It had been a month.

And yet, the breeze felt the same, the sun felt the same. The rain was just as warm. A month of tarrying about in a bit of a haze…

For Charlotte Heywood had changed a great deal, yet had remained inert in her melancholy. She hid it well, all things considered.

Willingden was just as she had left it some months ago. And its constancy was some comfort to her.

But that same permanence also gave her pain, for she was different, and she resented the sameness. She wanted to be living as she had been, without the constraint of daily life with ten siblings and a house to tend to.

Yet here she was.

And the worst of it, she felt utterly alone.

It was a curious thing, what with ten siblings to fill your time, along with two parents, various servants, and a household, to feel so alone.

All the same, so it was.

Charlotte was walking along, deep in thought. The grass was taller, so there was that. She ghosted her palm along the tops of the grass, feeling the tickle on her skin. She was experiencing the same numbness that had plagued her since leaving Sanditon. And she was at a loss as to how to change it.

She walked back to the house after turning about the meadow several times and wanting some refreshment.

A few of her sisters were in the garden adjacent to the house, and she approached them. "What is it you're doing, lovelies?" she knelt beside them.

"Picking flowers for the table. Mother said to gather some for dinner. We're to have a guest," Liliana picked some yellow posies.

"A guest?" Charlotte looked at Allison, the sister closest to her age.

"It's what mother said," Allison shrugged her shoulders. "Catherine! Not those…they're not fully grown yet!" she admonished the youngest.

Charlotte went inside. The Heywood's did not often enjoy the company of guests. Though the house was comfortable enough, people did not come calling on them. Ordinarily, it was a few of her siblings, and perhaps her mother, who went to friends' houses or balls.

Father barely left but to go to London.

She walked into the parlor to find her mother arranging some flowers and talking to the cook. "He said he'd be here but two nights, but who knows with young men? Best we prepare for the week," she nodded as the cook left.

"Mamma, who is visiting?"

"Oh! Charlotte! I am so glad you are come. I did not wish to disturb you on your walk," she went to her oldest daughter. "This letter came with the post just a short while ago," she handed it to her.

Dear Ms Heywood,

I am writing to alert you and your daughter Miss Charlotte Heywood of my arrival in Willingden this evening. I am only planning on staying a short while, a night or two, but I met Miss Heywood during her time at Sanditon, and have been anxious to see her again.

I must not dally too long, as I'll be needed in London.

Yours sincerely,
Mr James Stringer

"Mr Stringer," Charlotte breathed, a small smile on her face.

"Yes. Is he a pleasant young man?"

"He is. He is the finest man…" she almost said Of my acquaintance, but that would not be true, and Charlotte was not in the habit of uttering falsehoods. "He is a very amicable young man." There. That was perfectly true.

"Is he…?" her mother began. "Well, never mind. Let's prepare the house for his impending arrival."

Charlotte nodded and began issuing requests to the maids. They only had a few. One butler. Two cooks…

But they were not destitute, not in the slightest. Father ran a tight ship. He had to, with eleven children. Six of which were girls.

She was the second oldest. Her brother Charlie was two years her elder; though she loved him very much, she sometimes wondered at his unwillingness to grow up. Allison, her younger sister by one year, she was very close with. But it was John, the next in line, almost three years younger than Charlotte, whom she loved most dearly. She played with him tirelessly when they were little.

And they maintained a steady, close friendship. In fact, the four oldest of the lot were quite close in general, for they were expected to do most of the work. And so, they took care of the seven younger children as they came…the gap was most large between John and the twins, Lilliana and Caroline; five years separated them. Though Charlotte would never speak such a thought to her parents, she questioned to herself the wisdom of having such a brood after the first four. It seemed as though there was a lull, and then consecutive children every year or two for ten years.

She busied herself that afternoon with chores, mostly to help the maids with the cleaning, in anticipation of Mr Stringer's arrival. She did not want to discuss what had been plaguing her mind for the month since her departure, and rather hoped it wouldn't come up. She hadn't discussed much of what she experienced in Sanditon, save the little she divulged to John, and the even smaller bits to Allison.

No one knew his name. She hadn't uttered it at all. Not even to herself.

It soon came upon eventide, and Charlotte went to hers and Allison's room to ready herself. "Well, Charlotte. Is this the young man who has inspired all of your melancholy since your return?"

"Melancholy?" she changed out of her dress and put on a dinner frock.

"Come, Charlotte. John and I aren't blind, you know."

"Have you been discussing things with John?"

"Of course. I figured whatever you didn't tell me, you told him."

Charlotte paled as she looked at Allison. "Can you help me?" she turned so that her sister could fix her dress in the back."Whatever John has told you, it was meant for his ears."

"Well, we've been concerned. As has mother. Even the twins have noticed."

She cleared her throat. "It's not him," she said softly.

"It's not?"

Charlotte shook her head. "No," and she turned. "I doubt very much that you'll ever meet him. It simply cannot be."

"Is he married, sister?" Allison's voice was soft and tender.

