immerse herself in it when she was distracted by a somewhat overbearing “Penelope!  I barely recognised you!”  She closed her laptop slowly and rose to her feet, resisting the obvious move towards a hug and extended her hand, “Alfie.”

“Oh yes, yes right- you’ve met my publicist”- he gestured to the woman beside him, barely out of university and an intern when Pen had first known her- the woman half smiled and reached out her hand to encapsulate his, a strange half awkward, half possessive smile.

“I remember Clara, hello!” she waved vaguely in her direction and turned back to Alfie, pretending to ignore Clara’s evident attempts at claiming, “you wanted to meet up? Sit.”

“Oh right, of course- would you like a drink- um, oat milk latte was it?”  Penelope shook her head; “not any more, but if you’d like to buy me a regular latte that would be great, thank you.”  She saw the flicker on Alfie’s face as she requested cow’s milk, registering that he’d never have agreed to buy her dairy when they were together- that must mean something, right?  She didn’t know what this meeting was about, only that it was work related and apparently important enough to drag her back from Aubrey when the other meetings had been easy to move to phone and online- her curiosity grew as he walked away and she addressed Clara, beside her.

“I was never vegan, he did know that but he always forgot, I think he thought I’d just give in and follow him.”

“I converted when we got together, he’s so inspiring, don’t you think?”  Pen peered at him in mock confusion…

“You think so?  That’s nice,  How long have you been together?”  She tried not to laugh as Clara blushed,

“erm, well… I’m not sure really…”

“Don’t worry, I have my answer.”  Penelope wasn’t surprised, exactly- she knew Alfie would have lined up someone back at home when he was away, he’d never been the type to like returning to a cold bed or attending a works do alone.  Still, she hadn't expected him to bring her along, flaunt it quite so obviously.  As she scrolled her phone she wondered how Colin might have reacted if she’d asked him to come along as a dupe, had she known she would be outnumbered: she had a feeling he’d probably find the fun in it, he seemed the type to bribed with pastries anyway.

It took him a few minutes to shuffle through the queue, cap pulled down and collar up, eyes firmly on his shoes lest he be recognised.  Penelope did spot a few teens nodding at him and giggling as they tried to work out if he was famous but instead of the expected request for an autograph and selfie they just jostled him and yelled “penguin wanker!” as they ran out the door; Alfie looked annoyed but not unused to it, Penelope had to firmly bite her tongue to avoid a full on guffaw of laugher, Clara looked concerned and mumbled “not again” as she accepted her apple and water from Alfie with a smile and a cheek kiss, quietly greeting him with “sorry, darling.”

“Why are you apologising?  You didn’t pay the local teens to do that did you?  Mind you if you did it was an impressive piece of street theatre, think they’d do a repeat?”  Penelope stretched herself as if to look for them through the glass window, desperately hoping she could avoid blushing at her own bravery, her mind alternating between “what a barb! Well done you!” and something less complimentary, the sound of her own self doubt perhaps, the vague sense that he’d found her wanting not all that long ago.

“Snippy as ever Penelope.  Well we won’t keep you, I’m sure you have somewhere to be.  Have you?”  He tipped his head in a faux empathic manner,

“I was on holiday with the family of billionaires actually, a luxury house in Kent, but I left just to meet you, aren’t you lucky?”

“Pen…”  Clara glanced at her with a warning: she knew that face, anxiety that she’d be spending the afternoon trying to clam him and repair his ego, she expected guilt but instead felt a rush of full joy that it was no longer her life and ignored the woman’s entreaty.

“Right, well silly answers aside how are you?  You look well.”

“As do you.”  She out down her phone with a sigh, “I’m glad you seem well.  What’s this all about Alf?”

“Nobody likes Kent anyway,”  he grumbled, “we all follow Phil Carr.  Look, it’s about work, Clara is here in a professional capacity.”

“OK.”  She was amazed to find out how much she truly didn’t care what capacity Clara was there in, she hadn’t heard her say a single interesting word and held zero interest in her.

“So, I’m writing a book- well no, it’s not writing, it’s with the publishers now, ready to launch in fact.”

“I didn’t think you enjoyed writing…”

“The benefits of fame Penelope,”  she praised herself for managing to resist calling him a dickhead and decided to treat herself to a take away later as a reward, “I  don’t have to do any writing, I just supply the material, someone else does it for me.”

“So you talked about yourself for endless hours and some poor sap had to turn it into something usable?  That makes sense.”

“You see, Clara?”  He turned to his PA and gestured, “this is what I had to put up with. This is why…”  he turned back to Penelope,

“it’s not the first book I’ve had input on obviously, there have been a few tie ins but this one is an autobiography, really.”

“What did you title it?”

“Huh?”

“Titles are hard, what did you title it?”

“Flipperz And Him.  It’s clever, it references both the fact that it’s about me as well and the fact that he’s…”

“Gay, yes we know.  Well it’s a penguin I guess, poor sod doesn’t have much going for him, does it?  Not much mileage to get out of whether he prefers herring or krill and even the pebble collection must get tedious eventually.  Is that penguins?  Might be otters, or both- saw it in a book somewhere."

“Were you always this snippy?”  She stirred her drink and pretended to give it some thought,

“No, a shame really, it’s great fun.  Do press on, penguin… gay… all about you, yada yada…”

“Right.  Well obviously you came up, we were together five years, it was unavoidable really.”

She held out her hand, “I take it you brought me a copy?”

“No, ah…”

“Why did you bother asking me here then?”

“I’ll ask someone to send you one.  It doesn’t actually give your full name anyway, you are just P, but there are a few photos of us in the public domain I believe, perhaps a press article or two.  I said very little really, I just thought you should know.”

“I think I’d rather have not, it’s not as if I’d have known otherwise and you can’t show me a pre-print copy.  Why did you bother me, Alf?”

“Basic manners, I suppose- and your mum is on the list for a signed copy, she always liked me.”  Penelope allowed herself the burst of laughter,

“Of course she did.  If that’s it I have to get going…”

“Probably a good idea, we have another meeting run to anyway, about the next project.”

“Bisexual elk?  Sapiosexual manatee?  Polyamorous Polynesian parakeets?  No, the alliteration is perhaps a touch overdone.  Cuckolded carp, yep.”  She gathered her things and stood, face reed but this time- for the first time, perhaps- with fury rather than embarrassment- “send me that fucking book and I’ll have a lawyer look at it.”

“you don’t have a lawyer.”

“No?” she leaned in, “try me,” and stormed out, pausing outside to call Gen, breathing heavy and trying not to sob.

“Penelope?”  Gen’s French accent was grounding, “all I can hear is heavy breathing, is it Penelope or a pervert?  I’m happy to entertain both but you have to let me know because the small talk would be remarkably different…”  Pen felt the hysteria bubble up then, laughter intertwined with sobs,

“God Gen I’ve missed you.  Are you close?”

“That’s what all the perverts say.”

“You get a better class of pervert than me then, at least yours care about your pleasure.    Where are you?”

“Euston Eurostar terminal in ten.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Chapter Text

Colin lay on his bed, eyes closed against the bright sunlight, an arm splayed across his face for good measure.  The children were occupied beside him, YouTube kids and a pile of biscuits that someone had left by the door a few days ago.  Usually he loved the idea of the place as a refuge from the boisterous nature of his family but now it was starting to feel lonely, isolated even.  Perhaps it had outlasted it’s usefulness and it was time to talk to his mum about moving back to the house, or perhaps it was a sign that he was ready for something new himself.

He had been tempted to jump in a car and hotfoot it back to London to seek Penelope out and make a case for taking a punt on whatever existed between them, but he had known it would be the wrong path to take  Not just because she deserved her privacy, but because he knew he had work still left to do on himself, that if he was going to be somebody worth risking so much for then he had to be truly ready.

There had been moments of near paranoia, finding himself suddenly convinced his mum knew, or that Penelope had in fact run and his family were covering up, talking himself down slowly and carefully.  The appearance of guilt was, of course, inevitable and almost comforting in its familiarity but it wasn’t only the usual fear of somehow betraying a marriage that had long been over- it was guilt at the fact that he got to move forwards, build dreams and take new risks. He’d been so stymied that he hadn’t done either of those for a long time, fighting to just keep his head above water, and perhaps that had been the right choice if it brought him to this place but it was all still somewhat new and scary.

He’d loathed his time with therapists and counsellors, perhaps in a different situation he’d have seen them as allies but Marina’s illness had meant they’d been an ever-present factor in his life for too long, inadvertently denying him the space he needed to breathe.  He’d also struggled with trusting them because the one thing they’d needed, Marina safe, had been lost anyway. Now, so much later and with all the space he could ever wish for and far more on top, he was starting to find elements of wisdom in their advice.

It had started as the idea of creating a simple list of hopes for his future, an impossible thing to do when he’d first been asked by his counsellor, so soon after the event.  There was little he wanted to write back then, except perhaps ‘Marina alive’, and if he started with an impossibility then the whole task of creating an achievable list was immediately destroyed.

The list he was creating now had become something very different indeed.  The first line, Penelope, had been scribbled out, declared far too simplistic, useless.  He’d scratched through the word with his biro, pressing so hard he'd ripped through the cheap lined paper, and ended up tearing the page out, balling it up and throwing it into the bin.

He’d enjoyed journaling as a child, the little moleskin notebook that was a smaller version of his father’s diary going everywhere with him.  However busy a Bridgerton day was, he’d always seek out ten minutes to add an update, finding the routine grounding.  He’d looked back at them years later and so many were simply records of arguments with his siblings or what he’d spent his pocket money on, but they still managed to capture a certain youthful innocence that had been extinguished when his father died, a time that had led to him tucking the little books away into drawers and never returning to write in them again, instinctively associating them with a different phase of his life.

Now he had only a lined A4 pad that he’d quietly stolen from Hy’s college stash, currently buried under his pillow, theoretically to stop it becoming yet another casualty of the twin’s love of drawing but really so that he didn’t have to face that empty first line head on. 

He rolled over with a loud sigh and stretched, pulled himself up into a sitting position and called the kids over for a chat.  They grumbled of course, halfway through a video of a cat pushing mugs off a dining table, so he moved to sit beside them, waited until it ended and then turned the laptop off with a decisive click.

“Daaaaaaaaaaad.”

“Don’t dad me, I asked you to come over and you moaned, waiting until the clip was finished seems to be a fair compromise.  Come on, shoes and hat on and we’ll head off for a walk.  Anyone for ice lollies?”

The promise of a treat swung the situation, and they both hurried to find their sandals and caps, helped him apply sun lotion and then stood at the door whilst he found his own hat, escaping through the door the minute he opened it, rushing towards the house and Violet’s stash of sweet treats.

The house was fairly empty, people often drifted a bit in this second week of the trip, and they found Violet and Anthony alone in the kitchen, both trying not to laugh as the children excitedly debated their many options.

“They’ve come a long way Col, it’s so nice to have you here for the summer.”  Anthony beckoned for him to sit at the table and pour himself a glass of lemonade, “you’ve done a great job, they’re different kids to the ones we had to settle in school a few terms ago.”

Colin nodded, “they are but I’m worried we’re stalling a bit.  We’ve got such a set routine now- hiding in our own little place, everything just a bit distant.  I’m beginning to wonder if it's time for a change.”

Concerned, Violet sat down next to the pair.  “You’re not thinking of going back already, are you?”

He shook his head quickly to relieve her of the idea. “No, if anything I was considering closing the distance- I was thinking about moving them back into the main house, at least for sleeping and eating, never hurts to have a bit of space to retreat to but perhaps they’re ready to spend more time around their cousins, and less with me hovering over them.”

“Have you asked them?”  Anthony nodded towards the pair, carefully stacking frozen foods back into the freezer to close up now, Amanda whispering orders to Oliver as they did so.

“I plan to do that today.  I just…” he wandered over and helped Oliver peel the wrapper from his Fab lolly, sending Amanda to put her own wrapper in the bin, “I’m worried I’ll end clinging to them for my own sake, stifle them a bit.”

“They’re lucky to have you, Colin.  Would be nice to see you relaxing amongst the adults a bit more though, we miss your ugly mug.”  Colin rolled his eyes at his older brother,

“cheers, Ant.”

Violet watched the twins interacting, clearly deep in thought.  “Neil has been asking about spending more time with them as well.  I know…”

“Mum!” Anthony interrupted in a warning tone, Violet nodded and Colin reached out to place a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm.

“It’s OK, Ant.  We know Neil has made some bad calls but it’s not as if he was ever a risk himself. The issue was his inability to admit Marina was struggling, he was always OK with them.  Maybe we can figure things out, I dunno.  I’d like to wrap them up in a duvet and hide them away in a cupboard but I don’t think it would work out very well, for any of us.”

“I wouldn’t worry anyway, Neil seems to have developed a bit of a friendship with Portia and she’s great with the kids.  Not many unattached adults here I suppose, well there's Greg’s little polycule but it's anyone's guess what's going on there!”  Violet smirked at the look of horror on the faces of her sons, Colin spluttering into his drink, remembering Portia and Neil’s contribution to the night with Pen, Anthony cringing at her use of the word.

“Muuuuuuuuum!  Who taught you about polycules?” Anthony blinked rapidly, trying to delete the conversation from his mind.

“I read!”

“Please don’t.  Anyway, they’re not like that.”  Anthony looked around him to ensure the room was clear, and leaned forward to whisper, “are they?”  Colin and Violet laughed in response.

“I am reliably informed that Greg likes Hermione but Hermione has a thing for Lucy’s brother.  Lucy likes Greg though, if he could only see it.” Colin looked pleased to have the inside information.

“Lucy has a boyfriend back home, but I don’t think she’s really that keen,”  Hy swung a chair around and climbed onto it, surprising everyone with the quiet way she snuck in, “anything else you want to know?”

“Nope, just glad that those days are gone.”  Anthony mimed wiping his brow with a “phew!”, Colin sat back and crossed his arms,

“I was about Greg’s age when I got married.  It makes you think, doesn’t it?”  Nobody replied and he tried not to laugh, knowing full well what their opinions would be, before standing up, throwing his arms around Hy’s shoulders for a quick hug and directing the children to leave for their walk.

He let them finish their ices before taking the sticks from them and sending them to run towards the wooded area, trailing them from a deliberate distance.  He caught up with them at the edge and guided them towards the west side, where the stone bench and his dad’s memorial were located.  Half way around Amanda started to scale the old oak and Colin plucked her off, much to her kicking and writhing consternation.

“What’s the rule, Mandy?”

“No tree climbing.  But that’s not fair, our cousins do it all the time.”

“Do they?”  Colin looked up at the old tree, remembering the times he’d spent there himself as a child, taunting little Greg at the base, still small and unable to climb up alone.  There were memories of watching Gregory and Hyacinth learn to scale it as well, whilst he sat underneath with a book revising for exams or texting friends back in London.  “Sit with me, kids.  Shall we talk?”

The bench was stone and a welcome cool respite from the August heat, big enough for several Bridgertons at a time- deliberate, their mother had wanted somewhere they could all go to visit Edmund together.  They all tended to come separately now but there would always be a little flower or token on the memorial somewhere, he knew it still held a lot of meaning for all of them.  The twins were sat one on each side of him and he pulled them close, wrapping an arm around them.

“I wish we had something like this for your mum, somewhere near to home.  I’ve always found it comforting to come here and talk to dad.”

“Mum is on the farm, isn’t she?”  Amanda wrinkled her little face up, confused.

“Her ashes are in Grandad’s urn yes but we need to think of what we will do with them now.  Grandad will want to keep some and I think that’s fair, don’t you?”  The twins nodded, solemn, “but I also think we deserve somewhere we can go when we want to be with her.”

“A place like this?”  Oliver looked up at the tall obelisk in awe.

Colin shrugged, “maybe, but it doesn’t feel like her does it? And she never visited this house. No, I think this works for my dad but your mum needs something to suit her.  Shall we give it some thought, just the three of us?” 

They sat there quietly, lost in their thoughts for a while before Colin managed to find the words for the next part.

“I did want to talk to you guys today.  I wanted to tell you how proud I am of how much you’ve grown up this year, I know mummy would feel the same way.  I was wondering now that you’re bigger, well you don’t want to spend all your time around your dad do you?”

“You are a bit old, dad.”  Colin grimaced at Amanda's comment,

“I think you’ll find I am an awful lot younger than most of your friend’s fathers.  I was thinking about whether you’d like us to move into the house, closer to your cousins? They have rooms on the other wing and if Nanny thinks it’s OK I thought you might like the same.  It’s OK to say no.”

Amanda shot Oliver a look, daring him to say no, before throwing her arms around her dad and screaming “near Belinda please!”  He laughed, nodding, before turning to his son.  “Olly?  You don’t have to,  just because Amanda says yes it doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

Oliver seemed much more unsure and Colin wasn’t overly surprised, he was by far the more gentle of the two, the ying to Amanda’s headstrong yang.  His son dipped his head before answering,

“can I try it, and come back to you if I don’t like it?”

“Oliver- both of you- the answer to that is yes, wherever you are and however old you are. We’re a family, I love you.  Family is important.  Now, one last thing…”

The twins were getting restless now, eager to explore.  Colin held them a bit tighter for a moment.

“That oak tree- do you know why I am reluctant to let you climb it?”

Olly shook his head, Amanda pulled her brother’s hair, “because you’re old and sad that you can’t climb it yourself?”

“Let go of Olly’s hair… no.  Maybe I’ll prove that I can, later in the week, when I’m not wearing flip flops…” he waved his foot in front of them and the kids pinched their noses, yelling “ew! Your feet smell!”  He grinned then settled.  “Sometimes when you have lost someone you care about you can be a bit scared of losing other people.  We lost mummy, and I lost my daddy here,”  he pointed to the memorial, “I’m always a bit scared that we’ll try something new and it won’t go well, but that isn’t a good way to live.  So can we make a deal?”  The twins didn’t say anything, watching him carefully, Oliver’s body rolling a bit more towards him and Amanda’s hand stroking his hair.  “This week’s new thing will be you sleeping on the children’s wing.  Next week we’ll come and try some tree climbing, starting smaller than this, if you promise me that under no circumstances will you try it without a grown up nearby.  Can you promise that?”

“Really?”  Amanda seemed to be in awe, her face swinging between her father and the oak.  Colin nodded again,

“if you can stick to the rules.  I think you are both big enough now, even if I am sad that you’re not little babies any more.”

“Babies?”  Olly looked horrified, “we’re nearly grown up now!”  He puffed out his chest and Colin fought a laugh,

“so you are, son!  Now, will my big grown up twins lead us back to the house?  I expect Nanny will have lunch ready soon.  We’ll stop and grab your belongings as we pass the garden room, leave most of your toys but bring clothes, teddy bears and a few books, yes?”

He watched them for a few minutes as they shoved their things into bags and then pulled out his notebook.  On the first line he scribed the words ‘learn to let the kids take small risks,’ and placed a big tick next to that, knowing it was a small but important step.  His pen hovered over the next line whilst he considered, dipping it low to add the words he’d been considering but somehow been scared to write, ‘remember how to take risks with myself’.

He cornered Violet back at the house and spoke to her about the rooms, spluttering as she hugged him in delighted surprise, Daphne and Belinda jumping up to take the twins to find empty rooms, winking at Olly who looked back at him, clearly nervous but determined not to be left behind.  He then spent a few minutes fending off questions before raising an eyebrow in surprise as a pretty, dark skinned woman in an all black and unseasonal outfit of mini skirt, crop top and leather jacket wandered in with Eloise, pouring herself a drink and chatting.  He tipped his head to the side, “anyone I know?”  Eloise fixed him with a stare,

“It’s Gen you idiot, you know, Gen and…”

“Oh thank goodness Gen, I wondered where you were, should have known El would have grabbed you already.”  The speaker spun to wave at everyone, flushed red from the heat and the effort of lugging cases in, “has everyone met Gen then- oh!  Colin!  I didn’t realise you were in here!”

“Penelope?  You’re back?”  Colin was stunned, fighting the urge to rush over and hug her in front of his family, staring at her as if he had suddenly rediscovered sunshine after years in the dark, wishing it was just the two of them.  He went to take a step towards her and she copied him, pulling back as she glanced around and remembered where she was.

“Well of course, it was only a quick trip back for meetings- oh!  Colin!” She placed her hand over her mouth in shock, “you didn't know I was coming back? What must you have thought? After we…”  she caught herself quickly, “I never even said goodbye to the twins.  I am so sorry.  Where are they?”

“Off with Daphne and Bel I think.  No- it was a misunderstanding I guess, what a lovely surprise.”

“She had a date with that Alfie bloke,” Eloise piped up before turning back to Gen; Colin was vaguely aware that they were discussing Phillip, current location unknown but likely involving a plant of some description.  Penelope looked horrified as Colin’s face dropped.

“No! Well, a meeting but not- never- no.  Actually, do you mind…”  she touched Colin’s arm gently and smiled in a way that shot straight to his soul, “I need to speak to Anthony, is he around?”

“Come with me.”  Colin gestured to Penelope to follow and she did.  As soon as they left the room he closed the door and turned to her,  “you don’t need to tell me what happened, but are you okay?”

“I am, I think.  A bit shocked if I’m honest and needing legal advice but nothing terrible, just… ugh, that man is a dick.  I will tell you, it would be good to talk about it, but I need to find Anthony first.”

“Of course, as long as he hasn’t hurt you?”  He watched her warily, she shook her head rapidly.

“Oh god no, nothing like that.”  He only realised he was holding his breath as she confirmed it, his knees feeling strangely weak as she reassured him.  “Gen would have killed him if he’d tried anything, she’s been looking for an excuse for ages.” 

He grinned, “I think I might like Gen.” 

She paused and met his eyes for a moment, whispering “I do hope so,” before gesturing to him to lead the way and following; he knocked and went into the study first, speaking to Ant in quiet words she could not hear, then opened the door and waved her in, touching her shoulder briefly as he left.

Chapter Text

Colin stood outside the study for a few minutes, staring at the heavy oak door separating him from his brother and Penelope. It felt wrong, as if he belonged in there with her, even though he knew there was no way anyone else would agree. After a few minutes he heard a shout from elsewhere- El maybe, or Hyacinth- that awoke him from his reverie, and he walked away quickly, not wanting anyone to think he was eavesdropping.

The place had emptied in the few minutes since he’d been gone, visitors scattering to whatever task they had planned, a note on the fridge from his mum letting everyone know that she’d planned a barbecue that evening- perfectly calm, normal domesticity.  He was used to the silence, he’d made himself unapproachable enough in those early months at Bridgerton House that he now tended to be left alone when the kids were at school, but here it seemed different, unwanted.

He took himself upstairs, checking on the twins in their rooms- Daphne had settled Amanda next to Belinda and the pair were already curled up under Bel’s duvet, watching cartoons.  Oliver had been sandwiched between the stairs and Edmund, giving him the choice to escape to his dad if he wanted but the option of company if he felt inclined towards bravery.  Colin texted Daph to say thanks for the considerate choices, suggesting that he might take the two girls for ice cream the next day if she was OK with it, she replied with a thumbs up followed almost immediately with a quick

'but if you change your mind it’s OK, we know it’s hard'.

