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Ever since returning from her honeymoon, Penelope cannot deny the glaring indications that she is with child. It is almost as if the moment Colin suggested it, the revelation became clear as day. Her chest, which had already swelled significantly, could not be contained in her stays. And her belly, while it had never been flat, now curved perfectly along her middle. It was subtle, certainly not distinguishable under her gowns, but unmistakably foreign.
Which is why she found herself on the way to the modiste this afternoon.
The soft bell rings as she lets herself in the front door and catches the eye of Madame Genevieve Delacroix. It is lucky that the season is over and hardly anyone makes a personal visit. This time of year the most of Madame Delacroix’s work comes for winter clothes which have been pre ordered and delivered to the country homes.
“You bring good news Mrs. Bridgerton?”
“Is it that obvious?” Penelope asks, walking further into the shop.
“Only to the woman who has measured your bosom for the last eight summers.”
Penelope smiles widely, happy to be sharing her good news with someone other than her husband. A moment later, Genevieve has engulfed her in a crushing hug before scurrying her favorite client into the fitting room at the back of her shop.
“We shall start with measurements,” Madame Delacroix says, pulling a long colorful measuring tape from her cupboard. “Am I to believe your honeymoon has proved fruitful?”
Penelope nods in response.
“I expect I can trust you with our secret?” Penelope asks. “We have not told our families yet.”
“Of course! It would not be the first time you confided in me.”
Penelope laughs and turns back to the mirror as Genevieve continues. She takes a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pressure from the tape as the modiste wraps it around her chest.
“You will need new stays,” Genevieve says, finishing the rest of her measurements, “to support the growing belly. And I can make you gowns with a bit more room in the bodice, just like they wear in Paris.”
“That sounds delightful,” Penelope says, full of glee.
“Excellent! Now let us look at fabrics.”
They spend the afternoon giggling, buried in a mountain of silk and organza until the sun dips too low and golden light floods through the windows. They are joined by a third figure rapping at the door and a moment later Colin enters to find his wife clutching her stomach with laughter.
“Mr. Bridgerton!” Madame Delacroix jumps to her feet when she sees him.
“It is lovely to see you both,” he looks between the two. “I trust our good news has been shared?”
“Congratulations,” the modiste tells him. “I shall have the gowns ready in a fortnight.”
“I thank you,” Colin says, “now I should like to take my wife home..if the two of you can finally bear to part. Have the bills sent to our house?”
“Of course,” Genevieve replies. “It is lovely to see you in such good spirits, Penelope.”
The two embrace once more before Colin locks his arm through Penelope’s and they slip out into the night. She nuzzles her head against his shoulder as they walk, brushing her fingers along the soft wool of his coat sleeves.
“I hope you don’t mind I did not bring the carriage,” he says. “I thought we could use the stroll.”
“I do not mind the walk,” she replies. “Besides I do not know if I have the energy for the rigorous activities of a carriage ride.”
They both smirk remembering the way he found himself beneath her skirts on the ride back from port. Colin had suggested they take a room at an inn so Penelope could recover from her seasickness. She was grateful for the respite as Colin doted on her and very relieved to wake up and find the sickness had passed. The trip back was memorable not just because Colin lured melodies from her lips with the pleasure of his tongue, but also because she was so grateful to be returning home…to their home.
“I’ve asked cook to start dinner,” Colin says as they step inside. “You must be starved.”
“A bit,” Penelope replies, resting a hand to her stomach. “We were having so much fun I hardly noticed.”
“We have some time,” he tells her. “There is something I wish to show you.”
“First I should like to change out of these stays,” Penelope says, desperate for her newly fitted garments.
“I shall bring it to you then,” he says. “Allow me a moment.”
Penelope lets herself up the stairs into their bedroom where Rae helps her out of the tightly fitting gown and into a flowing silk night dress. It was nice to have Colin dress her (and even nicer when eh undressed her) but Penelope was happy to rely on her maid again, now that they had fallen out of the vortex of newlywed life.
