Chapter Text
"Penelope Anne Featherington, get your fucking ass out of this car now!" Portia Featherington's shrill voice seemed to bounce off every car parked in the packed lot. Her usual natural citrus chrysanthemum scent turned putrid as fields of burning flowers soaked the air around them.
"Mom, I don't want to do it anymore, I regret even saying yes to this!" Penelope grimaced, her little chubby fingertips gripping her seatbelt for dear life as she dug her heels into the car seat under her. Her face flushed red with blood rushing to her face in her struggle as her face comically started to resemble the copper red of her very own hair. "And you will have to pry me from this car with your own hands,"
Penelope opened one eye, trying her best not to come eye to eye with her mother's anger. They say that anger is never a good look on anyone; Portia Featherington solely made anger look ugly and monstrous as an unleashed beast onto the meekest of prey, and her usual target was her own daughter. Initially, when her mother told her she had enrolled Penelope in a children's beginner ballet camp, she was curious and terrified.
The bright yellow rough tulle tutu tight against her growing hips was enough for her to want to burn the garment in a bonfire and dance along the flames. Yet, the simple thought of getting away from her older sisters' constant torment and her mother's incessant reprimands and quite rude remarks from the way she read, smiled, the way freckles seemed to grow on her every time she touched the sun, her lack of friends, and especially her weight. For a long while, Penelope had thought it was because she was used to being the youngest, but ever since Felicity was born, she knew better now.
For a long while, she knew that her family was "special," Maybe it was how her mother could say "Featherington" in any store in Mayfair; staff would scramble to accommodate them at a minute's notice. However, it was Christmas morning sitting across her father's mother's lap when Felicity was born when she was seven and had woken Penelope of the truth.
See, Portia Featherington was a fraud. Born Portia Moore, she was an untitled omega from Ireland when she came of age and entered the London scene. The Moores were working-class advisors to the Barony, wealthy enough to have their servants but never close enough to eat at the same table. Her parents both wanted more for their family, moving to London for just that chance to ensure their advancement in society by any means necessary. They positioned all the Moore children in society, boasting lives they didn't have at home. Portia debuted with all the other Omegas of society, placing herself at all the extravagant events and around the right people.
And to the Moores, Beta Baron Archibald Featherington was an easy target, not just because he was quiet and anti-social but also because his true mate had died in their shared childhood. Amelia Parish drowned on a trip to the countryside, the season before debutants were presented in front of the Queen. Archie could feel her die, her last heartbeat, her last breath as if his own ceased to exist for days without hers in sync with his.
Archibald became a social pariah of elite society, afraid that his lonely 'condition' might rub off on the rest of them; in addition, insurmountable research sprouting the statistics of having multiple healthier, happier children coming from true mates coming from the royal family with a total of fifteen pups from Queen Charlotte and King George, Archibald stood no chance of marrying for love merely out of pity.
Portia knew the immense risk of marrying and mating Archibald. The mere fact of losing her true mate forever, never having the possibility for love as her husband's heart would forever belong to another, the reality that they had nothing in common. Any children between them had an overwhelming chance of roughly 1 in 18 million chance of being anything other than a Beta. As an omega without her true mate, she would be relegated to spend every heat held alone in her nest with no one genuinely giving her the pleasure she would so desperately crave.
Yet, the title of Baroness Featherington was precisely the type of social climbing that Portia needed and wanted, succeeding in gaining her parents' favour over her siblings. It wasn't until after they were married that the Featheringtons learned the truth behind Portia's upbringing.
The Featheringtons swore the couple to secrecy that Portia would produce an heir to the Featherington barony. Many believed that the bond built between Archibald and Portia was false and only made from pure greed until nine months after their wedding, Lady Featherington gave birth to two perfectly healthy fraternal twins, Prudence Aurora and Phillipa Alice Featherington.
However, no one say the same around the factors surrounding Penelope and Patrick's birth...one of the numerous reasons behind her deep hatred of a daughter she never wanted and possibly the fact that she killed her brother...
"You are embarrassing us, we are late for modelling classes," Phillipa and Prudence hissed as each sister grabbed onto one of Penelope's Mary Janes, yanking her out of her memories as they pulled her feet so hard that both shoes came off with only her stockings remained.
Rolling their eyes at Penelope's antics, her older sisters give up on taking Penelope out of the car, instead refocusing their attention on every guy who passes by. Batting their eyelashes, posing, and pursing their lips awkwardly, all in a competition to gain attention, the parking lot overflowing with numerous families scrambling to the sign-in desk with their children.
Penelope's eyes scan the crowd, not a single child like her in sight, every single one of them tiny with unblemished skin and perfect bodies...just like her mother wanted, and it terrified her. What would they think of her? What would they think of her body? Her chubby fingers, round belly, and thick thighs were itching to get out of these stockings as fast as possible.
It wasn't until a soft whispering voice and gentle, tiny little hands were placed gently against her cheek.
"Elope," Felicity had whispered; it was only then that Penelope opened her eyes, not to see the judging angry faces but tears pooling in her baby sister's eyes.