He shoved his phone in his pocket to avoid sending a snarky reply, he hated this tendency they all had to tiptoe around him but he was fairly sure he’d be exactly the same if it had been one of the others.  He promised himself he’d speak to Ant or Kate and offer Ed, Charlie and Oliver the same trip on a different day, wondering if he could convince Penelope he'd need a back up adult for that one- unlikely, it was only one more child than normal, but it was worth a shot.

He walked over to the fridge and poured himself a glass of juice then sat by the French windows for a while, watching his family go about their business.  His mum wandered past every few minutes, dead heading roses and bedding plants, waving up when she spotted him. El and Phillip sat on the patio, both reading but chairs drawn close. He didn’t think anything had happened there yet but it was clearly imminent.  He wasn't sure whether Phillip had told her about his scars yet, he didn’t envy the man at all but perhaps there was something to be said for physical scars over the invisible ones he carried, he wondered if they would be less intimidating for others to deal with, show signs of healing over time- he shook his head to clear it of the thought, he knew he was lucky in many ways and that having his family had been perhaps the luckiest thing of all, Phil hadn’t even had that to rely on.

He’d just decided to head back to his journal and see if he could come up with any new entries when the doorbell dragged him in the opposite direction.  It was unusual to get callers out here, not least because there was a half mile long avenue of trees between the house and gate, but there was always the odd parcel or even sightseer, hoping to be invited in for a look around but instead sent on their way with directions to one of the many open houses in the area.

He opened the door and delivered the practiced speech about it being a family home only for the young woman on the doorstep to stare at him, chewing her gum.  She looked vaguely familiar and he blinked at her for a second, waiting for her to speak.

“Sounds lovely and I might plan a trip later in the week but I’m actually looking for my mum, or perhaps my sister, Penelope?”

“Oh- I’m so sorry- come in.”  He stepped back and racked his memory for the names of Penelope’s sisters.

“You're too young to be Pru or Pip- Fliss, is it?”

“Felicity yes, and you are?”  He switched the kettle on before turning.

“Just Colin.  Sorry, nobody told me you were due or I’d have been a bit more welcoming- let me make you a drink and we’ll go find your mum, I think your sister is a bit tied up.”

“No matter,”  she waved her phone at him and started typing, “mum knows I’m here now.  So, Colin is it?”  She lifted herself to sit on the kitchen counter and he gaped at her briefly before turning to pour hot water over the teabags in the mugs, “how do you fit into this family, then?” 

“Third son, Ant and Ben are older, Greg younger.”  He turned to find her winding her hair around her finger, pursing her lips at him- he groaned internally. 

“Married?”  He could swear her skirt had been longer than that when he turned away, she’d rucked it up under her legs whilst he’d been busy.  It was a strange thing- he’d been used to this in his sailing days, she was too young for him of course but when he’d been newly divorced, in his earlier twenties, he’d have tried for a kiss by now.  He felt nauseous at the idea, despite the fact that they'd have been a far more similar age.

“Widower, actually.  With kids.  Probably not your type.”  He leaned against the fridge and grinned at her, sipping from the steaming mug. 

She shrugged, “worth a go, have to amuse myself somehow.”

“I’m flattered but it would be a terrible idea in more ways than you can possibly imagine.  Not least because I can see your mum heading towards us with my father in law, holding his hand.  I’ll leave you to it.”

“Come find me if you get bored.”  She winked and he spluttered out a laugh, heading towards the door.

“Greg’s about your age, think they’re taking applications for his harem.”  He waved up at Portia as she entered the room, “have fun catching up, see you at the barbecue,” and headed off to find somewhere else to be, resisting the urge to text Penelope to let her to know her sister had arrived, well aware it would just be an excuse to message her.

The TV room was occupied by Ben and Sophie, a toddler asleep on a cushion next to them, Ben’s legs propped up on a footstool and Soph lying with her head on his lap, both of their hands splayed across her pregnant stomach.  Colin knocked quietly,

“mind if I join you?”  Sophie scrabbled to sit up and Colin waved her back down, settling himself on the other settee, long legs sticking out in front of him as he sank down into the soft cushions, knees almost as high as his shoulders.  “Don’t let me disturb you, I can clear off if you want, I just thought it might be nice to seek out some company for a change.”

“I can leave if you want to talk…”  Sophie started to wriggle and Colin shook his head,

“Honestly, stay.  I’m just being sociable.”  His lips twitched as Soph and his brother looked between each other, obviously confused.  Ben turned to him, face composed into an expression that was obviously intended to be compassionate, “did you need a chat or something?”

“Fuxake Ben, no.  Portia’s youngest daughter turned up and I thought I’d give them space, that’s all.  Can’t I spend some time with my sibling and his beautiful wife?”

“Of course, but I can’t actually remember the last time you chose to-  if you ever did. Maybe in Somerset? Hang on..." Ben paused, "Felicity is here?  I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”  Ben screwed his face up, clearly trying to recall.  “They don’t get on that well, do they?”

“I don't think so, some childhood stuff.  She’s very much like her mother, by which I mean I thought I’d better make myself scarce before she jumped my bones.”  Sophie covered her mouth in surprise and Ben’s shoulders shook as he laughed,

“Ah. Pru used to be much the same.  Not up for it then?”

“Bit young!  I pointed her in Greg’s direction, lad seems to be on a recruiting mission.  Besides, I’m not looking for anyone.”

Sophie rolled over towards him, “you don’t have to be wanting something permanent Col, OK maybe not this woman but a bit of fun…”  Ben nudged her, a wary expression.  Colin rolled his eyes, and Ben spoke, gently.

“She is right though Col, maybe not yet, but one day- you’re a bit young to give up, it’s a long old life when you’re alone.”

“I’m not alone, I have the twins.”

“Right, but even they’re not babies any more.  You weren’t even with Marina, mate.”

“That’s not why I’m not interested.  How’s the pregnancy going, Soph?”

He changed the subject effectively and took a moment to breathe as she chatted excitedly about the scan due in a few weeks and the attic they were converting to make extra space; he watched his brother watching Sophie, a gentle smile across his face, clearly besotted.  The toddler started to wriggle and Colin crouched down to pick him up, sitting back on the settee with him over his lap, rocking him gently.

“I miss being able to do this with the twins, but I don’t miss how fucked up my life was back then.”

Ben’s head swiped around to check the little one was asleep, only forgiving his brother for the swearing when he saw that Alex’s eyes were firmly shut, Colin’s hand stroking his hair in a distracted fashion.

“You can’t punish yourself forever, Col.  You made a few dodgy choices but the big mistakes…”

“were not really her fault, either, it was just a mess. Two people who shouldn’t have met, but then I wouldn’t have the twins would I?  I’m not punishing myself, that’s not what it’s about. Not now, anyway.”

Sophie started to climb off the sofa and Colin looked at her in concern, “don’t leave for my sake…”  she shook her head,

“little one on my bladder, I’m sure it was even worse with twins.  I’ll just use the loo and check on Charles then I’ll be back.”  She patted Ben on the shoulder and he kissed her hand before she walked out and left him to it.

“God I love that woman.”  Ben rolled back onto the settee, eyes on his brother, “I didn’t think I’d have this life, for a long time I wasn't even sure I wanted it, but things are good.”

“I can tell, you’re getting quite smug in your old age.”  Colin threw a cushion at Ben and the older man caught it, tucking it under his head then turning fully towards him.

“Don’t get me wrong Col, this is lovely but usually we're lucky if you grant us a grunt.  Are you sure it’s all OK?”

Colin ignored the question.  “How did you know?  Not that Soph was the one- that’s obvious.  How did you know you were ready for a change?”

“How does anyone know?  It happened, it felt right.  Can I ask why you're asking, little bro?”

“I’m taller than you.”

“You’re also the kid I had to rescue from school bullies when he was just six so don’t give me that.  I- oh.  Tell me brother, explain to me why you’re not interested in our newest guest, if it’s not just her age?”

“How do you know you’re not just making the same mistakes again, on a loop?”

“Hand me your passport, you’re banned from flying to Vegas!”  Colin giggled, Ben fought the smile that arose at the sound.

“Not that.  Just- it was so full on with Marina and I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t repeat any of that but the feelings- how do you know whether it’s a mistake and you’re repeating bad patterns, or if that’s just how you fall, headlong and fast, and it’s part of who you are?”

“You could just be a bit normal about it, start with a bit of fun, take her home…ooh now.”  Ben watched as Colin fought back a smile, staring at the younger man with a mix of shock and delight.

“You’ve been getting some!  We all thought you were miserable and moping and you…”

“Once!  Well, one occasion anyway.  We had a few goes.”  He lifted his mug to his lips, grimacing when he realised the tea was cold.

“There was I thinking you’d reclaimed your virginity and decided to live as a monk.”

“Ben!  I’ve been around, you know… you’re not the only one to have had a man-ho era.”

“And did it make you happy?”  Colin shook his head in response,

“No.”

“That’s the difference between us.  I bloody loved it…”  Ben looked up as his wife entered the room.

“Loved what?”  Sophie settled back on the seat, “Charles is with your mum, carrying her basket in exchange for sweets.”

“My man whore days.  Col here has fallen in love.”

“Ben!  I never said that.”

“No, sorry.”  Ben looked at Sophie with a mock serious face, “to clarify, the man whose only two settings are marriage and a nameless quickie down by the docks,”  Colin pulled an annoyed face but was working hard to resist laughing, “has found someone he likes enough to reject the offer of a bunk up from Felicity Featherington.

“She’s a child, Ben.  And I promise you I knew a lot of their names, some of the encounters were even quite romantic.”

“Did you know,” Ben raised a mocking eyebrow, watching Colin but aiming his question at his wife, “that there are no entirely straight adults in this room?”  Colin rolled his eyes.

“Oh?  I did not.  Colin?” Sophie’s interest was captured.

“Just a few, OK?  Fun, I’ve never actually had romantic feelings for a bloke, just… there are pluses.”

“Top notch head, I know.”  Ben mimed injury as Sophie swatted him, “so we can rule out a man or someone enby, then?  It’s a woman?”

“Ben…”  Colin’s tone lowered, “don’t push, it could be nothing.”

“You fucked her though.”  Sophie sat bolt upright at her husband's statement.

“Ooh!  Finally!  Would you go back for more?”  Colin cringed at Sophie’s question but decided to be honest.

“Yes.”

“And do you think Penelope feels the same?”

“Sophie!”  Ben’s mouth hung open, “what on earth makes you think…”  He looked back to Colin, now sat with a hunted look on his face, flushed bright red.  “You did!  You fucked their teacher!  I thought you loathed her!”

Colin stared at his phone on the table, silent and still, “Oh look, mum’s calling, I have to go!”  he darted to the door but paused on his way out,

“How did you know, Soph?”

“I saw her leaving a little parcel of biscuits outside your room when you were feeling low.  I figured you must have built some kind of friendship, but…”

“That was her?”  He couldn’t help the goofy smile that covered his face.  “You won’t tell anyone, right?”  They both mimed zipping their mouths shut and he nodded.  “Thanks, I needed this, both the normality and the chat,” before leaving.

“Our boy is in love.”  Ben pointed at the door, still swinging shut, and grinned.  Sophie nodded,

“He only does extremes, doesn’t he?”

“Yep.  I’ll hide his passport and threaten her exes so they stay away this time.”

“You know what this means, right?”  Sophie’s expression switched to one of concern.  Ben nodded,

“I know, the crash is inevitable, has to be but Soph- I don’t think I’ve seen that Colin- well ever.  It’s…”

“yeah, it is.”

Chapter Text

Penelope stood just inside the study, back against the heavy oak door, anxious and ready to flee.  She knew Anthony a little of course but he’d always seemed a bit intimidating, never cruel or unkind but forever in a rush, the weight of the world always on his shoulders.

His problem solving attitude had made him a bit of a favourite at the school, a rare source of support that didn’t come with at least seventeen forms, an entire shelf of protocols and three zoom meetings.  Helen, in fact, had developed quite the crush on the man, crediting his appearance with the satisfied smile on her husband’s face (Penelope was sure it had more to do with the HRT, but she could see the attraction, even if her preferred form of Bridgerton male was a bit taller and a good decade younger).

Now, though, those same traits made him intimidating- she’d never really dealt with him on a personal level, and they’d certainly never discussed anything as embarrassing as the situation with her ex, although Colin’s and Ben's familiarity with her story meant that at least he’d be likely to know who he was.

Anthony glanced up with a smile, sensing her awkwardness. “Take a seat Penelope, I’ll just finish this email and be with you.  Do you need anything?  A drink, snack, damehood for services to education and extremely interesting mothers?”  He smiled at her and for a moment she saw what she supposed Helen and indeed Kate saw- a twinkle of humour that he usually buried, even if she was still forced to admit she preferred that same thing reflected in a different colour eye, something more… sapphire, perhaps?  Lustrous, alluring…  “Penelope?  Are you OK?”

She snapped back to herself quickly, remembering why she was there.  “Sorry, Anthony- yeah.  A bit overwrought, if I’m honest.  I hope you don’t mind me popping in, it just…”

“Don’t be silly.  It gets boring in here when we’re at Aubrey if I’m honest, I take two weeks off, Kate takes two weeks and we try to make those overlap in the middle so there’s always one week… hang on…”  he pressed send with a flourish and closed his laptop.  “All yours.”

“I just need some advice.  Something happened when I was back in Mayfair, and I know I’ll probably need a lawyer of my own but I thought I’d run it by you first, see if you could recommend anyone…”

“Work or personal?  Oh- if it’s property that’s not my field but I have numbers,”  he started to pull out a drawer and dig around, she shook her head.

“Personal.”  He nodded, closing the drawer again.

“Tell me you haven’t been driving in crocs again…” he winked and she felt herself relax, standing when the door opened to accept a coffee from Kate.  Anthony kissed his wife and turned to Pen,

“Look it’s entirely your choice but if it’s personal you might feel better with Kate here, she’s almost as good a lawyer as I am…”  he ducked as Kate flicked him with her wrist, laughing. “Joking of course, my wife is thoroughly brilliant.”

“If you don’t mind, this is supposed to be your holiday…”  Penelope worried that she was asking too much but Kate shook her head,

“It’s a break from the kids to be honest, Eddie is settling Oliver into his room…”  Penelope looked confused and Kate clarified, “Oh!  You missed that.  Yes, bit of a breakthrough- Colin has asked for the twins to have their own rooms on the children’s floor, pretty wonderful huh?  Amanda is thoroughly excited of course, Oliver a bit more nervous, but…”

“Wow!  That’s huge!”

“Uh-huh.  Maybe he’s starting to… well heal isn’t the word is it?”  Kate looked at Anthony and he shook his head, pulling her closer, “but he can’t give up on himself, not forever, she can’t cost him his life as well.”

“I never thought of it that way.  I know a bit about what happened, but…”

Anthony nodded, “school, of course.” 

She shook her head in response, “we really don’t get that much information, but he told me himself.  Needed a bit of a chat one day, I was free and the kids trust me, so…”

“Did he tell you about finding her?”  Anthony leaned forwards, Kate pulled up the chair next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder- it was as if they weren’t quite whole unless they were touching. She registered a pang of envy, this was something she desperately wanted for herself.

“No, just about earlier- when she was hospitalised.”

“That makes sense, I don’t think he has ever told anyone about the day she died, well except the police anyway.  I know he refused to talk to Neil about it, it’s been a bit contentious…anyway sorry, you wanted to talk.  What’s up?”

It took her a few seconds to pull her thoughts together, but the sight of Anthony rooting around for a dictaphone and holding it up to her, mouthing “do you mind? Just in case” brought her back to herself.  She nodded at him and indicated for him to press the button.

“It’s my ex, Alfred.  Debling, you know…”  Kate nodded, Ant looked confused.  Kate elbowed him,

“he’s a TV presenter, animals.  You know the one.  Tall, penguins, gangly... blond.”

Anthony grimaced, “him, not exactly Attenborough is he?  No Chris Packham either.  Shit, sorry Penelope- he’s a perfectly nice chap I’m sure.”

“He’s a knob and you’re right.  He’s actually a researcher, we met at university- the TV stuff is incidental.  Incidental but giving him some fame, I suppose.”

“How long were you together?”  Kate scribbled a few notes and Penelope sighed,

“about five years, give or take- my only boyfriend really, met young and we- well, it appeared it wasn’t as mutual as I thought, but that was a while ago now.”

“Live together?”

“As much as anyone can with him away on field trips most of the time, shared a UK address certainly.  It’s how I landed back at Mum’s- for which I am grateful obviously, I know not everyone has the option. We shared a room in the last year of uni, so it just made sense to stick together afterwards.”

“Engaged?  No kids,” she shook her head before remembering that she had to answer his question in a way that he could record.

“Nothing that formal.  Not even a shared bank account. He was always ready to leave, when I look back.”

“How can we help, Pen?”  Anthony leaned forwards, face sympathetic.

“I had a text a few weeks ago, wanting to meet up.  I ignored it, he said some pretty shitty things the last time I saw him, there were text apologies…” she laughed, “I always thought they were from his PA but it seems she was also his new girlfriend, although I suppose I can’t be sure whether we overlapped or…”

Kate nodded, “men.”  Anthony went to object and Kate gave him a look, "you included."

He pulled a guilty face, “mea culpa. Not any more but probably once, yes.  Before you.”

“When you were with my sister.”  Penelope stared in shock and Kate grinned, “I’ll tell you that story one day, over a few bottles of wine.”

“Please.  Well, he didn’t stop with the texts so I agreed to meet him for a coffee at the weekend, that was the meeting I had to head back for- I could tie up everything else online.  He said it had to be in person, I wish I’d taken someone with me now.”

“Was it just the two of you?”  She shook her head.

“The PA – slash- girlfriend.  He said she was there in an official capacity but he still clung to her like a fucking limpet, clearly putting on a show.”

“That must have stung, but…”

“Sorry, no- not really.  I mean he’s a creep, she was his intern but it’s legal so why should I care? No.  He has a book coming out, an autobiography.  Apparently I am in it.”

“Ah. Has he given you a copy?”

She shook her head, “none available apparently.  I’m in it, named as P, but there were press photos, a few media pieces that tie us together, people will know.  There were- well, I wonder…”

“Penelope?”

“There were some real hack pieces, my appearance, calling me dowdy- he said that was part of why we ended but after… I always wondered if he fed those to the press. He can be quite vicious, verbally.  It wasn’t the easiest time, I don’t particularly want to be dragged through that again, and certainly not now, when he has fans and I’m long gone.”

“Did he have a title for the book?”  Anthony had opened the laptop again, fingers hovering; she nodded,

“Flipperz and He.”

“Right… sounds like either a children’s book or something really low rent, supermarket Christmas range… either way we need to know what we’re working with so if you leave it with us, we’ll get a copy sorted.  We're your legal reps now, OK?”

“I’m not sure I can afford you….”

“I’m sure you can’t but mum’s adopted you so that makes you close enough to call family.  It’s just a few phone calls to scare the right people anyway, this part is easy and if we’re lucky we won’t need to go any further, depending on what he’s written.  Please don’t worry, OK?  Chances are it’s nothing much at all, we can style it out with some good PR.  You haven’t got any skeletons we don’t know about?”

“Aside from wasting too long on that boring fucker? No.  My dad, I guess, but I can't see why...”

“No current boyfriend or fling that might be upset?”

“No.  Well, I’m pretty sure not… there is someone but just a… well, no.  A crush that probably won’t go anywhere.”

“The man’s an idiot.  Man?...” Anthony paused, as if suddenly remembering the decade he was living in.

“Man.  Sadly, I wasn’t blessed with that option.”  Kate nodded furiously,

“Girl, I hear you!  All these beautiful women and we get…”  she pulled a face at Anthony, he pouted and she soothed him with a kiss.  “There are exceptions, sadly Penelope doesn’t have a Bridgerton.”

“Oh I think I know one that has a crush on her…” Anthony smirked and Penelope blushed immediately, surely not?  “Gregory seemed rather impressed, down at the lake!”  Kate groaned,

“he is a child.  His love life is complicated enough anyway.”  Penelope exhaled in relief but she noticed Kate was watching her carefully, seemingly intrigued.

“Right, well I’ll make some calls and see where we are- Pen, please don’t worry, just go and enjoy a break.  I’ll let you know when I know anything.”

“Thanks both,”  Penelope was glad for the chance to escape, having plans to swim with El and Gen later.  She tucked her chair under the desk and made an escape.

She only got as far as the kitchen before she was struck by something new, welcome but still a surprise.  Firstly her mum, perched on Neil’s lap with his arms around her- her mum had an active sex life and then some but she’d never once seen her show any sign of affection.  Friendship certainly, with Ben, but nothing like this.

It took her a few seconds to realise just who her mum was talking to- she half shouted her sister’s name, lurching forwards with her arms outstretched.  Fliss stood and gave her a hug, slightly awkward but welcome.

“Sis!  I wondered where you were.”

“You came?  Oh Fliss, I am so glad!  Have you got a drink?”  Felicity held up her mug with a nod, “met everyone yet?”

Portia and Neil stood up and bade the pair goodbye, saying they’d give them some space.  Fliss waited until they’d left, closed the door and smirked.

“I met a hottie, but he said no.  His loss.”  Fliss winked and Penelope stepped back, concerned.

“Greg?  His love life is a bit…”

“Colin, was it?  An older one.”

“Felicity!  That’s some age gap.”  Penelope fought to control her panic, she was used to her sister being sweet and now she’d turned up after all this time and hit on her… not her anything, perhaps, but him.

“I wasn’t looking to marry the man. He said no anyway, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Right.  Are you OK?”  Penelope sunk down into the seat opposite her sister, Felicity sat down herself, quiet.

“No.  Not really.  I know you spoke to our sisters.  I wanted to come, but I wasn’t sure… it’s hard.”

“It is.”  Penelope reached out and took her sister’s hand, “and I can’t promise I know half of what’s going on at the moment- this mum cuddling Neil thing is even newer to me than you, although… no, but anyway.”

“I wasn’t making a serious play for Colin, I mean he’s hot sure, I can’t wait to see him in his swimming kit, those biceps, who wouldn't?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, if I’m honest.”

“Clearly, am I stepping on your toes here sis?”

“I’ve got enough problems with the ex, thanks.”  Penelope sat back with a sigh and her sister leaned in,

“talk about it?”

“Nah, I’ve just run through it all with the lawyer duo, I’m exhausted.  What about a tour instead? And a deal.”

“OK…”

“Firstly if it gets too much you come to me.  I’ll drive you back to Mayfair, whatever but you don’t run away.  Secondly,”

“leave Colin alone, I knoooooow.”

“No, well yes but just remember that we want you here OK?  We’ve missed you.”

Fliss nodded, slightly teary.  Penelope stood and took her to meet the other members of their party, trying not to smile as Greg seemed to quietly implode at the idea of another single and attractive young woman in the house. She watched with interest as Felicity and Hyacinth seemed to hit it off, the youngest Bridgerton having seemed a bit lost amongst Gregory’s girls and a much older and younger household.  Penelope stood at a distance, smiling as they chatted away.  She was aware of someone joining her and looked to find Colin at her side.

