Broken Trust: Part7-The Future

Part 1: The Catalyst

Part 2: The Aftermath

Part 3: Meetings and Partings

Part 4: The Country

Part 5: London

Part 6: The Return

Penelope made a beautiful bride.

Less so due to her dress, Eloise thought, and more due to the clear joy and happiness that made her shine as brightly as any star.

Lord Remington was far from the sort of husband Eloise might wish for herself - if she could not avoid the state entirely - but he was polite, and kind, and possessed of a creditable sense of humour. He also held a number of radical political opinions, such as the idea that anyone who paid taxes should be afforded the right to vote. Eloise was more in favour of universal suffrage, but she’d enjoyed a lively three-way debate with the couple.

Cressida Cowper, never one to pass up the chance for a vicious remark, had been heard telling anyone who would listen that only someone truly desperate would marry Penelope. The next issue of the Whistledowns had remarked that a kind heart was an attractive attribute, and not-so-subtly recommended an attitude adjustment. As Lord Whistledown had pointed out, not all men were afforded the Prince Regent’s ability to live apart from their wives, and in light of that, gentlemen sought spouses who could go a quarter hour without insulting everyone around them.

Miss Stowell, an embroidery enthusiast and Cressida’s newest target, had cheerfully retaliated against Cressida’s jabs by pointing out that if even Lady Whistledown’s notoriously sharp tongue hadn’t prevented her from getting a husband, Cressida must be doing something dreadfully wrong to be entering her third season without so much as a courtship.

Cressida had turned an alarming shade of purple and stormed away.

Part of Eloise felt sorry for her; Cressida had been Prince Fredrick’s second choice, and then the new Lord Featherington jilted her for Prudence. The Cowpers were not a happy couple, and for all that Lady Cowper was a diligent chaperone, even Lady Featherington spent more time talking to her daughters than Lady Cowper did.

Another part of her agreed with the Whistledowns: if Cressida wanted to marry or have friends, she could start by exercising kindness. It was not the duty of Cressida’s victims to speak kindly of her to their brothers, husbands or in-laws, which was apparently the way to gain introductions for wallflowers who struggled to be noticed, according to Hyacinth, who heard it from Felicity, who had been told so by Penelope.

… Mama had always encouraged Eloise’s brothers, usually Colin, to dance with Penelope at least once at balls. Perhaps she had hoped to one-day make Penelope a Bridgerton in name as well as heart, even if that ship had now sailed.

Perhaps if Eloise put some effort into being a better friend than she had been, someone would produce a male relative who wasn’t a chore to spent time with. Stranger things had happened, and Sir Phillip Crane was a distant cousin-by-marriage to Penelope.

Francesca was making her debut in the coming season, so at least Eloise would be in good company.

Ten Years Later…

“Dearest Readers,

I write today with a heavy heart, and a number of announcements.

Last week, my beloved Lady Whistledown was laid to rest, her soul returned to the Lord, where she is no doubt delighting and scandalising the hosts of Heaven with the same zeal she showed towards entertaining the Ton for the last ten years.

These Society Pages began with her, and it is fitting that with her end, I also lay down my pen.

Yours Truly,

Lord Whistledown”

Unlike the last time she had worn mourning attire, Penelope had no need to worry about the cost of the gown she wore.

The world took on a grey tinge through her crepe veil, as deep a black as the rest of her clothing. Fitting for her mood, and the all-encompassing grief that had made itself Penelope’s companion over the last few weeks. Kneeling beside the freshly-dug grave, she rested her forehead against the cold stone, as if she could kiss it's beloved occupant one last time.

Rising to her feet, Penelope took her children’s hands. Born a respectable fourteen months after the wedding, the twin boys had her blue eyes and Thomas’s dark red curls. Prudence and Phillipa still grumbled occasionally about Penelope having two titled sons, with the younger, Colin, taking on the title of Lord Featherington. The eldest, Thomas, was now Lord Remington, but with almost a decade to go before he reached his majority, both had time to learn the responsibilities slowly.

They had accomplished much together, and her beloved Thomas left a legacy to be proud of. A school for girls bore the Remington name, and Felicity, studying at the University of Milan, often wrote of her desire to establish a school for the creative arts, for men and women alike. They had started putting aside money to fund such an endeavour, and the profits from the Whistledowns could certainly cover the remaining cost. Thomas had been determined that his sister should be whoever she wanted, and Penelope was in full agreement.

