Chapter 11
"Let's review again," Genevieve said, making herself comfortable on a brown leather Chesterfield sofa next to Charlotte. They were sitting in Lady Worcester's library, the morning sun shining through a large window and casting their shadows across the room. "Hello."
"Bonjour," Charlotte answered, looking directly at Genevieve. She was determined not to peer at the notes in her lap. She had written three pages worth during the two hours she and Genevieve had spent together the evening before. While shopping and visiting the city landmarks earlier in the day, Genevieve would say something to herself in her native language, then translate when Charlotte did not understand what she meant. The idea of learning French piqued Charlotte's interest and she asked Lady Worcester if Genevieve could teach her how to speak it. Lady Worcester obliged. Charlotte knew she wouldn't become fluent overnight, but she would happily take whatever Genevieve was willing and able to offer. She wasn't quite certain what she would do with the new expertise she was acquiring, but she couldn't ignore the opportunity to learn something new.
"Goodbye," Genevieve continued.
"Au revoir."
"Thank you very much."
"Merci beaucoup."
"Can you speak more slowly please?"
"Pouvez-vous parlez…Pouvez-vous parlez plus..." Charlotte closed her eyes to shut out the room and hear herself saying the words. "Pouvez-vous parlez plus lentement s'il vous plaît?"
Genevieve grinned in approval. "Very good. You are a good student, Miss Heywood. You even roll your 'R's."
"Thank you! I practiced again and again before going to sleep last night."
"Indeed, French seems to come naturally to you," Lady Worcester said, appearing in the doorway. "I have several books in French on the third shelf behind the desk. Translations of The Illiad and The Odyssey. Voltaire. Rousseau. You are more than welcome to all of them."
Charlotte looked across the room at the kidney-shaped walnut desk and located the books with titles she could not read directly above it. "Oh, I am not close to reading entire books in French yet! Genevieve has been so kind and patient to teach me the few phrases I know."
Lady Worcester smiled. "You will be. It is only a matter of time." She turned to Genevieve. "Genevieve, I need you. It will only be for a few moments and then you may resume the lessons with Miss Heywood."
Genevieve quickly stood and made her way to her mistress's side. "Practice," she said to Charlotte. "I shall return shortly." Lady Worcester and Genevieve then left the room.
Charlotte nodded and began to recite words and phrases again without utilizing her notes. She glanced at the open door to ensure Genevieve wasn't near. Then she stood, placed her notes on the table beside her, and smoothed out her dress. In her mind, she was in France.
"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said aloud, pretending to address a French gentleman. "Je m'appelle Charlotte Heywood. Ravi de faire votre connaissance." She curtsied, and then wondered if it was proper to curtsy in France. She would have to ask Genevieve.
Suddenly self-conscious, Charlotte sat down again on the sofa. She did not want to appear as if she were mad. Practicing her French aloud was one thing; curtsying to an invisible person was another. She picked up her notes and began reciting again. Genevieve had given her the pronunciations for France's well-known cities. Lyón was pronounced Lee-own. Versailles was pronounced Ver-sye. Paris was pronounced Pah-rhee.
Charlotte stared at "Pah-rhee" and her stomach began to knot. In three days, Sidney would be married. He would leave shortly thereafter for Paris with Mrs. Campion, unless a miracle occurred at the dinner tonight to derail the wedding plans. Charlotte was not confident that a miracle was likely. She still had the utmost faith in Lady Worcester, but after seeing Mrs. Campion in the jewelry shop, she believed Mrs. Campion was determined to have a future with Sidney. It was also now possible that Sidney wanted a future with her as well.
Sidney had said that he did not love Mrs. Campion, but that was nearly a month ago. Since then, Charlotte had imagined them spending almost every moment together. Sidney may have rediscovered what he had loved about Mrs. Campion originally, especially after believing Charlotte was lost to him. Charlotte perceived Mrs. Campion to be as cultured and well-traveled as Lady Worcester. Charlotte was certain that Mrs. Campion knew if women curtsied in France and she was certain Mrs. Campion spoke French fluently. Surely, Sidney found those attributes more than suitable for a wife.
