secret relationship for penelope

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eloise & penelope.

"No one will notice if we hold hands under the table."

Penelope Featherington

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[Penelope Featherington]

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For as long as she could remember, she had loved Eloise Bridgerton. It had started out as such a tentative thing, all nervous energy and stolen glances. When she could never have imagined such feelings being reciprocated. She still remembered how it felt to have those feelings validated, to know that Eloise did in fact love her in return and had for a while. In the back of her mind, Penelope knew that they could never be together. Society would never allow it, but her heart would not accept that as fact. How could she possibly entertain the thought of marriage when the person she longed to be with would never be her betrothed. It did not matter how many suitors her mama presented to her, none of them would ever compare to Eloise. She desired nothing more than to take Eloise's hand. It had been all she could think about on their walks, when they walked so close that their hands would brush. They would share a smile and revel in the idea that no one else in the world knew the thoughts playing on their minds. She had been too afraid to take Eloise's hand then, and she was too afraid now. It was why she did not reach for her now, even as Eloise made the suggestion, even as she glanced around the crowded room and saw that everyone was too caught up in their own trivial affairs to pay them any mind. "We can't, what if someone sees?" she whispered across the table, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

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eloise & penelope.

How thrilling it was to share this secret with her best friend; how thrilling it was to know that the feelings she harbored were reciprocated. She'd buried them deep down inside for so long, thinking there was no possible way that Penelope would feel the same – as two young debutantes, in a patriarchal society, there was no way anything could ever become of this. There were expectations upon them, there was pressure upon them, and she wasn't entirely sure what would happen if anyone found out about their feelings – still, she didn't care. Alone with Penelope, nothing else mattered.

Here and now, they weren't technically alone, they were surrounded by people, but nobody seemed to be paying them a lick of attention. Portia Featherington was busy with the Cowpers, Violet Bridgerton was hopefully off somewhere with one of her other children, and no eyes were on them. Somewhere in that room, she knew, the author of Lady Whistledown was watching, looking out for any scandal – but was hand holding truly that scandalous? Nobody would know it meant anything, nobody but the two of them.

"Well, let them," she whispered, her own smile growing. What would they truly say? She'd grabbed her hand before, pulling her away from the crowds – how different was it? The grin on her lips turned somewhat mischievous, a challenging eyebrow raising in the red head's direction. "It's our little secret. Nobody needs to know why we're holding hands. Do you not wish to hold my hand?"

Penelope Featherington

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[Penelope Featherington]

source tagged @eloisebridgerton words 324 notes soft

It was not as though anyone had ever spared them a second glance before. When they sat too close to one another, or when they led each other to various places by the hand. Each tiny action that caused Penelope's heart to sing, was insignificant to them. Friends held hands constantly, young ladies could forget themselves and were observed being overly affectionate among their friends frequently. Perhaps if anyone noticed the pair of them holding hands, they would not spare them a second glance. But Penelope knew that if they lingered long enough, witnessed how they looked at one another, then it would be another matter entirely.  Friends did not look at one another like that. "You are not afraid of what people might think?" she questioned, leaning across the table so that she could keep her voice low. It was admirable how confident she was, how she could be unapologetically herself, unafraid of what others might think of her. Her smile slipped a little when Eloise suggested that she would not want to hold her hand. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I wish to hold your hand" she argued, before noticing the grin on her face, the challenge in her eyes.  Taking a steadying breath, she cast a look around the room. She saw no sight of her mother, nor her meddlesome sisters. Then slowly, she reached to slip her hand into Eloise's, her face alighting with newfound glee at even the smallest of gestures. Thumb stroking over Eloise's knuckles, she watched the people moving around the dance floor with practiced elegance. "I should think I would like very much to dance with you" an impossibility, but a lovely dream. "Do you not wish for that sometimes?" the act of dancing with gentlemen was taxing, a chore that they had to endure to appease their mama's, but the idea of dancing with each other was a magnificent feeling. It was a lovely dream.

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eloise & penelope.

It was far easier not to care about other peoples opinions in theory than it was in reality — but Eloise continued to try. She didn’t wish to be like the others within the ton, didn’t try to be like them, and if people spoke about her behind her back, then so be it. She was content in her opinions and beliefs, as bold as she could possibly be in the society they lived in, and she knew that the likes of Cressida Cowper would continue to talk about her no matter what. That was simply something she’d had to learn to live with, and it didn’t matter. So long as she wasn’t a complete disappointment to her family, then all was fine. This, however, was a little different.

It may not have mattered what the ton thought of her, but she didn’t wish for everyone to be talking about Penelope. She deserved better than that. Still, it was unlikely an act as simple as handholding would elicit too much gossip, regardless of who saw. She often gripped her friend’s hand when dragging her into the gardens, and while this was different for them, nobody else needed to know that. Would people really assume they’d discussed their shared feelings for each other? The ton were too closed minded to even consider the possibility, she was sure.

“That was almost too easy,” she teased, fingers interlocking through Pen’s. Who would even know under the table? The two of them, of course, but it was their little secret — their beautiful, happy little secret. Someday, if one of them ended up courting some gentleman or other, the happiness would be snuffed out as quickly as they’d found it…but she wasn’t scared of that. Perhaps they could be spinsters together forever, in love; living in their own little shared home, stealing kisses away from prying eyes. What a beautiful thought, making their own way in the world — together.

At the mention of dancing, Eloise’s gaze drifted over to all those currently dancing together. She loathed dancing with gentlemen, found it positively dreadful; she wasn’t any good at it, had to count every step, and often found herself treading on toes (only sometimes intentionally), but was it all about the dancing? Or was it about the men, the people she was expected to dance with? Perhaps it was both. “I’m not much of a dancer,” she reminded Penelope, giving her hand a small squeeze. “But if I could dance with you, I would in a heartbeat. Perhaps one day we shall. Surely we wouldn’t be the first ‘friends’ to dance together. If our dance cards were full—“ she grinned, eyes glinting mischievously. How many new fictitious names could she scribble on the card around her wrist? “— who else could we dance with? It simply wouldn’t be proper to dance with any other gentlemen.”

Penelope Featherington

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