They had been so focused on each other, they had not noticed anything or anyone else. But now that the dizzy of spell of marriage had passed, she realized how terribly quiet their home was with just the two of them. Never mind that it was smaller than the manor she had spent the season in or the country house she grew up in. Between the constant mindless chatter of her sisters and her ventures across the square to the Bridgertons’ lively home, she and Colin were not accustomed to such quiet.
“What are you thinking?” Colin asks when he enters to find his wife stretched lazily on the sofa.
“Just how awfully quiet it is here,” she says softly. “Growing up my house was always so shrill. How I would have loved some peace and quiet to read my books but now I find it unsettling.”
Colin chuckles to himself at the admission, eliciting a laugh from Penelope when she realizes how preposterous it sounds. He kisses her forehead before settling on the sofa next to her. The heat from her husband draws her like a magnet and she settles in between his legs as they stretch horizontally across the sofa. Colin bends one leg so it’s flush against the back of the sofa to allow his wife to fit between his legs and rest against his chest.
“I should like to fill our house with babies,” he says, resting his hands protectively on the curve of her stomach. “Then we shall never hear silence.”
“You get ahead of yourself,” Penelope reminds him. “The doctor says nothing is certain until I feel movement and all I have felt so far is seasickness.”
“The doctor practices too much caution,” Colin replies. “There is something very different about you now Pen, something special.”
She practically melts into the sofa, beaming ear to ear, at his protectiveness. In all her life Penelope does not recall every feeling so loved. She sinks deeper against her husband’s chest until she notices a rustling from his coat pocket.
“You said you had something to show me.”
“Ah yes!” Colin says procuring a rolled up piece of parchment.
He hands it to Penelope who eagerly grasps it as Colin combs her hair away from her face to press his lips to her temple. The document features Colin’s slanted cursive, the handwriting she recognizes from two summers of exchanging letters.
From the aft deck of the HMS Dalton the stars have never shone brighter. Darkness coats the skies in a velvet so black it looks endless. It is in this moment that time ceases to exist. We could be anytime and anywhere, surrounded by ruinous waters on all sides. I have crossed this passage a dozen times, each time plagued with a hollow loneliness despite being aboard a ship packed with rowdy men.
The company of drunken sailors does not compare to the treasured voices at home. Not when distance engulfs our ship from all ends. Unmoored. Untethered.
But this voyage is unlike the others. No longer do I find myself in search of a work of art or a scenic landscape that fulfills that desolate longing that beats deep within my being as I have now found the other half of my soul which beats outside of my chest.
Instead of spending my nights wandering the darkness of damp corridors or sipping mead from tattered canteens, I find myself lain against the warm heat of the woman who occupies my every thoughts, entices my very being and holds my heart in her palms.
Copper hair glistens in starlight, falling in loose tendrils like a halo around her face…
Penelope presses a hand to her mouth before turning to face Colin.
“Is this our trip?” She asks him.
“Something I am exploring,” he replies. “My old journals feel so hollow reading them back now.”
“Oh Colin.”
She swoons, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, a feeling that has become so familiar in the last few weeks. It is as if the overwhelming feelings must escape her body somehow. And everything seems overwhelming of late.
“You like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” Penelope tells him.
She rests her own hand over his so the added heat warms her belly. It is almost alarming how perfect her life has turned out and for a split second she worries experiencing this much happiness cannot be possible.
“We will need to tell our families soon,” Colin says, squeezing her belly gently.
“I should like to wait until we are certain,” Penelope tells him. “You heard the doctor.”
“Bollocks.” Colin rolls his eyes. “But we can take our time if that’s your wish. I do like having you all to myself and the mamas will certainly become unbearable once they learn the news.”
“We shall have to go to the country to tell them,” she says. “They will be suspicious if we ask them to come here. And it must be the same day. Or one will feel slighted.”
“You mean your mother?” Colin teases.
“She is your family now too, my love.”