Penelope softened in that instant, slowly unbuckling her seatbelt and fixing her stupid tutu as she fixed a fake smile on her face. Danbury Dance Academy didn't matter to her, nor would she care if she made a fool of herself there was no one but Felicity she would care for. This was Felicity's dream after all, her reason for being there in the first place.
Felicity had begged and pleaded to learn to be a ballerina for months with their mother, alluding to the pretty tutus and prestige that enrolling in Agatha Danbury's Dance Academy would bring to the Featherington name. After taking a tour of the facilities, her mother, seeing the lithe figures and the 'appropriate' weight of these girls, forced Penelope along for the ride. Penelope hadn't expected anything else. Anything that might have to do with her and fixing her made her mom excessively happy. Yet, she would do anything for Felicity, to be the older sister she deserved.
"Thank you, Oppie," Felicity whispered, standing side by side as she desperately wiped her eyes before slipping her tiny hand into her sisters as she looked at their mother, fanning herself. Penelope grabbed onto the two large yellow suitcases heaving them out of the car and onto the gravel grabbing her edition of Emma and tucking it into her side away from her mother's eyes before she could notice.
"Must you always be this difficult! I am glad that this camp spans the summer; what else would I do with you," Portia growled, snapping her fan open as she grabbed Penelope's shoes out of Phillipa and Prudence's hands throwing them to the gravel. Penelope quickly slipped her feet into them before her mother grabbed her wrist, dragging her and Felicity to the registration desk. "Ungrateful little twit, you should thank Felicity for allowing you to join her."
"Mummy, it is Penelope who is doing me a favour!"
"Favour? Look at the sight of her," Their mother scoffed and chuckled darkly as her eyes scanned Penelope's figure. "If we don't fix this now, she won't so much as catch the eye of a deprived elderly man," Her mother and Felicity looked at Penelope, all while she kept her eyes fixated on the gentle, yet scowling face on the woman in front of her.
All words that Penelope had heard before. Every single word uttered, repeated over and over again in her mind at night like a broken record. She deserved this, didn't she?
"I think I have heard quite enough now," The woman in front of her gripped her golden cane, smacking it against the table and drawing the Featheringtons' attention as she rubbed her temples.
"Ma'am, I assure you that your daughter's weight will not hinder her time here at this camp as we have discussed in length before," Her sudden response drew Penelope out of her demoralizing thoughts.
"Miss Danbury," Mrs. Featherington's tone turned warm and soft, addressing the elder as if she hadn't heard her verbally lash her daughter in front of her. The tone her mother used to bring towards her side, "I am so sorry you had to hear me talk to my pups like that. Penelope is quite the handful, you will see,"
A stern eyebrow raises as she gently removes Portia's hand from Penelope's wrist, her eyes widening at the red fingerprints embedded against the pale white skin. Her tone darkens as she steps face-to-face with Portia, smiling menacingly, only for Portia to take a few steps back.
"We will see indeed! However, I do truly find children reveal their best selves with the right mentor. Don't you think so, Mrs. Featherington?"
This was the first time Penelope had never seen her mother stunned by a simple statement; Portia's eyes widened as she flicked open her fan, flailing that she almost dropped the elaborate bejewelled fan. Quickly hiding her face behind it, but not before Agatha Danbury could see her swallow. The heat rushed to her cheeks as she nodded bashfully.
"Then I shall leave them in your much more competent hands, Miss Danbury." She swiftly lands a quick peck on each of her daughter's cheeks before turning on her heels in a rapid dash back to the car, ushering her two oldest back into their minivan and speeding out of the parking lot, leaving the smell of burnt rubber and skid marks in their wake. It was the instant that when she confirmed her mother was out of sight, Penelope looked up and met the gaze of Agatha Danbury for the first time.
Her warm and gentle chocolate brown eyes shone down a warmness so familiar to the sun that she felt she had never seen before, framed with smiling wrinkles as a hand reached out to each Featherington child in what Penelope could say for the first time was pure happiness.
"Thank you; you did not have to do that; she is only going to retaliate harder,"
Her laughter was so free and genuine despite her many years as her scent bloomed around the children. Summer rain and water lilies with every single chuckle as Felicity and Penelope took her hands and she led them to her side as her staff took over the registration desk.
"I would like to see her try, deary. That woman is no more than a plucked petal off a withering flower to me, Penelope. Your mother is not as you see her, she is neither strong nor weak, just weak-willed, the person you see is just her trying to hide behind a mask."
Her eyes crinkled up as if she was secretly laughing on the inside, tilting her head to the side. Was she serious? The thought filled her with a sense of curiosity pausing to examine Miss Danbury's face. It was before her mind could truly comprehend the words she spoke,
"Then might I ask what mask you hide behind?"
The first thing that appeared was a glimmer that seemed to grow in the older woman's eyes as she seemed to stand taller without relying on her cane. The smile that danced across her lips as her shoulders pushed back, proud and confident.
"My dear, I shed mine a long time ago...now I am a woman who just does not give a single fuck anymore, maybe this summer I shall teach you how to craft one?"