"I'm not certain. Perhaps, at this point," and her voice caught. Her eyes welled…it was the first time she had been explicit, for even John only knew that a young man had been part of the source of her mood. And she felt her honesty choking her. "But Mr Stringer is a most welcome guest. He is a fine young man. I believe he's in London now, working as an apprentice for an architect."

"That's exciting," said Allison, smiling. Allison Heywood was a pretty woman, though not so much as Charlotte. She was a good deal more vapid, too. It was her overt femininity which recommended her. She sang, she played, she drew…she had many talents which she was able to showcase in company. Allison always had many admirers, and since she was now one and twenty, she was sure to be receiving offers soon.

Charlotte played, sang but little, and drew not at all. She was to be found in the garden playing cricket with John or learning to shoot. Or learning practical things, or reading books. She'd also taken to writing. "Is it?" she winked at Allison. "He's very handsome, you know."

"I'll make my own mind up," returned she, and Allison put her necklace on.

They went downstairs to find that Mr James Stringer had just arrived. He stood and bowed to the ladies. Charlotte went to him, and took his hands. "Mr Stringer. I am so pleased you've come to Willingden," her smile was broad and genuine.

"It's my pleasure, Miss Heywood," he nodded, returning her smile. "I've missed Sanditon while in London, but the thing I've missed most has been here."

"Well," she took her hands, feeling a bit ill at ease. "At any rate, I'm happy you are here."

"Let's all sit, shall we?" Ms Heywood declared.

The company sat, all smiling at Mr Stringer. It was uncomfortable for a moment.

"Tell us about London, Mr Stringer," said Charlotte.

"James, please," he nodded.

"James," she swallowed. She wasn't altogether comfortable with this familiarity…even though she had known him for a fashion, it wasn't as though…"How is London treating young proteges?"

"Well. London is going well. I think that it is something that improves on exposure. However, I cannot honestly say that it is a place I'd like stay indefinitely. I'd miss the sea air of Sanditon."

"Will you return, then?" asked Allison. "To Sanditon?"

"I'd like to very much."

Charlotte smiled at him. "No doubt they miss you."

"Yes. Some more than others, perhaps."

She did not know what he meant by this, so ignored the comment.

Dinner was a fine affair, with Mr Stringer determined to be pleased with everything. Father was taken with Mr Stringer. They exchanged stories of London.

Charlotte looked on, not knowing exactly what to make of it all.

Afterwards, Father retired to the parlor.

"Would you like to take a turn about the garden around the house?" asked James.

Charlotte looked at John, who was watching them. "Of course. John, would you join us?"

The three headed out, Charlotte in between them.

"Mr Stringer…tell me about my sister while she was in Sanditon," John, who was not as tall as James, but every bit as handsome, smiled at him.

"Would you be so guileless, John?" Charlotte laughed.

"Miss Heywood was only ever amiable. She was a constant joy to be around."

"Really?" John replied. "Charlotte was a constant joy be around."

"Don't sound so shocked, brother," she said with heat.

"Truth is, Mr Heywood, I found your sister to be the very best of the place after a spell. She was the reason for my ever having pursued a career in architecture."

"Is that so?" said John, as they headed down the lane. "Charlotte. You are something…"

"Mr Stringer…" she stopped, looking at him.

"James, please."

"Of course, I beg your pardon. James. Would you give my brother and I a few moments? Perhaps you might join my father in the parlor."

James bowed, then turned and went to the house.

Charlotte sighed, then turned to John. "Well?"

"What are you doing, Charlotte?"

"What do you mean?" she felt the blush rising on her face.

"I mean, that poor sod is in love with you. It's as plain as anything I've seen. Not that you aren't worthy of such admiration, but I'll venture to say that this is not the man who drove you from Sanditon."

She swallowed. "No," she said softly. "It wasn't."

"So you are not in love with Mr Stringer."

She felt awful. "No."

"I thought not. You should probably not lead him to false hope, Charlotte."

She couldn't disagree with that. Though she certainly hadn't experienced evidence of his regard, coming to Willingden to visit when he wasn't in the neighborhood, well. That was odd. "I'll speak with him and tell him that my heart has not changed where a certain gentleman is concerned."

"Does he know your man?" John clasped his hands behind him.

She turned and walked. "He does, yes."

"What's he like?" while they were quite close, he had known not to bother Charlotte about him. She was seldom disquieted about much, but this, he had witnessed more distress than he had ever seen previously. He thought it best to tread lightly.

"He's…" it gave her equal parts joy and sorrow to think of him. "He's reserved. But still, somewhat amusing. He's brave, and he is responsible. He is not selfish, indeed, he may be one of the most altruistic men I've known."

"What a pretty portrait. Is he handsome, along with all of these virtues?"

"He is," she said quite softly.

"Charlotte, I do not know what happened to you, but I am sorry for it. And I want my sister back so much that I'll do whatever I can to expedite that."

She smiled and turned to him. "Thank you, John," she sighed, stopping. "Perhaps we should go back now. I'll need to speak with Mr Stringer."

They arrived and found them all in the parlor, the twins prattling away at both Mr Stringer and their father.

Charlotte sat and listened to them.

