Our penultimate chapter in Sanditon! Next chapter will be Charlotte and the Dryden's farewell party, and then our tale will take us to new places :)
Charlotte woke at dawn on the Sunday morning of her last week in Sanditon. By next Sunday she would be back in the bosom of her dear Middlesmoor Abbey, and she could hardly wait to see it again. She had loved her time in Sanditon, it made her feel young and carefree once again, but the comforts of home beckoned, and she knew it was time.
She'd taken to sea bathing in the early mornings, and today she would have to be efficient so she could make it back to the village of Denham, a mile's carriage ride from Sanditon House, where there was a small Catholic parish. The Shannon family had been kind enough to take her and her children along to Mass with them, and she was grateful for the companionship of the Irish family. She knew James would have adored them too, probably more than any of her other old friends. He had a liking for those who weren't quite fashionable, or just on the cusp of society's acceptance. Theresa had shared her bed last night, and when Charlotte had rolled over, she almost had a pulmonary episode, Theresa looked so like James when she slept. The freckles across her nose from all the time spent in the sun, the incredibly thick eyebrows that always wore an expression of amusement, and the nearly raven black curls that tangled at her shoulders. Theresa had truly been her father's daughter, in looks if not in personality. Charlotte took care not to wake her daughter as she crawled out of bed and went to her looking glass to ready for her swim.
She bound her hair up in a special cap to keep it from getting wet in the sea, and donned the chemise she wore specifically for swimming. Some liked to bathe nude, but Charlotte never wanted to risk being caught unawares by a stranger, as she had come upon Sidney swimming so many years ago. She blushed, remembering her shock at seeing him like that. After securing a few linens to dry herself with, and her warmest cloak over the chemise, she took off for the beach. Thankfully, it was completely empty at this time in the morning. In the dunes she discarded her outer garments and shoes, making a pile in a discreet location away from passerby. As quickly as she could, she ran into the surf so as to overcome the shock of cold water.
Taking care not to swim too far from the coast, Charlotte allowed herself to float on her back while watching the sky's colors change. It was clearly going to be a bright, sunny day. Faint stars were disappearing, the blue lightened into a hazy hue, only to be overtaken by the pinks and oranges of sunrise. This was why Charlotte rose early, to bask in the glory of a sunrise. When she stared directly into the horizon, it would hurt her eyes and cause her to blink repeatedly. But looking directly above set her heart at peace. It reminded her of heaven, of God and of her dear James. It had been a sunrise such as this when James had proposed, and she had resolved to convert to his church to be with him. To her, this was the time of day when heaven and earth drew so close she could taste it, only to be swept away with the sunlight of morning, and she was forced to look at the glaring realities of life on earth. She loved her home, her place on earth as a woman. There was beauty everywhere. But nothing she saw compared to the rush of feeling and emotion she felt in the glory of dawn and sunrise. If she sought clarity, or the voice of God, an early morning was her solution.
And her resurfacing feelings for Sidney, for Sanditon, required contemplation. She truly had not been the same since she saw him at the ball for Jenny's wedding, and after the garden party her memories of their love only increased. Every look, every smile, laugh, was all sweet and reminded her of the time before. She knew that much longer in this place, and she would either fall in love again, or detest him. Love was something she was prone to, she loved easily and well. If she let herself, she would love Sidney again. That was why she came to swim this morning before Mass, to see where God led her about Sidney, yet all she could think of was James' proposal long ago.
It had been the first time she had visited Middlesmoor Abbey during their courtship. The old earl had invited the Dryden family for Christmas, which included James' mother and three sisters, who had brought Charlotte as their guest officially, but everyone knew she was James' sweetheart. Romance was impossible to avoid at the Abbey, and the main intrigue was not between James and Charlotte, but rather between the old earl and James' mother. Long ago, the old earl and his cousin had competed for the heart of the same lady, but in the end she chose the spare over the heir. The late Mr. Dryden had died before he could inherit the earldom, and therefore the next heir was his son James. Mrs. Dryden swore up and down that she had never been intimate with the earl, her husband's cousin, but their relationship was tender till the day he died. Charlotte delighted in watching them, for she had a soft spot for second chances, and long lost love. It was one of the things that endeared her to the Dryden family; their devotion. She knew from the moment she arrived at Middlesmoor that she belonged in such a clan.
On Christmas Eve, Charlotte had attended Midnight Mass with them, and though she had never been very religious before, was enamored of the candlelit ceremony. A few hours feasting and playing charades had turned into a dawn stroll alone with her beau. They walked atop the hill that rose behind the abbey, where one could see the estates and villages for miles and miles on a clear day. Bundled in cloaks and caps, she and James strolled on the ridge of that hill, the rosy light from the sunrise reflecting the way Charlotte felt in her heart. In love, healed from her first loss of romance, hopeful for the future. James had knelt before her and asked her to marry him then and there. She had tackled him to the ground in a heap of excitement, and stared at the sky, thanking heaven for her good fortune in love. It was that same sky she chased every morning she woke early, whether in Yorkshire, London, or now in the seas of Sanditon.
Charlotte jolted back to her surroundings, and saw the sun was yellow and creeping higher into the sky. She needed to be heading back to Sanditon House to dress for church and collect her children.
