On their second morning in London, Charlotte was up early as usual. Having lived all her life on a farm and expected to be awake and contribute to its running, she had never been the type to sleep in except on the rare occasion.
Her first task on coming downstairs was to check the small pile of folded notes, envelopes, and invitations in the salver that sat on the table in the entrance hall to see if she had received any messages from Susan. She knew it was early, reminded herself that barring a note coming in late last night, there was unlikely to be a reply yet. Still, the absence of any communication from her friend made her shoulders droop in disappointment.
She let out a sigh, feeling both disheartened and irritated. Then she shook her head, took a deep breath, and straightened her shoulders. Most of fashionable society hardly ever woke up this early, and it would likely be noon before she heard from Susan. There was no need to worry yet. She just needed to be patient.
Trying to will only positive thoughts into her mind, she headed off to have breakfast. Mrs. Mullins, the housekeeper, had told her the previous day that breakfast was always ready at an earlier hour at Bedford Place than other fashionable London households because one could never know when Mr. Parker might need to leave early to deal with his numerous business affairs.
All of Charlotte's dismal thoughts were entirely forgotten when she entered the breakfast parlour to find only Sidney there, dressed and ready for the day, helping himself to some eggs from one of the several serving dishes and warming pans on the sideboard.
They both froze for a moment when they caught sight of each other. With the exception of the butler, Merridew, who looked in every now and then to ensure that the master of the house and his guests were properly served, Charlotte and Sidney were alone for the first time in what felt like forever. It was not something either of them had expected, and she suddenly felt shy around him, and she could see that he too seemed to be somewhat similarly affected. But then he gave her a sweet, boyish smile that lit up his eyes, happy to see her, and nodded her in.
She noticed he seemed to be well rested and in much better spirits than she'd expected, given the dismal news he'd shared the previous night, and this unexpectedly calmed her own restlessness. Which was a strange thought on its own, considering Sidney was the reason behind all of the tumultuous emotions she had experienced this summer. It was odd to think that his presence was now soothing her instead of riling her up.
As she moved to serve herself a couple of slices of toast from the sideboard, it struck her that although they had confessed their love for each other and were engaged, they were still far from used to spending time alone together. Their courtship, if one could even call it that, had been extremely short and unconventional, considering they had bickered their way through most of it. She knew the kind of man Sidney was — good, steady, loyal; she loved him, and she would marry him. But there was so much she had yet to learn about the man himself. How did he take his tea? What was his favourite food? Was he an early riser, like her, or did he prefer to sleep in?
She had not noticed any particular habits or quirks, unless you counted the fact that he often went sea bathing. Then she remembered what had happened the time she had stumbled upon him at the coves, and just the memory of the incident was enough to make her face erupt in a fierce blush. Her plate wobbled in her hand, almost sending the toast sliding off, and as she righted it, she tried to force that particular image out of her mind, or she would never be able to look him in the eye again.
Charlotte had been right in guessing that Sidney too was afflicted by a sudden bout of shyness around her, but she could not know how flustered her unexpected appearance made him. He was acutely aware of her presence, her skin rose and gold and flushed in the morning sunlight slanting in through the windows, the white muslin dress gracefully embracing her curves. Having her so close in the flesh when just a few short hours ago she'd been reigning over his dreams was enough to make him quite completely befuddled.
He couldn't think of a single thing to say to her, his usual eloquence nowhere to be found. And as he did not want a repeat of the clifftop walk, where he had nervously blathered on like an addle-pated fool, he stayed quiet.
She settled into the chair to the left of his own, which was at the head of the table, and he poured her a cup of tea. And for the next few moments, there was silence other than the clink of cutlery on plates.
With neither Mary nor the children present, they had each other to themselves, and they couldn't help the shy glances and smiles they exchanged. It felt delightfully cosy and domestic, despite the silence, which was charged but not uncomfortable. It gave them a glimpse of what life might be like for them after they married — quiet mornings with no need for words, just the pleasure and the thrill of each other's company. And it was a relief not to have to think of their current circumstances, to take some time for themselves, just for a little bit.