Lord and Lady Whistledown had published several books, with Lord Whistledown’s proudest achievement being a collection of short stories aimed at teaching the rudiments of politics to children, inspired by Aesop’s moralities. He had continued writing the political column of Whistledown’s Society Pages, frustrating Parliament by creating a generation of politically aware youth, almost as much as Lady Whistledown had once enraged the Queen.

Part of Penelope wondered if giving up Lady Whistledown was the right thing to do. Lady Whistledown had been her voice when Penelope felt like she had none, and had done a great deal of good along with the mistakes.

Lady Whistledown chided the cream of Society to pay their servants properly and honour their debts. Lord Whistledown had exposed corruption in Parliament, to the point that King George IV had exclaimed in frustration that he would “Make the blasted fellow a Lord in truth, if someone could but find him!”

But Penelope, Viscountess Remington, had a voice of her own, and did not hesitate to use it. She did not need Whistledown as she once had. Rather than holding Society’s hand, perhaps it was time to see if they could walk on their own.

Truthfully, she had become so used to writing the columns with Thomas, exchanging ideas and opinions between the desks in their shared study, that the thought of writing the column without him was unbearable. No, better to let Whistledown die, and perhaps be resurrected at a later date if there was a need, and gain some small amusement from the number of people trying to find a way to politely question every Widower in London.

A group of people were waiting for her by the gate of the Cemetery.Penelope made a beautiful bride.

Felicity, still in her dark blue travelling clothes, with a black cloak for the look of the thing, rushed into Penelope’s arms. “I came as soon as I heard the news. I had already sat my exams for the year, and I can make up the assignments later.”

A much taller figure stepped away from the pillar he had been leaning against. “I got to the docks just in time to prevent her starting a brawl with the sailors who wouldn’t let her board alone. Personally, I blame Hyacinth’s influence.”

Felicity scowled, “Hyacinth would have let me punch them. I probably would have won, too, had you not held me back.”

Much to Penelope’s initial surprise, Colin had befriended Thomas almost as quickly as he had the child-Penelope, nearly twenty years ago, and their own old friendship had swiftly settled back into place.

Colin also turned out to have a gift for words, something Penelope had known when she borrowed from his old letters (carefully edited and adjusted, of course) to help write her first novel. Colin had kept detailed journals of his travels, and published them to such success that he had contracts with a number of travel companies, who covered his expenses on their tours in exchange for Colin writing about the experience. As a result, Colin was probably one of the best-travelled men in Great Britain, barring one or two very dedicated explorers.

Lady Featherington wore a familiar expression of disapproval, but it was aimed at Felicity, and softened by genuine concern. With her daughters safely married, Lady Featherington spent the year travelling between her daughters’ homes, before taking her turn hosting them during the Season.

Phillipa and Prudence wore half-mourning, the gesture un-necessary but appreciated. Motherhood had steadied them both, and the former Featherington family was a far cry today from what it had been when the sisters first entered Society. Prudence hugged her first. “We left the girls at home. Henry sends his condolences, but matters on the estate demanded his attention.”

Phillipa took her turn. “So does Albion. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call upon us for it.”

A clatter of hooves and wheels disturbed the gathering, and the curricle barely pulled to a stop before Eloise was climbing down and running over. Penelope blinked, “Eloise, you gave birth barely a month ago! What are you doing here?”

Sir Phillip disembarked more slowly, and perhaps a touch unsteadily. “That is precisely what I said, but my dear Lady Crane insisted.”

Eloise waved a hand as she ran to embrace her friend. “Little Penelope was Christened and I was churched yesterday, and the midwife says I am recovered, even if she would have had me lying in bed for a full two months.”

Tears welled up in Penelope’s eyes again, this time tears of gratitude and happiness. She’d missed Eloise, in their summers apart, and would have missed her even more if they’d never reconciled. Now, after a year of marriage, Eloise had named her daughter for Penelope.

Thomas was gone, but his memory lived on, in Penelope, in their children, in Felicity and in the hearts of all those who knew him.

One day, her heart would heal. Until then, she was not alone.