Chapter 18

As the carriage rolled through the streets of London toward Mrs. Campion's home, Sidney concluded that he was sitting across from a stranger. He had known Mrs. Campion for ten years, but he had finally admitted to himself that he had never truly known her. She was born and bred on the outskirts of London, the only daughter of a cheese monger. The moment Sidney saw her he was smitten. He and Tom had ventured to London to visit a few of Tom's former schoolmates, and the schoolmates invited the Parker brothers to a dance. Mrs. Campion, then Miss Ashley, was at the dance with her parents, looking for a husband like the other young women present. Sidney had not been searching for a wife that evening—he was just eighteen—but the sight of Miss Eliza Ashley changed his mind.

Sidney's eyes fell upon her and the dogwood pink dress she wore, and the rest of the room faded from view. Miss Ashley met his gaze and with a coquettish smile, further inflaming his ardor. He quickly made her acquaintance and saved all his dances for her. When he left London and returned home, he wrote her letters every day. He sent her jewelry such as gold necklaces and carnelian bracelets, because he wanted her to have beautiful things and because he knew she could not afford them. Her father owned his own shop and her mother worked as a housekeeper, but her family was not wealthy. Miss Ashley answered those letters with expressions of affection and gratitude, and requests for more jewelry, if he would be so kind. Sidney obliged but knew he could not continue to rely on his parents' money. He would need to earn his own income because two months after meeting her, he had proposed to Miss Ashley and she had accepted.

Sidney had heard that the importing and exporting business was very profitable, and Mr. George Campion was highly experienced in the industry. Mr. Campion was based in London. He was in his late thirties, a recent widower, and very wealthy. Sidney hoped to amass a fortune as large as Mr. Campion's, to provide his fiancée a comfortable lifestyle. After meeting Mr. Campion on a warm afternoon in June and sharing his desire to become as skilled as Mr. Campion, Sidney was rewarded with Mr. Campion's tutelage. Mr. Campion told Sidney he was impressed with Sidney's ambition, but he sought to quell Sidney's enthusiasm to learn the industry swiftly. Sidney explained his eagerness was due to his impending marriage. Mr. Campion said that he understood; he had grown very fond of his wife, Audrey, and felt the void of her presence after she died of tuberculosis. Mr. Campion urged patience and admonished Sidney: a man did not become successful in business by acting first and thinking later.

Sidney had introduced Miss Ashley to Mr. Campion a couple of weeks following their engagement and all three had dined together several times at Mr. Campion's home. Miss Ashley had discussed the wedding preparations at length during one of the meals. She had said she was looking forward to becoming Sidney's wife. But that was the first of her many lies, Sidney soon realized. Ten days before the wedding, Sidney was completely aghast when Miss Ashley announced she would be ending their engagement and marrying Mr. Campion. When she told him of her change of heart, he could not contain his fury. He demanded to know how Mr. Campion came to propose. When did Mr. Campion begin to court her? When did she say yes to his proposal? Why did she say yes? Miss Ashley refused to provide the particular details and replied that Mr. Campion was offering her an opportunity to be respected in London society. It was an opportunity that Sidney could not immediately provide.

Sidney had heard all he needed to hear. The first woman he had ever loved, and the man who he so admired and wished to emulate, had betrayed him. How dare Miss Ashley profess to love him and then put an arrow into his heart! How dare Mr. Campion court her knowing she was engaged to his protégé! Mr. Campion had no honor, no decency, and Sidney told him those very words before he struck Mr. Campion's face with his fist. The next few hours, days, and weeks were a cloudy memory. Sidney was drunk most of the time, and when he wasn't drunk, he gambled excessively in every London tavern he could. Tom finally intervened when Sidney's debts amounted to nearly two thousand pounds. Tom paid off his brother's debts and encouraged Sidney to stop drinking. He said there would be another woman for Sidney; he would learn to love again. But only if he became the kind of man a respectable woman would want. Sidney did not believe Tom. He did not believe he would love again. He did not wish to love again. Everything he had believed about love, including that it was pure and unselfish, had been shattered like a broken crystal glass. He wanted no part of falling in love ever again. Sidney, deciding it was too painful to remain in London and not desiring to go back home, left England. He explained to his worried family that a man of his young age should see the world. Sidney did not reveal that he believed there was little else than traveling to strange, new places to look forward to.

