Becoming Polin: A Bridgerton Novel (Colin x Penelope)

THREE・Changing of the Seasons

Dearest gentle reader,

The time has come for the blossoming of yet another social season. The streets of Mayfair are ripe with flowering debutants and their fervent mamma's, buzzing in palpable anticipation of the coming days. Presentations are expected to debut several ladies ready to submerge themselves into the lush lavishness of marital soil, most notably one Miss Francesca Bridgerton. This author hopes the young miss will follow in the footsteps of her elder sister, Mrs. Daphne Basset - now the Duchess of Hastings, and dazzle the court with such fervency she is graced with a most coveted title. I, of course, speak of the naming of this season's diamond. Every eligible miss waits with bated breath for the chance to be recognized by her Majesty, the Queen. After the curious events that befell the 1814 diamond, Miss Edwina Sharma, this author questions whether or not the Queen will appoint such an honor once more.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

4 of April, 1815

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Penelope lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling of her bed-chamber when she heard a soft knock at her door.

"Miss? Are you awake?" Her lady's maid called out from behind the barrier, before gently opening it. "Lady Featherington has asked me to draw you a bath for this morning's debutante presentations."

"Of course." Penelope sighed softly and lifted herself up to a seated position. "I shall be there in just a moment. Would you add fresh lavender to my water? I find myself in need of its calming properties today."

She gave her a small smile and gentle nod before leaving the room. Penelope climbed out of bed with a huff before stretching herself tall, allowing the lingering effects of slumber to recede.

Today was the day. Today would be the start of a fresh chapter in the book of her life. Penelope had been waiting in silent agony all year for this day. After the heartbreaking incidents involving Colin and Eloise last season, she was forced to reevaluate everything - who she was, what she wanted, how she got there, and any vision for her future.

Ultimately, Penelope came to a pivotal conclusion - she could no longer rely on the Bridgertons. Her entire life, up to that moment, had been spent enveloped in their enormous shadow and the protection that accompanied being in their favor.

She hadn't minded this, of course. They truly were the family she never had; whenever she felt alone, all she needed to do was travel to Bridgerton House. Their family butler, Wickham, welcomed her with open arms, allowing Penelope the honor of entering as if one of them. She needn't be announced or chaperoned, and was shown into the informal drawing room if ever she were. It had become a place of comfort over the years; one she realized she took for granted.

Being likened to kin of the Bridgertons had afforded Pen certain comforts in society. She consistently had someone to chat with at balls or events, which awarded her brief respite from any wallflower antics, as well as the affection of the entire family - something so well known that it caused any unsavory comments she typically received to cease (to her face, that is). She needn't worry about unpleasant encounters because whenever she was in the presence of a Bridgerton she felt seen and heard. They would protect her, always.

Or, she should say, that used to be the case. After the fallouts of last season, Penelope knew that things would change. While it pained Pen to know that Eloise did not want her in her life and Colin had broken her heart, it would not do well to merely sit in self-loathing and pity.

This season she needed to take charge of her happenstance and focus on a life separate from the Bridgertons; whatever that may entail.

Penelope made her way over to the newly drawn bath in the washroom, breathing in the soothing scent provided by the lavender within the water. She was all too glad for the silent peace the room procured, as Penelope had long before instructed her servants that that task was one she could complete alone. After she removed her nightgown and shift, the soft pink fabric encompassing a circular heap around her ankles, she stared at her body in the mirror perpendicular the brass claw-foot tub.