Chapter Text
Dearest Gentle Reader,
It would seem that the most surprising engagement of the season is also likely to be the shortest. This author has it on good authority that the puzzling pairing of Mr. Colin Bridgerton and Miss Penelope Featherington has come decidedly unmatched. With no trace of a scandal to be found, one can only imagine that Mr. Bridgerton has overcome whatever madness led him to believe Miss Featherington was his equal. The season's most eligible suitor is free once more and the whole ton, no doubt especially the Bridgertons, must be delirious with relief. As for the lady herself, she has done what all wallflowers do best and simply disappeared. To where? Unknown.
This mystery begs the question, dear reader: can you miss someone who was never truly there?
Dear Lady Bridgerton,
I do not know if you are reading this before or after you have spoken to Colin and Eloise and if it is after, I apologize for sending you in blind. Please know my devotion to and affection for you and your entire family has never wavered. I have loved you all since I was a child and being a Bridgerton has been my dream for as long as I have known what dreams are. I imagine you are hurt by my choice to leave but I have written this letter to confess something that should salve that wound, though not without creating another: I am Lady Whistledown.
Eloise discovered my secret last year and has been gracious enough to protect it. As an astute woman I am sure you realize now that this was the cause of our rift and last evening, in fear for my safety, Colin followed me to the printer I used to denounce Miss Cowper. The pain and betrayal I saw on his face was too much for me to bear, especially knowing I have earned every bit of his ire. I cannot ask you to keep my secret any more than I can ask Colin to live with it; to live with Lady Whistledown; to live with me. I love him too much for that. Whatever you choose to do regarding my identity, I will understand.
With gratitude for the care you have always shown me,
Miss Penelope Featherington
My dear Eloise,
He knows. Last night after we spoke, I left immediately for my printer's shop but I did not realize Colin was following me. The look on his face, El - it was like you finding out all over again. You were right that evening when you said I could not marry him. You were right when you said he could not love me. I am so sorry for all the pain I have caused you and your family in my misguided attempts to protect you. I should have told Colin about Marina myself. I should have gone to the Queen and confessed when she accused you. There are so many things I should have done but did not and so now there is only one option left before me. Please help Colin. He will not understand.
Your friend, always,
Penelope
My dearest love, my heart, my Colin,
You were right about everything. I have lied. I have hurt people. I have done so much damage whilst telling myself the ends justified the means. I am at fault and it is I who is undeserving of your love. You deserve better than me, better than a woman whose dualities are disdained in the light and detested in the shadows. There is nothing in this world I would not do to protect you, even from myself. If I let you, you would marry me out of duty and obligation and I could not bear to spend a lifetime knowing I had stolen your chance of happiness for a second time. Be at ease knowing you have broken no promises as the person to whom you made them does not really exist. I have enclosed your betrothal ring. One day you will find a woman worthier of it than I.
Do not try to find me.
I will love you until my dying day,
Pen
Colin stared blankly at the letter he held as if he could will the words to make sense, or better yet - change - transform into something manageable, something that did not take the breath from his lungs and the blood from his head. Penelope's ring (as if it could ever belong to anyone else) had slipped from a crease in the letter when he had broken the seal. The site of it resting atop the half transcribed journal on his desk burned his heart.
Do not try to find me.
To hell with that. Leaping from his chair, Colin flung himself across the room and wrenched open the door only to come face to face with Eloise. She was pale and looked frightened, her eyes red and cheeks tearstained. In her shaking hand was a crumpled piece of parchment slanted with writing in a hand he knew better than his own. In a flash the quarrel between Penelope and his sister came into focus. They had fought, seeming no closer to a reconciliation until Miss Cowper flounced into the Mondrich ball with her fake Whistledown. Pen and Eloise had slipped away and Colin had followed at a distance, unwilling to eavesdrop on his future wife, foolishly hoping she would confide in him herself.
"You know who she is," he said flatly and Eloise nodded, her movements jerky and distressed. He noticed she was dressed for the outdoors, a light shawl and gloves. "Did you go and see her already?"
"I - I tried," Eloise began, "but she did not answer my knock." Her voice was thick with fresh, unshed tears as she continued. "Lady Featherington let me into her room and her things are gone. Her clothes, her books and papers. There were - " she looked away, ashamed, "there were floorboards pried up under a rug. It's where she kept her earnings from Whistledown. The money was gone as well."
Do not try to find me.
Colin shook his head in disbelief. This simply wasn't possible. Penelope had been a constant in his life since childhood. Even during his travels when she hadn't replied to his letters he'd gotten secondhand news of her in the brief replies from his mother. For her to simply vanish was incomprehensible. She was Pen. Before anything else, she was his friend.
"No," he uttered in disbelief, "no."
Eloise gave him a look of such profound sympathy that it would have floored him if he had the capacity to feel anything but overwhelming sorrow. "She is gone, Colin. She is gone."
Do not try to find me.
She was gone.