“Hey Pen, everything OK?”

“Uh-huh.  Just showing my sister around, she seems to be hitting it off with Hy.”

“Ah yes, we met earlier…”

“So I hear.  Sounds as if you were lucky to get away intact…”

He pulled a horrified face.

“What’s the male version of a cougar?”  Penelope winked at him to let him know she wasn’t serious.

“A perv, I’d say.  No thank you.  What would we talk about, anyway?  Barbies and dank memes?”

“You sound like an old fart now.  I don’t think she was after your conversation, Colin.”

“No, I have a history of attracting women like that. Right, I have twins to retrieve… much as I’d happily stay around to be pursued by a virtual child, daddy duties await."  He groaned at her grin, "that sounds bad, doesn't it?  Father. Old man, parental figure, I was there at the birth duties. Come find me if you need a chat, OK?”

She nodded, “thanks, Col.”

He smiled before walking off, his back to her, mouthing “a chat?  A fucking chat?  All the lines, Bridgerton! All the fucking lines!” to himself in annoyance.

Chapter Text

By four o’clock the girls were finally changed and ready for a dip in the lake. Gen arrived first, lazing on a lilo in her sunglasses but almost collapsing it as she scrabbled to sit up when the others joined her, tipping the glasses downwards as if she thought they were creating an illusion.

“Fuck, Pen!  What happened to you?”

Eloise grinned. “She’s had a bit of a confidence boost, doesn’t she look fantastic?”

“Shut it you two, I’m trying to ignore the fact that my bikini makes me look like a fifties pin up."

“I’ve been trying to get you to do that for years!  It’s different for them,”  she waved her hands around in a very French gesture that both took to mean the Bridgertons, “they’ve only known you for a short while; I remember when you were less…”

“You can say it, Gen.”  Penelope sighed, finished applying her sunscreen and dipped a toe into the water's edge.

“You want me to say that you became dowdy but I will not.  Restrained, lacking in confidence…” Gen turned to Eloise, “As with so many young ladies Penelope lost herself when she was with that Alfred man, he claimed the girl and tried to own the woman.  Then when he wanted something different he blamed her, said it was her fault for changing from the person he first dated.  It is all nonsense.”

“Well I know that now, don’t I?”  Penelope plunged her shoulders into the cool water and shuddered, “lesson learned I suppose.  No chance I’d let that happen again!”

“C’est magnifique.  Eloise, is that your Phillippe?  We have an audience.”

Eloise stood up and peered into the afternoon sunshine, standing on tiptoes and waving when she recognised Phil, settling himself onto a lounger and waving back.  “That’s Phil, but he seems to have brought my brothers with him, I suppose Mum wanted the patio set up for the barbecue later… prepare yourself for the family.”

Penelope tried to take a subtle look at the growing assortment of family members, wondering if Colin would make an appearance.  Sure enough he was there, peeling off his t-shirt and applying his own sun protection in what she’d have enjoyed as her own personal show if it wasn’t the fact that her sister was excitedly running towards them, assets bouncing with each step, cherry print halterneck failing in any promise of support that the clothes retailer may have made.

Eloise watched for a moment, a cocky grin covering her face as she pointed at Gregory, now staring directly at Fliss, and yelled “will somebody rein in the child? His hormones have taken over again!”  They could hear the faint sound of laughter as Anthony leaned over and slapped the back of his neck, Felicity skidded to a halt and turned around.

“Was he perving over me?”

“He pervs over everyone, they’re giving him a crash course in manners this summer.”  Eloise rolled onto her back and started to swim, “sooner or later he’ll work out that he should be with Lucy and he’ll turn into a typical smitten Bridgerton. They all go the same way.”

“Well he’s out of luck with me,”  Fliss said with a smug grin, “I expect to be taken off the market before the end of summer.”

Penelope swum over to her sister, Gen paddled behind on the lilo, both curious.

“That’s interesting, considering your behaviour a few hours ago…”

“Last party before reality sets in?”  Felicity shrugged and launched herself into the water, “I’ve had a crush on Geoff for years- if he actually, finally makes his move the way I hope he will then that’s it for me, I’m afraid.”  She rolled on to her front and started swimming away in a confident crawl; Penelope stared after her, the look of shock evident on her face.

“What are you on about, her behaviour earlier?”  El tipped her head to the side, curious.

“She made a very blatant pass at Colin.”  Penelope fought to keep her voice steady.

El stared at her third brother for a moment, dumbstruck. “Colin? Wow,  Still, she’ll have no luck there.”

“No?”  Penelope was a study in nonchalance.

“Nope.  I mean he went through his shagathon stage after the divorce of course, but it’ll take a lot for him to make any moves again, the bitch broke him!”

“Eloise!  She was unwell.”

Eloise sighed, “I know, I truly do but in fairness I would have said the same when she was alive and I always had the distinct impression that she thought the same about me, or would have done had she been inclined to make the effort.  Which, by the way, would never happen.  She visited once in all the time they were married and then hauled her arse to London for a few family events after the split, I assume because she had such a fucking easy life with him wrapped around her finger that she didn’t want to risk him seeing who she really was and staying away.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak of anyone that way before.”  Penelope had stopped and was looking at her friend in surprise.

“I’m going to hell aren’t I?  But it’s the truth, at least from my perspective.  Was she ill?  Fucking looks like it doesn’t it, with what she did.  Did she treat him like shit?  Course she fucking did, and she got away with it, always got to call the shots.  Couldn’t be arsed to bother with us?  Not her fault, big family, overwhelming.  Shagged about when she was married?  Oh poor Marina,”  El put on a high voice, “look what happened to her mother, she isn’t well.”  No, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone but what about the poor fucker who had to clear up after her?  He was younger than Greg when they got together.  I dunno,”  Eloise picked at her fingernails, looking sheepish, “I just feel that someone needs to remember the other side, hold her accountable for some pretty shitty behaviour.”

“I didn’t realise you were so angry.” Penelope swum up to her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder, “it must have been tough, but…”

“I know, I really do.  Ugh,”  Eloise covered her face with her hands, “I’m sorry.  Most of the time I can pretend that Colin is just a twat but when we actually spend time around each other and I see him with those kids…”

“So what happened to this Marina?”  Fliss broke the awkward silence, they hadn’t even realised she’d returned, the moment had been too intense.

“She died,”  Penelope clarified, “took her own life.”

“Fuck.”  Gen and Felicity both looked horrified.  Penelope reached out and grabbed Eloise’s arm, stopping her friend from walking away.

“Your mum told me a bit about it, from her side.  I don’t think your take is evil, maybe a bit unfair but you all went through hell didn’t you?  You’re allowed to be angry.”

El nodded, “thanks.  Mum made me go to counselling after she passed, but this is the first time he’s been mixing with us and it reminds me of what everyone lost… who he might have been without her.”

“You wouldn’t have the twins.”

“I know, I always come back to that. But how do I balance that against him being whoever he should have been and her, quite likely, still being alive?”  Penelope nodded and let her swim away.  Her inclination was to be horrified at what El had said and yet- could there be some fairness there? Did how it ended necessarily lessen Marina’s culpability in what went before? How did anyone balance that- the experience of being cheated on, giving up so much with what came after- and did it make it worse, the fact that he’d given everything and she’d died anyway?  She realised she was staring at him as she pontificated, and to her mortification he’d noticed and was making his way over to her.  She knew she should swim away, find her friends or head back to the crowd assembling on the patio, instead she stayed still, trapped in his force field, a ridiculous smile across her face. 

He sat down on the edge of the pontoon, feet dangling, staring at the depths.  There was something shy about him, something new.  He spoke, just one word, “Hi.”

“Hey you.”  She hauled herself from the water and sat down next to him, probably a bit closer than was wise if she was honest with herself, her upper arm was brushing his but she couldn’t face the idea of moving away.  “We haven’t had a chance to chat since… how are you doing?”

He met her eyes with shock, “Since we…?  Are you regretting it, Pen? Shit, I took advantage didn’t I…”  she had the distinct sense he was about to spiral and put her hand on his chest to calm him.

“No!  I made the first move anyway, didn’t I?  I was actually talking about the day after, when it all got too much.  I knocked on your door, but you didn’t answer- not that I mind!  Of course I don’t.”

“You brought me biscuits.”

Penelope shrugged, “They were for you all to share, I suppose I was worried that it was my fault, that I pushed you too far…”

“No!”   Colin shouted the word the first time, glancing at his family afterwards to see if they’d noticed- they were all fixated on the tray of drinks Simon was handing out, a bit too fixated if he was honest, he wondered if Ben had said anything, before lowering his voice. “No.  I can see why you’d think that but no.”

They sat there for a while, silent, lost in their thoughts, arms brushing each other and both hoping the other wouldn’t move away.  Eventually Penelope broke the silence, “Eloise told me some more about Marina.  I’m sorry, it felt like a breach of your privacy because obviously she doesn’t know we've talked, but I didn’t know how to send her away without being mean to her or well, looking a bit suspicious really.”

“You’re one up on me then, I don’t think she’s ever spoken to me about her- I don’t think any of them ever really spoke to me really, they seemed to steer clear.”

“Yeah.  Can I offer a suggestion?  Maybe talk to El.  Obviously try not to drop me in it if you can, but…”

Colin nodded.  “I spoke to Ben earlier, not in any great depth, not about Marina anyway but it felt quite nice actually, being his brother rather than the problem family member.”  He blinked a few times, clearly wanting to change the subject.  “How did it go with Ant?  Oh and yeah- what’s going on between your mum and Neil?  I haven’t had the chance to get him alone and ask.”

“Oh my god that!  I don’t know, honestly.  She was sat on his lap earlier talking to Fliss but I haven’t- I feel like a parent, I need to do the whole ‘is everything OK’”  she tipped her head to the side and pulled a concerned look, “spiel and I am just not ready.”

“I know she’s a bit weird, but she’s OK isn’t she?  I don’t get the impression she’s out to take Neil for the farm or anything but…”

“God no, she wouldn’t need to.  Look, mum puts on this hard front and she’s certainly a survivor but she is never cruel, she wouldn’t want to- she seems all tough, yes?”

Colin nodded, “terrifying, really.”

She laughed, edging her hand towards him for a moment and squeezing his own before letting it go again.  “She loved my dad, and she found out how big a risk that can be in a way that- well secondary to you maybe but pretty devastating.  There are parallels, perhaps?  Addiction is an illness, isn’t it?  He didn’t choose to…”

“die, Penelope.  Marina died.”

“Yep, sorry… but he made decisions that he knew would likely end up that way and it’s what happened.  He caused it, he caused twenty years of what became a terrible marriage.  You- you were brave, you escaped…”

“She threw me out.  I hope I’d have had the sense to give up then, after the...but I can’t know.  It didn’t matter either, she had nobody else when the shit hit the fan, only Neil and, because of the twins, me.  I wanted to be able to look them in the eyes and say ’I did everything I could to keep her in your life’, I didn’t think it would end that way.”

“And now I’m dragging you through it all again and it’s meant to be a holiday!  I am sorry.  Change the subject?”

“How’d it go with Ant, you don’t need to tell me what happened…”

“God I’d hate to be on the wrong side of him and Kate!  I will tell you I promise, it’s embarrassing more than anything.  Talk to El, yeah?  Now,”  she looked around for something to put her hand on to scrabble to her feet, he leaned across and she rested her hand on his shoulder as she pushed herself up, “I need a drink and something to eat,”  she found her towel and dried herself off, he laughed at himself- he was actually feeling jealous of a towel for god’s sake!

Bridgerton barbecues were famously relaxed and it was easy for the newcomers and Pen to fit into the family.  Colin stared at Ben in annoyance when he slipped into the spare chair next to Penelope but had to reluctantly agree when his phone pinged with a message from Ben pointing out that the family had all seen them chatting, he was going to have be a bit more subtle if he didn’t want them to find out too soon.

By the time the sun set half of the family had drifted, full and many a bit tipsy, and it was a smaller group sat outside when the ring doorbell Violet had propped up on the table alerted them to callers.  There was some confusion about the time but Anthony jumped up quickly,

“I think that’s for me.  Back in a minute,”  before disappearing and returning ten minutes later,  walking over to Penelope and handing her a parcel before whispering in her ear, “Kate and I have a copy each… let me know what you think.”  Colin watched as she stared at the parcel in her hands before casually walking over to her and settling on the spare chair alongside her own.

“You look as if someone handed you a bomb.”

“Yeah.”  Her voice broke as she pulled the paper from around the book.  She’d expected something typed, not much more than a manuscript but it looked as if it had been pulled from the book shop shelf, black and white glossy cover of Alfred standing on rocks next to that fucking penguin, staring into the distance: she remembered the photo, he’d sent her a copy in a frame when it was taken, for their last Valentine’s Day. 

Colin quietly took the book from her, she offered no resistance, and read the cover, clearly recognising the author.  He looked at her, concerned. “Do you need to get out of here?”

“I need to read it, he… I…Anthony, but oh fuck… seeing it, you know?” 

“Do you want me to find you somewhere quiet to read or to find you somewhere quiet and stay with you?”  His voice was low, steady, eye contact gentle.

“I can’t- oh god Colin, what do I do with this?  What if…”

“I’m going to check on the twins, give it five minutes and meet me by the stairs.”  He nodded and she returned it, she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to share this but she knew she was scared to do it alone and she couldn’t face the anger she knew her friends and mum wouldn’t be able to hold in.  This, someone taking control, was what she needed right now.

He was waiting when she arrived, a sympathetic smile across his face.  “Ols is sleeping, Manda curled up Belinda, furious at me for interrupting. Apparently she is too big to need me to check. Follow me…” 

She did, quietly and blindly, having no idea where he was leading. He led her to a set of back stairs she’d never even seen before and along a darkened corridor before pushing a door open and pausing,

“You sure you’re OK with this?  I can leave you here on your own, it’s just the old servant’s quarters, mostly storage now.  If you want privacy…”

“No, please….”  Penelope’s voice was small and he held the door open, she ducked under his arm to enter and he marvelled at how tiny she was, pocket sized but far from childlike, her curves were hidden now by the hoodie and leggings she’d pulled on as the evening had set in but there was no way anyone would mistake her as anything less than a grown woman and well- he knew what was under the fabric, didn’t he?

She settled herself on a pile of duvets stacked on the floor and he lowered himself into a cross legged position on the rug, touching distance but not too close- he knew he was miles ahead of her, didn’t want to push.  He took the book from her and turned it over in his hands.

“Do you know how I found out Marina was cheating one me?”  She shook her head, a tiny movement. “From a newspaper website.  The editor had approached Ant to warn him and he drove down but I’d already seen it, one of the kids had been a bit unsettled so we went to the kitchen for a drink to let Marina sleep, and anyway… Ant was at my side quickly enough, an hour or so, but it was pretty shitty.”

“You deserved better.”

He laughed,, “doesn’t everyone?  But no, I didn’t mean that.  I hadn’t realised but it made sense, finding out was more of case of 'oh of course' than a shock.  Afterwards, anyway. It was the public way it happened… and if I’m not wrong…”  he pointed at the book, “do you know what it says?”

“No,”  she wiped her eyes, frustrated with herself and the tears she couldn’t hold back, “it was the meeting I went back for- he said there was a book and I was mentioned but that he didn’t have a copy to show me.  It took Ant reading the riot act to get this, and now I am wondering if I should have just left it…”

“How would that help?  Ant and Kate have a copy?”

She nodded, “it appears I have a pair of hotshot lawyers whether I want them or not.”

“That sounds like them.  I found Ant hard to get on with when I was a teen but every time something goes awry he’s there, or puling strings in the background.  Are you ready?  I could read it if you…”

She shook her head and laid the book on the floor, opening the pages and gasping to find that there was a montage of photos of Alfred in the opening chapter.  She found herself in three of the images, one of them in their first year of university, one of them at graduation and one a year later, taken by a journalist just after he was signed for the first series.  She pointed at it,

“that one.  It was the one they used…I’m sorry, I can’t do this…” she climbed to her feet and made to run off, he caught her hand.

“Pen?  Sweetheart?” 

An hour later they were still there, on the floor, the book closed.  Colin had left the room twice, to settle Oliver, and Penelope had silenced her phone after messages from Kate and Anthony had alerted her to the fact that they were looking for her.  They’d rearranged themselves after Colin had stopped her disappearing, now he had his back against the wall with her sat between his legs, facing forward.

She’d cried for a while and he’d stayed silent, waiting for her to be ready to talk.  Eventually the tears had faded into hiccups and unsteady breaths and then she’d reached for her phone.

“I don’t want to show you this, I don’t want you to think this is the person I am… the person they describe, or the person that keeps this stuff on their phone, really.”

“Without wanting to scare you away I don’t think there could be anything much on that phone that could make me think badly of you.  I mean, I know you’re cleared to work with kids so there is no big evil, and…”

“Not bad, no… not that, just…”  she handed him the phone.  “Read.”

He pulled the handset from her and squinted, apologising as he let go of her long enough to expand the text then wrapping the arm back around her.  “Same paper that ran the story with Marina, figures.”

“Did you read it?”

“Not yet, saw his name and the source so pre-judging… give me a minute, sweetheart.”

She lay back against him, quiet, fully expecting him to gently push her forwards and disconnect.  He didn’t.

“Well that’s spiteful crap but I can’t see why you’d think I’d care.  Somebody I never met thinks someone working with small kids all day long is dowdy and doesn’t dress like a supermodel… and?”

“Did you swipe to the other stuff?”

“There’s other stuff?  OK…” she could feel the subtle movements of his hand as he scrolled through the many screenshots.  Eventually he returned the phone to her with a quiet,

“wow.”

“See.”

“Not really sure why you think I'd care, Pen, if I’m honest.  That was a hack piece sure, and I fully suspect that it would take three calls from Anthony to confirm that Alfie fed them that, typical PR bullshit.  But those comments- when was a comments section ever anything else?”

“But…”

“Oh no, no Pen;  don’t think I can’t see why it would hurt, there was some nasty shit.”

“Fat, dowdy, holding him back, ruining his life, low value, grim faced… he read them out when he dumped me in fact.”

“…but you’re here, in front of me- in my arms, if I could be so bold- and I can see how untrue those comments are.  I get that it is nasty, probably damaging if you felt the need to carry it on your phone for months, but I don’t understand why you’d think I would care.”

“That picture in the article is the one inside the book, coupled with the way Anthony is looking for me…”

“so we’ll find out, yeah?  You forget, I’m an old hand at this- well, newspaper exposures, I can do you a nice coroner’s report…”

“now I feel like an idiot.”

“Sorry, dark sense of humour- I just mean it can’t be that bad.  Nothing in here will change anything, not really.  Everything you’ve got you’ve earned, some little bitch boy’s comments… nah.”

“Little bitch boy.  You’ve met him, then?” she gave a watery smile and he squeezed her waist to acknowledge it.

“I might have some words to say if I did.  Are you feeling brave, or should I…”

She shook her head, “no, I’ll do it… together?”

“I like that, together.”  He spread the book out on the floor in front of them and wriggled so that he could see the text without obstructing her view.  He pointed at the university photos,  “shame he’s in those, you look really cute.”  She laughed and wiped her cheeks,

“I used to have a crush on you then.”

“Eh?  We only just met…”

“We were neighbours, I spent a lot of the summer before university sat in the square with a book, I used to watch you- and then you disappeared.  I sound like a stalker.”

“A little bit.  That would have been when I met Marina, god.  A crush, really?  Aw, Pen!”  He smirked, “I’m flattered.”

“Shut up.  I hate you now, of course.”

“I hate you too.  So…”  he flicked through the first chapters, "nothing much, stuff about his parents, school, a penguin he met at a zoo that inspired him."

“He’s lying, that’s made up.  He doesn’t even really like penguins, the research positions were for an Antarctic climate change study or something about leeches.  Even then he almost chose the leeches.”

“Expect he felt at home with them.  Right…here we go, university days… that’s not so bad, is it?  Nothing awful there.”

She shook her head, “if it’s just that…”

“Let’s hope so.  Why doesn’t this thing have an index?  I suppose that would be too high brow.  Oh… oh fuck, Penelope.”  He whipped the book away and watched her as she blinked.

“Too late, I already read it.”

“I know people, we can sort him out.”

“Do you?”

“No, maybe not.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Anthony did, or Kate.  Kate can be scary.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Colin… he really… that was what we were told.  They never found the car that hit him, cause of death unknown but…. with his history.”

“I don’t doubt it.  Are you OK if I text Ant, tell him to speak to your mum and maybe Neil?  She needs to read this as well.”

Penelope nodded, staring at the text.  She’d known Alfie was an opportunist but claiming she’d made up stories of her dad being murdered because a car accident was too boring and didn’t fulfil her need for attention- what the fuck?  What would he even get out of this, except of course for book sales and the sympathy of a ridiculous amount of mostly female fans.  “Oh- he’ll wonder why I’m here with you.”

“Does that bother you?  At this moment that’s the least of my concerns.”

She shook her head, “not really.  I imagine your family can be a bit full on if they get a hint of anything…”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.  Are you ready for me to continue?”  Colin stroked her arm gently whilst he waited for his answer.

“Yeah.  Carry on.” 

He flipped through slowly, scanning each page.  Most of it was meaningless, to him anyway- waxing on about splendid isolation..."that's not what that means, who the fuck edited this?"...beautiful seas, sailing to islands few had seen.  He laughed.

“What?”  She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

“I used to sail, if he’d been half as involved as he states he’d know that sailors hate those routes.  Bloody dangerous waters.”

“You used to sail?  Why did you stop?”

“Why do you think?”

“Oh.  Yes, I suppose, with the twins.  Sorry.”

“Don’t be silly, I like that you weren’t around then.  Oh- right here we are.  The break up.  You ready?”

She shook her head, “no, but go on.”

He read aloud this time, wanting to have that split second to process what was headed her way.

"The end of the relationship was inevitable.  Formerly a bright star at university, P had allowed herself to settle into mediocrity, wasting herself on dreams of helping a few children when she could have joined the campaign against climate disaster and made a real impact."  She sighed, wiped her eyes again. “Look Pen, just in case you believe him… as a parent of two of those very same kids, you are anything but mediocre.  A bloody miracle, more like.”

“Thanks.  He never really valued teaching, or children.”

“No, it says here…All I could see ahead of me was a future of being tied down.  A woman such as P would want little more than a small home, pension and a couple of children.  I couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing children into a world that would be decimated by disaster, it seemed the ultimate act of cruelty, twisted even.  Further, she was starting to damage my career.  Media articles had appeared questioning her lack of PR savvy and I knew that with her on my arm I would never be able to secure the funding I needed for my endeavours.  I asked her to see a specialist, a stylist, but she refused.

“He told me to lose three stone and cut my hair so that I looked less like a blimp.”

“You… a blimp?”

“I’m not exactly slender.”

“Speaking as someone who has seen every part of you,” he lowered his voice, trying not to laugh as she blushed, “there is not an inch of your body that isn’t perfect. It’s a shame it isn’t 1813, I could challenge him to a duel over those words.  He doesn’t look as if he could handle a sword.”

“He had to learn to use a gun, polar bear safety.”

