"Charlotte."

"Yes?" her heart quickened. Something was amiss.

Sidney looked at her. "It's from Eliza."

"Oh," she blanched. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

"No stay," and he touched her arm, then swallowed. "Please."

Her face betrayed her, and she nodded. "Very well."

He looked around, then walked over to a stone bench and sat. His hands were trembling as he opened the letter. Sidney could not account for it…he wasn't certain what he would read at all…

Dearest,

Surely you remember Lady Bertram! We've met her at least once. She's a tall lady. Dark hair. She was speaking with Mister Leeds from Bath when we first came home from Sanditon. How curious that you should forget her!

Anxiously awaiting your return,

Eliza.

But then there was another note. He opened it…

Sidney,

I must beg your return as soon as you are able. Something of an extraordinary nature has occurred, but I am loathe to put it in a letter.

I know that you are scheduled to return on Sunday, but if you are able, return either Friday or Saturday. It really is most urgent.

Eliza.

His brow furrowed, then he handed them to Charlotte. Both were such abbreviated letters, neither were like her at all.

And what could possibly have occurred? He couldn't account for it.

As for Charlotte, she felt ill. What did it mean? "Well. It appears that you need to leave tomorrow," she handed the letters back to him.

"No. I'll leave Saturday. She gave me the choice," he took them from her. "I'll ask Mary if she can move the party to tomorrow evening."

"Is that wise? She sounds desperate."

"Eliza is often one to make something out of nothing."

"But she seems as though something truly awful has happened."

Sidney sat back. "Of course she does. She likely wasn't happy with my own letter. Not up to her standards of a proper letter," he nearly spat the words. "I'll not have her ruin this completely, Charlotte," he was impassioned. "I'll leave a day early, just as she suggested."

She swallowed. "Sidney…"

He smiled.

"She is your fiance. You should go to her."

"I will," he took her hand. "On Saturday."

Charlotte looked at him, then took her hand back. "What does she mean by it?"

"Who knows?" he shrugged.

She felt disconcerted by his dismissive reaction, yet also elated. "But this first letter…are you certain that you don't know Lady Bertram?"

"No. I cannot recall having ever met such a person."

"It's so strange."

"That it is," he said softly. He tore his gaze away. "Well," and he stood. "I must find Mary and ask her about the party."

"I should go as well," she stood. "My brother and sister are not in any fit state to remain here in company."

"We are such a lot," he remarked, then took her hand. "Until tomorrow," and he kissed it, then turned.

She should have stopped him.

But she had no desire to.


He didn't sleep that night. Mary, Tom, and he has stayed up rather late discussing moving the party as well as Eliza's letters. Not one of the three made sense to any of the Parker's. It became even more confounding when he told them that Lady Bertram was a midwife.

"Is it possible that she's …." Tom began. "Well…"

"In a delicate way?" supplied Mary.

"It is possible. But I wouldn't be the child's father," Sidney responded.

And Mary's eyes fell. "I'm sorry, Sidney."

"It's a logical conclusion. I'm not cross."

She sighed. "But all of this is ridiculous! What can she mean, being so cryptic?"

"I don't know," sighed Sidney. "It's truly baffling," he looked at Mary. "Might you move the party to tomorrow evening? I'll leave Saturday."

"Yes of course. But don't you want to return as soon as possible?"

"No. I'll return on Saturday. She offered that as an option."

Tom and Mary looked at one another. "It's not my business, Sidney, but…" began Tom.

"No it's not your business," interrupted Sidney. "So I'll ask you to keep your opinions to yourself," and he stood. "I understand your concern, however, I know what I'm doing. Please do not interfere," he swallowed, then bowed. "Good night."


Charlotte was fiddling with her napkin at breakfast. She was thinking that she'd be better off in Willingden. Why did she come? Her eyes welled slightly. She had subjected her most beloved siblings to such horrific heartache.

"Miss Heywood?" a soft voice sounded.

She looked up.

It was Mr Stringer. "Can I join you a moment?"

Charlotte swallowed. "Yes of course."

James Stringer sat down. "I wanted to speak with you about a very particular matter."

"All right," oh no…

"Charlotte! Mr Stringer!" Allison arrived. "How are you this morning?"

