4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Anthony

"What do you mean you have heard nothing?" Anthony demanded, swiping a furious hand through his hair. Everything had finally been falling into place. He had let himself spend one evening, one moment with Kate, without worrying about his larger family, and this happened.

Colin: gone. Eloise: vanished. Even Penelope Featherington, almost as much a sister to him as Eloise, with all the time she spent here, had disappeared. It was a scandal atop another scandal. The Bridgerton name had been through so much this season, and he'd finally begun to feel he was in control once more.

He should never have let his hopes lift so.

The detective bowed his head. "Apologies, my Lord. The runners are still out looking. I swear, we shall not give up until your family are returned home safe."

"I should certainly hope not!" Anthony exclaimed. Then, when the detective didn't move, "What are you waiting for? Find them."

The detective fled the room. Anthony whirled, bracing himself on his desk. This was a nightmare. Was this his punishment for finally discovering happiness? Was every part of his life to be shadowed in loss? Colin… Eloise… He tensed, digging his nails into the wooden desk. They were his responsibility. Father would be horrified to learn of this mistake.

A faint knock sounded on the door, and Anthony shoved away from the desk, striding towards it. If the detective had returned with anything aside from good news—

"Kate," he spluttered, when he swung the door open to reveal her perfect face. "What are you doing here?"

"Your mother sent a message this morning," she said, surging into the room and pressing a hand to his face. "Anthony, this is not your fault."

He laughed without humour, closing his eyes to breathe in the scent of her. "I am responsible—"

"I know," Kate breathed, stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around him until he felt every tense muscle in his body relax slightly. "It is unthinkable, what has happened. But it is not. Your. Fault."

He pressed his lips closed, squeezing his eyes tight against the sudden overwhelming urge to sob. Then he nodded.

"Good," Kate said, stepping back and treating him with one of those perfect smiles. "I trust you have the detectives under command."

"And the Bow street runners," Anthony said.

"Have you quizzed the staff at the venue?" Kate asked. "The footmen waiting in the carriages outside the front doors? The maids who might have noticed something amiss?"

"No. No, I have not." Anthony surged forward, clasping her face between his hands and pressing a desperate kiss to her lips. A part of him still marvelled that he was even permitted to do this; that she had truly agreed to be his wife.

"Thank you," he said, pulling away. "I shall quiz them at once."

"Try not to be too scary," she said with a small smile, and she squeezed his hands. "We will find them," she told him. "Whatever it takes. We must."

We. Anthony pressed her hand to his lips and clung to the word. He could face this challenge. With Kate, with his Viscountess-to-be at his side, he could get through this. They would find Colin, Eloise, and Penelope; he would wed Kate; everything would return to its proper track.

He swept from the room, and she matched his stride, the abominable, perfect woman. She only left him at the front door, where prying eyes would have dominion. Soon, even those could not keep her from his side—though he could not imagine standing at that altar without Colin and Eloise in the pews.

The maids were a dead end. The staff at the ball had already been questioned. But the footmen. It took much of the day for Anthony to track down every carriage which had sat outside the front of the ballroom, and many hours to question each footman. It was, of all places, at the Cowper residence that he finally came across some answers.

"I tried to talk with the detectives," the Cowper's carriage driver told Anthony, panic in his voice. A young man with straw-coloured hair, he wrung his hands as if he faced the gallows. Anthony thought of Kate's words and tried to lessen the force of his scowl.

"Tell me what you saw."

"They dismissed me, my Lord. I swear to you that I speak true, however. I watched three figures run into the storm, two women chased by a man. They were struck by lightning, my Lord, and they vanished. I swear, on my life, they just disappeared."

Struck by lightning.

He thought of Kate's discomfort surrounding storms—one of the reasons he had danced with her so religiously that evening. If this was truth, he may just join her in her unease. He had heard tales of people struck by lightning, but never had he thought…

A person could certainly be killed by such an event. But to vanish in such a manner? Anthony could see the truth in the man's eyes: he certainly believed what he said.