Lilliana was a very handsome girl. At sixteen, she was as lovely as any woman who was out in the county. Caroline was handsome, too. As they were twins, they looked very much alike. But Lilliana's charms gave her continence an even more striking air. She had long, dark curls and wide, sparkling eyes. They were both very keen on joining society, rather desperate to escape the doldrums of managing a house and farm. Both were accomplished: they embroidered, played, sang; though none of these things did they do with vivacity. They seemed to do them out of a strange mix of boredom and competitiveness with their twin. As a result, neither one shone in their talent. But both were capable, and that seemed to be enough for both of them. In this, they were like Charlotte. Until someone remarked that Caroline's embroidery was as nice as they'd seen in the shop window, at which point Lilliana would rise to the piano forte to ensure her share of compliments.

They attempted often to join their older sisters, but were largely unsuccessful.

It wasn't because Charlotte and Allison did not like their sisters. On the contrary, they found them amusing, albeit somewhat frivolous (which both believed it had only to do with their age). But they could be loud, vying to speak over one another. And though both Liliana and Caroline were inseparable and loved each other dearly, they argued like a married couple twenty years on.

"I do long to see Sanditon, Mr Stringer," said Caroline with a wonder in her voice.

"It's quite something. Mr Tom Parker, after some hardships, has, I understand, been able to begin the rebuilding process."

"Rebuilding process?" John's brow furrowed, and he looked at Charlotte. "What caused it to fall?"

"A fire, sir. Did Charlotte not tell you?"

"Our sister has not divulged much since her return, Mr Stringer," said Allison, looking too at Charlotte.

"There was a fire," began Charlotte. "And much of what Mr Stringer and his men had been building and renovating was consumed by the fire."

"Oh how awful," exclaimed Allison. "Are you hoping to gain expertise in London and then bring it to Sanditon?"

"I imagine that that would be an end result of my apprenticeship, yes."

Charlotte took note of his non-committal response. "I'm sure everyone in Sanditon would be delighted to have you return, James."

"I'm certain that your presence would be welcome as well."

She blushed. The thought of returning to hear of Eliza Campion was not something she wished to subject herself to. "Perhaps," she shrugged.

"Well, it is a fine evening, is it not?" Charlie Heywood entered the room with the same vigor everyone was accustomed to from him.

"Charles, where have you been?" asked Ms Heywood.

"Off with some of the lads," and he took a cigar. Charlie was robust, tall, and boisterous. He wasn't altogether handsome, but no one complained about his looks. John, of the elder two brothers, was by far more attractive. But Charlie had an insatiable appetite for everything: sport. Drink. Ladies. Dance. He had no time to waste…it was as though he had a clock ticking in his mind with the time god had allotted him, and he meant to enjoy every last moment.

As a result, he was seldom at home. Charlotte thought that he needed to mature. While he of course should enjoy himself, he often left midday to have herself, John, and Allison tend to things. And the ladies who fancied him never struck him, it was always the ones who cared not one whit that he pursued. Like a game, he meant to win them, and once they had a long look at him, he was finished.

He wasn't a beast, but he teetered enough on that precipice to cause disquiet in his family.

He was now four and twenty, and Charlotte believed he needed to calm himself. She was beginning to tire of the whole of it. "Charlie, do sit and meet with Mr Stringer. He is all the way from London."

"London? Is that so?" he smiled, nodded, and sat. "And is that where you hale?"

"No sir. From Sanditon."

"Ah…yes! Where our dear Charlotte just recently arrived from. Is that how you come to be here? To visit with Charlotte?"

"Mostly, yes."

Charlie nodded. "He's a fine young man, Charlotte. He'll do nicely," he lit the cigar and sat back. "I should like to see some of this Sanditon myself. Are you to return there or to London directly?"

"Charles, really," admonished Charlotte. "You cannot simply invite yourself, nor should you make assumptions regarding Mr Stringer's visit. You do no service to yourself behaving in so presumptive a manner. Why should Mr Stringer want you for company after such a display?"

"Mr Stringer doesn't mind…do you sir?" Charlie looked at James.

"Not at all. If your sister might join us…"

Charlotte paled. "I have no intention of returning to Sanditon any time soon, Mr Stringer. But I thank you for your invitation."

"Perhaps we might work on changing her mind," said Charlie. "John, persuade her."

"I have learned not to interfere with Charlotte's resolve. It never does anyone any good."

Charlotte stood. "I think I'll go upstairs. There is a book I've been meaning to read. Mr Stringer, will we see you in the morning?"

"Yes, Miss Heywood. My plans are for a few days time here."

She nodded to the room and went upstairs.

She couldn't think of Sanditon now. She was rendered upset at the talk, and needed to escape. Her heart was beating very fast and she held herself after sitting on the edge of the bed.

Her regard for him had, if anything, intensified with absence. Perhaps she was building him up in her mind, but she couldn't help but dwell on how well suited they were, how he challenged her, and how, indeed, she challenged him. How much they had in common.

The loss she felt was acute.

And she couldn't help but wish that Mr James Stringer would leave sooner rather than later, for his presence, whether his fault or not, was a reminder of the empty feeling she could not rid herself of.

She hoped that Charlie wasn't scheming downstairs to get her to go to Sanditon.

And with that thought, she went to bed.