“Decades of clay pigeon shooting, he wouldn’t stand a chance. El is a crack shot anyway, I could set her on him.  You ready for more?”

She nodded, “OK.” 

"When we met I had been blinded by love, but now I could see the selfish side of her, the side that could not prioritise my career and so the love fell away.  I admit I was cruel when we split up, my heart was breaking at the knowledge that someone I held in such high esteem would not make the effort for me, but I apologised.  We have not spoken since."

“Is that it?”  She slumped into him, he wasn’t sure if it was relief or exhaustion.

“I think so, some bits about an intern a year after you left, still with her.  They got together at her leaving do, but that was after you were long gone.”

“I was at that leaving do, it was months before we broke up.  I left early because I had work the next morning.”

“He’s an idiot, Pen.  A straight up idiot.  These last bits…”

“I know, just tomorrow’s chip paper.”

“No!  Hurtful but nobody will care.  Anthony is bound to have a whole PR strategy but that first bit- your dad…”

He held her tight as she cried again, face in his biceps, knees pulled into her chest.  After a few moments his phone pinged and he opened the screen, Anthony.

“Is she with you?”

“Yes.  She’s not great, but OK.”

“Can you get her to the study to talk?”

“When she’s ready, Ant.”

“is there something going on about that I don’t know about? I didn't know you two were friends.”

“I can hope.  We’ll see you soon.”

“He’s right isn’t he?”  Penelope closed the book with a thud and pushed it away from her.

“Who?  Ant… oh sorry, Alfie? He’s an idiot.”

“Yes, but he was right- he wanted to travel all the time, years at a time in fact.  I would have been happy with a few kids, and a home. I couldn’t have stayed knowing he didn’t want that, he never told me.  How was I meant to know? You can’t change whether someone wants kids, can you?”

“Marina never wanted kids, I didn’t know until she was pregnant.”

“Shit, sorry… she  didn’t want to…”

“Probably did, I desperately wanted kids, I was over the moon.  I tried to hide it, if she had said I’d have supported her but she didn’t.  I’d have tried to change who I am to fit her.”

“You loved her.”

“For a while I suppose but that’s not my point- moulding yourself to fit someone else’s dreams, that’s not healthy.  You know you’d have walked away, that shows strength and self awareness, that’s why he never told you, he was scared to lose you.  He was trying to manipulate you.  All that stuff he asked you to do… I tried to change for my own marriage and it was a disaster.  His version is twisted, self centred.  It’s not a surprise, really.”

“No?”

“No, come on, it’s boring isn’t it- ‘we met at university, and after a few years we wanted different things so we had a row and split up.  Oh and I’d been shagging the intern, soz about that.'”

“Still shagging the intern, well PA now.”

“Maybe it’s love.  I hope it is, there’s precious little of it about- but that doesn’t justify being a shit to you.”

“She was 19 and he was her boss…post grad, remember? PhD age when I met him."

“Sleazy little shit.”  He gave a shudder, “shall we go and see Ant now?”

“We?”

“Don’t make me do this now.  I’m not asking anything of you but I hope we are something more than new friends.”

“You are quite good in a crisis.”

“I’ll take that. Besides, whatever happens in there, I’ll always have a worse story.”

“Have you ever spoken to someone who was married to an addict for two decades?”

Colin shook his head, “no, I suppose not.”

“I’m not saying it’s worse but… mum has some tales. Are you ready?”

“For you, always.”

Chapter Text

Colin curled up in the chair as best he could, legs splayed and arms draped, his hand flickering as he waited for Cara to join him for his first session in ages. He'd started therapy at the insistence of his family, Anthony strongarming him on the return to Mayfair, attendance the only thing they asked of him in exchange for them giving him and the kids whatever support they needed (he was fairly sure that they were bluffing but it had been his excuse to force himself to comply, he didn't think he could have found the strength for any other reason, not back then).

It was a strange thing, he thought- he’d come so far yet just being in the room was enough to throw him back to the edge of panic, his chest tight and anxiety spiking.  He took a moment to regulate his breathing, the old techniques that had helped him survive the first few months.

The door opened and he stood quickly, extending a hand to shake that of the older woman, relaxed and smiling in her jeans and t-shirt.  It had taken them a few tries to find someone he felt comfortable with, it was amazing how many therapists seemed to either be a close representation of elegant Mayfair cool detachment, too similar to his mother, or Glastonbury alternative informality, neither quite matching what he needed.

Cara had been different.  She was unlike the people he saw every day and he cherished that newness, had found the inevitable shrinking of his world that came with Marina's illness stifling, suffocating even.  He’d been surprised to find that the fact he didn’t really relate to her was helpful, a challenge that shook him out of his mindset. It was a blessed respite from all the people who either wallowed in their sympathy or made it clear that he had somehow failed (something he imagined he saw in Neil’s continuing emotional distance).

Cara stacked her folder and notes on the little table at their side and sat, watching him for a moment with an expression that he could only call assessing.  He found himself tempted to fill the silence but held back, unwilling.  Eventually she leaned forwards, 

“It’s been a while, Colin.”

“Yeah.”  He shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether it was the chair, clearly made for someone a good few inches shorter, or the situation. He suspected the latter.  “The therapy saw me through the crisis but I needed time to sit with what happened and learn to be a single parent.”

“An understandable decision, I'm glad you felt able to return.  I notice you’re still referring to it as ‘what happened’, though?”

“Habit, maybe?  Nobody else says the words around me after all.  It’s all what happened, Colin’s loss, the situation.  Nobody will come out and say it around me, not really.”

“Do you ever say it?”

He considered the question.  “No, but probably not for the reason you’re thinking.”

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s about protecting everyone else, isn’t it? The words, they can’t hurt me, not after the police and coroner and everything else. She died, suicide, killed herself, topped herself, the words don't change a thing. But my family, they worry about me, and Neil still doesn’t talk about it.”

“Have you told him about that day yet?”  Colin shook his head, “no, and I know I have to, it feels as if I’ve stolen something from him by not doing so.  I thought maybe this summer and then he pulled another stupid stunt.”

“What happened?”

“Ugh.  He brought a guest to my brother's summer house party, my sister seems to be falling for him so I made an effort to start chatting with him and it only turns out that he’s the brother of the bloke Marina was shagging on and off.  He didn’t know, if I’m honest he seems like a decent enough chap but…” Colin flapped his arms in a sign of frustration and Cara nodded.

“That must be hard.”

“Yeah, Pen seemed to think I was going to lose it with him, with Neil, when I found out.  She cleared off with the kids.”

“Pen?  Is that one of your siblings…”  she flicked through her notes, forehead wrinkled.

“No.  Penelope is- well she’s why I’m here, actually.  I met someone, and I need to be sure I’m not going to drag her down with me if I make a move because she’s been through enough, going through it now really,  and I don’t want to destroy her but I also don’t think I can miss this chance.”

“Wow, that’s good news Colin, really that is.  Surprising, if I am honest, but good.”

“Yeah.  She was the kid’s teacher, but mum and Ant did most of the school stuff, I only met her when she drove into my car and I yelled at her.  I think she’s forgiven me, but I don’t think she’s the type to give me a second chance.  I can’t screw this up.  She’s- she’s not like Marina.”

“That’s not enough in itself, is it?  There are many, many women who are not like Marina.”

“You think it’s too soon?”

“Do you?” 

He fiddled with the zip on his jacket, clearly considering the next answer.  “Everyone thinks of me as a widower and treats me as if I lost the love of my life, the fact that she cheated, that we were divorced stopped mattering the day she left us, somehow.  If that had been the case, if I'd loved her, then maybe it would be too soon… but even Fran, you know?”

“Even Fran what?”

“Well there’s no doubt that she loved John, is there?  She was devastated.  We don’t know really, she’s never confirmed it but we’re all pretty sure that she’s seeing John’s cousin.  She’s allowed to move on, but I’m poor tragic Colin, aren’t I?  Too broken.”

“Do you feel broken?” 

Colin chuckled at Cara's enquiry, he knew how this worked, all the questions- it had annoyed him once but he was ready now, he actively wanted it. “You know that thing the Japanese do?  Kintsugi?  I feel like that, but whoever put me back together again forgot to use the fancy metals, they just used a pritt stick or maybe some copydex.  It holds well enough, but there’s no fancy better person now or glamour in the cracks, it stays together and that’s enough.  I’m new but not improved and maybe a bit brittle still.  Pen though- she seems to see me as a man, not a mess.  Maybe it helps that she didn’t know me before?”

"Is that a positive, or does it mean she missed out on something crucial to who you are?"

Colin had given that one a lot of thought, "she caught some of it, from a distance, when we returned to Mayfair and Ant and mum had to take over, she knows social services stepped in. It's not like I can hide it from her, which I might have tried with someone else and I don't think that would be good.  She isn't expecting me to turn back into the old Colin though, whoever he was, because she only knows this one.  The kids know her and like her, my family knew her before I did...if anything I think she's the only one who gets to see me for who I am now and the fact that she's attracted, well I hope she's attracted, to me despite everything counts for a lot."

"Have you actually spoken to her about it, asked if she's attracted to you?"

He laughed, stretching his arms out in front of him.  "She propositioned me actually,"  his lips twitched with the memory of that night.  "She couldn't return to her room, she's staying at Aubrey as a guest of my mother, but...well her own mum was getting busy in their room.  That's Portia for you.  Well she'd mentioned a few days before that she'd never had a one night stand and I'd said she should go for it, and well...yeah.  I hadn't really thought of her that way, or anyone since Marina died, but that kiss- I didn't know it was possible. We had one night, and I realised I wanted more. Always, perhaps."

"You've kissed a lot of people." Cara scanned something in her notes and looked up at him, he could see a touch of amusement in her eyes despite the provocative comment.

"Alright!  I had my fun, I suppose.  No, I know what you mean, it seems unlikely doesn't it?  I've been married for chrissake, it wasn't my choice to end that, but what can I say?  Her kiss hasn't magically healed me or anything but she is enough to make me think it might be worth making an effort, I can only be the problem brat for so long."

"Is that how you see yourself, Colin?"  She leaned her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand.

He shook his head, "no, probably not, not yet but it would be easy to stagnate and become that.  I know there aren't any timelines but it's back to that thing, Marina was my ex, mum dragged me to support groups for parents of bereaved kids and everyone there had lost a soulmate, apart from me.  I don't want to be defined by this loss forever, even if I know my family has to be because of what the twins have lost."

“You said she’d been though a lot.  Can you explain what you mean by that?”

Colin nodded and unbuttoned his cuff button before immediately fastening it again, repeating the motion twice before looking up with a smile. “Sorry, it bugs my mum when I do that.  Displacement, that’s what she calls it.  She hasn’t been married or anything, she’s not much younger than me but she was in a relationship with someone who treated her badly, I’m still learning the extent really. It looks as if he cheated on her and put her down, but he was quite well known so it has come back to bite her, he has a book out soon… she lost her dad as well, he was a drunk and a gambling addict and they think he was murdered but nobody was ever convicted.  She says it’s not like my losses.”

“Why does she think that?”

“Because her life got better after, and mine turned to shit.  Nobody mourned him or expected her to care so she just got on with her life and career.  She’s not poor Pen or pitiable, she’s just Pen.”

“Is that how you feel?  As if you’re just poor Colin?”

“Oh god yes!  Anything else stopped mattering ages ago- not to the twins obviously, but even they’re growing up, they remember her but bits are fading, with their age, we have books and her pictures are up but… it’s amazing what all those months means to a kid, especially when she was away a lot anyway. She left long before she died didn’t  she? The Colin who liked to sail and travel?  He isn’t allowed to exist any more.”

“Do you want to sail again?”

“Probably not. That sounds ridiculous doesn’t it?”  He pushed his hand through his hair, “but it would be nice if someone who remembers me from then asked me if I did.”  He quietened for a moment then dropped his voice, “I let the kids move into their own rooms.  We’ve shared since we got back to London, I didn’t want them out of my sight, and they thought I might disappear the way their mum did, first with hospital and then again… it was time.  Amanda was more than ready, Oliver is still a bit shaky but he’ll get there.”

“That’s a big step.”

“I know.  I’m ready for something to work towards as well, for myself- if they’re growing up maybe I can… what if I screw her up?  She’s amazing, she has this career where she makes a difference and she’s independent, what right do I have to drag my fucked up existence into her sphere, even?  Surely the ultimate act of love would be to take myself very, very far away.”

“Do you love her?”

“Ben says I only have two settings, 'fancy a quickie, darlin'?' and love.  I’m trying to hold back but maybe, it’s not like Marina, I have learned, but with Marina it felt like I was trying to find myself and she was a good excuse to look away from the bits of myself that didn't fit, with Pen it’s as if finding her… I don’t know, I’m myself with her I guess.  She listens but I can joke and be silly as well. She lets me be strong instead of expecting me to break."

"I wonder," Cara's spine straightened and Colin prepared for a killer question, he knew how this worked. "Is it Penelope you are falling for, or just the idea of someone new, someone who accepts you?"

"That's a good question isn't it?  I don't know how to answer."  He took some time to think about that one, he knew she would allow it and Anthony was paying anyway, if they went into another session so be it. "I'm a Bridgerton, I have a handful of sisters and sisters in law, women are not hard to meet and the name alone has too many caught even before they actually meet me.  Nobody has made me even think about the possibility that I might ever...Pen though.  Wow.  She's gorgeous, of course,"  he paused, a soft smile at the memory, "she's tiny, a doll really, but curvy and just wow. I can't imagine not noticing her but it isn't that either, she is just so easy to be with, funny, intelligent. Lets herself be vulnerable around me, and is fine when I am as well.  It's her, all her.  It's like I'm home but of course I've rushed in before and look where that got me."

“So tell me, why are you here?  Now, not a month ago or in six week’s time?”

Colin shifted, uncomfortable at being drawn back into the room.  “How many reasons do you want?”

“All the ones you have.”  Colin nodded to acknowledge her.

“I want to be able to give it a shot with Pen, in a way that won’t destroy who she is even if it doesn’t work, or destroy me I suppose. I’m ready for the things I avoided. Neil and that conversation… maybe finding my own flat, near mum. I’m not stupid, I know I’m a single father and she’s a lifeline, but my own front door.  I want to be Colin, someone who has a tragic story in his past rather than just tragic Colin.  Does that make sense?”  He sat back with an exhausted expression, “I want to be able to thank Ant for setting me on the right road but able to reassure him that I have this now. I want to be able to pursue this in a way that doesn't scare my mum but I know I've already fallen far more than most people would by this stage, I thought that was a once off with Marina but maybe it's the way I'm built and that scares me."

“You think counselling is part of this?”

“Don’t you?  I need someone I can hold myself accountable to without worrying about their feelings.  Maybe if it was a different world I could rely on my brothers to call me out when I'm about to be a twat but I need to build those relationships again, I need to outsource that.”

“OK.  So, what comes next?  I’m not going to lie, that’s a lot.  It all needs to happen and I really think you should cut yourself some slack here, but also the same for those around you.  Your family are doing their best, Penelope sound as if she is a grown woman able to make her own choices.  Do you remember our first sessions?”

Colin did; the first few had been torture, just him sitting in a chair silent whilst she kept him company.  He’d wondered if that was what it had been like for Marina, if there’d been the same feeling of being babysat and watched, never allowed to even breathe without someone noting it down.  He’d asked Kate once if they'd used his time in the sessions as respite and she’d told him that absolutely they did yes, they dropped him off and headed to the nearest bar, taking it in turns to be the one that drove and the one that got to down a very strong drink.  He’d appreciated her honesty.

After that he’d cried through most of the sessions, his frustration eventually winning out, filling him with so many questions.  He’d returned from each one tired and drained, slept for 24 hours after a few, it had been the start of what they’d come to know as his low days, when he’d been too tired to process anything or even leave his bed.

“I do.  Those were dark days.”

“You were sad, broken but do you know what you never were?”

“Tell me.”

“Angry.  You’ve told me about her cheating and ending the marriage, and even not leaving you a proper suicide note,”

“she left one for Neil.”

“I know but you gave her a lot- and it’s you the twins will go to for answers. That e-mail, you have the right to be furious, I don’t know how many exes would have done what you did anyway.”

“I’m not sure I was right to really, I should have perhaps taken the kids and fled but did Neil deserve that?”

“Remember what you told me that first time we really talked?  You wanted to be able to look in the twin’s eyes and say you tried to help her, that you expected to have to take custody away from her not bury her but that was the aim?”

“Yeah, I said that again, recently.”

“Right.  Well I’ll see you again in a week.  Think about that; do you think you achieved that?  Ask yourself why you wouldn't deserve a chance to move on, after giving so much?  If that boy could be that strong for someone who hurt him why can’t the man you grew into be enough for someone worth having as a partner?  Homework or no? I know you're on your holidays."

"Yes please, it makes me feel involved."

"This one might be a bit hard but give it a shot.  Write to Marina, tell her about what's happened since she died, about Penelope.  It might be too hard and that's OK, but try."

“Thanks, Cara.”

“You’re welcome.  Book a slot, I'll email my invoice to your brother, you know how it works. See you soon.”

Chapter Text

It was close to eleven by the time the foursome assembled in the study, Kate visibly yawning.  Colin registered that she had only a glass of water in front of her and that she was tucked into her husband’s side, clearly in need of sleep, he raised his eyebrows with a question and his brother shook his head, whispering “not now”.  He watched as Anthony’s hand unconsciously slipped sideways to rest, briefly, on her stomach and nodded an acknowledgement, mouthing “congratulations” to them both in response and trying not to laugh at Anthony’s look of annoyance, clearly nobody was supposed to know yet.

Everyone in the family held mixed feelings about the study at Aubrey Hall.  As children it had been a place of wonder- somewhere Edmund would take them when he perceived that they needed space from their siblings, or help with homework.  They had all seen it as a privilege, working alongside their father as he made phone calls and typed into his PC, and would often bicker with each other over access to that hallowed space.

Later it had taken on a new and more traumatic meaning.  Edmund had died in the garden of Aubrey Hall, anaphylaxis, a death that had stolen far more than the man they loved.  It  had been supposed to have been a time to celebrate life, Violet due with the 8^th (and, Colin had hoped, last- his parents had refused to make any promises) Bridgerton child, and instead the summer became defined by loss, first the permanent loss of their father and then the withdrawal of their mother, finally followed by the unavailability of their eldest brother, caught up in administration and the newborn duties that should have fallen to the parents, burying pain beneath anger in a desperate attempt to keep control.

So many of those first traumatic days had centred around the study.  It was where the police had taken Anthony to discuss the death, so soon after that the hearse was still parked outside.  He had been a legal adult for mere months and yet that was enough that his uncle, hovering at the door, had not been allowed to step in and take over from him in the investigation.  It was where Anthony had been when the hospital summoned him to his mother’s side in the hospital, required to make decisions whilst she lay unconscious after a complicated delivery.  It was where Anthony, floundering, had fallen out with so many of his siblings, and where he hid from his own grief, terrified to let it in, knowing that there was nobody else able to take over and that if he failed the family might be split across foster homes or far flung relatives. 

The room was also where they'd all learned not just about death but the insecurity of existence. They'd all lost grandparents and elderly aunts, thin faced and frail, their passing expected and seen as sad but inevitable.  None of them had any grasp of what it meant to have a loved one taken in their prime, in such a sudden way.  Edmund had simply woken up, decided he wanted to walk and met his terrifying but quick end. After that they had all felt a loss of their own youthful sense of immortality, struggling with the knowledge that any goodbye could be a last one. The ability to simply trust in the world around them again was hard won, and not won by all.  It had almost cost Anthony his relationship with his now wife, the man struggling to see past the eventual loss to what they could have together.  Ben had thrown himself into painting and found meaning and indeed success that way, the younger ones had seemed to cope until Fran and Colin had both suffered further bereavement and then it had come back to haunt them, the wellbeing of everyone they loved constantly in doubt.  That had taken them both a lot of therapy to manage and had brought them closer together as siblings, until Fran had decided to make her move to Scotland permanent.

These days the study was only used as a place of retreat during these extended summers and the Christmas holidays.  Certainly Anthony and Kate both worked there but they also used it as respite, locking the door when they needed space from the crowd that was their ever expanding family.  

Colin had never felt comfortable in the room, not since Edmund’s death. The place had been kept the same since Edmund’s days, furniture repaired and never replaced. Only the addition of newer technology was allowed to mark the passage of time, the room seeming to exist in a dreamlike stasis, at least for those who visited infrequently. He had only ever been called there when a crisis dictated it, usually followed by a brisk speech about disappointment and then dismissal.  If he was honest tonight was probably the first time he’d willingly sought it out, since his dad's death anyway, aware that he did not truly belong but determined to hold his place at Penelope’s side, at least until someone noticed his intrusion.

It was obvious that Anthony was curious from the moment he arrived with Penelope, not touching but close enough that he knew she could feel his presence.  The eyebrows shot up and Colin had thought Anthony was about to say something until the brief yet revealing unspoken conversation about what seemed likely to be a new addition to the family.  That had been enough to break the moment but he sat carefully, not wanting to alert anyone to the incongruity of the situation.

Anthony waited for them all to settle and then pushed glasses towards the two newcomers, Kate filled her own from a water jug and Colin added two fingers of whisky to the other glasses, not bothering to wait for their nods- it was late and everyone had already had a long day.

“I need to check, Penelope, are you OK with him being here?”  Anthony indicated his sibling with a tip of his chin and to Colin’s relief Penelope nodded,

“please, he’s been very supportive already, it feels good to have someone on my side.”

“We are all on your side, more than ever now we’ve seen the bile he’s printed.  I’m sorry, by the way.  I know it’s meaningless words but I…we both are, and he won’t get away with this.  We can’t stop the books being released, because…”

“Ant, seriously?”  Colin leaned forwards, “even with that nasty crap…”

“It’s all but on the bookshelves, Col, he clearly left it until the last possible moment.  I didn’t actually get it from the publisher, a book shop we’ve helped out before did me a favour.  As far as Alfred and his team know we are not involved and Penelope doesn’t know what’s about to hit her.  There is every chance that if Pen hadn’t happened to be friendly with us she wouldn’t have known until a bunch of press turned up, the man is talentless but he’s a level above half the reality celebs you see on screen these days and that’s enough for a few thousand website clicks.”

“Well it’s not as if we haven’t dealt with the press before,”  Colin wiped a hand down his face and groaned, “although I’d hoped not to have to face that again.”

“Yeah, and that’s what concerns me about you being here Col, you’ve had enough of that- I’m worried we’ll trigger something.  Are you sure you wouldn’t be better off…”

“No, out of the question.  Honestly, don’t waste your time.”

Penelope swung around to him, concerned.  “This is my mess Colin, I’m ok.”

“I meant it when I said no, Pen.  Besides, we have advance warning, it’s been years since we’ve locked those security gates…” he turned towards Anthony, “I presume they still work?”

“Thankfully,”  Ant nodded, “and they’re already secured, I’ve taken the ring doorbell from mum, you know what she’s like- she’ll only feel sorry for them and start offering cups of tea and biscuits.  They don’t know what is happening, I’ll let them know tomorrow but it’s late now. I think we have a few days, maybe a week but I don't know what pre-release copies have gone out.”

