12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Colin

I am Lady Whistledown.

Penelope's words hung in the air between them, and Colin was stunned to total silence. His hand fell from hers, smacking against the table. He felt nothing.

Colin knew there was more to Penelope Featherington than met the eye. He had seen how she looked at the world and saw more than everyone else. He had laughed at her occasional quips and thought them harmless.

He had never imagined she owned a single cruel bone in her body.

Lady Whistledown was cruel. She controlled the Ton with her clever asides and careful barbs and particular wording. She had the power to ruin, or to build the reputation of an entire person, to destroy lives and make them. She did not hold back, either. She had cast Marina Thompson as a villain and sentenced her and her unborn children to a life of abandonment, with no way of knowing Phillip Crane would make an appearance.

Penelope had done that. Colin felt sick. She had ruined Eloise, slandered their family—not to mention her own. One reason Colin so hated Whistledown was that she always had a cruel word to say about the Featheringtons. How could Penelope turn on her own family?

It was awful.

"I thought as much," Penelope said now, in the real world, with a grim look on her face. Her cheeks were high with colour and her eyes were ice and her knuckles were white. She stood from the table with a stern set to her jaw and she turned away.

She was leaving. She was Lady Whistledown. She was Penelope. She was leaving.

Colin jerked upright. A startled member of the waitstaff met his eye. "Sir? Are you leaving?"

"Penelope," Colin rasped.

Penelope hesitated, half-turning to him.

Colin opened and closed his mouth, his mind screaming at him. He wanted to deny her words, but he could read the truth in her eye—she was proud of what she did. Penelope Featherington was indeed not the kind-hearted soul Colin had always believed her to be. She had darker shadows in her than he could fathom, and a cruel streak she did not repress.

"Why?" Colin could only say.

"I do not regret it," she told him. Her voice was cold, entirely unlike her—and everything he had imagined Lady Whistledown to be. "And I never planned to cease my writing. Whistledown is a part of me."

Colin's breath lodged in his throat. His insides felt like ice. "Then you were right. I do not know you."

Penelope nodded, her face dipping into darkness. For a second the pride in her seemed to falter, a hunch of her shoulders and a pulse of her hands, and then she lifted her chin and fled the restaurant.

She left him behind. Indeed, Colin realised, as pitying whispers hissed into being around him, she never needed him at all. If Penelope was indeed Lady Whistledown, she did not need to rely on anybody but herself. She had her own income, her own business, her own means. She was more than Colin had ever thought she could be.

And she was gone.

He blinked, and energy burned into his limbs once more. He ran for the doorway, throwing it open to find an empty street staring back at him. Staggering into the cool air, Colin buried his hands into his hair. He tugged at it, turning this way and that, peering into the darkness of the London streets.

She was nowhere to be seen. She had left him.

Penelope might be Lady Whistledown—she may have the Ton eating from the palm of her hand—but she was still vulnerable. And he had let her leave by herself with a broken look in her eye.

How could he be so foolish? Over and over, Colin stumbled and staggered through his life as if he were a bull let loose in a china shop. His every attempt to stop blundering only resulted in further injury to himself and all those around him.

His fingers pressed bruises into his skull. He could not breathe.

This night had gone worse than his most horrific nightmares. Not only had Penelope not accepted his hand, but their friendship seemed in jeopardy. If it had ever been real to begin with—Colin had indeed never known her.

Though horror pulsed in him, and he mourned deeply the death of the girl he thought Penelope had been, he could not deny there was a part of him who still longed to hear more. Who wanted to know why she wrote what she did, how she managed it all.

He had not had time to think after her declaration. He had just reacted, and he had reacted wrong. Always wrong.

Colin had never had the courage to show another soul his writings. To have the courage to share them with the entire Ton… But he would never know what drove her, truly, if he stood here any longer.

"Penelope!" he called, seized by indecision. As soon as he chose a direction to chase her in, the other must be abandoned. If he chose wrong… but she was certainly lost if he did not choose at all!

Penelope was a sensible woman. Surely, she had set off in the direction of home. She must be seeking out Eloise, her friend and confidant.

Colin swore under his breath and set off in that direction, breaking into a run. As his blood thundered in his veins, details sprung out at him—who else but Penelope could possibly have known Marina's secret? She had tried to warn him. So many times, she had tried, and he had dismissed her. He had left her no choice but to make him hear her with the only method she had left.

His feet pounded on the pavement. Pedestrians leapt out of his way. The street was too fucking crowded.

Penelope and Eloise had been at odds just a week ago, and Whistledown had recently slandered Eloise in her newsletter. Eloise must have known Penelope was responsible, which meant Eloise had forgiven her. The two had returned to their old habits of whispering together since they had arrived in this time. If Penelope had Eloise's forgiveness, he could not hold that trespass against her.

Colin careered around a corner to find another Penelope-free street. Goddamn it, where was she?

