Bridgerton: early years

Why no just say it.

A/N: Please read, and vote.

The Bridgerton estate basked in the lazy warmth of a summer afternoon, the kind of day where the sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the world beneath with golden light. It was the perfect day for mischief—or at least that's what Eloise Bridgerton thought. But today, her mischief was of a quieter variety: reading. Not just any reading, but devouring books she had borrowed from the family library with a rather suspicious lack of permission.

Beside her, perched in the shade of a large oak tree, sat her best friend, Penelope Featherington. Unlike Eloise's wild enthusiasm for stories filled with daring heroines, Penelope's approach to reading was more patient, careful. She turned the pages of her novel with quiet focus, utterly immersed in a world of ballroom intrigues and impossible romances.

"I simply don't understand why anyone would want to read about a duke's love life," Eloise said, flipping the page of her own book with disdain. "What's so fascinating about ballrooms and courtships? Honestly, it sounds dreadfully dull."

Penelope smiled softly, her red hair catching the sunlight as she shifted her position. "It's not about the ballrooms, Eloise. It's about the feelings. The way the characters care for each other... even when they don't realize it yet."

Eloise rolled her eyes. "Feelings, schmealings. I'd rather read about a pirate who robs an entire fleet."

Penelope giggled but didn't respond, her attention drifting back to her book, her cheeks still flushed from Eloise's playful teasing. They'd always had these conversations, where Eloise's rebellious nature clashed with Penelope's quieter, romantic tendencies. And yet, they were inseparable—an odd pair, perhaps, but perfectly matched.

As they read, a familiar figure appeared, striding across the lawn toward them with a careless sort of grace that could only belong to a Bridgerton boy. Colin, the third eldest, always seemed to be wandering somewhere, as though the world itself wasn't big enough to contain his restless energy.

Sixteen years old, Colin had already developed the easy charm and roguish grin that would one day make him the object of many whispered conversations among London's debutantes. But today, he was just a boy with no particular plans, looking for an escape from the bustling Bridgerton household.

"Ladies," Colin called out as he approached, his voice light and teasing. "What are you two conspiring about under this tree?"

Eloise looked up from her book, narrowing her eyes at her brother. "We're not conspiring. We're reading. Something you probably know very little about."

Colin put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "I'll have you know, Eloise, that I am a man of great literary taste. Why, just the other day I finished reading the back of a mutton pie recipe."

Penelope giggled, hiding her face behind her book. Colin flashed her a grin, and her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

"Come now, Penelope," Colin said, plopping down beside them under the tree without waiting for an invitation. "Don't encourage Eloise's superiority complex. You know she thinks she's too clever for all of us."

"I am too clever for all of you," Eloise declared with a haughty air, though there was a glint of humor in her eyes. "And besides, it's not my fault you waste your time running around the estate like a headless chicken instead of expanding your mind."

Colin stretched out on the grass, hands behind his head, looking up at the sky. "Running around is much more fun than sitting around reading stories about people who are too afraid to say what they really mean."

Penelope glanced over at him. "That's not what all books are about."

Colin raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Really? Because it seems to me that all those books you read are filled with people who love each other but can't seem to say it out loud."

Penelope bit her lip, her heart racing. He wasn't wrong, but there was something more to it than that. "Maybe it's because they're afraid of what might happen if they do."

Colin glanced at her, and for a moment, there was something thoughtful in his eyes. "And what's so scary about saying how you feel?"

Eloise, ever the pragmatist, cut in before Penelope could answer. "Because, Colin, people are ridiculous. They overthink everything and then end up tangled in their own feelings like some sort of emotional spider web."

Colin laughed, rolling over onto his side to face them. "Well, if you ask me, it's better to just say what's on your mind. If you fancy someone, tell them. Life's too short to waste time on all that agonizing."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat. Did Colin really believe that? If it were that simple, then why couldn't she just tell him? Why couldn't she say, I've fancied you for as long as I can remember?

But she stayed quiet, hiding behind her book once again.

Eloise, meanwhile, scoffed at Colin's declaration. "Spoken like someone who has never been in love. It's not just about saying something, it's about what comes after. The consequences."

"Consequences, schmonsequences," Colin said breezily. "You two think too much."

"You don't think enough," Eloise shot back.

Colin grinned, unbothered. He turned his gaze back to Penelope. "What do you think, Pen? Wouldn't it be easier if everyone just said what they were feeling?"

Penelope's breath caught. He was looking at her with that same easy charm, completely unaware of the storm of emotions he was stirring up inside her. She hesitated, her pulse quickening. Should I tell him?

But she shook her head, offering him a small smile instead. "Sometimes it's more complicated than that."

Colin tilted his head, still watching her, but didn't push any further. "Maybe. Or maybe it's only as complicated as we make it."

Eloise rolled her eyes dramatically. "Colin, for the love of all that is intelligent, stop trying to sound profound. It doesn't suit you."

He grinned again, standing up and brushing grass from his trousers. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you two intellectuals to your books. But one day, Eloise, you'll see that sometimes simplicity is the way forward."

With that, he gave Penelope a parting smile and sauntered back toward the house, his mind already drifting to whatever adventure awaited him next.

Penelope watched him go, her heart still fluttering in her chest. If only it were that simple, Colin. If only.

Eloise nudged her playfully. "You should stop mooning over him, Pen. It's not good for your health."

Penelope blushed, pretending to be engrossed in her book once more. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," Eloise said with a knowing smirk, turning back to her own book. "But one day, when he finally pulls his head out of the clouds, he'll realize what's been in front of him all along."

Penelope smiled softly, her heart full of hope. But for now, she would keep her feelings to herself, tucked away like a secret between the pages of a book.

End.