“I’m not around tomorrow, Ant.  I’m seeing Cara in the morning.”  Anthony’s head swiped around to stare at him but Colin ignored it, Anthony would know when he received the invoice anyway, “and I have a date in the afternoon.”

“A date?”  Kate shuffled into an upright position, “something we ought to know? Who’s the unfortunate young…person?”

“A lovely pair of young ladies in fact,” he caught Penelope’s eye and tried to give her a reassuring smile, not really knowing if she needed it at all, more hope than anything else.  “Amanda Bridgerton and Belinda Hastings.  Ice creams in Whitstable. I could cancel it, but…”

“Don’t you dare.”  Penelope shook her head firmly, “if I thought you’d do that I’d ask you to leave the room immediately.”

“I knew that, don’t worry.  I just don’t want you to think I’m dipping out on you.  Cara’s my therapist.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Col.  I’m more than able to look after myself.  These two,”  she smiled at Anthony and Kate, somewhat apologetically, “are godsends but I wouldn’t die without them.”

“I’m not used to people who don’t need my help, you’ll have to help me adjust.”  Anthony coughed to break the spell between the two and Colin turned, quickly. “So, initial assessment?”

“Right well my guess is that the meeting Alfie asked for was meant to culminate with you signing releases for the photos but I understand that didn’t end well?”

Penelope sighed and crossed her arms.  “I don’t usually have much of a temper, but come on…”

“No, no that’s fair.  So we’ll start there, and there’s the stuff with your dad…I’ve left a message with my researchers, they’ll be seeking out coroner’s reports and crime records tomorrow, I assume that won’t throw up any curve balls?” Anthony watched her, carefully.

“Define curve balls.  If they’re doing a background search and you’re in the habit of judging someone for their dad’s lifestyle then I may as well get out of here, it was almost all minor but he was on first name terms with the custody officer by the end, mostly fines for drunk and disorderly but he did a short stint after a bar fight.  But yes, the coroner’s records will back up what I told him about my dad.  Not sure that I want it all out in the open, not with my work but I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“To some extent yes, sorry, but we can do a lot to repair that reputational damage.  I should warn you that we haven’t seen the book yet, officially, our source could get in trouble but we can prepare, have a statement ready.  Mum has a photo of you from the party that would definitely silence any suggestion that you might be lacking in glamour.  I did wonder…”

“Yes, whatever it is.  If we can start to change the narrative now…” Penelope was determined, sure.

“Exactly that.  Mum has tickets for a big fundraiser ball, she does some committee work and the press are all there.  Not quite the Met Gala but it has some presence. She usually takes Marcus but I’m sure she’d gladly let you go and take a guest, we did think I might suit, your name becoming associated with a scary lawyer family friend might help and Kate was up for it but there might be some gossip, we could ask Phil, or if there’s anyone…”

“When is it?”  Colin met Anthony’s eyes.

“Two days, Col.  But…”

“I’ll do it.  I won’t be around to take her shopping but there’s enough people here who can do that.”

“You haven’t been seen in society since…well, I don’t know when.”

“Since I was 19.  That will bring in the press, surely?  Bereaved Bridgerton finally makes his return to society life, complete with a gorgeous redhead on his arm…”

“Steady on Col,”  Penelope was trying not to laugh.

“Where’s the lie?  It will look natural, organic rather than…I dunno, pre-emptive product placement.”

“Are you sure?  Certainly it makes sense but I’m not willing to throw your wellbeing at this.”

“I am certain.  For Pen, anyway.  I’m also certain that your wife needs her bed, and likely her husband in that bed.”  He gave a low laugh and they all looked to where Kate was now asleep, propped against her husband, mouth agape.  “We can’t exhaust the real legal talent, can we?”

“I’m not even going to lie to you and pretend that is anything other than true. Right,”  Anthony gently lifted Kate’s head from his shoulder and stood up, yawning. “I can bill Debling extra for these late hours if we go after costs.  Pen, I’ll see you in the morning.  Colin, a word?”

“Really?  At this time?”

“Quick, I promise.  Humour me.”

Penelope smiled and left the study, Colin didn’t sit but leaned against the wall, arms crossed but never having expected any other outcome.

“Can’t you sit, Colin?  It’s not very friendly.”

“I’m fine.  Say it.”

“Is there something I need to know about?  As far as I was aware you and Penelope don’t really get on.  I know there’s been some thawing, you were chatting at the lake earlier, but…”

“She’s a very good friend…of the family.”

“She is, and you?”

Colin laughed, “don’t try to use your lawyer mindbending skills on me Ant, I remember when you convinced dad you were sick for a week because you had a crush on El’s nanny and wanted to stay home with her. I know all your secrets.”

“Suki was very pretty and I like to think that was an early example of just those skills. I’m still going to worry about you.  If I could choose someone for you she’d be on top of the list…well the in law situation might be confusing with Portia and Neil,”  he chuckled, “what the fuck is that about?  But I don’t want to see you run before you can walk.  Are you sure all is OK?”

“Honestly?”  Colin sighed and sat down, “no, but that’s what the session with Cara is about, isn’t it?  Short of erasing my memory with one of those men in black things…”

“Which you wouldn’t do because of the twins."

“Precisely, short of that isn’t it just about making sure I have the people I need ready for if it goes tits up?  Whatever it might be.”

“You have us, Colin.”

“Yep, and I’m a lucky bastard, I know I haven’t been in a place to say it or even appreciate it but I love you, I’m so very, very glad to have you- and weirdly that might mean you stepping back.  You’ve filled dad’s role so well, but I would quite like to get to know my brother instead.”

“What brought this on?”

“Time, hormones, the sense that those two are growing up and I’m being left behind.  I used to rely on the low days to survive, now they’re starting to bore me.  Look, I booked Cara for this- can I just ask you to trust me?”

“We always did, that’s why we fought for you to have the space to be what the kids needed.  I know it must have felt heavy handed at times, mum stepping in with Marina…”

“God no, I needed that, I was just grateful.”

“And then hauling you back here, of course.”

“What were the alternatives?  Lose the kids to the courts, or hand them to you or Neil and disappear.  That’s what I needed then, someone to just take over and free me up from making decisions but now I want to take some steps for myself.”

“I’m proud of you.  Yes as brother and also as the person who had to raise you for a while after dad died, both can exist together.  Dad would be proud as well, I know mum is.”

“Don’t do that now, Ant,”  Colin gave a wet laugh as he wiped away the stray tears.  “I’m supposed to be supporting Penelope, not leaving here a wet mess.”

“You don’t have to do that for her, we can do that.”

“It’s nice to have someone who trusts me to be able to do that, who doesn’t see broken Colin.”

“Mum has a theory, you know.  I think there’s some truth in it but she turned it to self blame and that’s not fair.  She thinks that your ridiculous sense of loyalty to Marina…”

“Ant, no…”

“No, I’m bloody proud of you but it was…she thinks it’s because you couldn’t help her, after Hy was born.  You were just too young, so somehow you were trying to make up for that.”

“That’s not news to me.  Marina’s psychiatrist said the same, and Cara.  I’ve always had a desire to be needed, to be helpful, of service.”

“Penelope doesn’t need you, Colin.”

“No, she doesn’t.  What if, by some miracle, she chose to want me instead?  One day, not now.  Wouldn’t that be something special?  I promise that I don’t have any plans to head to Vegas and my passport has expired anyway.”

“If you decide that’s what you want you’ll have my full support.  Tread carefully, for both your sakes.”

“Everyone is moving on.  Ben and Soph are expecting again, it looks as if we’re waiting for an announcement from you there as well…”

“Early days, Colin. Too early.”

“Mum and Marcus, El and Phil, Greg and whatever it is he’s up to… it makes me want a bit of that.  There are things I have to do first, though.  Talk to Neil for one.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“How can I not?  I’m not saying I’ll have it done by the end of the week but I plan to let him know it will happen, eventually. That’s a first step.”

“And you’re sure about this fundraiser? I can find someone to take her you know.  Mum wants us to make the school our project of the year so there’s an excuse for any of us…”

“No chance.  I’m up for it, and looking forward to it.  And now I’m off up to bed.”

“Alone?”

“Not sure, there might be a small boy wondering where I am.” He met Ant’s glare with a smirk and the elder brother rolled his eyes.

“Ha bloody ha, you know what I meant.”

“Night, brother.”  Colin stepped outside and sighed, he’d hoped Pen would have waited for him but the corridor was clear.  He drank a glass of water and headed up to bed, pleased but not surprised to find her sat on a chair on the landing, waiting.

“I didn’t know what room you’d moved into, so…”

“Here to proposition me again, then?” He batted his eyelids so she knew he was teasing.

She stuck her tongue out at him, playfully.  He felt the move shoot through him.  “You don’t get that lucky twice, my friend.  No, to say thank you.  I don’t know what I did to deserve all this, but…”

“Sit with me?” he lowered himself onto the stairs and patted the step next to him.  “I’d invite you in but there’s a good chance Ols will either be in there or in soon, and I don’t…”

“No, no of course!  He isn’t settling that well, then?”

“I think he is, but he needs to know I’m where I say I will be, it’ll take some time.  He wouldn’t let me out of his sight at first, we couldn’t let him attend the funeral and even that…he always has to come first, well they both do.”

“I’d think less of you if it were any other way.”

“I’m sorry for disappearing tomorrow, it’s poor timing but important.  You have the girls here anyway,”  he slipped his arm around her and pulled her to his side, “things are changing so rapidly and I don’t want to lose my footing. I did wonder though, this PR fundraiser night.  Just between us but how would you feel if I considered it a first date?  I know we had sex and it was fantastic, well for me anyway but if we took a step back.”

“Can I think about it?”  his face fell slightly and she jumped in to reassure him, “not like that! don’t make a habit of going around having amazing sex with people I wouldn’t date, but I don’t want this shitstorm adding to your woes.”

“Can you let me worry about that?  It’d be nice to have someone trust me to take care of myself for a change.  Look out for them, sometimes…someone who isn’t knee high and sticky.”

She giggled and he pulled her closer, it was fast becoming his favourite sound.  “That's a description of me after a day in school as much as it is the twins. OK, if you explain something to me.”

“Anything.  Except for how I became so charming, that was just a gift from above…” she elbowed him.

“Why did Kate emphasise person when she asked about the date? Tell me to shut up if it’s personal.”

“Ah.”  He kissed the top of her head, pausing long enough to drink in the scent of her shampoo, lemony rich.  “Is it a red line thing?  I’d understand.”

“Unlikely but I feel I should know. Is it a you thing or a Bridgerton sex cult thing?”

“I’ve never really dug into it, if I’m honest.  Not labels and things anyway.  Marina was my first and supposed to be my only and I never considered anything else, then I guess I made a play for anyone who came my way, filling the void and all that.  Some of those people were not women.  Ben calls me bi, but to be honest if I had to label it…I don't know, do I?”  he watched her reaction and she nodded, “you've been so vulnerable with me today, Pen, nobody knows this, OK? Bi yes probably, to some extent I guess, maybe just this much,"  he held up his fingers to indicate a pinch. "Heteroromantic. I never really questioned the gender thing, just took what I was offered, but I never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t a woman either.  I’m not really sure if it would even have gone that way if I hadn’t been a mess of a man trying to fix a broken heart through human contact, I suspect I'm far more monogamous at heart anyway, needed to lose myself.  It just was, and it was fine. But I think there is more."

"You don't have to tell me, but if you do I'll value that."

"I want to, I never told anyone."  He hooked his arms around his knees and broke eye contact. "I guess- with Marina it was all this big rush for something, a connection.  I don't know how much I deluded myself, wishful thinking. My brothers, they were all about the sex, and I wasn't, I always felt inadequate. It was never...all my life I've searched for a connection, some answer to who I am, and I never found it.  It's a great temporary high and all that but the way Ant and Ben talked about it, as if it was the meaning of life? No. Look I don't want to scare you away,"

"I stayed with a cheating penguin fucker, you won't scare me away."  She took his hand and held it close, wanting him to feel that link as he opened up.

"You'd call that demisexual I guess, and I think- maybe- that the drive to connect has been bigger than the worry about who I should be connecting with. I only found it once."

"And she died, I'm so sorry."

"You misunderstand me.  She's right here, holding my hand.  When you kissed me, Penelope...whatever I thought I knew about myself, you rewrote it.  I'm sorry, that's far too full on, we haven't even had a first date."

"You have seen me naked though."  She gave him a small, gentle laugh and nudged him. 

"I am a lucky bastard.  Is that OK?  I know it's a bit much."

“It's flattering. With being bi...you get to choose from everybody, don’t you?  At least for who you like, even if they don’t want you back,”  she shot him a sidelong glance, “which frankly seems unlikely, unless they’re lesbian, state of you.”

He chuckled, “I assure you that’s not…”

“I get what, half the adult population, minus everyone who is gay. Or weird about redheads, or short women.  It just doesn’t seem fair.”

“I take it from that then that you’re not bothered?”

“El is bi and she’s a friend, so why would I be bothered about you?”

“Penelope…”

“Yeah, I know.  No, I’m not bothered.  I’m not promising to come over and peg you the next time you have a bad day, either, mind.”

“But you’re not saying you won’t…” he pretended to duck and laughed, “OK, OK I get it.  Joking, I promise.  No, whatever this is…”  he stroked her cheek, trying to work out how he’d missed the fact that her eyes were the exact shade of the sea he had once loved so much, “you are more than enough.  Which is why I want to step back, find out what this could be. Oh hang on", he groaned and pulled a vibrating phone from his pocket, “I am being summoned. I’ll see you tomorrow evening, maybe?”

“Give Oliver my love.” She detached herself, almost glad to have the chance to break away and process everything that had happened across that day.

“Lucky kid.  Goodnight, Pen.”

Chapter Text

The first few weeks of Marina’s hospitalisation were difficult for all of them.  Violet moved back home, Colin was glad she could return to his other siblings and her own world but he missed her.  Neil stayed away for a day or two, obviously and understandably heartbroken, but he knocked on the door the third morning, broom in hand, extending it as he answered.

“If you’re back you can earn your keep properly, we’ll share the childcare and work around hospital visits.”

Colin had shoved the broom back at him, saying that he was more than happy to muck in, welcomed it even, but they needed to have a chat about the twins first and to come and find him in the evening.  Neil had agreed and returned later, and they had sat down and worked out a proper schedule and ground rules.  He was the only parent now, he needed support, not someone to take over his ex's parental rights, if Neil wanted to make decisions then he had to speak to him and him alone. Neil had agreed sheepishly, clearly relieved that he was getting the chance at all.

A support worker from the hospital had also stepped in with the idea of helping to find the twins a pre-school.  Colin jumped at the idea; he’d suggested it himself before but Marina had been opposed, and it had seemed pointless arguing when she had the kids every other month, unenforceable. The worker had offered to make some calls and provide access to funding but Colin had thanked her and refused, calling Anthony instead.  He knew his brother felt useless, it would be entirely possible for him to find him a placement and write a cheque without leaving Mayfair, the sort of task he thrived on.  In fact it had taken Anthony three days, a pre-prep place at a local private school that his brother said they might consider long term. The uniforms turned up in a parcel from Mayfair, Violet carefully sewing name tags into each piece, and it couldn’t have been easier.

After that things were just better, much as Colin felt guilty admitting it.  He had something to do to occupy himself, and enough breaks that he could breathe.  Marina was refusing to speak with any of them so the family therapy couldn’t yet begin but he had plenty to get by with, his annexe was his safe place and the kids were with him every night, not knowing that this was anything other than a regular change of custody.

There was a dip at the four week mark, the twins only just finding their way around the pre-prep and suddenly realising that their mum hadn’t returned to take over her turn, becoming clingy and waking at night.  Colin persisted, took advice and the three of them found a way through it.

It was, then, somewhat of an intrusion when Marina started to ask for her family’s involvement, finally forgiving them for hospitalising her, family therapy and visits eating into the routines he’d carved out.  That was another hit to his self esteem, the fact that he resented it, another thing to discuss in what had become to feel like endless therapy sessions, shoving down the anger that she’d still managed to call the shots from afar and then loathing himself for even thinking that of her.

She came home after six months.  Colin seriously considered moving back to London with the kids to keep the distance he had fought to retain but they were settled now, twins enjoying pre-prep, a place waiting for full time school in under a year, a Saturday routine of birthday parties and visits to the McDonalds in Street, just a few miles away.  He’d hosted a party on their birthday and he’d had to ask his mum to step in and help, not because he couldn’t manage the event- he could, and he’d booked a package anyway, an animal encounter experience and buffet held in a barn on the farm- but because he’d discovered that a single dad was a target for several mothers of the kids in his class, and he really wasn’t ready for that.  It was hard not to laugh, standing with Neil as they watched the kids play and Violet sweep the more persistent mums away, finally finding a way to protect her beloved son and not willing to cede an inch.

Marina never moved back into the annexe.  That had become Colin’s domain and Neil was even talking about signing it over to him, his own place.  Marina lived in her old childhood bedroom, next to her dad.  Once settled, a month in, she started to have shared custody, supervised at first then alone, and it worked like a dream, Marina dropping the kids off at school whilst Colin helped with the milking, Colin picking them up so Marina could work her new part time job at a pub the sailing crowd frequented, close to the reservoir.  It all felt so normal- not the normal anyone would hope for, perhaps, but broken marriages and divorced parents sharing custody was hardly a rare thing. 

One day, a Friday, as Colin would always remember, he arrived to pick up the kids and was called into the office by their teacher, clearly upset.  The class TA took the kids for a walk and he sat there, perplexed, a sense of foreboding already disrupting his breathing.

“I wasn’t aware you were unhappy with the education we provide, Mr Bridgerton.  It is of course your right as parents to withdraw the children, but I have to advise against it, they are settled and you have signed a contract requiring you to pay until the end of the year.”

Colin stared at them for a moment, perplexed, until reality dawned and he crumbled, there in front of the professionals he’d entrusted with the care of the most precious things in his life.

“I assume it was my ex, telling you this?” 

The teacher nodded, “she has parental responsibility, has decided to home school them.  She didn’t let you know?”

“No, I'm afraid not. Let me talk to her, please?”

“She’s already terminated the agreement, told us she won’t pay for this term. Mr Bridgerton, she…”

“She doesn’t pay for it, it comes from my trust fund, heck you bill my brother!”

“I didn’t want to have to say this but we can’t have her back on site, she called my colleague…are you sure you want to hear this?”

“There’s an entire team of people who probably need it written down and certified, yes please.”

“She said they were an enemy of free speech, a fascist using education as an excuse to ruin young minds and monitor their parents from a distance and she knew what…sorry, "their fucking game was", she wasn’t stupid, she knew what the CCTV was for, wouldn't be fooled "no matter how many bastards want to pretend I am the mad one.” She was very aggressive.”

“I think I know the answer and I respect the professionalism of everyone here,”  Colin dug deep to find the soothing words needed to calm the teacher, “but was there any dispute before this, anything that triggered it?”

“No.  Or rather, I told her you’d receive an invitation to parent's evening as well as her, shared custody, that was last week and she wasn’t pleased.  This morning we handed out notes about the new CCTV system covering the front entrance, and…”

“Ever feel as if you’re stuck on a merry go round you can never leave?”

“I’m sorry, Mr Bridgerton?”

“Sorry, no…rhetorical question.  Is it possible for you to keep the place?  I’ll do all the school runs from now, perhaps my father in law can help again, if she even tries to come anywhere near the place call me.”

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.  The way she was…it was quite threatening.  We’ll need an investigation and to let social services know.”

“Of course you will.  How long do you think that will take?”

“About a week, I suppose?  I think the solution you’ve already outlined will be acceptable but you’ll need to keep the twins at home, social services will contact you directly. I have to say, I’m very sorry about your ex wife.”

“Thank you.  Let me know when they can return, will you?  I’m fairly sure that if you give me an hour to speak to my brother the CCTV system will find itself funded.”  Colin stood up and pushed the chair under the seat, not even flinching as it scraped the lino.

It didn’t take him long to settle the twins, promising them a trip to the park on the way home, a chance to burn off some steam as a thanks for letting him talk to their teacher.  He waited until they were chasing each other around the park, memories of a similar trip years ago filling his mind, before finding a bench and settling down with his phone in his hand, scrolling until he found Anthony’s number.

Anthony picked up immediately.  Colin knew that he was the only one who had that special treatment, aside from Kate.  He waited as Anthony told whoever he was meeting with that he had to nip outside to take the call.

“Brother.  What’s up?”

Colin didn’t manage to explain at first, the tears falling strong and fast. He sniffed as he tried to clear them, whispering that he had the kids, he couldn't risk them seeing him cry.  He could hear Anthony moving as he waited for him to calm, an engine starting in the background of the call.

“She…she did it again, Ant.  Well, not exactly, but the midwives, the hospitals. Isolate us from professionals. She just tried to take the kids out of school, they’re suspended for a week for an investigation and she’s got herself barred from the premises for aggressive behaviour, if they do let them back.”

“Shit.  You never said she was ill again, we all thought…”

“I didn’t know.  She seemed fine, not that I ever saw much of her, handovers and we’re both working, when she’s home she’s in her room.  Neil was saying that he was glad of that, that she’s thriving.”

“What did she say then, that went down so badly?”

“Oh you know, accused them of being fascists, using the new CCTV system to monitor her…swore a bit, I think we’re paying for that CCTV by the way, if they readmit the twins.  Sorry.”

“I should have stopped to pick up mum, sorry, I never thought…”

“No, no need.  Look it’s my weekend, obviously there will be fall out, can you take them back to London with you?  Just for a few days.  Let me speak to her, get Neil to call her psychiatrist.”

“Is it time, Colin?”

“Time for what?”

“Time for you all to move back home, apply for sole custody.”

“She’d fight me, Ant, and Neil would fund it. She wants to home school them, can you fucking imagine? They need their friends, home.  I know where you’re coming from, but…”

“You can’t go on like this forever, Col.  What if the twins are alone with her next time?  What if she’s still doing this when they’re old enough to understand, 10, 16…”

“It looks fucking inevitable, doesn’t it? And we can’t just say she never sees them again, so what other future do they have? If anything retreating to London will make her worse, put all the pressure on Neil.”

“I am going to say this with love but Colin, he is her father.  You are someone she was married to a few years ago, briefly, and that she shares twins with.  Your roles are very different here.”

“I know, but…”

“You can’t 'but' forever, mate.”

“When she does lose custody, and I don’t think that’s yet but it seems inevitable, the twins love their mum, they’ve never seen that side of her.  They’re going to want to know why I didn’t fight harder, why I couldn’t find a way to help her get better instead of taking the kids from her.  I want to be able to look in their eyes and promise I did all that I could.  I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“You are, you can.  What more could you do?”

“Help her, Ant!  Find out what the fuck triggered it this time, get her meds switched or whatever, I don’t know- I’m not her therapist.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Can you take them for the weekend or not?  She’s not back from work until ten so it’ll be easy to have them off the farm, I can pack when they get back.  Neil is on the late shift so he won’t be able to call her.”