Set upon one of her linens in the dune, she dried herself off with another, watching the tides as she did so. Suddenly, a man appeared on the beach, going for a swim himself. It was Sidney, undoubtedly. Thank heaven she had left the water when she had, for her eyes showed her that Sidney was stark naked as he entered the water.
Was this a sign? She did not know what to make of it. It was certainly not unusual to see him swimming, as he surely did often, and this was his home, not hers. But for him to arrive when she'd just been thinking of her husband, and wondering whether she should open her heart again? She tried to think, to reason her way through this coincidence. Charlotte looked at her hands, which were wringing out her swimming cap, and when she looked at her fingers, she felt jolted by a supernatural message. And she knew that the answer she had sought, be it from God or James, had come to her. The answer lay on the third finger of her left hand.
Between that moment and when she and the children had boarded their carriage for church was a complete frenzy. A mother's time is never her own when she needs to get her children someplace, and her next hour was spent finding garters and settling fights over bonnets. Her peace was regained when all settled for their short carriage ride to St. Martin's-upon-the-Sea.
"What do you all think of the Parkers?" She asked abruptly.
"Mr. Tom or Sir Sidney?" Theresa clarified.
"Sir Sidney and his daughters."
Theresa sighed.
"I confess not to be as enthusiastic about them as when we first arrived. The girls can be quite fun, when they are in the right mood, but when they are not they're downright snobbish. The same goes for Sir Sidney." Theresa replied.
"Goodness Tere, aren't we straightforward." Charlotte laughed nervously.
"I learned from the best."
"I agree. At times Sir Sidney speaks to me like I was his own son, but then a mood seems to take him over and he's positively sullen." Anthony agreed.
"You agree with Theresa? A miracle." Junia interjected. Normally the two eldest fought like cats and dogs.
"He was like that as a young man, too." Charlotte mused. Changeable Sidney, he was extremely unpredictable to her.
"He's not Papa." Helen said quietly.
"No. No he isn't." Charlotte agreed softly, pulling her youngest into her lap. At 8, Helen was becoming a bit too big to be cuddled by her mother, and Charlotte knew Helen's bony legs would crease her dress, but did not mind.
"But they're generous to a fault, I'd say." Anthony added.
"How so?" Theresa asked.
"Ruth Babington was telling me this morning at breakfast that the Catholic chapel in Denham was built largely with donations from Sir Sidney. It seems when Jenny and David were courting they were worried about being married properly by one of our priests, and Sidney helped fund a place of worship for the Shannons."
"But Jenny and David were married in an Anglican service." Charlotte was puzzled. Sidney was giving, she knew.
"Only because Mr. Tom Parker insisted, so Ruth told me. But it was because of Sir Sidney that Tom gave his blessing after all." Anthony nodded in admiration.
"He loves you Mama." Helen whispered in her ear, but not quite soft enough that everyone else didn't hear.
"Where did you hear that?" Charlotte laughed nervously.
"On Friday. Marianne and Annabella Parker had brought over some old dresses for Kitty and I to play in." Helen began, Kitty being one of the Babington children near her own age.
"Yes?" Junia prompted, ever the nosy one.
"Well, Kitty and I had gone down to take a nap before supper, and the Parker girls were packing up to leave. Kitty fell asleep fast but I didn't, and I went to the door to listen to their conversation because I heard my name. They were talking about Mama and Sir Sidney, and how their cousins Jenny and Alicia were still girls when Mama lived here. And that Sir Sidney and Mama had been sweethearts. Then one day, Marianne had gone snooping through her father's things, and found an old letter to Mama which had never been sent. It was a love letter."
"Helen how could you keep this to yourself?" Theresa squealed, "Mama, you could marry Sir Sidney and recapture your lost love!"
"I thought you weren't as keen on him as you used to be?" Charlotte said through tight lips.
"Oh no, but this is positively romantic! Like something Lord Byron would write of." Theresa sighed.
"But there's more." Helen said meekly.
"Go on." Anthony urged, on the edge of his seat.
"They think of us similar to how we think of them. They dote on me, and think Anthony is good fun, but don't want their Father to court Mama again. They decidedly disapprove of Mama as a match."
Charlotte felt her heart sink. After so many years as a mother, and now as a widow, she knew the opinions of her children meant everything to her. She had no right to be disappointed over the Parker girls' opinions of her, for she and Sidney were not even courting. Nor did she know if she even wanted Sidney again, or if her memory was playing tricks on her heart.
"I want to be honest with you children, you are all I have in this world that matters. We are all we have left of your Father. Sir Sidney holds a special place in my heart, too. But I confess I do not feel ready to be with anyone after your father's death. What should I do? I desire your opinions on the subject."
"We can all see he cares for you." Theresa said.
"But he isn't Papa." Helen reiterated.
"Not now." Junia added.
"But that doesn't mean never." Anthony gave her a compassionate, hopeful look. It was like looking into her own face, but the expression he wore was all James.
Charlotte had felt a sign from heaven on the beach. But looking into her firstborn's face, she had confirmation of what she should do. It was permission to find love again, but permission to be gentle with her heart, to take her time. If the love Sidney had for her needed to be rushed, it was no constant love at all.