A/N: To the guest reviewer who wrote about Mary forgiving Tom and the church scene in the last episode, that scene is exactly what inspired me to explore a more dynamic side of Mary's character. And I'm with you on wanting to throw something heavy, preferably at Tom!
To everyone who has read and reviewed, thank you so much! I really appreciate it!
Charlotte had stayed with Mary to greet Mr. Blake when he arrived. But she took the children out to the back garden of Bedford Place after a while so that Mary could speak to her brother undisturbed. She let the children play as she sat on the bench and watched, wanting to be alone with her thoughts, interrupted only sometimes by one of the children running up to show her something they found particularly fascinating.
By now, Charlotte had begun to feel extremely restless. She had wanted to come to London to help Sidney, and had unexpectedly got her wish. But so far, she felt as if she had been of no use at all.
She still had not heard back from Susan, her one avenue by which she might have been able to help the Parkers. She thought she'd done a good job of hiding her vexation at the lack of any communication from her friend, but Sidney had noticed. And he'd promised her he'd make enquiries as to Lady Susan's whereabouts. It was possible, he reasoned, that she might not be in London, and so might not have even seen Charlotte's message yet. This explanation made sense, and while she still felt a little impatient, it eased her worries a bit.
But Charlotte hated being idle and feeling useless, like she felt now. She had more than her share of duties back in Willingden, both farm chores as well as in helping her father manage the estate. And in Sanditon, she had helped Tom by organising his papers and being his assistant. If not that, there was always something to do and see — visit the construction site and see the buildings take shape, visit Georgiana, or go for walks on the cliffs or on the beach.
But in London, she was coming to the realisation that there wasn't much she could directly do in order to help the Parkers. She did not have the knowledge, the money, or the connections, and it frustrated her that she couldn't think of any other solution. Unfortunately, with a problem such as this one, planning a regatta-like event was not the answer.
How would Sidney react when he realised that after all of Charlotte's promises and insistence on helping, she had nothing to show for it?
She remained lost in her thoughts in this manner for the rest of the morning and throughout lunch. The children were not distraction enough, and Mary seemed subdued after Mr. Blake left.
There was still nothing in particular for her to do that afternoon, and she found herself wandering the house after lunch. She was familiar with some areas of it, having stayed at Bedford Place on her previous visit to London, though she had neither seen nor taken in much of it at the time. Her mind had been rather overwhelmed by its owner instead.
Now, she strolled through the rooms, pausing whenever she saw something that caught her interest. Morning room, parlours, dining room, drawing rooms. There was no ballroom, as the house wasn't big enough to accommodate one. But the two large drawing rooms shared a wall made entirely of panelled doors that could be opened up to create one large room, big enough to entertain a respectably sized party.
Charlotte let her gaze dwell on the paintings in their gilded frames. Many of them were seascapes, which told her Sidney had never been as detached from his seaside hometown as he led people to believe. Despite his distance, a connection remained.
Two portraits in the family parlour caught her eye. It was not difficult to guess they were the Parker siblings' parents, both of whom had died well over a decade ago. It was obvious this artist was far more talented than the one who had painted Sidney's portrait that hung in Trafalgar House. There was a definite likeness between the woman in the first portrait and Diana, while the man Charlotte understood to be Parker père resembled Sidney far more than the depiction in the Trafalgar House painting did.
Already she preferred the clean lines and classic décor of Bedford Place to the slightly garish opulence of Trafalgar House. With its overly decorated walls, and an abundance of sculpture busts and objets d'art littered everywhere, Trafalgar House could feel a little pretentious. Bedford Place, on the other hand, had a comfortableness about it despite being a stylish London townhouse.
The library was easily her favourite place in the whole house — a large, cosy room richly panelled in wood, with a marble fireplace and comfortable upholstered armchairs and settees. All its walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, punctuated only by large windows, and packed with books. She could easily imagine Sidney relaxing here after work or after dinner, sprawled in one of the comfortable armchairs, drink in hand, enjoying a book.
A narrow door set between two bookshelves connected the library to Sidney's study, which was a complete contrast to Tom's back in Sanditon. Documents and ledgers were neatly stacked on the large desk or lined up in shelves, not lying scattered loosely and disorganised on every available surface.
Charlotte ran her fingers over the back of the imposing chair, taking in the assortment of objects on the desk – tall white candles in robust holders, trays with notes and missives, an inkwell, pens, a blotter, a couple of random knickknacks, and–
She stopped in surprise. For lying on the desk, in front of a beautiful and intricately carved wooden box, was a pair of her gloves along with a handful of seashells.
She stared. They were her gloves, she'd recognise them anywhere. She had lost them the day she ran into Sidney at the coves, many weeks ago. She must have dropped them when she'd run away from the spot as fast as possible, trying not to drown in her own mortification. These were one of her two regular pairs, and as sorry as she'd been to lose them, she had not dared to go back near the coves to look for them over the next couple of days. And when she finally did muster up enough courage to venture there, there had been no sign of them.
She couldn't even in her wildest imagination have thought she'd find them on Sidney's desk in London, although there was only one obvious explanation to how they got here. She couldn't fathom why Sidney hadn't returned them to her before, or even mentioned them. Had he retrieved them after she'd dropped them, but forgotten to give them back to her? Or had he deliberately kept them with him all this while, like a token or a favour? Was that why he had picked up the seashells as well?
Unable to even begin to guess at Sidney's intentions, she decided to leave the gloves where they were for now; she would ask him about them later.
