Chapter 4
Sidney sat in the dark parlor of his home, exhaling the smoke from a thin cigar. The house was quiet. Mrs. Campion had departed in the early evening after spending hours with her soon-to-be nieces and nephews. Mary, Tom, and the children had all turned in for the night. He was thinking of Charlotte, though he knew he shouldn't. Was she awake? Or was she in the midst of sleep? If she were sleeping, was she dreaming beautiful dreams?
He heard footsteps and then saw the light from an oil lamp appear. "Sidney?" Mary asked in the direction of the faint orange glow of his cigar in the room.
"Yes, it's me, Mary. I thought you had retired for the night."
She placed the lamp on a table and sat next to him on the settee. "I couldn't sleep. All the excitement of the day, perhaps." Mary looked at her brother-in-law. He sat stock still, his legs crossed. His only movement was the occasional touch of the cigar to his mouth, followed by smoke leaving his mouth in faint wisps. He did not turn to look at her. They sat in silence for a long while, Sidney staring at everything and nothing. Mary had turned to do the same, unsure if she should inquire about his mood. She could tell he was frowning, his jaw set tight save for the cigar extending from the corner of his mouth.
"Have you heard from her?" he finally asked, his voice weary.
Mary thought it best to answer him honestly. "Yes, I received a letter last week."
"All is well?"
"Yes. She misses us. The children. Even Lady Denham. She says it's been difficult adjusting to her life again at the farm. The sea is miles and miles away now. She had become so accustomed to walking on the beach. I have written her back, telling her all is well with us. I thought it best not to mention the wedding."
"Yes, that is probably best." Sidney had considered unburdening himself to Mary before now but had ultimately decided against it. After all, what good would it do? His fate had been sealed. But the words began leaving his mouth without his mind giving approval. "I nearly proposed to her."
Mary turned to him again, horror etched into her face.
"At the Midsummer Ball," he continued. "If that lecherous fool Edward Denham hadn't burst in, I would have asked for her hand. It is just as well, I suppose. The engagement would have been broken soon thereafter."
"Sidney—"
He couldn't let her finish. "What's done is done, Mary. Mrs. Campion and I will be married Friday." He stood and discarded the remnants of the cigar, snuffing it out in a tray. "Good night."
Mary stared after him, unable to stop herself from shaking. This was much worse than she imagined. She knew Sidney cared for Charlotte but to nearly propose marriage! And to have that opportunity taken away by the terrace fire. For the longest time, she had thought she was the only one bearing the burden of Tom's dream. She had felt Tom spent more energy on turning Sanditon into a seaside destination than on his relationship with her and the children. Then it was revealed at the cricket match that the laborers were not being paid. Now, she knew for certain that her husband's negligence had led Sidney to this point, a point from which there was no return.
"How many more will suffer, Tom?" she whispered to herself. "How many more?"
Lady Worcester's carriage rolled through a massive iron gate with the initial "W" in the center and stopped in front of her two-story brick home. It was dark now. Charlotte and Lady Worcester had traveled all day to make haste and arrive in London at a reasonable hour.
"Good evening, my lady," Lady Worcester's butler said, greeting them and ushered them inside.
"Good evening, Mr. Thomas," Lady Worcester replied. "Good evening, Mrs. Sullivan." A woman of about forty, with hazel-colored eyes and light brown hair pulled back in a chignon, hurried to greet them as well in the great hall.
"Lady Worcester, it's wonderful to have you home," Mrs. Sullivan said. "How were your travels?"
Lady Worcester smiled and looked at Charlotte. "Tiring but quite successful. Mrs. Sullivan, this is Miss Charlotte Heywood. Charlotte, this is Mrs. Sullivan. She is my housekeeper."
Charlotte bowed her head. "It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Sullivan."
"It's lovely to meet you as well." Mrs. Sullivan turned to Lady Worcester. "Ma'am, supper will be served when you are ready."
"I shall revive myself first," Lady Worcester responded. "Would you be so kind as to show Charlotte to her room?"
"Of course, Ma'am. Miss Heywood, this way."
Charlotte dutifully followed Mrs. Sullivan through the front hall and up a curved staircase. Charlotte attempted to not gape at the grandeur of the house, but it was very difficult. She clung to a wood handrail that gleamed in the light of oil lamps. Tapestries with scenes of forests hung on the walls. And Charlotte's room was three times the size of the one she had at the Parkers' terrace, with a mahogany four-poster bed in the center and bird-patterned Chinoiserie wallpaper the color of the sky. She sat down on the bed and reveled in its comfort. This was one of the reasons she had come with Lady Worcester. She had left her family once again for the unknown, not simply because she wanted to reunite with Sidney, but also because she wanted adventure. She wanted to meet interesting people and explore interesting places. She wanted to dress in beautiful clothes and dance in her favorite blue shoes. She wanted a room of her own. At least, for a little while. If Lady Worcester's plan came to pass, Charlotte would be sharing a home with Sidney. But Charlotte would think about that tomorrow. Tonight, she would enjoy being in Lady Worcester's home, surrounded by exquisite things.
Charlotte spent the next few minutes unpacking with the help of, Emaline, a maid Mrs. Sullivan summoned to help. She did not bring a great amount of clothing since Lady Worcester said whatever she needed could be bought in London. In fact, shopping was the first item on the agenda for tomorrow. After Emaline hung Charlotte's two dresses in the wardrobe, Charlotte commenced with refreshing herself by washing her face and Emaline assisted her in combing through her hair.
"Will you need me for anything else, ma'am?" Emaline asked.
"No, thank you," Charlotte answered.
At that moment, Mrs. Sullivan called from outside Charlotte's door. "Miss Heywood, are you ready for supper?"