Eventually, Charlotte, having cast around in her mind for a safe, neutral topic, brought up the Parker children and began telling Sidney about their visit to Bedford Park the previous morning. He grasped the topic with evident relief, laughing with her as she described Henry's antics.
From there, the conversation wandered to other, more trivial matters, and they gradually relaxed in each other's company, the nervousness melting away.
At precisely eleven o'clock, a few hours after Sidney had left for his appointments for the day, the butler announced the arrival of Mr. Martin Blake, Mary's brother.
Charlotte watched as Mary leapt to her feet when he entered the room, her happiness and pleasure at seeing him quite evident. She knew they were meeting after many years, and the way brother and sister tightly embraced showed they had deeply missed each other.
Mary made the introductions, and Charlotte gave him a welcoming smile as she greeted him. Alicia, Jenny, and Henry, though, were rather shy before this uncle who they neither knew very well nor had met many times, and clustered around their mother and Charlotte's skirts. She saw the sadness in both Mary and Mr. Blake's eyes at this being the case.
From what she had learnt about him from Mary, Charlotte knew Martin Blake was about Sidney's age. He had a kind face and kind eyes, and hair the same shade of blond as Mary's; you could easily see the resemblance between the two siblings.
Like Sidney, Martin gave off the air of being quiet and serious, more prone to listening while in a crowd than to speaking. But unlike Sidney, whose presence could not be ignored no matter how much he kept to himself in a corner or how quiet he stayed, Charlotte rather felt that Martin's unassuming nature and mild disposition might cause one to easily overlook him. In that, he was much like Mary; through her days staying with the Parkers in Trafalgar House, Charlotte had noticed her hostess often tended to be relegated to the sidelines while her exuberant husband enjoyed the limelight.
Charlotte stayed with Mary and Mr. Blake until the children had the chance to warm to their uncle a little, and brother and sister caught each other up with news and developments of their family and friends. Mary also told Martin of how they had come to be acquainted with Charlotte in the first place, and how she had come with them to Sanditon to spend the summer.
"I hate the thought of you in any danger, Mary, but it seems to have turned out quite propitiously," Martin commented when he heard the full story of the Parkers' carriage accident near Willingden.
Eventually, knowing that Mary needed to talk to Martin, Charlotte took the children out into the back garden of Bedford Place so they could play.
"Are you here alone in town, Mary?" Martin asked once Charlotte and the children had left. "With your houseguest?
"Of course not. We came with Sidney. He and Charlotte are engaged."
"Ah."
"Sidney sends his apologies that he cannot be here to meet you. He is out dealing with matters pertaining to our reason for being here in London."
Martin said nothing, just tilted his head slightly, indicating for her to go on.
Mary didn't know how or where to begin.
Martin frowned and leaned forward, and took Mary's hand in his. "What is the matter, sister? You have gone pale."
To the shock of both of them, Mary suddenly started to weep, hot, heartbreaking tears rolling down her cheeks as she struggled to compose herself. Truly alarmed, her brother shot out of his chair to kneel before hers, pressing her hands between his as he tried to soothe her.
It was a few moments before Mary managed to quieten, as the pressure of the worry built up over the past few days released a little. She couldn't cry in front of Sidney or Charlotte, not when Tom's ineptitude already meant they — especially Sidney, though Charlotte wouldn't see it as any less hers even if she wasn't officially part of the family yet — were saddled with a responsibility that wasn't theirs to begin with. But with her own brother, Mary could cry a little for herself and even for her husband, though she didn't think Martin would understand the last. Not that she blamed him; Tom's actions were outrageous and nothing could excuse them.
Mary sat up straight, wiping her tears on the handkerchief Martin had swiftly produced from his pocket. She got up and walked to the large windows that looked out on to the back garden. Charlotte was out there with the children, her and Alicia's heads bent close together over what seemed to be a particularly fascinating flower, while Jenny and Henry chased each other around, shrieking madly. It struck Mary just how much her children adored Charlotte, and how affectionate she in turn was to them. And how threatened they all were by her husband's actions.