James glanced at Charlotte then smiled. "I'm quite well, Miss Allison. I understand that the party the Parker's are hosting has been moved to this evening."

"Has it?" Allison looked at Charlotte.

"Yes," smiled she. "It needed to be, for Mr Sidney Parker is called to London tomorrow instead of Sunday."

"Oh…" Allison looked crookedly at her sister.

Charlotte abruptly stood. "I'm going for a walk. Good morning," she nodded, and left them there.

She didn't want to discuss things, and she did not want to sit there alone with James Stringer. She had not idea what he had wanted to discuss with her, and she honestly did not want to find out.

Charlotte headed out to the shoreline. The morning was dawning peach and yellow…she reflected on the fact that she'd been at Sanditon for nearly two weeks. Half way through her stay.

She kicked at the sand. She felt small. It helped to think about things that way…for her problems often seemed to loom large in her mind. And though she knew that her problems were large to her in the moment, she also had the presence of mind to recognize that they would not always be so consuming.

She walked to the end of the immediate shoreline, then started back.

The breeze picked up behind her as she strode along. She sighed, trying to regain some semblance of herself.

She was in love with a betrothed man. Her sister was in love with a man who seemed to be on the verge of proposing to her.

It was not impossible that Sidney's fiancé was with child. His child.

And she felt absolutely ill.

A tear ran down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away.

Charlotte took a deep breath. She hadn't mentioned her concern to Sidney…she had no idea what she would say, anyway. It wasn't her business.

And she thought if it was…what rights did she have, being in love with someone? None. Not really. She had no real right to know things. She only could lament her own heart. Eliza Campion had all of the rights.

She stopped and looked out into the expanse of the sea. But neither did he, Sidney, have rights over her. She owed him nothing…

And a small part of her wanted to return to the hotel and listen to what James Stringer had to say. It would behoove her, in a way, to accept him should he propose. He was a promising young architect. He could offer her a nice life.

Except that Allison was in love with him, and she, Charlotte, was not.

The party was to begin at six. It would be a lifetime until then.


They walked to Trafalgar House in all but silence. Mr Stringer was joining them after dinner. Charlotte was glad for it. She reproved herself for ever considering marrying him; he, whom she did not love.

A part of her thought that she was really not in a position to refuse an offer, but also that she could, in theory, afford to. She was not that old. Nor that poor.

They entered the house and Allison and Charlotte hung their bonnets.

"Good evening!" exclaimed Tom Parker. "Miss Lambe is here already. Unfortunately, Lord and Lady Babington could not accommodate the day change, so we are only waiting on Mr Stringer…" he smiled broadly. "Please, come in…" They all followed him to the sitting room where Georgiana and Sidney were waiting.

Charlotte caught his eye. He smiled and went over to her. "Good evening, Miss Heywood. You look lovely."

"Thank you, Mr Parker. You appear to be well."

"I am now," he said softly.

She blushed.

"Can I tempt you with some wine and some air before dinner?"

"Oh…yes. That sounds lovely," Charlotte nodded, then looked at John. He was speaking with Georgiana animatedly. She smiled. He was very fond of her, she could see that plainly. Then she glanced at Allison…she was speaking with Mary. Her smile did not reach her eyes.

"Miss Heywood?" Sidney was next to her, holding two glasses of wine.

Charlotte took one. "Thank you," and she slid her free arm through his.

They walked out into the pale evening. The sun was low, but still lighting the sky enough so that the torches were not yet lit. Sidney walked over to the edge of the veranda, and sipped the wine. "I am a very selfish man, Miss Heywood," he was not looking at her. Instead, he was looking out into the falling dusk.

Charlotte sat on a bench behind him. "You've said."

He turned and smiled very quickly. "I know that you think that I'm not because of my altruistic behavior regarding Tom," he sat next to her. "But that is more of a habit and a debt. My brothers helped me some time ago. I am repaying them. Well…Tom, at any rate."

"A wicked man would not bother with repayment."

He chuckled. "You continue to be much too generous."

"You continue to paint yourself as some monstrous figure."

"Because…" he swallowed. "Because of what I am doing to you. It cannot be described any other way."

