Chapter Text
Colin never expected to encounter anybody on his journey back to Aubrey Hall.
It was only a few evenings before Chrstimastide; the roads were slick from the previous day’s rain, and with the clouds on the horizon turning dark and angry before his very eyes, he hadn’t seen another rider, horse or carriage along this trail since departing the city.
In fact, the very last person he expected to see along this muddied, lesser-travelled track was Penelope Featherington.
Easing over the crest, she appeared to him like a beacon, startlingly bright in a garishly green dress. She stood sullenly beside her family’s carriage in a matching viridescent shade, her arms folded across her body as she shielded herself from the afternoon chill. A footman was beside her; his face scrunched up in a panic as they stared down at the carriage wheel, its spokes caked in a generous layer of thick mud.
Before his horse had even come to a complete halt, Colin glided out of his saddle, his worn leather riding boots landing with a squelch in the sludge underneath.
“Pen!” he called out in greeting, striding towards them.
Her head twisted around at the sudden noise, and it was almost comical how she did a double-take, hair whipping across her cheeks as she turned to look at him again. Her eyes narrowed to a slit, the scowl on her face deepening ever further by the time Colin had arrived by their side.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, keeping her voice low.
“I-”
“Mr Bridgerton!” A face wrapped in a similarly vibrant green headscarf appeared through the carriage window. Portia Featherington. Behind her, Colin could see Penelope’s sister Prudence slumped against the tufted cushions as she stared vacantly out the opposite window.
Portia waved a gloved hand in his direction. “Thank heavens,” she sighed dramatically, fanning her fingertips across her chest. “We do seem to be in a spot of trouble. Would you be able to assist?”
It wasn't like he could say no and leave them stranded out here. Ignoring the glower radiating from Penelope, he crouched alongside their footman, who immediately sputtered words of appreciation. The culprit was a large boulder hidden underneath a layer of mud. After several minutes of tugging, wiggling and kicking at the rock underneath the wheel, both men straightened triumphantly.
“Try it now.” Colin wiped his muddied hands into the darkened fabric of his traveller's jacket.
As the footman climbed eagerly into his seat and reached for the straps attached to the two dark horses, a flash of orange and white in the treeline caught Colin’s eye. A small face belonging to a woodland fox poked out from amongst the leaves, then darted out from the shrubbery, scurrying across the damp road right in front of them.
Then all hell broke loose.
Colin’s horse, grazing just off the pathway, called out with a startled neigh. Before Colin could even reach for his reins, the Friesian reared up in fright, hooves raising above Colin’s head, and took off at a gallop. That was enough to spook the other stallions, and with a newly loosened wheel, they had no issue chasing after him at speed, dragging a shrieking Portia and Prudence in the carriage behind them, their footman hanging on for dear life on the top.
The trail was empty in seconds, and everyone had disappeared from sight over the hill.
Penelope stood rigid for a beat, her mouth open in shock as she tried to pierce together what had just transpired. Then she spared Colin a fleeting glance, hitched up the edges of her cumbersome skirt and set off in a rush up the hill, Colin following only a few paces behind her.
But when they both reached the summit, his horse, the carriage and its horses, her mother, sister and her family’s footman were long gone.
Scrunching her eyes together, Penelope placed both hands on her hips and sucked in a sharp breath. “Brilliant.” She pointed an accusing finger in Colin’s direction. “This is all your fault!”
“My fault?” Colin matched her stance, towering over her intimidatingly. His height always gave him the advantage. “I just assisted you! Were you not all stuck but a moment ago?”
She scoffed. “Yes, and look how useful that is now.” She turned away, muttering under her breath as she began the trek back down the hill.
Colin watched her retreating form for several moments before he called out. “Where exactly are you going?” She whirled around, face twisting into a heightened level of discontent. “What exactly are you going to do?” Colin continued, paying no heed to her malice. “Stand here on the side of the road until someone else comes along? It’ll be dark soon.”
Penelope opened her mouth, no doubt to tell him off again for something Colin hadn’t even done - he’d been out of the country for months, for God’s sake - but snapped her lips shut.
“Come on now,” Colin gestured over his shoulder. “We know which way they were heading; we better follow after them.”
There was still no sign of anyone when they reached the bottom of the hill. Colin scanned the horizon for the Featherington shade of green but only found a winding path, scattered treeline and the dark, menacing clouds looming ahead.
Colin’s riding boots splattered in the mud as he put one foot in front of the other. Behind him, Colin could hear Penelope’s faint voice as she mumbled and grumbled to herself. Every time Colin would check that she was indeed still following him, albeit several paces away, she would return his glance with a sarcastic smile.
“Do keep up, would you,” Colin teased, “we don’t want to lose them.”
“Oh bugger off, Colin,” Penelope said, shooting him another angry stare. “Do remember that my legs are much shorter than yours.”
They walked in silence after that. They must have gone at least another mile; their only other company was the whistle of the wind as it picked up through the trees. The road was still as desolate as Colin had expected when he had set off this morning. How on earth had this carriage gotten so far ahead of them? Had they taken a wrong turn? For a brief moment, Colin considered admitting defeat and turning back the other way. But they had come so far now, and Penelope would surely be ridiculously smug if he even suggested.
A fleck of cold snow landed against his cheek as Colin considered their other options. He brushed it away with his glove as another settled on his forehead.