“I need you to know that I think it’s time Col, but if that’s your final choice…”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll be there in a few hours.  I’ll call mum and have her make a room up for the kids. Colin, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, cheers bro.  I’ll see you soon.”

He lied to the twins.  He’d always promised himself he wouldn’t do that but he did, told them it was half term and both parents needed to work so they were going to have a few days with their grandmother and the cousins.  He’d managed to integrate them into the wider family whilst Marina had been in hospital, and he was glad, the positive response to his ‘surprise’ was overwhelming. He filled an old duffel with clothes and let them fill another with toys and sent them on their way, hiding the tears and downing a stiff drink to prepare himself for the evening.

He started with Neil, finding him in the hay shed, radio on, singing as he cleaned and repaired some tools.  Colin pulled up a seat next to him, silent.

“No twins?  I thought it was your weekend.”

“Did you know, Neil?”  Colin didn’t mean to sound menacing but he knew it was in his voice anyway, mixed with exhaustion, sadness and frustration.

“Know what?  Are you alright, mate?”

“The twins have been suspended from school, due to their mother’s behaviour.  We have to await the outcome of an investigation but we can expect social to turn up.  Did you fucking know?”

Neil didn’t have to speak, Colin could see from the shock in his eyes that it was as much news to him as it had been to Colin.

“I understand why you’d think that but no, not a clue.”

“She seems to think, in that deluded mind of hers, that I’m going to let her home school them.  I can tell you right now…”

“She can’t. We both know that.  Oh god no, not again…”  Neil rarely cried, and Colin wasn't going to draw attention it now, so they both sat there in silence, broken, damp faced.

“Where are they?”

“Mum and Ant have them, just for a few days.”

“Please don’t take them from me, Colin, I know she’s screwed up again but…”

“I have no intention of taking them from you Neil. Or her, not yet, but she can’t have them unsupervised, not until we know what the fuck is going on anyway.  You’re going to have to call that agency and get someone in again, looks like I’m back on the full time dad side.”

“You deserve better.”

“Everyone caught up in this whole mess deserves better.  Look are you going to be OK?”

“I’m going to have to go and call her team.  Can you close up here?  I’m sorry to ask…”

“No, you do that and then bugger off, if you don’t mind?  I need to talk to her one to one.”

“Yeah.  I can do that.”

Neil did exactly as Colin asked, messaging Colin to say Marina had an appointment with the emergency psychiatrist on Monday and that they had the crisis number for the weekend, Colin went in to await the call from social services, arranging a visit the next week and, eventually, the return of his wife.

He waited for Marina in the dark of Neil’s living room, lights off and eyes closed as he worked out what he wanted to say.  He jumped to his feet as she entered, excitedly chirruping about the evening she'd had.

“Dad…oh it’s you, why are you in the dark?  Is Dad OK?”

“Neil is fine, the kids are fine.  Not here but fine.  I needed to talk to you.”

“Oh. That.”

“You can’t home school them, Marina.”

“I have shared parental responsibility, I can make that decision.”

“No, you have a tenuous grasp on custody that we’ve all fought for over a few years now.  It’ll take one phone call from me for you to lose that and well you know it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with home schooling Colin, lots of people do it.”

“Some people, people who haven’t made the school call social services on them for abusing a teacher, people who actually talk to the father about what the fuck they want to happen.  For god’s sake Marina! They’re not allowed on the premises for a week, at least, and then you’re banned.”

“Well they can’t do that can they, I’m a parent.  It just shows you how unreasonable they are though, that I’m right.  We’ll get Anthony on it or something.”  She was stripping her coat off as she spoke, completely oblivious to how distraught he was.

“Anthony wants me to take full custody!  What the hell, Marina?  I don’t even understand why, what provoked this.”

“Oh!  But you should see!  Come with me.”  She ran towards her room and he watched in confusion, “come on Colin!”

She settled at the laptop whilst he perched on a chair, keeping as much distance as he could, not at all comfortable with the situation.  He watched her closely as she switched the machine on and pulled up a few pages, typing quickly then turning the screen to face him.

“An internet community.  And?”

She gestured at the screen, wildly.  “Read it!  It’s not just me.  Lots of us…all this sectioning stuff, mental health…it’s not real, Colin, just control.  Means they’re after us, the school, CCTV…”

“Who is after you?”

“Them.  Her finger stabbed at the screen, "the ones who run it all.  Look,”  she pulled out her phone and opened a list of applications, “see? They have my phone tagged.”

“Oh Marina, love.  That’s just standard operating systems.”

“Yeah, you would say that.  They said you wouldn’t listen, I thought better of you.”

“Do you need to be back in hospital?”

“No! I’m fine, my eyes are opened.  You need to read this…”

“I’m not going to read that.  Oh Marina.  Look, your dad has booked you an appointment with the psychiatrist for Monday.”

“Of course he has, they always do.”

“We’re not going to let you slip away, love, but you need someone close…come back to the annexe until Neil is back?”

“Of course not, ridiculous.”

“Bring the fucking laptop if you have to, but…otherwise I need to call the crisis team.”

She shrugged, “they’re all in on it.”

“I’m not going to pretend I have a clue about how to handle this one, I suppose I should say thanks for the fucking learning curve.  Again.”  He felt bad as soon as he said it but turned to apologise and found her scanning the screen, oblivious.

“Your new friends online, how much time do you spend with them?”

“I don’t know, work and the kids…the rest of the time, I suppose.”

“Sleep?” 

She shook her head, “not much time.”  She was typing as he spoke, barely paying attention. 

“I’m calling the crisis team unless you come back to the annexe, your choice.”

“Coercion?”

“Whatever, call it whatever you like, just pick up your laptop and I’ll make us dinner.”

He found it impossible to speak to her again that evening, quietly whispering a handover to a terrified Neil, an agreement to stay close.  The psychiatrist assessed her on the Monday and said she didn’t need sectioning and wouldn’t go of her own accord but to expect it, sooner or later.  Social services visited and told Colin that they needed to keep an eye, that then kids couldn’t spend time with her alone. He promised that and they agreed to speak with the school, to try and keep the places open.

The routines changed again.  Colin kept the twins and watched Marina when Neil worked, barely daring to leave her side, his phone on loud whenever she was with Neil or a therapist, expecting that alert to say she’d been taken to hospital. School readmitted the kids with a whole list of clauses that he had to sign, Anthony at his side reading it over first, pointing out that even if he hadn’t wanted sole custody he pretty much had it now, just with caring responsibilities for her as well.

“But I didn’t do it to her, did I?  I didn’t voluntarily make the choice.”

“No, there is that I suppose.”  Violet had made him promise to support Colin and not push him away, but it was difficult, Anthony was used to facing battles head on and through legal channels.

Her doctors changed her meds again and eventually they evened out, to the point where he and Neil felt safe with her in another part of the farm, as long as they knew where she was.  Marina hadn’t been happy with him for calling in help or refusing her plan to home school, he was fairly certain she was still in the online groups, and she kept her distance as much as she could, Colin settling for checking in on her regularly.

The twins started full time school and Colin felt as if he could exhale for the first time in a while.  It was still difficult, he still couldn’t leave the farm without having someone in his stead and the kids were still not allowed to be alone with her, but there was a routine and progress.  He knew his mum and Anthony wanted him to move back to London, Ben had turned up at his door a few times ‘just to see how you are’, as if the Somerset Levels were just around the corner from his cottage, but somehow he felt the need to resist the pull to call it a day, to give her this one last chance.

On the 26^th of September Colin woke to the usual alarm, dressed the twins, dropped them off in their new reception class, and headed home to take over from Neil, his assistant already getting started with the milking.  He checked on Marina and waited as she told him to fuck off, barely looking up from her laptop, the usual really, dropping a tray of breakfast on her bed as he told her he’d be in the annexe cleaning and left her to it.  He turned around so quickly that he only just saw her finger raised to his back, just muttering "a thank you would be nice" as he closed the door and stood outside to catch his breath. 

His phone rang, his mum, and he walked back to take the call in his room, sighing.

“Yeah I’m OK.  Same old same old, yeah twins are fine, they seem to like school actually…”

“And Marina?”

“Hates me, hates Neil, nothing new.  Can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual most of the time but you know…whatever.  Short of joining one of her conspiracy groups there is little I can do, not sure she cares about much else.”

“I can have Anthony…”

“Not yet, mum.  Soon, probably, but not yet.”

“Social services have asked me to attend a case review next week, Anthony as well.  I presume you’re aware?”

“It’s standard, check we’re still sticking to the rules, that I have support.  Marina won’t go, obviously, but school will send someone and they’ll say the kids are well cared for and safe, we’ve already discussed it.”

“You’re a good dad.”

“And a shit partner.”

“Ex husband, Colin, ex.”

“Does it make a difference at this stage? But yes, we’ll all be there and it’ll be fine.  Another one after this and we might even get signed off, or…”

“Or then it will be time?”

“Maybe, mum.”

“I love you Colin, you know that.  We all do, and the twins.  I’ll see you soon, yes?”

“Can’t wait.  Love you too.”

He kept the calls short deliberately, always sure he was one step away from breaking and knowing that they’d dive in if he showed a single crack.  There were times he wished they would anyway, take the pressure away, but what then?  There was no going back, her team thought she was stable, she always managed to pull herself up for the scheduled visits she had with the twins…she wasn’t spiralling, or recovering, they were trapped in surviving.

He switched on the kettle and his phone bleeped.  He pulled it out and saw it was a message from Marina, muttered “fucks sake” and put the phone away again.  He knew he shouldn’t but it would be just another link to a conspiracy theory, she sent him several every day…he needed a break.

He made his tea and sat down to watch an online talk about a new animal feed Neil wanted his opinion on.  Half way through his phone bleeped again, Ben.

"Alright Colin?"

"Hey Ben, all OK?"

"Yep.  You getting down to the gallery opening this weekend then, or…"

"Or.  Sorry mate.  She’s not doing well.  Not badly either, just not well."

"I’d guessed.  I’m going to FaceTime you, answer."

The screen buzzed and he picked up the call.  “Ben?”

“Well if you can’t come to the opening, the opening will have to come to you.  Welcome to your own personal tour!”

“Oh you bastards…” he wiped away a tear, grinning at the sight of his family all stood around, waving. 

“Not quite the response we were looking for but we’ll take in the spirit offered, shall we?”  Ben was laughing, pointing at Fran and Michaela waving back.

“Oh god, even they managed to get down…”

Fran took the screen, “none of us have any of the responsibilities you have, don’t be an idiot.  Come on, let me be your tour guide.”

Francesca showed him the various artworks, pausing to say hello to his other family members as they went, still vacuuming carpets and filling fridges with bottles.  He made the right noises and laughed in the right places, then waited as she stepped through a door into a small room, lined with files and folded trestle tables.

“Peace, at last.”  Francesca sighed and flopped into a chair.

“You let yourself get sucked into this one, it doesn’t seem your scene…”

“I have to make an effort sometimes.  I’d hoped you would be here.”

“Yeah, me too,  I did want to but she’s just so caught up in all that crap.  I can’t get through.”

“Is she attending her sessions yet?”

“As if, they’re all in on it apparently.”

“Thought that might be the case.  Listen, when this is over, Mich has to fly back but I have a few days, let me come and visit.”

“You don’t want to do that, it’s miserable.”

“Sounds hellish, quiet walks across the levels, strolling up to the Tor, Christmas market in Glastonbury…”

“If you really want to.  Expect to be sworn at, but you’re very welcome.”

“Good, I’d have come anyway but it’s easier with your blessing.  See you soon.”

“Oh cheers!  Nice to see I get a say.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you did for me when John died?”

“Yeah.  See you soon Fran, thanks.”

He hung up and finished his drink, now cold, sighing as his phone went off yet another time, alerting him to an email.  He rinsed his mug then opened the phone. Marina, again.  He briefly considered visiting to ask her to give him some space then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he’d managed this long without breaking, he wasn’t going to give in now.

“What the fuck, Marina?”  He sighed.  It wasn’t the first time she’d made promises along the lines of this one, usually when she’d had a fall out with one of her online circle.  He opened the reply tab and paused, closing it again and heading out towards her room.

It was empty when he got there, the laptop carefully closed and switched off. He felt a prickle on his spine, something cold as he left the room to find her, realising both the kitchen and dining room were deserted.

Still more annoyed than worried he picked up the phone and dialled Neil, “hey mate, where are you?”

“Bath, got a meeting with the suppliers.  All OK?”

“Yeah I think so, but…she’s vanished.  Sent me an odd message then just disappeared.”

“Not like her, have you tried the pub or reservoir?  She’s been talking about heading back recently, I promised to take her over for a chat but I’ve been a bit busy.”

“That might be it, I’ll have a scoot about the farm and if not drive over.  I’ll let you know if there’s any concerns but otherwise you can assume it’s all OK.”

“Cheers Colin.  Listen, I’ll pick up fish and chips later, yeah?  We can have tea with the twins, treat them a bit. You up for that?”

“Sounds good, speak soon.”

Colin hung up then pulled on his boots, pausing as he noticed that her coat was still there, neatly folded over her own shoes.  He picked it up ready to take with him and brought up the message again, staring at it as he realised the simple text could have a meaning much more damaging than yet another promise to do better.  He opened the door and headed for the yard, realised her car was still parked up by the gate, and ran.

Chapter Text

The sun was setting by the time Colin arrived back at Aubrey Hall, the girls having begged to extend their little trip, cinema and dinner out.  At first he’d resisted, worried that Penelope would need him, but he thought back to the session with Cara, he knew she could handle anything she would need to, he wanted to respect her strength. 

When he joined his family they were draped across the drawing room, board games dotted about and a few people watching the end of a movie.  Clearly there had been drinking and some kind of buffet but there’d been no  effort to clear up, Simon trying to bribe Hyacinth to do the job, Hyacinth holding out for a few more pounds. Neither Penelope nor her friends were there, so instead he settled himself onto the settee, accepting a drink and watching with his mother as Kate and Anthony engaged in a game of scrabble, sure to be a battle to end all battles.

“I understand you are taking my tickets to the Livingstone Foundation fundraiser tomorrow?”  his mum asked, waving at Greg to bring Colin a plate of food.  He wasn’t hungry, even he had eaten enough after ice cream sundaes at the beach followed by linguine vongole and affogato at the little trattoria Amanda had chosen, but he’d never been one for moderation where food was concerned, and he didn’t see the point of starting now.

“If that is OK with you?  Anthony seemed to think it was a good idea.”

“Oh absolutely, I’ll enjoy the chance to skip a year.  I must warn you, it can get very tedious, every other person is there for a donation and the atmosphere is formal at best.  You should know that you will end up in the press as well, whether it be social media or something more.”

“Isn’t that the idea?  Besides surely it’s all half planned by now, I picked up my tux from Bridgerton House after my appointment, I assumed Pen would have gone shopping today.”

“Oh indeed, in fact she took off with Genevieve, Eloise and Felicity not long after breakfast, and they haven’t been seen since.  I assume they’ve made a day of it, I know Kate gifted them some spa vouchers for the afternoon so I suspect they’re having quite the day!”

Colin glanced at Kate, staring at her tiles as if she could force the letters to change through sheer force of will (if anyone could manage that it was her).  She glanced up at him as he mouthed a quick thank you, tipping her hand to her forehead in a small salute.  God he loved this family, the way they absorbed the spouses and loved ones- well those who wanted to be absorbed, anyway. 

“How was the meeting, Colin?”  Anthony quirked an eyebrow at him, trying to be subtle.  It was pointless, Violet immediately turned to face him.

“Something interesting, Colin?”

“Cara.”

“Oh.  I am surprised- I suppose if you’re trying to get out there again, it makes sense.  You are alright though, yes?  You would tell me?”

“Of course I would, mum.  I’m fine.  So, has everyone had a good day?”

“Well, apart from the news about poor Penelope, obviously.  That man has a lot to answer for.”

“Ah, yes.  Sure we haven’t got an armed militia left over from the 1600s somewhere?  Isn’t that the point of a Viscountcy?”  Violet rolled her eyes at him and replied with something about duty and public service, he mimed blowing the powder from a musket and lunging with a fencing foil, and he could see that Anthony’s shoulders were shaking with laughter. Colin smirked as he bit into his chocolate macaron.

He didn’t stay downstairs for long, he was fairly certain there would be a guest in his room again and he was right, little Oliver tiny in his king size bed, duvet pulled up to his chin, eyes wide open as his father snuck in through the door.  Colin pecked a kiss on his forehead before telling him to wait and popping into the ensuite to wash and change, emerging in a soft pair of navy jersey pyjamas, climbing under the duvet and pulling his son into the crook of his arm.

“Good day, Ols?”

“It was weird, not having you and Amanda.  I played football with Uncle Gregory but I missed you.”

“I’ll make it up to you soon I promise, ice creams with the boys.  Any idea what flavour you’d like?”

Oliver nodded, enthusiastically.  “Strawberry, you know that’s my favourite.  Mine and…” he tailed off, clearly awkward.

“Yours and mum’s?”  Colin shuffled him slightly so he was looking at him directly.  “You can always talk about her, mate.”

“You seem happy daddy, I just didn’t want to remind you, you cried so much.”

“Oh Oliver, I’m never going to forget your mum, none of us will and I am sure there will be tears again, even as we learn to live without her next to us.  You must never worry about talking to me kiddo, together with your sister you’re the most precious things in my life.  You know that.”

“Eddie said that one day you’ll get married again and I’ll have an evil stepmother just like Cinderella.”  Oliver shuddered, “I don’t like cleaning or evil stepmothers.”

“I promise I won’t marry an evil stepmother who makes you do the housework. We can make Uncle Anthony pay someone to do that.” He winked and the child giggled. “Would you mind terribly if I did meet someone else, one day?  Someone kind, that you liked?   Only when we are all ready.”

“Would you still miss Mummy?”

"Yes, Ols, of course." Colin thought for a minute, he prized honestly above all else in his relationship with his children but he wasn’t really sure what the twins understood of his situation with their mother. “Mummy and I, we weren’t like Uncle Anthony and Aunty Kate, or Uncle Ben and Aunt Sophie.  We were more like friends, at least in your lifetime.  I will always miss her, always.  You’d miss one of your friends, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmhmm.  Do you still miss your Daddy?”

“My dad?  Yes, every day.  I don’t think that will ever change, they’re both part of me, and I hope they’re pleased with how we’re managing without them.  I bet Mummy is really proud of you and your big boy room.”

“Amanda is happier in hers than I am, she might think I am a scaredy cat.”

“Mummy would never think that.  You’re brave and I am so proud of you both.  Being brave is about trying new things, and you're doing that. Manda has Bels, it's easier for her. Now it’s late, are you going to go back to your room or…”

“Can I stay here? Just for tonight.  I promise that tomorrow…”

“I have to go out tomorrow, with Miss Featherington, so yes you can stay tonight.”

“Maybe you could marry Miss Featherington?  She’s not an evil stepmother. She sneaks me sweets when Nanny Violet isn’t looking and brought me cake and fizzy pop today when you were out, she said she knew I would be missing you.”

Colin chuckled, “did she indeed? No, I don’t suppose she would be an evil stepmother, not at all.  You have a wonderful imagination son, goodnight my boy.”

The next day progressed as Colin expected, albeit all preparing for something he hadn’t experienced for a very long time indeed.  He’d forgotten, if he was honest with himself, just how much of this was business- Violet sitting with him over breakfast, showing him her notes on the main guests, briefing him on the people that could be of use to the family’s foundation.  He recognised some faces, familiar ones such as Agatha Danbury and supposedly famous people that he’d never heard of.

“There will be guests, of course, but we don’t get those names in advance any more, probably some GDPR thing.  Just roll out a bit of the Bridgerton charm, you were raised for it.”

“I’m not planning to embarrass you, mum.  What’s the charity this year?”

“Shameless Fund,” she perched her reading glasses on her nose and read from the back of the tickets, “initiatives for people who are LGBTQ+…well I think we can get behind that, don’t you?  It’s that actor from Bridgerton, you know, the angry one.”

Colin laughed, “I think the character was angry, not the actor.  But yeah, I know the one, Marina must have watched it twenty times in lockdown.  What time is the car coming?”

“About five I think, so you’ve got time to nip into Canterbury and get a hair cut and a proper shave, maybe take Ben with you and buy some decent aftershave?  It’s been a while, Col, you could do with some help.”

“It’s just a PR stunt and I’m perfectly able to shop for myself, I’ve got an appointment booked with a decent barber anyway.  Which I will be late for if I don’t make a move…”  he moved to stand and his mum grasped his wrist,

“You are well, son?  I know you said you were last night, but…”

He sat down again with a sigh.  “I am probably the healthiest I’ve been since Marina…” he caught his breath for a moment, remembered what Cara had said and stated it clearly, “killed herself, but that means taking risks doesn’t it?  So yes I’m well, and yes I’m also preparing a safety net in case I flounder a bit.  It’s not that long ago that I thought my future involved sitting on a farm in the middle of nowhere watching someone I used to love and probably didn’t even like very much at that point drift further and further into her own darkness, I’m still working out what I want now but I know you’re here for me.”  He kissed the top of her hair, trying not to smile too much at the realisation that she still had the same scent he remembered from his childhood, lavender and rose, an immediate throwback to his happiest times.

He stepped away and walked to the kitchen to fill his water bottle from the fridge, pausing at the realisation it had filled considerably since he’d fetched his breakfast not half an hour ago.  Indeed the hollering began the minute he opened the door, Fliss perched on the central island, wearing shortie pyjamas and waving her bare legs as she laughed at the other women loitering around the room.  He scanned the occupants quickly, mentally cataloguing them all- Gen, El, Hy and Daphne.

“No Penelope?”  he kept his voice as innocent as he could, deliberately staring at the filter jug in his hand.

“She’s in the shower,” Hy had a tone he knew meant mischief, they were plotting something, “Operation Fancy Pen day, isn’t it?  That twatty ex of hers isn’t going to know what hit him when he sees the pictures from tonight.”

“He might not even see them Hy, it’s more about getting the press on our side early, you know that.  Building allegiances.  They’ll be less likely to take on someone aligned with our family than a random schoolteacher they can forget about after they destroy her reputation.”

“Yeah, we know that Coliiin,” she extended his name in the most patronising way she could and he rolled his eyes, “but she has to do it in style.  Having you at her side will be bad enough, poor woman.”

“Cheers, Hy.”

“No but think about it.  I mean yeah, because you’re my brother and you are decidedly lacking in…”

“Don’t tell me, skibbiddi rizz or some shit like that.”

“I am not thirteen years old.  Flair, charisma, sexiness…”

“I’m not, in fact, a complete deadbeat, it’s just the fact that you’re my teenage sister that means you can’t see it.”

“Shall we do a survey?  Girls in the room, your assessments please!”

“Oh no, don’t ask me,”  Daphne cringed, “that’s my older brother.  I suspect El wants out of this one as well.”  El nodded, sticking two fingers down her throat and making vomiting noises.  Hyacinth turned her attentions to the women she was not related to.

“Fliss…you’re a sensible woman after my own heart, what say you?”

Felicity peered at her for a moment, a smile on her lips.  “Are you looking for girly solidarity or honesty?”

