Eternal Flame

Under the Floorboards

After the night they had previously, Portia Featherington decided that her girls deserved some much needed rest, so she chose not to wake them for their usual morning promenade and let them sleep in. A couple of hours passed, the sun now high in the sky, and finally Prudence came down the stairs asking after something to eat. That was when Portia grew concerned. Penelope was by no means an early riser, but she always woke before Prudence. Perhaps she was ill. She hadn't seen her since before the fireworks display last night, so she glided up the stairs and knocked on her youngest daughter's chamber door.

"Penelope?" She asked once, as gently as Portia Featherington could. "Penelope!" She screeched, pounding again when there was no answer. "Penelope Anne Featherington, wake up and open this door this instant!" Still no answer. Now Portia was worried. Without a second thought, she wrenched the door open and barged inside to find...nothing. Penelope wasn't there. Do not panic, Portia told herself. Do. Not. Panic. Jack was gone, she made sure of that, and Penelope wouldn't be so stupid as to leave for the Americas with him. Besides, none of her bags were packed. Perhaps she spent the night with that Bridgerton girl. Yes, Portia reasoned, she must have. So she marched across the square and knocked on their door, taking deep steadying breaths to calm herself.

"Lady Featherington," the butler nodded. "What may I do for you?"

"Is Penelope here?" She asked, cutting right to the chase. The butler gave her a confused look and Portia rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for this. "My youngest daughter, Penelope, is she here?" She demanded.

Just then, Lady Bridgerton popped here head in the frame to see who was at the door. "Portia," she said. "What a surprise! I would have thought you still recovering from last night's splendid festiv---"

"I do not have time for pleasantries, Violet. Where is my daughter? Did she stay here last night?"

Violet shot her a look of concern. It must have been a strange sight to witness Lady Featherington less than perfectly composed. "I do not believe so," she said. "But allow me to ask Eloise. Do come in for a moment, Portia, have some tea with us," she said, ushering her into the drawing room where all of her children, aside from Anthony and the youngest two, already were.

"With all due respect, Violet, I do not want tea. I want to know where my Penelope is," she repeated, as calmly as she was capable.

Violet smiled to her in understanding, just as two Bridgerton sibling's ears perked up a the mention of their redheaded friend. "Eloise," Violet said, turning to her second daughter. "Did Penelope spend the night with you last night, dear?" She asked gently, so as not to startle Portia even more.

"No," Eloise answered bitterly. "What has she done now?" She grumbled.

Colin had been hanging onto the edge of his seat, fear quickly rising in his chest upon seeing Penelope's mother so distressed. "Is Pen alright?"

Portia sighed, keeping the tears at bay. Featherington women were strong, and she would have to keep her strength right now. "Penelope was not in her room this morning. Her bed did not even look slept in."

"Lady Featherington, did Jack leave last night, as promised?" Colin asked carefully, running through the list of possibilities, swallowing down the gut wrenching pain that each of them caused him.

Portia shook her head. "None of her belongings were packed and nothing was missing. I...I do not know where she could be."

"El, did Pen say anything to you?" Colin demanded, in a deep authoritative tone that sounded much like Anthony.

Eloise remained stiff, barely managing to shake her head. "N-no, she...she did not," she answered, though Colin was not convinced. She tried to mask the worry she was feeling, cursing herself for still caring about the woman who ruined her life, but Colin noticed.

"Would it be alright if we searched her room, Lady Featherington?" Colin blurted.

Everyone in the room looked appropriately scandalized at his question. "Colin," Violet scolded. "That is most improper."

Colin groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. "Frankly, Mother, I do not give a wit about propriety when I know Pen could be lost or in danger. Now, Lady Featherington, may my sister and I search Pen's room for clues as to where she might be?" He repeated, pulling Eloise to her feet.

"Do not volunteer me for such things, brother!" Eloise spat, yanking her arm from his grip.

Colin leaned down and whispered in his sister's ear. "Out of everyone, you and I know Pen best, and that means we are the best chance of finding her." Eloise relented unhappily.

"Of course, Mister Bridgerton, that is a bright idea. Let us go now," Portia instructed, seeing that giving orders and keeping herself busy would distract her from the fact that her daughter was missing.

Once back at Penelope's chambers, Portia decided that she couldn't force herself to look through her daughter's things without her steel facade cracking in front of the two Bridgertons. So, she left them to it, opting to find Varley and discuss hiring a team of Bow Street Runners if needs must.

When they were alone, Colin snapped to his sister and pointed an accusatory finger at her. "What do you know, El? Tell me."

Eloise tensed, reeling back a few steps until she stepped on a creaky floorboard. She winced when the sound echoed throughout the room. Colin immediately pushed her out of the way, moving to lift the piece of wood and see what was underneath.

"N-no, do not, Colin, please do not!" She protested, trying and failing to pull him away from Penelope's stash of money and writings.

It was no use. Colin let the wood clatter to the floor, staring in confusion as he tried to figure out what he was looking at. "W-what is all of this? Why does Pen have all of this?" He asked, thumbing through the stacks of paper money, worried at what the answer may be. Was she involved with her cousin Jack's scheme? Why did she let him prattle on like that? Why did she thank him for saving her family?

Eloise took a deep breath. She hadn't wanted Colin to find out like she did. She hadn't really wanted him to find out at all, but she had to come clean. "Penelope is...Colin, Penelope is Lady Whistledown."

Colin dropped the papers in shock, then burst out laughing at the absurd claim. "Pen is not Whistledown. She can't be. She wouldn't..." The more Colin thought about it, the more sense it made. "She is...Whistledown. Pen. Penelope," he whispered, dumbstruck.

"I only found out last night. We...she and I fought." Eloise grew quiet, reliving the moment in her head, regretting all the nasty words exchanged. "I left and then she, well, I imagine she must have gone to print another issue of her gossip rag," she finished bitterly, remembering precisely how angry she still was.

"What do you mean? Do you know where she went?"

Eloise looked away uncomfortably, shifting over to Penelope's writing desk. "The printers, obviously."

"El, this is not a joke. I do not care if you are angry at her. I may be too, but the truth is, Penelope could be in danger, and she needs me. Now, where is the print shop?"

"It is near Bloomsbury," she mumbled, her eyes flickering over to the open page of a journey.

"Bloomsbury?!" He raged. "And who might she have gone with?!"

Eloise looked away again. "I believe she usually makes the trip alone," she muttered, scanning the words of a strangely sad poem.

"Alone?!" He yelled, getting more and more frantic by the second. "I have to find her," he said, moving to the door.

"Wait!" Eloise shouted. "I am obviously going with you."

Colin scoffed. "You obviously are not. You can stay here and look for more clues."

"Colin, I am going with you. And I think you should read this." Colin stomped back over and snatched the journal from Eloise's hands, briefly considering that this was a terrible breach of Penelope's privacy, before scanning the words himself. He looked up to find Eloise's expression filled with worry, matching his own. "She...Penelope is alright, isn't she?" Eloise asked, tears welling in her eyes.

Colin dropped the journal onto the desk and pulled his sister in for a tight hug, feeling his own eyes start to burn. "I hope so."