"Penelope!"

Colin had seen himself how watchful Penelope was. She had shown him, in that library, how she saw the world. The relationships she could understand between people with just a glance.

Still, it did not explain how she constantly belittled the Featheringtons in those pages, or how cruel she was to herself. Colin had torn a Whistledown in half once for calling Penelope a wilted daffodil. He hesitated at the top of the stairs into the tube.

Which way would Penelope go? Was she comfortable—Colin froze, his hand pressed to his back pocket, where the wallet Ava had bought him rested. She had no money with which to access the tube. He had given her no option but to walk.

He was a fool. Of course Penelope was Whistledown—Colin should have seen it. Who else but Penelope was so cruel to herself? He had heard her constant assurance that he could not truly be interested in her, despite his insistence. She had seemed truly astonished at his declaration, and had announced she did not deserve his affection.

He ran. He ran, and ran, and ran.

How had he never seen it before? Who else stood at the edge of every ball, present but shunned by all? Nobody but he ever deigned to pull her onto the dancefloor, and even he had done that beyond sparingly. Who else but Penelope was smart enough to run an underground empire that nobody else noticed, that nobody even suspected her of?

Colin stumbled around another corner, flinging himself backwards when the blare of a horn blasted at him, a blaze of headlights almost blinding him. He hit the pavement with a smack, and leapt instantly back to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain spreading across his lower back.

He had known Penelope was incredible. How had he missed how powerful she could be? He had been enjoying her observations of others for years before Whistledown came around—but he had not truly appreciated her. Nobody had. No wonder she reached out for approval in this anonymous manner.

She must have run home to beat him here. Colin was winded, bruised, and aching when he finally came to a stop in front of Ava's flat. The light was on, and he bent over double, gasping for air. Please, let her be here, he begged the air, as he reached for the handle. The spare key was cold between his fingers. Please, let her be safe.

He shoved open the door.

Penelope was not there. Instead, Colin saw Ava and Eloise twined around each other on the sofa, their shirts abandoned to a heap on the floor. When the door slammed open, they sprung apart. Eloise screeched, flinging a pillow in his direction and reaching for a blanket to cover herself.

Colin had had quite enough surprises today. He caught the pillow and threw it back at his sister with all the strength he had in him. It hit her with a strangely heavy thump.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" he demanded, slamming the door behind him and striding across the room. He jabbed his finger into Eloise's face, watching as her cheeks bloomed with scarlet embarrassment. "Can I not leave you alone for five minutes, Eloise? I thought you were brought up as a young lady—this behaviour is entirely—"

"I am fully capable of making my own decisions!" Eloise screamed at him.

"Clearly, you are not!" Colin could scarcely breathe. He had lost Penelope. Penelope was not here. "We are leaving here. You know that, right? You can not bring her home with you."

"I know that!"

"So, what?" Colin demanded, gripping her shoulders. "What are you doing? You cannot fall for her, Eloise. You cannot be with her. You can never be with her!"

"I know!" Tears tore down Eloise's cheeks, her every feature twisted into fury. "I know better than you, Colin. I know that Anthony is searching for us right now, that he is postponing his wedding, throwing everything he has into finding us. I know if we do not return, it will mean the fall of the Bridgerton name—Mama will lose herself in heartbreak and Anthony will spend every penny of the Bridgerton fortune trying to bring us home. I will return home next week. I will give up everything this place has to offer, but forgive me for trying to enjoy some of it before I have to go back to a world where I have to hide everything I am."

The fight left Colin all at once. His hands fell from Eloise's shoulders. He stepped back.

"Eloise. I—"

"Do not dare apologise to me." Eloise's glare could burn.

Colin had entirely lost the ability to form thoughts. His heart raced in his chest. Penelope was not here. Anthony—Anthony had postponed his wedding?

"Where—how do you know—?"

"About home?" Eloise dragged a hand across her face, furiously drying her tears. "Because I looked it up. Because that future is now history, and so it can be found."

"I—I did not—" Colin hadn't even thought of that. His family, destroyed looking for them? He had been so consumed with fixing everything here, with winning Penelope over and protecting Eloise, he had not fully contemplated…

His heart ached.

"Where is Penelope?" Eloise demanded.

Colin had no answer for her. Everything was broken, and it was all his fault.

Eloise

"Colin." Eloise drew herself to her full height. She thought she might hate him right now. A minute prior, she had been blissfully ignorant of all her troubles. She had successfully forgotten every stress, consumed as she was by Ava. Ava, who now stood off to the side, watching them fight with her lips firmly closed, her shirt regretfully buttoned up once more. She did not look embarrassed, at least, but sad.

"I do not know where Penelope is," Colin said next, his face rent with pain—and suddenly his tirade made a little more sense. He was broken himself.

"She turned you down?"

"She…" Colin's eyes were unfocussed. "She told me…"

His voice trailed away and he dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He looked young, and so stupid.