“Is there a difference?”  Hy looked at her with suspicion, “oh don’t tell me…”

“Well he’s not the ugliest Bridgerton male, and I wouldn’t kick any of your brothers out of bed for eating crisps…” Hy gagged, Colin cringed.

“I formally disown you, Felicity.  You have no taste.  Gen will bring some wisdom to the panel.  Gen, for the tiebreaker.”

“Well, he is very handsome, but…”

“Ah!”  Hy screeched in excitement. “See!  A but!”

“He has a bit too much…penis for my tastes.”  Hy immediately coloured a bright red, Colin spat out his mouthful of water and everyone else sat oblivious, already fully expecting that answer, having known Gen for longer.  “I chose to study women’s fashion for a reason, women.”

Colin heard the door open behind him and smiled a welcome as Penelope slipped in beside them all, hair damp, youthful looking with no make up and a simple summer dress. She yawned.

“What’s going on here, then?”

“I was just telling them about my studies…”

“Ah, of course.  She came from France, she had a thirst for knowledge…”

“I studied fashion at St Martin’s College, that’s where”

“I, caught her eye… but unfortunately I am straight so she had no luck there and had to find someone else to take her virginity instead.  Which she did, with remarkable ease, whilst the rest of us either stayed single or found extremely dodgy men.” Penelope leaned over and gave Gen a quick kiss, El muttered something about being left out and Colin raised an eyebrow,

“haven’t you got Phil now?"

“Yeah, but look at these magnificent women!  It’s a smorgasboard of gorgeousness!  A feast for the eyes.”

“Ok El, whatever.  Pen, has mum run through the details of tonight with you yet, or do you need me to?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks Colin.  Your mum has a stylist and MUA coming in, somewhat ridiculously.”

“That’s not ridiculous, that’s standard for these things.  Everyone else will have had that.” Daphne handed her the milk from the fridge as she reassured her, Penelope whispered a thanks and added some to her coffee, taking a sip with a grateful expression.

“I’m no fashion model media babe, I teach in a rundown school in West London.  I appreciate it but I’m never going to feel normal about this, am I?”

“You’ll be amazing Penelope, absolutely beautiful…don’t let it worry you. I’ll see you later.”  Colin placed his washed up plate in the cupboard and left the room, wishing he could have got her alone, helped her to settle her nerves.

Seven hours later Colin was in his room tying his bowtie as the door knocked, opening to reveal Anthony and Ben, each with one of the twins holding their hand as they came in to wish him goodnight and check he was up to muster.  The brothers watched as the twins hugged their dad and told him he looked handsome, before sending them off to find Violet and the cousins, all ready for the children’s tea.  His brothers watched him with enormous grins.

“Say it, then.”  Colin reached for his cufflinks and slipped them on, silver and blue enamel, the Bridgerton family crest.  His dad had ordered a set for each of the boys when they were born, for their sixteenth birthday. Anthony had ensured that they were passed on as a gift from Edmund even though he hadn’t survived long enough to do it himself.

“You sure about this?”  Anthony sat on his bed, arms crossed, “I understand if you need to back out…”

“Course he’s OK with this,”  Ben laughed, “some one on one time with Miss Penelope.”  He sniffed Colin, smirking as Colin shuddered. “Ooh you smell fancy, what’s that?”

Colin pointed towards his dresser and reached for his jacket, Ben picked up the bottle.  “Jo Malone Whisky and Cedarwood, we really are pushing the boat out tonight, aren’t we?  You sure you’re not…” he patted Colin down, checking his pockets.  Colin grimaced and lifted his arms to allow it, glancing towards a confused Anthony.

“He’s checking my pockets for an engagement ring, he’s a fucking idiot.”

“Hang on, so Ben knows about…”

“There is nothing to know!  Now if you could just fuck off…”

“You’ll need this.  Not sure if you’ve seen one of these before, but…a gift from Sophie.”  Ben waved a condom in his direction and Anthony corpsed.

“Please tell Sophie that I am in no need of her brand of sex ed, thank you very much, and that if I was going to seduce the beautiful Penelope it wouldn’t be in the back of a limo or in a crowded hotel ballroom.  Some of us have class.” Colin snatched the condom anyway, "not as if either of you will need it is it? Mind you if this is the brand you've both been using lately..."

“Remember the Toy Room, Col?” Ben grinned and Colin groaned,

“Past life, different person.  But…yeah.”  He smirked and high fived Ben, Anthony looked on in confusion.

“Is someone going to tell me, or…”

“Athens, do you remember I flew out to Greece to meet him?”  Ant nodded, Ben continued.  “We thought we’d make a weekend of it, Col here got us some VIP tickets from someone who’d rented the yacht…”

“Ben, please!  Some dignity!”

“I disappear outside for a moment, calling Sophie to check on the kids, and when I came back our little brother is out the back…”

“with someone, no doubt.”

“No.  With two absolutely beautiful women, both completely into him.  Trousers around his knees, giving it the full…they’re super into it, putting on a bit of a show together, and he just sees me, waves up and says…”

“’Right ladies, there’s my lift home, thanks for the fun, have a good night’.  I know.  You’ve reminded me on many, many occasions.” Colin sighed.  “It just didn’t click for me.”

“Why didn’t I ever get invited on any trips like this?”  Ant pulled an annoyed face, Colin sat down next to him.

“Because you had Kate, you lucky bastard, you don’t want to know how jealous I was of the both of you.  I know it all looked like wild fun but I was miserable, you know that, that's why Ben flew out in the first place, isn't it?  It took…well let’s just say I want more from life now, I know there’s more out there.”

“Bloody hell, Col; one shag and it’s like you found religion.”  Ben’s phone started ringing and he paused, slapping his brother on the back, “have a good night, yeah?”

Anthony waited until Ben had left the room.  “Why do I feel a little misled about this whole Penelope thing…one shag?”

“It’s not what you think.  It was supposed to be a bit of no strings fun and well yeah, I caught feelings, I guess. I’m resetting it though, if this is going to happen then I’m doing it properly, starting with tonight.  I told her I want it to be a first date.  That’s between us though, it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“You’re serious about this, then?”

“As much as I could be at this stage, yes.  I’m not sure she’s quite as on board, so if you don’t mind…”

“Be careful.  Not because I doubt you, but because you’re actually quite precious to us.”

“I will, but I’m already two minutes late for this date, so…”  Colin shoved his wallet into his inside pocket and made a show of ushering his brother through the door, popping a mint into his mouth and jogging down to the front hall, more than ready for the night to begin.

Chapter Text

Although he’d been born into a large family Colin had spent many of his school years with his sisters as his playmates.  His brothers had been occasional companions and competitors, certainly, but they’d always been a few developmental stages ahead of him, whilst Daphne and Eloise, born in close succession, became his natural playmates.

They’d spent a lot of time doing the things all children do, climbing trees, painting, and the games that had passed down through each generation regardless of gender. He'd also been happy, unusually so perhaps, to engage in the other diversions, ones typically marked out as 'for the girls', pastimes he’d known his brothers would never have contemplated.  In fact those had often been his favourite moments, hidden once he was old enough to be of interest to brothers A and B of course, but he credited the many hours spent cradling dolls whilst Daphne pretended to cook or shop with helping to form the part of him that so adored fatherhood, and he had a suspicion those sisters were at the root of his strong romantic streak as well.

He and Daphne were what his mother called calendar twins, born within a year of each other, and they’d been inseparable.  That had come to mean many hours stood along an extremely feminine sister, a rose or daisy pinned to his T-shirt, pretending to be the groom to her bride.  In fact he’d become quite the expert at fashioning old net curtains and tablecloths into veils and even shawls for her to wear on those occasions, willingly accepting payment in the form of biscuits and sweets.

He had acted alongside Eloise as well, albeit in different roles- Frankenstein’s monster to her gnarly female counterpart, Count Dracula whilst she robed herself in corpse like make up and night dresses, even playing the role of the hapless fiancé as she darted from their makeshift altar, running towards a life of freedom, self-reliance, PhD studies and unfettered access to her trust fund (she was no fool, Eloise).

He'd been accepting of the details of his Vegas wedding, never really questioned the day they'd had.  At first he'd assumed that in a few years they could have a redo, something at the Hall perhaps, flowers and promises made before a family she’d inevitably have grown close to.  Then it had started to go awry and he’d forgotten all those hopes, too busy keeping them all afloat.

The only thing he was prepared to acknowledge to himself that he had missed out on was the moment he’d spent his childhood rehearsing, the instant where he turned to see a first glimpse of his bride at the church door, a vision.  Perhaps she’d be nervous and need a nod, gentle reassurance of his love, or she’d be excited and buoyant, tripping down the aisle overfast in her haste to reach him.  Either way, although he’d never admitted it to anyone else, he’d dreamed of it and it was the only regret he’d had about the ceremony they actually chose,  his jeans and Green Day T-shirt and Marina’s jersey playsuit very far from his flowery imaginings.

It was these long forgotten musings that clamoured for attention as he turned the corner towards their wide, sweeping staircase and saw Penelope at the bottom, stunning in a floor length silk satin gown, the colour of a ripe black cherry, hair piled up in waves with just a few curls escaping to frame her face.  He ducked back behind the wall to catch his breath for a moment, knees slightly shaky, feeling ridiculous.

Once he had control of himself he tried again.  This time she was looking towards him and he realised that the brevity of his first glance had hidden the true beauty of her.  The dress fell around her waist in draped folds that did not widen her silhouette as much as emphasised each curve without looking obvious or overstated.  The top was almost square in shape, close at the neckline, drawing in around her waist and giving an effect that put him in mind of the classical paintings he’d seen in Greece and Rome; surely if anyone deserved the title of Goddess it was her.  Her jewellery was minimal, one pair of diamond drops, a pair he recognised as being from Daphne’s collection.

“Penelope, you are…” he took her hands and paused to find a word that could convey everything he was thinking, "perfection.”

She giggled, blushing slightly.  “It’s just this dress.  I’m still the paint covered infant school teacher underneath.  It’s an illusion.”

“It’s not, both Penelopes are true, both are perfectly you.  How are you feeling, nervous?”

She shook her head.  “I know I live a different life now but I am still the daughter of a Baron, Portia had ambitions for all of us.”

“Let me know if it gets too much, I realise you can handle yourself but it’s been a strange few days.  Now before we go, I have a present for you…” he reached into his wallet, glad that Ben hadn’t checked him after he had put that in his pocket, pulling out a small jewellery bag.  “Please don’t get excited, it’s…”

“Colin, I haven’t got anything for you!”

“Nor I you, it’s from Oliver.  He wanted to thank you for all the contraband sweets and fizzy pop…I’ll send you the dentist bill,”  he winked, “he made me buy it from the same shop Amanda bought me the necklace from, after my trip to the barber today.”

“It’s lovely, I…”

“Don’t worry,”  he reassured her, "nobody is going to expect you to wear it today.”  The bracelet matched his necklace, small shells threaded onto cheap elastic. “I’ll pop it to the side for safe keeping.”

“No chance.”  She slipped it on, handing him the empty bag.  “I knew this outfit was lacking something, now it feels complete.” 

Colin stared at her, speechless.  She waited for a moment, then filled the space.

“I adore Amanda of course, she’s feisty and bright, exactly what you’d want a girl to be, but there’s something about winning Oliver’s trust.”

“You realise you’ll be dealing with jealousy, yes?  Amanda was never one to let anyone else into the limelight.”

“Oh I know, we’ve been there today actually.  She wanted me to do her hair like mine, I couldn’t so I spoke to Daphne, booked an appointment for the two of us to spend a morning at a hair salon…”

“That knows how to care for her mixed race hair?”  Colin finished her sentence in awe and Penelope nodded.  He lifted her chin and smiled,

“see?  Perfection.  Are you ready?”  She nodded and he extended his arm for her to take, removing her diamante clutch with the other and carrying it for her.

The limo ride was quiet, both taking some time to ground themselves, only occasionally filling the space with small jokes and observations.  The car pulled up at the roadside and the event organiser spoke to their driver, taking their name and asking them to wait two minutes before opening the door and speaking into the headset strapped to her face.

The walk in was quiet at first, the photographers and paps staring instead at their phones, desperately trying to work out which Bridgerton this was.  They’d made it two thirds of the way down the red carpet before the shouts and requests for photos started,

“Mr Bridgerton!  ITV, Lorraine: who is your date?”

“Mr Bridgerton!  Daily Star, is this the first time you’ve been out since your wife…”

“Mr Bridgerton!  Cosmo, can you talk us through your outfits please…”

Colin took a few moments to speak to each one (except for the Daily Mail, he turned his back firmly on them).  He allowed a few photos of himself alone and then wrapped an arm around Penelope, posing perfectly.  She listed off the details of her outfit several times over, “Genevieve Delacroix, her Paris boutique… earrings from the Duchess of Hasting’s personal collection…” before the events team made them move on, hurrying them through the door as another car pulled up.

“How did you get the dress here in time?”  Colin fiddled with the thin shoulder strap, running the silk between his fingers.

“Your mum actually, she had Gen’s PA fly over with it, can you imagine?  The climate cost!  She wouldn’t take no for an answer though, and it’s so rare for Gen to get a chance like this.”  She laughed, a merry little sound.  “We spent half of yesterday in a hired room at her old college, Gen altering and sewing whilst we ate takeaway and gossiped.  It was pretty nice actually, an especially welcome touch of normality after spoiling ourselves with Kate’s spa vouchers.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?”  He was worried the endless praise was getting a bit thin but he meant every word.  They stood in the queue for security and he pulled her close just for a second, ghosting a kiss across the top of her immaculate coiffure.  They separated for Penelope’s bag check and to be waved over with the wand, then he took her hand and led her in.

The room was about two thirds full, perfect for a chance to get their bearings. Colin headed to the bar to order their drinks whilst Penelope dashed to the loo to repair her lipstick and check her hair.  He had barely ordered his champagne before he felt a sharp prod at his back.

“It’s a Bridgerton isn’t it?  Which one are you, then?”

Colin turned around slowly.  He and his brothers were similar, they all knew that, but it wasn’t hard to tell the difference.  He was taller and broader, fond of the gym.  Ben softer, preferring an artistic life, and Anthony was leaner, athletic.

He sighed.  Of all the people likely to be here tonight he could do without this.

“Colin.  Number three.”

“'Course it is, only joking.”  Fife slapped him on the shoulder, Colin winced.

“I heard the bad news, I’m sorry.”  Colin melted slightly; so few people managed to actually raise the loss with him. Perhaps this man, an Eton alumnus from the intake between his elder brothers, wasn’t so bad after all.

“Cheers, it’s been…”

“Yeah, always sad to see a brother lost to marriage.”

Colin stood there, stunned, gaping at the idiot in front of him.  Did the man even realise, or was he oblivious, unaware of what he was saying? He’d known it of course, known Fife was a lowlife- either way this was bang on brand for him, the reason both of his brothers had eventually given up on him, and yet…

His phone rang, just in time to stop his hands clenching and unclenching, bringing him back to earth.  He turned and looked at the text, Anthony.

“All OK Bro?”

“Yeah, you just saved me from a run in with Fife, cheers.  GTG”

He pocketed his mobile just as the two glasses of champagne were served, using his shoulder to push just a touch too roughly past Fife as he made his way to where he could see Penelope standing, chatting to Agatha Danbury.

He passed her the glass and dodged the Dowager’s cane, the trip hazard always at her side, intimidating.  He was certain that had he, or anyone else, tried to get such a weapon through the doors they’d have been quizzed, but he doubted anyone would even dare to challenge this formidable woman. He couldn’t imagine it was worth anyone’s wage for the night.

“Ah here he is, Mr Bridgerton.”

“Agatha, you have known me as Colin since I was six weeks old, please don’t start now.”

“Yes, well, formalities boy. Now I was just saying that your mother has asked me to take a look at Miss Featherington’s manuscript, but she seems rather reluctant.”

He turned to Penelope, who did seem to be rather flustered, easy to notice now that the older woman had drawn his attention to the matter.

“Pen?  It’s only a look, Agatha is a family friend, there’s no need to worry.”

“Precisely.”  Colin winced as the Lady caught him with her cane, a bruising he’d received multiple times yet always stung.  “I will be at Aubrey the last week of August, this is a favour for a friend, I shall expect to have a copy made available.  Now, before you go…”

Colin reached over and squeezed Penelope’s hand, leaning towards his elder, knowing full well that Agatha’s hearing was imperfect but also that she would never consider admitting to the fact.

“Aggie…”

“Impertinent child,” Agatha glared at him but it was clear to all that she was trying not to laugh.  “I was actually going to say that you both look stunning tonight, a beautiful couple indeed.  Now if you don’t mind excusing me,” she winked and Colin dodged as she raised her cane, already addressing someone on the other side of the room, "I have business to attend to."   Penelope watched her go with awe.

“Wow.”

“Oh that’s just typical Agatha, never mind her ways.  She’s Hy’s Godmother, may as well be family and she likes to take advantage.  You met her at the hall, didn't you?.”

“I did, briefly.”  She turned to her date, “you looked a bit upset when you returned, is everything OK?”

“Run in with an old school…well I wouldn’t call him a mate, just an idiot really.  The sight of you waiting here in such a fetching dress was more than enough to make up for it.  Shall we do the rounds?”

Colin was surprised how many faces remained familiar after all these years, the charity fundraiser a staple event of the summer social calendar.  He passed on the contact details for the foundation when asked, promised others that a member of the family would attend various functions that he knew were always on Violet's schedule and made himself quite the darling of the ball.  Penelope watched, impressed. Aside from the time with his children she’d ever seen him quite so much in his element, and yet it wasn’t a world he ever sought out.

Finally they completed the circuit of the room, Colin taking Penelope’s glass and heading back for the bar, leaving her chatting to a gentleman from the Department of Education about funding issues and sources of charitable grants.  He waited in line, checking his watch, paying for the drinks and was about to return to his when he felt that familiar prod at his back.  Fucking Fife, again? Surely not.  He spun, slowly, finding himself eye to eye with someone completely different, about his size, enormous grin, blond hair.

“A Bridgerton!  I had hoped there would be one in attendance.”  He extended his hand, “which one, if I may ask?”

Playing for time Colin raised the two glasses as an excuse not to shake the still proffered limb.  The man’s smile never faltered.

“Alfred Debling, well I expect you know that. Most do, now.  Any chance we can have a chat about grants?  I think some of my work in countries affected by climate change will meld nicely with your family’s goals of reducing health inequality in remote communities.”

“Nice to meet you Alfred, I’m Colin.  I’m certain that we can talk sometime, we might well find we have some things in common, but I’m actually here with a date.  Would you mind if we delayed this a bit?  Need to get the drink to her before we lose the bubbles.”

“No, no.  I’ll get my people to speak to your people, will I?”  HIs voice was bombastic, Colin found it irritating.

“My mother and brother’s people but certainly, I hear you have a very...impactful PA.”  He darted past the older man, leaving him looking slightly confused, making a beeline for Pen, her conversation just drawing to a close.  He placed the glass in her hand, took hold of the other and pulled her through a small door into a secluded garden.

As soon as they found a quiet corner he pulled out his phone and hit the button to call Ant, only exhaling as the Viscount answered, Penelope watching in confusion.  He mouthed an apology to her.

“Anthony, Debling is here.”

“Shit, we should have planned for that.  Any problems?”

“He wants to meet with us to discuss funding but he hasn’t seen Pen yet, so no.”  He watched Penelope’s face carefully, a brief glimmer of distress was immediately followed by steel.  He could have kissed her for her bravery.  Would dearly love to kiss her, in fact.

“Well his chances of funding are slim to non-existent, unless he’s proposing a solo trip to the edge of a Polar Bear infested, rapidly disintegrating glacier. I could get behind that. Are you OK to stay?”

“Yep. Unless Penelope wants out…” he raised his eyebrows in question,

she shook her head, “no.”

“Right well let me know if there are any issues, have a good one kids!” Colin hung up and turned to Penelope.

“I meant it sweetheart, we can go.”

“The band is about to start, I’d much prefer it if you asked me to dance instead.”

Colin paused for a second, meeting her eyes and stilling for a slow, deliberate breath before taking her hand and kissing it. He lowered his voice, opting for a more intimate tone.  “May I have this dance, Miss Featherington?” She inclined her head and he led the way to the floor, already starting to fill up.

The band played a variety of Hollywood movie songs and old brat pack classics, low key and stylish.  They found a space and began to move, Colin’s hand on her hip as he led, losing count of the songs.

“I used to love to dance, I don’t think I’ve done it for years, not until Mum’s party, anyway.”

“Marina not a fan?”  Penelope swung in close, both hands resting briefly on his chest, and his arms slipped to hold her there for a moment.

“Do you know, I don’t have a clue.  I just thought it was one of those things that you let slip when you first have babies, mind elsewhere really, and of course we never made it much past that.”  He spun her away from him, barely needing to lift his arm for her to be able to duck underneath.

“I’m the same I suppose.” She seemed contemplative as he took her in hold and they began to move around with the other couples. “In term time I’m useless to anyone, holiday Penelope is a different beast I’m afraid.  It is something that worries me if we, well you know, if you decided.”

He pulled her near again, almost stopping, ducking to the side to find a space where they wouldn’t be in anyone else’s way.  “I've already decided Penelope, surely you’d worked that out by now?  I don’t want to rush it and there’ll be hurdles to work out, kids and jobs, but I know what I want.”

“So you’re up for a second date, then?” She leaned in close, her head on his chest, arms firmly wrapped around his middle, swaying to the music.  He dropped his head onto the top of hers and closed his eyes, inhaling the mixed scent of her shampoo and perfume.

“What fragrance is that? It is divine.”

“Penhaligon’s Luna, birthday gift from my mum actually, seemed perfect for a big night like this.”

“It’s my new favourite. I shall dream of it.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes.  “Come on then, if you miss dancing so much…I'm running low on smooth lines.”

The band started to play It Had To Be You.  Colin remembered the song as one of his parent’s favourites, the pair dancing around the kitchen on rainy weekend afternoons and at his mother’s regular parties, his father always happy to get an extra chance to hold his mum close for a few precious moments of sanity amongst the chaos of their family.  Colin spun Penelope and pulled her back into him with all the flourish of a professional, the pair laughing together, lost in their little bubble.

All too soon the band announced that they were playing their last song and gave the title, Falling Slowly.  Colin screwed up his face in confusion, “should I know that one?”

“It’s from one of my favourite films, actually.”  She snuggled into his side as the band readied itself, he stroked her cheek as she watched the stage. "It's called Once."

“A romance, I hope?  Does it have a happy ending?”

“Actually, no not really, sorry.”

He sighed, intentionally dramatic. “I hope you’re not a fan of sad endings?  I was rather hoping for something better.”

“In films only, I promise.  I think both of us are due a bit of happiness.”  She moved to sway with him, keeping contact as best she could, finding herself feeling sad that the night was drawing to a close. She sang the lyrics quietly and he closed his eyes to listen, all his senses surrounded by the very essence of her.  He tried desperately to memorise every last beat.

Finally the music ended and they had to take a seat for the auction.  Violet’s foundation had offered tickets to a West End premiere and he had to have his photo taken with the winning bidder, publicity for both the event and his own family’s work.