Charlotte opened the door and smiled. "Yes." She followed Mrs. Sullivan again down the stairs and into the dining room. Sumptuous gold damask wallpaper covered the walls from the ceiling to the floor and polished wood furniture filled every corner. Lady Worcester was waiting at the head of a long Chippendale table richly appointed with crystal glassware and blue and white china. The aroma of roasted duck, salmon, and vegetables awakened Charlotte's hunger and made her mouth water. She did not realize how famished she was until she sat down.
"Did you find everything to your liking?" Lady Worcester asked as Mr. Thomas filled her glass with wine.
"Yes, the room is delightful!" Charlotte said. "I am certain I will sleep most restfully tonight." She thanked the servant for pouring wine in her glass and then asked, "Susan, exactly how many servants do you have?" The maid serving the food, Beatrice, was the seventh servant she had seen thus far, including the coachman and two footmen.
"Altogether ten. The house requires quite a bit of care. I am not interested in living in a terrace and sharing walls with people, however. My husband wanted to be closer to town when he was searching for land to build the house ten years ago. He enjoyed having the city within reach. I did not. There were too many people then and certainly too many now. I fancy London, do not misunderstand. But I am much more partial to being on the outskirts of the city."
"What was your husband like?" Charlotte asked. Lady Worcester still had barely spoken of him on their journey from Willingden.
Lady Worcester paused thoughtfully before answering. "Gregarious," she said. "He loved balls. Not to dance, mind you. He was a terrible dancer. He loved conversation about frivolous things—who was hosting the next ball, who owned the most coveted racing horses. We were not suited for each other in that way. I was most happy at home alone with a book." She smiled and wrinkled her nose at Charlotte, a nod to their shared love of reading.
"And you never wanted to marry again?" A servant spooned the duck and asparagus onto Charlotte's plate.
"No, I have no need. I have money. And I have no desire to marry simply to be married."
"What about love? Do you not feel you could love another?"
Lady Worcester sipped her wine and placed the glass slowly back on the table. "I could not love another as I loved William. I suspect the same is true for you and Mr. Parker."
Charlotte weighed Lady Worcester's assessment. It was true: only Sidney had aroused such fervent emotion in her. She did not think another man ever could. While in Willingden, as the days stretched into weeks, she had to confront the possibility that she would marry at some point, and she might indeed love her husband, but that love would pale in comparison to what she felt for Sidney. A marriage devoid of passion was not what she wanted, but she had thought she was resigned to that destiny until Lady Worcester arrived.
The women continued to talk about Lady Worcester's life in London, and art, music, and books. Charlotte ate until her appetite was sated, but she found the small cakes and pastries for dessert irresistible. She was nibbling on a cake as Mrs. Sullivan came into the room and handed Lady Worcester a sheet of paper.
"The guest list as you requested, Ma'am," Mrs. Sullivan said.
"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Sullivan," Lady Worcester replied, taking the paper and looking it over. "Charlotte, how many Parkers are there again? Just the adults, not the children."
Charlotte was unsure why Lady Worcester was asking the question. "Well, there's Mr. Tom and Mary Parker, Mr. Arthur and Miss Diana, and Sidney of course. Why do you ask?"
"I'm confirming the guest list for my dinner." Lady Worcester turned to Mrs. Sullivan. "Mrs. Campion, good. And Lord and Lady Babington. Excellent. Everyone else on the guest list is fine. Twenty people altogether." She returned the list to Mrs. Sullivan and the housekeeper said she would complete the menu in the morning.
"What dinner?" Charlotte inquired, feeling slightly alarmed as Mrs. Sullivan left the room. She did not think she heard Lady Worcester correctly. The guest list included the Parkers, Mrs. Campion, and the Babingtons?
"I'm hosting a dinner Wednesday evening to celebrate Mr. Sidney Parker's engagement to Mrs. Campion," Lady Worcester responded matter-of-factly.
"What?" Charlotte said, her eyes now nearly as large as the dessert plate in front of her.
Lady Worcester was undisturbed by the shock on Charlotte's face. "It's something I've really been meaning to do, to welcome Mr. Parker officially to London society. I was very busy before my trip to Venice and as you know, I've just returned."
"You do not expect me to be here for the dinner, do you?"
"Well, of course, I do. Where else would you be? You are my guest."
Charlotte could not speak. Lady Worcester had said that Charlotte would possibly see Sidney and Mrs. Campion. But the notion of not just seeing Sidney again but seeing him and celebrating his engagement to Mrs. Campion was more than she could bear. "Susan, I...I do not think—"
"It will be fine," Lady Worcester told her. "While we are out shopping tomorrow, we must find you a dress for the dinner."
"But, the Parkers," Charlotte continued, suddenly very reluctant to go shopping or anywhere else in London. "Tom and Mary. They will wonder why I didn't tell them I was coming to London."
"I only just invited you today, remember? There wasn't time to send a letter."
Charlotte nodded slowly, trying to come to terms with all of this. After a few moments, and more wine to calm her nerves, she supposed the explanation made sense: Lady Worcester requested that Charlotte come to London for a visit because she enjoyed Charlotte's company. Charlotte agreed and because the decision had been made so hastily, sending a letter to the Parkers hadn't been possible. It was almost as if Lady Worcester had not spoken of a plan, Charlotte mused. It was almost as if there was nothing untoward about her presence in London at all.
And while the dinner seemed to be an outrageous idea, Charlotte had grown to trust Lady Worcester. She was grateful for having met her at the ball in London. After spending time with Lady Worcester at the regatta and traveling from Willingden, Charlotte now regarded her as cherished friend. She simply wished she had more answers about what was to come.