As Sidney grew older, and his years abroad helped to close his wounds, he relented in his opposition to love. There were times he wanted the affection and compassionate counsel of a wife so badly he thought he would go mad. Yet, the desire wasn't enough for him to act. He had met young women, but none of them captivated him. He had vowed, somewhere between his first bottle of whiskey and his tenth in the weeks after his engagement ended, never to marry for money. He understood that was the way society was, but the idea of marrying a woman solely for her fortune was abhorrent. He would not be like Eliza Ashley.

The irony of his situation was not lost on Sidney as the horses trotted along, their hooves clomping on the ground. Remembering when he saw Mrs. Campion at the dance in London and their conversations during the remainder of the evening and a good part of the next day, he wanted to believe she had changed. She had apologized for hurting him so deeply. She blamed her actions on being young and foolish. She said she had never loved Mr. Campion. In fact, she had only ever loved Sidney. She still loved him, even though ten years had passed. Sidney noted at the time that she did not ask for his forgiveness, but he was so enamored with their past that it did not matter. The feelings he had developed for Miss Charlotte Heywood did not matter, either. He thought he had finally been granted happiness.

However, as Sidney spent more time with Mrs. Campion, he realized she had become enraptured with being wealthy. She was no longer the kindhearted young woman he remembered. She looked down upon anyone who had less money than her. She gossiped incessantly. She shopped tirelessly. Her life had become all about accumulation: accumulation of things, of property, of people who thought and behaved similarly to how she thought and behaved. All the while, Sidney longed for Charlotte and her straightforwardness, her impartiality, and her grace. Sidney's eyes were fully opened to the stark contrast between Mrs. Campion and Charlotte at the regatta when Mrs. Campion intentionally insulted Charlotte. Sidney tried to explain Mrs. Campion's comments to Charlotte by saying they were in jest, but he knew better. He wondered if Mrs. Campion had always been this way, and if he had just been too blind to see it when he was eighteen. She had caused him a terrible amount of pain then and seemingly had not cared. He had witnessed her doing the same to Charlotte.

The night of the regatta, it was a relief when Sidney told Mrs. Campion his feelings for her had changed and that he would remain in Sanditon rather than traveling back to London with her. He no longer had to hide his disdain for and his distrust of her. Just a week later, however, he was forced to ask for her hand in marriage because could not secure the funds needed to repair the terrace. He had thought perhaps he could learn to care for her again, but tonight's events made it clear that would never happen. At one time, he could not have imagined her placing a dead mouse in a box with the intention of frightening a woman she did not like. Now, it was highly probable that she had done so, despite her protestations to the contrary.

"Well, I hope you are proud of yourself," Mrs. Campion said. "I asked you not to embarrass me any further and you ignored my request. Have you any idea of what I endured after you left the drawing room? Lady Worcester's noble guests, staring at me and wondering silently why my betrothed had rushed to the rescue of another woman. And what a rescue it was! Cradling Miss Heywood on the floor as if she were an injured child. Raising your voice for a servant to bring a towel. Tending to her arm as if you were a trained doctor. You seemed insistent on humiliating me this evening."

"Did you place the mouse in Miss Heywood's box?" Sidney asked quietly.

Mrs. Campion continued as if she had not heard him. "I deserve an explanation, Sidney. I deserve to know why you believed it was appropriate to behave in such a manner. Those people are the beau monde of London! How will I face them again after what you have done?"

"Did you place the mouse in Miss Heywood's box?" Sidney repeated, determined to learn the truth.