"Where?" he demanded. "You must show me exactly where this happened."

Eloise

"This is where it happened," Ava said, indicating a sharp spiked line upon a screen. Eloise leaned in and hummed as if she could understand what it meant. Her arm burned where it hung close to Ava's, and suddenly a number of Anthony's bizarre actions the past season made entirely more sense.

How did one focus when all that filled their thoughts was another person? Eloise had known Ava barely a day, and she was already wondering what it might feel like to clasp her hand on the dance floor. She wanted to know and understand every one of her thoughts—a feeling so much greater than all the curiosity she'd felt with Theo.

His thoughts had been interesting. Ava's were enthralling.

"Do you believe the conditions of our transfer here might only need to be replicated?" Eloise asked, struggling to force her brain to the challenge at hand, which was on how to get them back home. How to leave this place, and Ava, behind.

She must put any other thought from her mind, at once.

"You cannot mean to strike us with lightning," Colin cried out. "That might as well kill us as send us home."

"Not to mention," Penelope added, "we might end up in the twenty-third century instead, and even further from home."

"I don't think so," Ava mused, squinting closer to the screen, which now displayed an image of the lacerated bronze bust which, as Eloise watched, illuminated in a flash of electricity, and—

"That is us," Eloise remarked. "How on earth…?"

"It's a video," Ava said in a low voice, her attention clearly distracted. "It's how I knew to come get you. At the time, I thought you'd wandered in, but now—you just appeared. Eloise, were you touching the statue when the lightning struck it?"

"I—" Eloise cast her mind back. Everything had happened so fast. "I do not believe so. Colin pulled me away at the final instance. I was very close, however."

"It must have jumped," Ava mused. "Or…" she froze, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. "No. It Tunnelled. That must be it! I think—" she cast around, plucking a notebook from the bench and seizing a tubular device which she proceeded to use like an inkless quill. "Time is strange, so strange on a quantum scale. If quantum tunnelling was responsible for your transportation to this time, then perhaps…"

Eloise was beyond lost, but she could not tear her eyes away from this woman. Her mind. It was exquisite! She could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, the sheer intelligence quite unparalleled by anyone Eloise had ever met. Was this what a woman might do, might be with full access to education and learning? Was Eloise capable of such understanding, given the years of study Ava had clearly experienced?

"I need to go to the library," Ava announced, snapping the notebook closed and blinking, as if she had forgotten Eloise and the others were with her. "Um. You're welcome to join me, or I can help you return to my flat, first…?"

"I'm going with you," Eloise said immediately. Given Ava's clear intelligence, she was now convinced the woman would send them home, and soon. The thought filled her with a dull emptiness which pressed into every corner of her soul, and she knew she would not waste a single minute in her presence.

"The library sounds like a wonderful excursion," Pen agreed.

"Quite right," Colin said quickly. "The library it is."

And what a library. Eloise had always adored the library at Aubrey Hall, filled floor-to-ceiling with Father's most prized works. She had spent hours of her life curled up in that room, had stolen every snippet of information available to her within those walls, reading beyond the waking hours, until her eyes ached in the dim light of the low-burning candle.

This place was not like that. The shelves seemed unending, storeys upon storeys of knowledge stuffed into the most stunning rooms Eloise had ever seen. Staircases spiralled from floor to floor, silent patrons padding from table to table and shelf to shelf, men and women alike, alongside many eccentrically-dressed people Eloise could not easily assign a gender to.

She wished she might never leave. Her breath almost evacuated her body, and she wanted to see it all, and never find the end of it. She looked sideways at Ava, and found the other girl smiling at her, small crinkles forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I know, right?" she whispered. "This is my favourite place in the world."

It was Eloise's as well.

"You can explore, if you like," Ava said to them all. "I'm just going to be doing some research in the computer lab. It's not going to be very exciting to watch."

"I will come with you," Eloise said, thrilling in Ava's answering smile. "Though I promise not to be in your way."