“Excellent, now it’s snowing.” Penelope threw her hands in the air beside him. “Could this day not get any worse?”
Frankly, Colin wasn’t sure what was so bad about it. Their only viable transportation had literally just galloped away, and now they were stuck in the middle of the English countryside, more than likely completely lost. The sky was growing darker by the second, and now he could see every individual snowflake in front of his face as they fell from the heavens.
But at least they had each other for company. Penelope was usually fantastic company, always greeting him with a warm, beaming grin and armed with a witty comment that made laughter burst from his chest. In truth, she was probably his oldest, greatest friend, his most trusted confidant, and, well… he had no clue what now warranted the ice-cold scowl she continued to direct his way. Colin missed how her smile would usually take over her entire face.
He was about to be a complete and utter fool and tell her as such when another gust of wind rippled through them, speckling his cheeks with more snow and fluttering the edges of Penelope’s day dress. Her hands reached up to grip her arms for warmth, and Colin could see her skin goosebumps through the thin material of her sleeves.
“Here.” Colin stopped to shuck off his traveller’s jacket, presenting it to her with an outstretched arm. “You should wear this.”
Her eyes raked over the worn, brown patches of material and the single line of buttons across the breast. It was one of Colin’s most loved pieces of clothing - that jacket had already seen a lot through his adventures off the continent.
“I’m not wearing your coat.”
Colin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Pen, it’s snowing.”
“Well aware.”
He shoved the article into her arms, a little rougher than initially intended. “Wear it,” Colin commanded, no room for argument in his voice. “Otherwise, you’ll catch death.”
The snow was falling steadily now, flecks of white landing in the contrasting curls of Penelope’s fiery hair. Reluctantly, she took the jacket with a huff, and Colin had to contain his laughter as she struggled to loop her short arm into one of the sleeves.
On Colin, the fit was perfect, stretching snugly over his chest and arms. On Penelope, it was enormous; the sleeves engulfed her tiny frame while the edges of the coat pooled on the ground. Colin grimaced, clenching his jaw as Penelope took a few steps, dragging the ends through the sludge as she tried and failed not to stumble over her own dainty feet.
Nevermind. At least she was warm and sheltered from the raging storm; Colin could ask one of the household staff to clean the mud off the fabric when they finally got home. The snow started to settle on the path as they continued, flakes catching on the edges of her hair and on the wide collar of his jacket.
She caught his gaze and forced a small smile through her chattering teeth. “Thank you,” she said, shrugging her oversized sleeves. “For the jacket.”
Colin returned her smile with a courteous nod. Perhaps she was warming up to him after all.
They continued the monotonous trudge from the road, feet pulling through inches of fresh snow. The conditions had changed drastically in the last few minutes. The wind howled, whipping around the countryside, swirling snow into their eyes. Penelope should have only been a few paces beside him, her bright hair standing out obviously against the stark white backdrop, but Colin couldn’t see anything against the sudden flurry.
“Pen!” he called out in a panic as her petite form appeared.
“Colin!” She stumbled into his side, and he gripped around her jacket-clad shoulders for stability. “This storm…”
It was utterly unbearable now. There was no way they could find Penelope’s missing family and carriage in this visibility. Without his protective jacket, the snow was steeping into Colin’s navy blue linen shirt, drenching the fabric into almost black and freezing him to the bone. Penelope’s hair was wild and tangled against her cheeks.
“We need to find some shelter.”
Colin tugged Penelope’s lace-covered, leading her towards what he hoped was the safety of the nearby treeline. There was an immediate respite from the harsh elements as they stumbled underneath the canopy of leaves. But the wind was still howling, creaking limbs above them, snowflakes weaving between the cracks in the branches. There had to be somewhere they could take shelter for a moment, just until the brunt of the storm passed: an overturned stump or a shallow cave, perhaps a carved-out hollow of a tree. Penelope lifted the corner of her skirts as they trampled over branches, crunching the wood under their feet.
Their luck finally changed when they entered a clearing in the middle of the woodland.
An old hunting lodge stood in the centre, wooden posts flanked by a stone foundation. The thatched roof was covered in a thick layer of white, camouflaging the cabin perfectly against the surrounding snow-tipped greenery. A single chimney towered toward the sky, but no smoke billowed from the top.
“Thank heavens,” Penelope breathed beside him, barely audible over the wind. Colin felt her tiny fingers clutch his tightly.
As they approached the overhanging porch, Colin prayed they wouldn’t have to smash out any of the windows to get inside. He thumped a fist onto the wood and waited for a beat, pressing his ear against the door for any sign of movement inside. When Penelope gave him a simple shrug, he shouldered the door, not expecting it to give way as quickly as it did. They both stumbled through the opening, leaving a flurry of snow and ice in their wake.
Penelope moved further into the small space, shivering under the expanse of his coat, as Colin struggled to close the door. Eventually, he shoved it back into its frame, the loud thud rattling the windows on either side.
Colin’s rapid breath fogged up the glass as he peered out into the storm. Despite their predicament, he couldn’t help but smile at his reflection. They could wait out the worst of the snow in this cabin while they dried their clothes in front of the fire. Then, once Penelope was dry and warm, she would be much more amenable to their usual pleasant conversation.
Plus, he’d just spent the last few minutes holding her hand.