"No," she finally rebutted. "As I told you before, there was a necklace in the box when I arrived. You saw me give the box to the butler. How precisely, then, would I have placed a mouse in the box? I was in either the drawing room or the dining room the entire evening."

"Perhaps you arranged for someone else do it."

Mrs. Campion's face was now contorted with outrage. "The notion that I would arrange for someone to do such a thing is preposterous! Sidney, I had begun to question your soundness of mind when you spoke so disrespectfully to your brother at the dinner. It appears that I must question your loyalty to me as well. I have never been accused of such treachery, and to have the accusation come from you of all people."

"Why is it so shocking for me to accuse to you? It is not as if you have not deceived me before."

Sidney's eyes were fixed on Mrs. Campion's and he saw her body still.

"I do not know—"

"Do you not remember? How you and Mr. Campion plotted to marry behind my back? How you allowed me to believe for weeks that you were devoted only to me? That you wished to have a future with only me?" Sidney had not mentioned how much he still hurt from her betrayal when they reunited at the ball. He was so relieved in thinking that their story would have a joyous ending that he buried those feelings. But now, they had risen to the surface.

"Sidney, I—" Mrs. Campion attempted to defend herself but found no sympathetic ear.

"You what? You have done nothing but deceive me. How I allowed you to do it again, after we met at the ball, I cannot fathom. You never loved me. And we are both fooling ourselves in thinking this marriage will be anything but a marriage of convenience. But since we are to be married, then I believe we must be honest about where we stand. I not only believe that you are capable of placing the mouse in Miss Heywood's box, but I believe you are responsible for placing the mouse in the box. I believe you wished to inflict harm upon her. I will keep your secret because I have made a pledge to marry you. Unlike you, I believe in keeping the promises I make. However, from this moment, there will be no more deception. There will be no more lies."

Mrs. Campion was silent for a few moments, her chin slightly trembling with an emotion Sidney could not discern. Anger, perhaps, or shame?

"Well, it seems we are at impasse," she finally remarked as the carriage rolled to a stop at the door of her terrace. "You believe I did something that I did not. And incredibly, you still believe yourself to be worthy of my hand in marriage. I do not."

Sidney frowned in confusion. Yes, he had accused her of a malicious act. She had denied it vehemently, but he was still not convinced of her innocence. Who else could have done it? Why would someone else do it?

"You have insulted me to the highest degree, Sidney," Mrs. Campion said. "You have insulted my honor and my good name. I do not know why I am surprised. You may have had some breeding, but you were never respectable enough for me. I cannot forget your drinking and gambling after our engagement ended. You stumbled through London, causing trouble wherever you went, until you finally became so severely indebted that your brother had to save you. I was very happy with Mr. Campion. He was the everything you are not: erudite, chivalrous, and yes, wealthy. This marriage of convenience, as you refer to it, is a favor I am doing for you. Your brother needed my money to sustain that wretched Sanditon because you lacked the resources to help him. Well, I view this marriage as one of inconvenience now, and I do not wish to be inconvenienced. I do not wish to marry you. I do not wish to be associated at all with the Parker name."

Sidney sat stunned and struggling to believe what he was hearing. Was another explanation possible for Miss Heywood's misfortune? Even if there were, had his comments to Mrs. Campion been egregious enough to change her mind about their impending marriage?

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" Mrs. Campion berated. "I just said you have insulted me and I do not wish to marry you. I deserve an apology, at the very least."

After a pause, Sidney answered: "I did not drink or gamble heavily before you."

Mrs. Campion made a snort of disgust and knocked for the coachman to open the door. Then she was gone.

Sidney felt as if a gust of wind had taken his feet from under him. It was over. He was no longer doomed to marry Mrs. Campion. The upheaval of the last few weeks was done. As Sidney contemplated this, his thoughts immediately turned to Charlotte. Would she still have him? He could not rest tonight without knowing and instructed the coachman to return to Lady Worcester's home. He only hoped Charlotte was still awake.