"Nah, you're not in the way," Ava said. "I'd be interested to hear your thoughts. Come on; the computer's going to blow your mind."

Eloise beamed. Her heart felt entirely too large for her chest. The idea that Ava might have any interest in Eloise's thoughts was flattery beyond measure. It must be untrue, but Eloise allowed herself to believe it all the same.

"I think I should like to look around," Pen said, and her gaze was far too knowing when Eloise looked back at her.

"Great. We'll be in the computer lab," Ava said, nodding towards a nearby signpost, which indicated a number of locations within the building. "See you in a bit."

Eloise hesitated, looking back at Pen, who winked at her. A deep flush filled Eloise to the brim; she knew she must have turned bright red, and Pen's grin only widened.

She knew. Penelope knew, and she seemed to understand. Even after she'd encouraged Eloise to stay away from Theo, had always been the sensible voice of their friendship, she seemed to understand the pull Eloise had towards Ava.

"You are the best friend ever," Eloise whispered, squeezing Pen's hands and hurrying after Ava towards the computer lab.

Colin

Penelope walked one way. Eloise went the other. Colin froze, his responsibilities warring inside him—he knew he must protest, insist they remain together, and yet, this was an opportunity he had been longing for since Pen first tilted her chin up and called him 'Mister Bridgerton.'

His legs moved before his head could catch up, carrying him after Penelope, allowing Eloise to disappear in the other direction. She would be safe with Ava, he told himself. He prayed it was the truth.

"You do not have to follow me," Penelope said when Colin matched her stride. She did not even look at him. "You may explore of your own volition. I shall find the computer lab with ease, I am sure."

"I shall be content at your side," Colin told her. Then, against his wishes, he added, "If you would rather be alone, you need only say as much. I do not wish to intrude."

Penelope did not answer immediately, and he bit his tongue, maintaining the silence between them. He tried not to watch her too closely, lest his eyes take on a mind of their own. When she emerged from Ava's bedroom that morning in the flowing blue dress she had been gifted, his eyes had almost bugged from his head. The fabric was practically sinful, even as it covered her skin in much the same way as a normal evening down, floating around her ankles, the way it clung to her was more in the way of a chemise than of an evening dress. Somehow, it was even more tempting than the pyjamas she'd worn last night.

He held himself tall, waiting for her answer. He must find a way to master these thoughts. She was his friend, and scarcely that with his recent foolishness. It would not do to have him objectifying her in such a manner, even if she did look positively ravishing with her hair cascading so freely over her shoulders.

God, but his fingers itched to rake themselves through those tresses.

"I should be glad for the company," she said eventually. "This place is strange. It shall feel more familiar with you at my side."

And the smile she offered him, though small, made his insides expand to thrice their previous size. He felt as if he might breathe for the first time since she spurned him, as if he might finally be taking steps in the right direction.

"Much obliged," he murmured, bowing his head slightly. "After you, P—Miss Featherington."

Her smile grew, and he knew he'd said the right thing, though it felt so wrong to call her by her title instead of her given name. She dipped into a faint curtsy and her face opened up to curiosity as she made for the stacks, her fingers trailing over the spines of the books, a crinkle wrinkling her brow as she bent in to read the titles.

He indulged his own curiosity as they passed the travel section, lifting a book on Greece and flicking through to see familiar and wildly altered architecture, fascinating fashions and pictures of food which made his mouth water in remembrance.

"It all seems so changed, does it not?" Penelope asked, holding out her own brightly-coloured novel on the subject of France. "Yet the people are much the same."

"How so?" Colin asked, leaning in to inspect the page she was looking at, outlining the cultural norms of the French citizens.

"The rules are different," Penelope said, setting the book aside and wandering away from the stacks. Colin hastened to follow, his entire attention focussed on her, as she scanned the patrons of the library around them. "The fashions are new, and yet, look there." She nodded her head towards a studious young pair, a man and a woman sharing the same textbook. "See the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye when she is not watching. He has affection for her, and is afraid to make his feelings known."