They watched as the actor was announced, Jonathan bounding on to the stage full of energy and donating a prop from his most recent film to the auction.  He gave a quick talk on the work of the fund, Colin tried to pay attention but found himself watching as Penelope slipped her shoes off under the cover of their table, her stockinged toe running small lines across his ankle.  Subtle, nothing he could call overt and yet it was the deliberate nature of it that caught him, the familiarity.  It would be very easy to count his chickens and see it as her marking them as a couple.  He pulled her foot onto his lap, the movement hidden by the starched linen drapes of the tablecloth, and rubbed at her arches.

“Don’t tell me you have a foot kink. You seemed so perfect as well.” She might have objected but her eyes were still fluttering closed, blissful.

He giggled, feeling rather teenager like and naughty as they whispered together.  “Nothing like that, but I don’t really want to give the limo driver  a reason to abandon us in the wilds of Kent so I suspect that’s all the contact I’m going to get tonight.”

She gestured to the stage, “shouldn’t you be listening to the man, Bridgerton?”

“I’d much rather be listening to you.”

“Right answer, I…oh.” 

Colin’s head swung around as the crowd clapped, Jonathan pointed the newcomer to the auction table, where he was apparently meant to hold up the various prizes in turn, clearly the second tier celebrity guest.  He groaned, “Debling, I should have known.”

“It’s fine Colin, let it be.”  She squeezed his hand and wriggled so that her chair moved closer to him. He in turn moved slightly in an attempt to shield her from the stage.  He knew she could handle her ex but this was supposed to be their date.  He blinked, it wasn't really, was it?  Somehow he'd lost sight of the real reason they were here some hours ago, too caught up in her.

The auction ran smoothly, the crowd bid high and the energy levels stayed up there with them.  Colin joined the duo onstage for the Bridgerton prize and kept a practised smile on his face, charming and pleasant as ever.  He reassured her as he returned to their little table, “just one more thing to do and then we can head home.”

“Oh?  What’s that?”

He grinned.  “You’ll see.”

The lot he had his eye on was the penultimate item, a pair of pale sapphire and diamond earrings donated by a top London jeweller. It was easy to  see she was confused, questioning.  She leaned towards him,

“gift for your mum?”

He wore a conspiratorial smile.  “No, my date.  She’s very beautiful you see, hard working and clever, and yet she is wearing my sister’s earrings.  I think the young lady deserves some of her own, don’t you?”

Penelope spluttered at the very idea.  “That’s ridiculous, you’ve known me, how long is it?”

“Long enough for a gift.  A gift that raises money for a charity.  Call it an end of term teacher gift if you wish. I don’t think I remembered to send in the best teacher mug and low quality chocolate, did I? But be clear, I'm not going to change my mind.”

“What will everyone think, Col?  I thought we were keeping it on the down low.”

“Not forever though, how could we?  Hold onto them then, we’ll be back in London soon enough, who will see when we meet up?  Or you could, you know…”

His eyes were sparkling, her instincts warned her to prepare for the next answer. 

“I don’t think I do, no…”

“Well they’d look spectacular if you wore them with a pair of heels and nothing else.”  She groaned and he smirked as he turned away, bidding determinedly until his name was called and he climbed the steps to the stage for his photo.

Clearly the last lot was going to be auctioned with a bit of a fanfair, the stage was cleared and the host disappeared for a costume change. The audience had to endure a few moments of boredom as Debling tried to fill the gap, more enamoured with his own ability to ad lib than his skills warranted.

“It seems our Mr Bridgerton here is the lucky party.  I wonder who will be the recipient of such a generous donation, would you like to point her out to us?”  Colin shook his head, but he must have glanced at Penelope for a moment, Debling followed his eye line and seemed to pause, stuck.

“Oh…oh.  Yes, um…”  he floundered, smile pasted but his attention anywhere other than the events unfolding around him, a black clad stage tech forcibly moving him out of the way so that he could install some props.  Colin met his eyes, briefly, and returned to his table, leaning into Penelope at his side.

“I think the game’s up, girl.”

“You don’t say.”  Her smile and tone were sardonic but she reached for his hand under the table anyway, he relished the way she seemed to take comfort from him.  She slipped on her shoes, clearly anticipating his next move.

“Wanna get out of here?”  She was already gathering her gift bag, clutch and the programme signed by the host that someone had bestowed upon her when Colin was on stage with the tickets. He took her arm and guided her away, they didn’t look back yet he swore he could feel the stare from the stage, the evening far more of a declaration than they had ever intended.

They kept it PG in the limo, unspoken mutual agreement and their shared desire to restrain whatever it was between them whilst they built something worth having.  Colin allowed himself one indulgence, his hand drifting along the satin covering her thigh. She had to close her eyes to focus on anything else at all to stop herself giving in and moaning, well aware that he’d likely lose his willpower as fast as her, both teetering on the edge.  She played with the bracelet at her wrist to ground herself, counting the shells as she slid them along, a childish rosary.

They were both glad to arrive back at Aubrey and say their goodnights with a solitary, fairly chaste kiss that was more promise for romance tomorrow than sensuality today.  He watched her as she walked up the stairs before him, chanting “don’t fuck it up” on a loop in his head, in time with the rhythmic sway of her delectable hips.

Chapter Text

Sleep did not find him.

Colin was unsurprised.  He’d long given up the sleeping tablets, fuelled by a desire to remain as present as he could for the twins and a genuine deep seated fear of losing his grasp on his own mind, only waiting until the inquest was over before refusing them. 

These nights were rare now, and what surprised him most was the fact that they were rarely predictable.  They came when they wished, as likely to be after a day of routine or happiness as one of sadness.

Little Oliver had kept to his word and settled in his own bed, Amanda had left hers to share with her cousin, the two ever closer.  He hoped that they might form a tight friendship, Belinda’s natural stability and self possession contrasting well with Amanda’s wild, a benefit to them both.  He was aware that he and Marina had both lacked close friends outside their families, wondered if that connection might have helped. Well, he wondered most things really, but that was certainly about halfway up his list of what ifs.

He had settled with a book, his usual routine. It had seemed a little empty if he were honest, the last thing he wanted in his bed that particular night, but he had thought it would set his mind at rest, the image of Penelope filling his mind every time he closed his eyes. He hoped that he would dream of her, a mere wraith compared to the presence of the real person but something, enough.  For now, anyway.

He had been out of luck, finally giving in as the clock showed four, throwing on a hoodie and gathering his paper and pen so that he could settle in the kitchen and work on his homework for Cara, not yet knowing what he wanted to say but having an idea of where he hoped it would go.

He began by making himself a plate of food, leftover pasta and salad, a bowl of summer berries.  He fixed himself a mug of hot chocolate, topped with cream, cinnamon sugar and marshmallows, then settled at the table by the little patio door, grateful that he would not have to wait long for the summer sun to rise.  He had a special love for that quiet part of the morning when all the others were asleep, it had been one of the things he loved best about sailing, the still of the ocean and the feeling that he was alone in the world.  It seemed lonely now but had meant freedom from burden then.

He stared at the paper, shocked.  That was not how he had expected it to go.

He balled the paper up and chewed on the biro, trying his very hardest to dig deep.  Was tonight the wrong time for this?  The night he had decided that he was ready to begin to open his heart, that somehow there might just be more, more than he’d had before, more than she had been willing to give him.

Nope!  The second letter ended up alongside the first, he wished it were winter, burning the pages on a fire might feel therapeutic.

He covered his eyes and leaned forward, where was this all coming from?  He hadn’t even thought these things before, strove so very hard to make sure he always reminded himself that it was her life that had been stolen by illness, she who had lost the most. He scrawled a big line through the words and took his mug, ready for a refill.  The activity he thought might waste a few minutes seemed destined to take over his dawn, after all.

He was on his fourth piece of paper, simply doodling around the words

drawing smashed up hearts and little sailing boats in the margins when he heard the door behind him slide open. He stilled at the sound of giggling just outside, knowing he was out of sight until whoever it was walked in, only the lamp alerting anyone to a potential presence and weren’t they always on at Gregory for forgetting to switch the thing off?

He’d known as soon as he heard the sound that it was a couple, not that it narrowed it down much, his family built the way it was. He knew that his siblings used the many garden buildings for little trysts, a break from small children and the confines  of sharing a roof with their mother, the orangery and conservatory particular popular spots. 

It did not seem as if this duo had found their way to the buildings, the man carrying a rug, both still brushing grass and twigs from their hair as they stumbled in, pausing in the entrance to kiss. Colin coughed to alert them of his presence, not wanting to stand witness to a full lover’s embrace.

“Colin, what the…” Eloise jumped back from Philip, clearly embarrassed to be caught, although the man he assumed must now be well on the way to being her boyfriend simply grinned, waving a hand in acknowledgement as he set his rug down, removing shoes and stretching.

“Drink?”  Colin waved a mug at the pair and they nodded, glancing between them, both clearly concerned.

“Let me do that, mate.”  Phillip took the cup from him and set it on the side, adding two more.  He kept his back firmly to the pair, present but discreet.

“How’s it going between you two?”  Colin addressed Eloise but indicated Phillip.  She smiled, a more gentle smile than he thought he’d ever seen from her, in fact.

“Yeah…it’s good.” 

Colin nodded, “I’m glad.  You deserve it, he seems like a good one.”

Eloise nodded,  “he’s not had it easy.” 

Phillip turned, quietly.  “Colin knows, at least a little.  He’s the one who loaned me the rashguard until I was ready to explain.”

Eloise met her brother’s eyes.  “Thank you, it was a kindness.”

They sat there in silence for a minute, the noise of Phillip stirring their drinks the only sound.  Eventually Eloise lurched forwards, gathering the paper strewn about the table.  Colin stretched to grab her hand but he was too late.

“El please, they are not yours.”

“Might explain why you’re up so late though. Or early, I suppose.”  She unfolded the first one, he leaned back in his chair and groaned.

“That’s a major no, El.  That’s something Cara asked me to do, not for anyone else’s eyes.”

“El come on,”  Phillip tried to take the paper from her and she resisted.  “That’s not playing fair.”

She ignored him and read the first one, nodding as she did so before unravelling the others, reading in sequence.

“Well well well, big bro isn’t quite so sweet as I thought.”

“Fuck off with your judgements, El.”

“No, quite the opposite!  About time.  I mean, you’re like an NPC aren’t you?  ‘Oh poor Marina.  She fucked over everyone who cared about her but no, not her fault, we all have sympathy for her.’”  She feigned a sarcastic voice, he stared at her.

“What am I supposed to do, slag her off and blame her?  Nobody chooses that.”

“No, I don’t suppose they do.  What about the things she did choose, then?  Does she get a free pass for those?”

Phillip had placed a drink in front of each of them now, sitting between the two.  He looked nervous but resolute, Colin wasn’t quite sure whose team he was on.

“She always had lots going on didn’t she?  Her mum, that crap affects you.”

“So does losing your dad but you never fucked anyone over. I bet you used to give your one night stands the taxi fare home and offer them a sandwich for the trip, didn't you?"  Colin cringed slightly and nodded, "god, you are such a patsy!” She threw the letters down in disgust, turning away from him.  He could feel anger building but fought to keep it on a simmer.

“So what things do you think she chose, aware of what she was doing??”

“What about when she came to visit that first time?  She never even spoke to most of us, was thoroughly rude to Hyacinth, Mum was devastated afterwards.  Not that she let you know, she kept telling us you were married now and her only job was to accept it.”

“She was overwhelmed!  There’s loads of us!”

“She was mean, Colin!  She hid, sat on her bloody phone, didn’t say a damned word to most of us.  She knew you know, knew you were crying in that study, we all did, we could hear but she didn’t even look up.”

“I didn’t know that but it doesn’t change anything.”

“Why? Why doesn’t it change anything?"

"Because she's fucking dead, El!"  Colin felt immediately guilty for raising his voice.

"Phillip,”  Eloise turned to her lover, he cringed.

“Yes, my dear?"

“You’re new to the family.  If you had found us a bit overwhelming…”

“If…” he snorted.  “Is there any other possible outcome?”

“But you wouldn’t take to a bedroom, no?  Run away and refuse to come out, even if I were sobbing.”

His voice changed, serious.  “No, I can’t imagine ignoring you sobbing, ever.  Anyone really but especially not someone I cared about. She did that?”

Eloise waved to Colin and he covered his eyes, groaning.

“Fuck sake El, what do you want from me?  Yes it hurts.  OK.”

“Then what? Months, was it?  Before she shagged…”  This time Phillip cringed, both shook their heads at him to reassure him that he was not being blamed.

“First time, yeah.  I guess the marriage freaked her out, she was young.”

“She was almost exactly the same age as you and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a dedicated husband, not since dad.  That is not an excuse, Colin!  That’s all you have, endless fucking excuses.”

“What do you want from me, Eloise?”  He threw up his arms in frustration, mind whirling.  He wished someone else would come and join them, interrupt her little interrogation.

“Say she was a bitch for cheating on you.”

“No!  I can’t…no.”

“Go on, just once and I’ll fuck off.”

“Please, El.”  Phillip placed a hand on her arm and shook his head, she stayed quiet, just staring at her brother.

“If I say that then what? What do I do with that?  She’s just a memory I need to preserve for the twins.”

“Oh we’ll all do that anyway, keep up the fiction but you’re a grown up, why are you lying to me, someone who was there? Or not, because you never invited me, I know she liked me as much as I liked her.”

His voice dropped, a broken edge now.

“Because I’m scared.  If I start to let it out will it keep coming?”

“What if it does?  She won’t hear, will she?”

“Eloise!  Too much!” Phillip interrupted, clearly settled into his role as referee, and El shrugged.

Colin gave in. “OK, it hurt when she cheated.  Is that what you want to hear?”

“Nah, not nearly enough.  How would you feel if Phillip did it to me or no, he’s too new, no kids.  What would you say to Daph if she cheated on Simon?”

“She wouldn’t.”

“No, she wouldn’t.  But if she did.  Come on Col, put some thought into it.”

“I’d be furious, I suppose.  I’d tell her she deserved everything she got, but…”

“But?” Eloise lifted her voice at the end of the word, a query.

“She was ill!”

“She wasn’t so ill she couldn’t fucking cope for a month at a time with those kids, was she?  Two toddlers, Colin.  She wasn’t so ill she couldn’t fuck off to France to sail, was she?  What’s so shitty about you then, that she could function at such a high level but you deserved…”

“Enough, El!” Colin lurched forwards, shouting, and slammed his fist into the table.  “OK, I get it, it’s impossible to know what was illness and what was just cruelty but it’s definitely suspicious that she always chose Marina and never me.  There you go, OK?  It fucking kills me that she did that, that I was worth less than a quick screw in a changing room but there we go, that’s reality isn’t it?  A reality I only found out about the same time as everyone else- well an hour after my brothers, in fact, little humiliated cuckold that I am.  Do you really think that didn’t hurt?”

“I think you’d already become so immune to her little cruelties that the big ones were barely registering.  I think that if she hadn’t thrown you out you’d have crawled back the next day and asked her forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness for what?”

“I dunno, what were you supposed to have done wrong?  The wedding, knocking her up?”

“I don’t know, if I’m honest.  I never did, nothing was enough.  She said she wanted the twins, but…”

“You know, it’s possible to be ill and a bit of a bitch.  I get it’s a headfuck but it is.  She had Neil trapped already, and there you were willing to walk right into her little web, ditch your family and everything. Mum used to call abuse helplines, did you know that?  She used to cry, she didn’t know Marina, only that we’d lost you, you were gone.  She thought she’d let dad down, losing you.”

“El, that’s too much.”  Colin didn’t know when he had started crying but his face was already pretty damp.

“Then the stunt with the midwife, and when the twins came and it still didn’t pick up, she didn’t really know what she’d done.  She used to keep your bed made up in case you came back. Two little cribs in there and everything. Then instead you went and fucked your way around the Med.”

“Marina asked me to, said I needed it.”

“Oh what a shocker.  Colin, fuck sake!  Can you even hear yourself?  Let me spell it out, as someone who didn’t really know her because she wouldn’t lower herself to say a fucking word to me.  I don’t know what she was like to her friends, clearly this George saw something even if was just a quick and easy shag but for you?  Toxic.  A bitch.  Evil little shit.”

“I know, I know alright?”  He sobbed, leaning on to his hands, folded on the table.  “I know, I just…”

She moved to sit with him, an arm around his shoulders. “We love you Colin and it hurt, it really did, to see you take so much.  You have so much to offer to someone who cares about you and she did that.  I keep reading that anger is part of grief and you just sit there, sanguine, ‘oh she didn’t mean anything by it.’  And yet those kids are motherless, you’re a fucking mess, Neil…”

“There’s a bit of me that hates her for it,” he whispered.  “I daren’t go there, I keep thinking what did I do to deserve that, I gave up everything for her, even after what she did. And the twins, what was it about them that wasn’t enough to stick around for?  She could have gone into hospital in an instant, not as if she had to wait for an NHS place is it?  But no, she…”

“She what, Colin?” Eloise deliberately lowered her voice, sensing that her brother needed support now and not prodding. 

“She sent that fucking email, didn’t she?  Telling me she was doing it for my sake, and the letter to Neil, not one for me or the twins of course because oh no, she’d have had to make an effort for that!  Then chose to do it where I would find her, so I have to remember that every day of my life, there’s no way that fucking image will ever leave me…and  she has gone, whilst I…”

“I’m sorry Colin, you didn’t deserve any of it.  You gave her so much, too much and it never could have been enough.”

“Sometimes I hate her, I really do, I’m so furious at what she did, but if I let it out and it won’t go back in, what then?”  His breathing was becoming ragged, hard to keep steady.  “I can’t raise those kids, her kids…if they are even, no…to know her good side if I hate her can I?”

“How long do you plan to let her memory make you a half person, Colin?  All of this is real, you deserve to feel all of this because it’s true.  I don’t know what the fuck you saw in her aside from the fact she was beautiful and offered a different life when you were a bit lost, but she stole from you.  I hate her, I hate watching the sweetest brother I can imagine go through this, and I can’t do anything because she took herself out of the equation. I wish I believed  in the afterlife because I could imagine going down and fetching her right back up so I could…but instead I just get to watch you suffer and there’s nothing I can do about that, but I need to see you angry!  To realise that you did everything you could and much, fucking too much, more.”

“Steady on there El,”  he was still crying but chuckled anyway, “I’ll get confused and think you care.”

“Me?  Don’t be a twat, you’re a knob and you know it.”  She made eye contact and smiled, “if Oliver is one half of the man you are then he’ll be incredible, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so genuine, so open…but still a twat, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And a twat with snot running down their face,” she sighed and  handed him a tissue.

“What if…” he dabbed at his face and whispered it quietly enough that she had to lean in.

“Finish the sentence, dumbass.”

“What if I do the same to someone else.  If I wasn’t good enough for her…”

“Right, fuck this.  Repeat after me: being ill doesn’t force you to cheat on people.”

Colin smiled, she glared at him.

“Being ill doesn’t force you to cheat on people.”

“Even if it did I still didn’t deserve that.”

“Even if it did I…sorry, I didn’t deserve that.”

“I am a fucking masterpiece of an evolved, twenty first century man.  I deserve love and respect.”

“Yeah…no, I’m not saying that.”

“It was worth a try! You deserve someone who can love you back with the same fervour you give out, and if it wasn’t for those kids I’d be telling you to forget her.  Those twins are the only decent things she did for you though, and you are the best father Colin, up there with dad even.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it.”

“Noted. I…I might have met someone, El.  I’m scared I’ll mess them up, they’ll end up the way she did, that somehow it was me even if I know, I know it wasn’t…I don’t think I could survive that again.”

“I’m not going to ask who, Col, but I don’t think it is possible for that to happen twice.  It just isn’t.  But make sure it is someone who values you, gets to know the people who love you, well you have to, don’t you?  The twins.  Would we like them?”

Colin just nodded.  El knew he was avoiding giving her details but didn’t want to push, didn’t need to know.

“I think they’d be very lucky to have you.  But I also think it’s OK to be imperfect, to get angry and admit you hate some of the things she did, the impact it had on you.  You could have been stuck like that with her for years, I know Ant used to wish he could kidnap you and the kids, drag you away, de-program you…”

“It was like that, near the end.  I thought, if I give her one more chance, she might step up, for their sakes.”

“We knew.  We understood, but it broke us. It would have broken you, eventually.  It’s OK to hate that and still mourn her Col, but god it does me good to see you recognise that she treated you badly.  You deserve that.”

“Yeah.”  Colin ran his hand over his face, exhausted now.  He felt he could sleep for a week, ironic as it was given his reason for being there at all, yet he didn’t want to, didn’t want to disappear every time he and Penelope made a step forwards, risk scaring her away.

“I’m going to bed now, I didn’t get much sleep.”  She glanced at Phillip and he smiled, Colin rolled his eyes.  “Are you going to be OK?”

“I didn’t get very far with those letters, but yeah.”

“I’m going to fetch Ant.  I think those letters did exactly what they were meant to but I don’t think they’re the problem, that fucking email is.  Casting herself as someone who gave you anything.  Maybe think about that?”  He nodded.  “I love you.  I know I take the piss and that isn’t going to change but I am so pleased that you’re coming back to you.  I missed you.”

She squeezed his hand and left the room, telling Phillip to stay until Ant came down.  Ant relieved him just a few minutes later, sleepy in his dressing gown and slippers.

“You OK, mate?”

“Yeah, I….”

“El gave me a run down of the basics.  If you want to be alone that’s OK, we can watch the kids.”

“I don’t want to be alone Ant, I want…”

“I’m hoping you are about to say Penelope, because I woke her and she’s on her way.”

“Oh no, poor Pen, she doesn’t deserve…”

“Deserve what?”  she walked into the room and stretched.  “Can’t I choose what I deserve?”

Ant patted his hand and left the room, promising to be back down in half an hour, dressed and ready to make breakfast.  Penelope thanked him and took his seat.

“I’m not going to ask Col, but I’m here.”

“I am so scared, Pen.”  He clutched her hand and buried his head in her shoulder.

“Of?  You seem safe to me.”

“That I’m too damaged, that whatever happened to Marina was because of me and I will end up hurting you…”

“I’m a big girl Colin, all grown up and everything.  Let me worry about myself.”

“There’s so much she did, stuff I never even…questions I’m too scared to ask.”

“Are you scared I’ll judge?”

He shook his head, “no.”

“Well then.  We’ll get there.  Not yet, we’ve got a lot to cover first but we will.” She pecked his forehead and snuggled into his arm.  “I can’t pretend I’ve known you for ages and I’ve seen a bad side…”

“I’ve said sorry so many times!”

She laughed, “I know and I’m over it.  But from the little bits I’ve heard of what happened, whether or not she was ill, you deserve better.  Whether that’s me or…”

“Thank you.  I don’t want to be damaged.”

“We’re all damaged, yours is just a bit recent still.  Ant is going to be back now, yeah?  Think you can go get a shower? If you need to disappear…”

“For the first time since everything started I don’t want to, but even I can smell myself.  I’ll take that shower, make me a coffee?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out for the kids.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, I choose it.”