"Ah." Eloise set her jaw against any temptations of sympathy. "And you reacted like an asshole, did you?" She squared up to him once more, her heart galloping in her chest at the force of her fury. "Do you know how many times she has told me you would turn on her once you found out? I thought you might be better than that. That you might care about her enough to understand, but clearly I was wrong."

"I do not understand," Colin said. Was he crying? His hands were shaking like leaves. "I want to," he added. "I was just surprised. I do not know how I am supposed to feel, but she left and I do not know where she has gone, only that she is not here, where I thought she must have come and it is late, and dark, and I cannot think without knowing whether she is safe."

The gravity of his words hit Eloise all at once. Penelope was missing. Not only that, she was heartbroken and missing, and who knew where she might have gone if she felt she couldn't come back here. Eloise made for the door, stuffing her feet into her shoes and grabbing the closest thing resembling a jacket.

"Then we must find her."

She left the house without even knowing where she was going, and without waiting to see if anyone would follow. She just let her legs carry her into the night, the familiar expanse of Ava's street smothered in shadows at this time of night. Eloise tugged her jacket closer, despite the warmth, and wracked her mind.

Where would Penelope go? Back home, she thought Pen might come to her—she remembered the swing-set in the garden, her own haven which had once been Penelope's as well. She remembered the heaving gasps of Penelope's sobs, and she walked faster, her throat closing at the thought of Pen being out there somewhere, vulnerable and upset as she had been that night, without any haven to go to.

Galloping footsteps caught her at the entrance to the tube station.

"Here." Ava pressed a bank card into Eloise's hands and grabbed her arm, scribbling a row of numbers into Eloise's skin. "If you find her, you call me. Find a phone booth—I think they take card now. The PIN is…" she scribbled another four numbers onto the other side of Eloise's arm, higher up. "Don't let anyone else see those numbers," she added, chewing on her lip before turning and repeating the act on Colin. "Check in with me every half hour, even if you don't find anything. And stay safe."

She stuffed the pen into her pocket, then tugged Eloise into a tight hug. "I'll stay home, in case she comes back. You two—" she turned to Colin, whose eyes were almost wild now. "You know her better than me. Wherever she is, we will find her. Okay? I'm going to call Jack now. Be safe."

As soon as she released Colin's arm, he set off running towards the dark streets, and Eloise hurried after him, nerves crawling up and down the back of her neck.

Where are you, Pen?

An hour and a half later, Eloise hung up the phone and shook out her legs, exhausted panic cramping deep in her gut. No sign of Penelope anywhere. Her feet were starting to scream and the streets had grown emptier and emptier until every shifting shadow had become a threat. Eloise gripped a stone in a fist, her hand aching with the force of her grip.

Had something happened to Pen?

Out here, on the streets of London? Alone?

Eloise could not think it. Even probing the edge of the question set her heartbeat skyrocketing and panic blurring the edges of her vision, and that wasn't useful for anyone. She could not panic until Pen was safe.

She was afraid to shout now, worried that calling Penelope's name would attract the wrong kind of attention, so she kept her lips closed and her eyes open as she walked all the old familiar paths which were so different now. She wasn't even certain this was the street she and Pen had used to go shopping on: now shuttered department stores and the occasional unfortunate-looking chicken takeaway framed the paved street, too narrow for cars.

There was one more place Eloise could think to look. She turned away from the dead shopfronts and set off in the direction of Grosvenor's square. Home.

Hype Park had always been a part of their backyard. Eloise had spent so many hours wandering the familiar paths, more often than not with Penelope at her side. She had never been here before at night. Hyde park was a monster at night. Dark and huge and shadowed with threats, the trees loomed out of the darkness like creatures in the stories Eloise had been forbidden to read (and so had read in the darkest nights, by the light of a candle). She clung to her rock and steeled herself, stepping off the path and braving the shadows.

Every hunched shape made Eloise's grip tighten on her stone. Every bush and flowerbed seemed haunted by shadows which could have been Penelope. Eloise could scarcely recognise the place she had spent so much time, promenading around the paths and boating on the lake.

It was the lake her legs carried her to, darker and more ominous even than the paths shadowed by trees. Eloise kept her breaths light. She flinched at every shifting leaf. She chased every shadow until finally, finally, one of the shadows looked back and unfurled into a shape so awfully familiar Eloise actually sobbed at the sight of it.

"Pen!"

"El?"

The shape stood, forming the outline of Eloise's best friend.

"Pen." Eloise almost tripped as she scrambled forward, throwing her arms around Penelope's shoulders and burying her head in her neck. "I was so worried, my God. Are you okay?"

She made to pull back, but Pen's arms came up and she clung to Eloise's back, her shoulders convulsing as she broke down in sobs.

Eloise closed her eyes and clung right back. "I'm here," she said. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."