She lowered her gaze. "Mr Parker. What will happen?" she breathed.

"Happen?" he furrowed his brow, but she did not see.

"To us. To everyone."

"I have no means of reading the future, Charlotte. I only know that I love you, and I'm leaving tomorrow…"

She stared at him, swallowed, then drank her wine. "We should go in for dinner," and she stood.

Sidney followed.


Dinner was served not long afterwards, with James Stringer coming just as they all sat down. It was not a solemn affair. Sidney spoke mostly with Charlotte. They discussed their favorite meals. They talked about what they ate as children. Charlotte described helping with meals, while Sidney said he seldom did such a thing. "Your future wife may want some help here and there," she smiled.

"I do not wish to discuss her," he replied without feeling.

She blanched. She had only meant it in jest. "Forgive me, Mr Parker…"

"There is nothing to forgive. I simply don't want to think about my future wife."

Charlotte nodded. She glanced around, and Mr Stringer caught her eye. He smiled.

"There will be some music after dinner," said Mrs Parker to the company. "I do hope to have a very little bit of dancing."

"Mary, you know how I feel about dancing," said Sidney.

"Precisely why you should, if only a reel or two," she winked.

Charlotte laughed a bit, then put her fork down. "Excuse me," and she stood, then walked out into the night. She breathed deeply. It was a lovely night.

"Miss Heywood!"

She sighed.

Mr Stringer. She turned. "Hello, Mr Stringer."

"It is a lovely evening," he smiled.

"It is indeed."

"Dinner was lovely."

"Quite," she wondered how many more things were going to be lovely.

"Miss Heywood…we never competed our conversation this morning."

"No," she swallowed. "No we did not."

"Ah!" came a voice. "There you are," came Sidney Parker's voice.

She smiled. "Hello, Mr Parker."

"Miss Allison was just looking for you, Mr Stringer. It appears that the dancing is about to commence…and she was hoping you'd offer to dance."

"Oh," James shifted. "Very good," he turned to Charlotte. "We can continue later, then," and he bowed.

Sidney watched him leave. He was inclined to ask what he wanted, but didn't. He knew it would make her defensive, and that was the last thing he wanted…"It's a truly beautiful night."

"Yes. Mr Stringer had just made that same observation," she chuckled.

"Did he? And did he observe the beauty of his interlocutor?"

"No. He did not mention it," she blushed.

"Well, then. I'd say he's a fool."

"Come, Mr Parker. He is no such thing," she admonished.

"Isn't he?" he sounded accusatory.

"No. And Allison is in love with him, so he very well might become my brother."

"He desires a different sort of relationship, I believe."

"He may desire anything he wants. That does not mean it will happen," she replied with resolve.

He laughed out loud. "Oh, I do love you, Charlotte Heywood."

She smiled. "And I love you, Sidney Parker."

And that was all he needed. He went to her, took her face in his hands, and claimed her lips…

…and it was passionate, much more so than their first encounter. She sighed into his mouth as he played it open. He wrapped on arm rounder waist, the other hand went to the back of her head. Charlotte held onto his shoulders for purchase. It lazed on, he held her close, and they stayed that way until it became too much.

Charlotte pulled away, her mouth swollen, her eyes heavy. "Mr Parker…" she whispered.

"Please, Charlotte," he breathed. "Let us…" he swallowed. "Let us return. We can enjoy the rest of the evening."

She nodded, and followed him back inside, a sort of haze blanketing her.

And they danced long after the torches were extinguished, and everyone was long too tired to continue.

Mr Stringer and Allison left for the hotel, and John walked Georgiana home.

"I'll walk you, Miss Heywood," said Sidney.

She nodded.

They took the shoreline back, their fingertips touching. They did not speak. The moon was low, casting a light over the sand.

When they reached the hotel, Sidney stopped, and took her hand in his. "Charlotte…I'm sorry about all of this. Please know that I shall love you always."

"And I, you," two tears slid down her face. "I shall never forget you."

"I should hope not," he smiled, and touched her cheek.

Sidney Parker rubbed his thumb across her cheek, then dropped his hand, and turned away.

And Charlotte watched as he left her there. She turned and walked into the hotel, up to the room, where she heard Allison pretending to be sound asleep.