Colin blinked as the young man did exactly what Penelope guessed, glancing at the girl at his side, his grip on his not-quill perhaps harder than necessary as colour rose in his cheeks and a small smile graced his lips.

"I think you are right," Colin marvelled. "How astute."

Penelope gave him a pleased smile and continued her tour. "Those two." She indicated another couple, each absorbed in their own studies. "See how their legs are pressed together under the table? They are a couple."

"And unwed," Colin remarked, taking in their bare hands. "Is propriety not an issue in this time?"

"Not to the same extent, I do not think," Penelope answered. She kept her voice barely above a whisper, maintaining the peace of the library. "Ava mentioned her brother and his girlfriend last night. I do believe they live together unwed."

"How…" Scandalous. "Interesting."

"Quite." Penelope looked at him sideways, treating him to a faint grin. "It sounds quite freeing, to trial a partner without pledging them your life. After all, how many couples have you known who seem well-matched, only to fall out-of-sorts after they are wed?"

Colin thought of Marina then, her stiffness with her new husband, even while she spoke with a solid confidence to her situation. "Marriage is about more than that, I think."

"Of course." Penelope inclined her head, even as she continued to circle the room at a leisurely pace, her keen blue eyes taking in far more than Colin ever thought she could. "In our world, marriage is security for women. It is opportunity, and a place in society. Love for one's partner is just a small aspect. Desirable, of course, but not necessary."

Colin's heart felt it might explode from his chest. "You would marry someone you do not love?" he asked.

Penelope stopped, her fingers hesitating on the back of an unoccupied armchair. She did not look at him, a dip slanting over her shoulders before she straightened up again and continued her path. "I do not know," she said softly. "I have never had a suitor, and so I have never had to face that choice. I do not think Mama would give me any option, in the unlikely event that any man turn his attentions on me."

Colin swayed, taking in the slow melancholy which Penelope wore like a second skin. He had never noticed it before, this self-abasement which seemed to drip from her words, as if no man could ever desire to be her husband. Had not his own words assisted in such a belief—'I would not dream of courting Penelope Featherington'?

He felt positively miniscule with shame.

"Any man should be lucky to have you as his wife, Miss Featherington," Colin told her. "You are the kindest soul I have ever known."

Penelope bowed her head and did not look at him, as if he had not spoken at all. He supposed he could not fault her—it would take far more than pretty words to take back what he had done.

"Look there," she said suddenly, surprise colouring her tone as she reached for his arm. Her fingers, bare and gloveless, pressed to his wrist, and Colin's thoughts almost entirely stopped. She turned her face up to his, delight in her eyes. "I do believe those two men are married. Look at their rings. Look at the way they lean in towards one another, the way they move as if they are completely in tune."

Her words sunk in and left behind a veneer of astonishment, cutting through Colin's distracted musings. He found the couple Penelope indicated, and indeed the two men did seem together. Colin had heard of such things occurring behind closed doors, spoken about in hushed whispers… but married?

"I believe they are in love," Penelope told him, and she certainly had the right of it. These two men, who spoke together with smiles on their lips and wore matching golden bands on their ring fingers, were publicly and unashamedly married and in love.

Colin caught himself smiling. "Well, how about that," he said. "How remarkable."

Penelope beamed, that old smile which illuminated her entire being and made it seem like the sun was made of her. Colin turned to it like a flower starved of light, marvelling that his day without its gift had truly been his darkest yet.

"How come you have never told me how observant you are, Pe—Miss Featherington?" Colin said, offering her his arm. "Come, you must tell me what else you see. I certainly shall not miss Lady Whistledown with your clearly superior skill."

Penelope hesitated, and then she obliged him, slotting her arm through his (he almost forgot to breathe) and leading him on through the library. "Let's see, shall we? How about those two over there? I believe they must be quarrelling."

"You believe so? How do you come to such a conclusion?" Colin asked, basking in the light in Penelope's face as she dove into an explanation.