During the first few weeks of summer, Sidney had seemed unhappy to be in Sanditon. Charlotte supposed it was because he preferred to be in London, with his wealthy friends, Lord Babington and Mr. Crowe. She thought he yearned to be surrounded by men who were more sophisticated than the men living in Sanditon, and around women who were more worldly than those Sanditon had to offer. Women who possessed more enlightenment and refinement than Charlotte possessed.
Upon arriving in Sanditon, Charlotte had held her own. She had no servants on her farm like the Parkers did at their terrace, nor did she have more money than she knew what to do with like Lady Denham. But she had adapted quite well. Her parents had taught her all the proper customs in the event that she should make acquaintance with wealthier people one day. The London ball, however, was much different than Sanditon. Charlotte had never encountered so many wealthy people in one place, the women draped in silk dresses and jewels, the men smelling of wine and cigars. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she truly were in some place she did not belong. She told Sidney as much, and he suggested that he did not belong there, either. It was a reference to their argument in the carriage the night before while searching for Georgiana. Charlotte had said Sidney made great pains to remain unknowable to people; that he was an outlier. She was surprised he remembered her pointed observation and took his comment as a sign of understanding and reassurance that she belonged. Shortly thereafter he told her, "You are more than equal to any woman here." His words were so full of honesty and admiration. She believed he intended to reassure her this time, and she believed he wanted to build a foundation of trust with her. And then they danced together, and she believed he wanted more. Sidney had looked into her eyes as if he were seeking her soul. He held her gently yet ardently as if he had been waiting to hold her his entire life. In turn, she looked at him, memorizing the contours of his face, the fullness of his lips, and the stubble on his jaw. She pressed her hand into his and begged silently for him to hold it, always. For the entirety of the dance, it was simply her and Sidney, keeping time to a rhythm only they understood. Something had broken open inside her during that dance and rushed out, like water spilling over a fall. All summer, she thought she only wanted him to approve of her. She hadn't realized until that moment how much she wanted him to love her.
Then, the music stopped, and the dance ended. Sidney went to Mrs. Campion's side instantly upon seeing her across the room. Tom observed them and told Charlotte he had heard Mrs. Campion was widowed and that perhaps she and Sidney would have their chance together after all. Charlotte observed Sidney and Mrs. Campion, too. When Charlotte danced with Sidney, she finally felt as if she belonged at the ball. She felt she belonged with him. Now, the feeling of being an outsider had returned. Mrs. Campion was regal in her burgundy dress with her blonde hair swept up in a mountain of curls. She appeared to be where she belonged.
There was a reason Sidney had gone to Mrs. Campion at the ball. Perhaps it was merely the history they shared and nothing more. But there was also the reason that Sidney had asked Mrs. Campion to marry him when all his other attempts at saving Sanditon had failed. In her head, Charlotte knew it was because Mrs. Campion was wealthy. But in her heart, Charlotte wondered if that was all. She wondered if she had ever been enough for Sidney. She wondered if Lady Worcester's efforts were too late.
"Shall we proceed?" Genevieve inquired, entering the room again.
Charlotte's head abruptly turned. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard Genevieve come in. "Yes, yes, of course," she said, a little flustered. "I practiced more as you instructed. I think you'll be pleased with my progress."
"Merveilleuse! That means 'wonderful.' We can study for another hour and then I must help Mrs. Sullivan prepare for the dinner. Lunch will be ready for you and Lady Worcester at noon."
"Lunch in another hour? My, where has the morning run off to?" Charlotte wished they could study for the remainder of the day. Learning French was the perfect distraction; she wished to put off the dinner for as long as possible. Since leaving Sanditon, she had dreamt of nothing but seeing Sidney again. She had dreamt of their reunion and the bliss of being in his arms. Tonight would not be the reunion she had envisioned, and she most certainly would not be in his arms. She simply hoped to survive the evening with her dignity and her sanity intact.