She couldn't even begin to describe the guilt she felt at not reining him in before. She had told Charlotte back when she had first arrived in Sanditon, as advice from an older woman to a younger one who would no doubt soon be looking for a husband herself, that marriage was very much about making allowances for one's spouse. But if Mary hadn't so easily pardoned Tom every single time for his failure to fulfil his obligations, if she had confronted him about his irresponsibility and his complete disregard for other people when it came to his obsession, then maybe her family would not be facing such dire times today.
Keeping her back to her brother, and as calmly and composedly as she could, Mary narrated the events that had led to them being in London.
As she spoke, she didn't need to look to know that Martin's face would be changing from worried to furious to horrified. As she reached the end of her recounting, she felt her brother come up behind her. He was silent for a moment. Then,
"Mary… what– how– eighty thousand?" His voice had dropped to an appalled whisper.
When she turned around, Mary saw the shock in his eyes at the astronomical amount, as well as the reproach for Tom.
"Yes, that was my reaction as well."
"But– but–" He floundered. "Mary." He paused again for a moment as the enormity of it all sank in, then shook himself. "How can I help?"
"I do not know." Mary wrung the handkerchief she still held in her hands. "Sidney is dealing with banks and investors, but I do not know what will come of it. I know he has tried before to get the banks to extend Tom's credit, but to no avail. I hardly think they will show any mercy now, with such high amounts to be recovered."
"I could try to get a loan–"
"No!"
"I could, really. But I'm afraid it won't be a very high amount. I don't have anything quite as valuable as Parker to put up as security."
"No, Martin, I forbid it! You must not borrow on Tom's behalf. We have quite enough debt already, I will not have you jeopardise your financial situation as well. It's bad enough that Sidney and Arthur must be part of this."
The siblings exchanged silent, helpless looks.
"I will make enquiries, Mary. Let me see what I can find. And I should talk to Sidney. He might have a better idea of how I can help."
Mary nodded. "Yes, he would welcome that." She squeezed her brother's hand. "Thank you, Martin."
"There's no need to thank me, you know that." He held on to her hand, feeling it tremble in his. He had never seen his sister look so frail before. He'd always thought her one of the strongest women he knew.
He hesitated. "And where is Tom in all of this? What is he doing?"
Mary's face shuttered.
"Mary."
"Tom is in Sanditon."
"Doing nothing while his wife and brother come to London to look for a way to bail him out of a disaster he created?"
Mary spoke with great difficulty. "It is the wisest course of action."
"How?" Martin demanded angrily. "What sort of man dooms his family to debt and then abdicates all responsibility to his wife?"
"Tom can do nothing!" Mary cried. "He has no connections or resources in London, and the banks will not see him. I could not allow him to come."
"For fear that he would worsen the situation?"
From Mary's expression, Martin guessed he had correctly hit on the actual reason.
Mary turned away and moved back to the window. "Tom has no head for business. The decisions he has taken in the past months and years have been detrimental to the family's fortunes. Most of them were done without my knowledge as my husband did not see it fit to reveal those matters to me. I could not risk him hurting the family any further."
There was an uneasy silence.
"I know you do not have a very high opinion of him," Mary said stiffly. "You made your dislike of him quite clear when I married him."
"I don't dislike him, Mary," Martin let out a long, deep sigh of frustration. "And neither did I back then. I admire his enthusiasm, and I always have. But even all those years ago, he was zealous about Sanditon. It was all he spoke of, to the exclusion of everything else. How could I not help but wonder if he was a good match for you, when even back then he seemed to put you second to his town?"
Mary remembered being fascinated and charmed by Tom's enthusiasm, his many plans and goals and dreams for his town and its people. She had not expected to have to take second place to Sanditon almost right from the beginning. She'd told Charlotte that it was exhausting to be Tom's second wife, but she had never allowed herself to talk about how lonely and neglected he had made her feel. Somehow, it had felt like she was betraying Tom.
Martin did not stay long after their conversation, particularly after the slightly unpleasant turn it had taken. He had no wish to add to his sister's agony, and he could not be sure of being able to hold back on the censure he felt for his brother-in-law, which would only distress Mary further.
Promising to make enquiries and speak to Sidney to see how he could help, Martin pressed a kiss to Mary's cheek — at least that brought a small smile to her face — and took his leave.
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