Instead, she imagined him sitting at his desk, working, his brows furrowed in concentration the way they were wont to do as he scrutinised some contract or pored over a sheet of figures relating to some or other aspect of his business.
Bedford Place would likely be her future home, she realised. When she and Sidney married, he would want to live in London; it was his home after all and he had his business and a life here.
A small part of her wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. Whatever she had seen of the capital on her one previous visit — both the seedy as well as the respectable parts — had done nothing to enamour it to her. But then again, she had seen such a minuscule portion of it. And in the end, where they lived hardly mattered. She would go to the ends of the earth if it meant being with Sidney, so London would hardly be a hardship.
Sidney returned earlier than expected that evening. Charlotte was in the garden once again, playing with the children when she heard her name being called, and turned to see him striding across the lawn towards her.
The children, of course, mobbed their favourite uncle, Henry running towards him and launching himself into Sidney's arms, forcing him to swing the child up. The girls followed, chattering away excitedly, Jenny pulling Charlotte along by the hand to join them.
It took a little time to get the children to return to their games — Jenny and Henry wanted to show Sidney a frog in the little pond in the garden, and in the end, all five of them ended up crouched at the side of the pond, watching it with rapt fascination. Eventually, the children went back to playing, and Sidney led Charlotte to the garden bench.
Once they were seated, he fished out a sealed letter from the pocket of his waistcoat, and, much to Charlotte's amusement, handed it to her with a small flourish.
"It's from Susan!" she exclaimed, ripping it open. "At last!" Her eyes rapidly skimmed over the elegant handwriting. "She was away from London. She has invited me to visit her tomorrow morning!"
The relief was so huge that Charlotte laughed out loud, hugging the letter to her chest. It earned her a chuckle from Sidney, but she could see that he too looked relieved.
Sidney had been privately sceptical about Lady Worcester's interest in Charlotte, a suspicion that had deepened when there had been no reply from her to Charlotte's message. But he'd told himself to give her the benefit of the doubt, and was glad he'd done so, because Charlotte's mind was certainly at ease now.
"Babbers sent word too." He showed her another note. "He is arriving in London tonight, and I am to meet him tomorrow around noon. I have a couple of appointments before that… perhaps I could drop you off at Lady Worcester's first?"
Charlotte beamed at him in response. "Yes, of course."
They didn't know how much their friends could help them, but it was nevertheless a huge boost. With Lady Worcester and Lord Babington's connections, surely some new avenue might show itself, some solution might be found.
"How did it go with the banks?" She ventured to ask
Sidney's tired sigh and shake of the head was answer enough. "No luck."
"Don't worry," she said fiercely, "I'm sure Susan and Lord Babington will have some idea of how to help us. We must not lose hope, Sidney, I will not allow it!"
It seemed impossible after the day he'd had, but Charlotte's determination brought a smile to his face. In her, he had truly found an equal partner who would not let him shoulder any burden by himself.
There was a pause, where Charlotte sensed there was more to come. Sidney's eyes were on the children playing nearby, but she could tell from the his slight frown that his mind was elsewhere.
"Has something happened?" she asked, touching his wrist.
He exhaled deeply. "Did you tell Georgiana about our engagement?"
"Yes…"
It was in the midst of the tumult of packing to come to London that Charlotte had remembered Georgiana did not know about the latest developments, including that Sidney had asked her to marry him and that she had said yes. She'd hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should tell her about it in the first place. In their last conversation, Georgiana had vehemently insisted Charlotte could not trust Sidney and that he would only ever make her unhappy. But she did not want to hide anything from her friend, and Georgiana would be very hurt if she heard about it from Arthur or Diana or Tom, or anyone other than Charlotte herself.
Since she didn't have the time for a visit, she'd dashed off a quick note, which she had asked one of the footmen to deliver to Mrs. Griffith's lodgings. She'd decided not to divulge anything about the debt and the lack of insurance; that was not her news to share. Instead, she had said Sidney had urgent business in London and that she, Mary, and the children were accompanying him. With luck, Georgiana would think Mary wanted to get a head start on Charlotte and Sidney's wedding preparations. Unfortunately, Charlotte had an idea of how her friend might react to the news; she hadn't received a reply from Georgiana yet, and that was answer enough.
"Should I not have told her?" she asked Sidney now, worried.
"No, no. On the contrary, I'm glad you did. Thank you." He gave her a smile. "I confess, the shock of Tom's troubles drove most other matters from my mind. I should have told her myself, but I hoped coming from you, the news might be more welcome. Sadly, it isn't. I received a letter from Arthur this morning. He visited Georgiana yesterday, and says she is very angry and upset about our engagement. Not just with me, but with you as well."
Charlotte slumped a little on the bench, dejected. "She was not pleased when she learnt that I might have developed a… tendre for you."
"Yes, she confronted me at the midsummer ball about my intentions towards you. She said she did not trust me not to ruin your happiness."
"She told me I cannot trust a word you say."
She watched as his shoulders slumped in resignation as he stared off into the distance.
"Sidney," Charlotte said hesitantly after a pause, knowing she was broaching a sensitive subject that she had never spoken about to him before. "I do not mean to pry, but– well, it feels as if there is more to Georgiana's anger towards you than… recent events."
She'd tried speaking of this to Georgiana but had received no explanation, only more vague warnings about how a man like Sidney cannot change and that he would only hurt her.
"Nothing you ask me will ever be prying," Sidney said, reaching for her hand. "As for Georgiana's anger against me," he sighed. "I'm afraid that goes back to when we were in Antigua."
"Because you were involved in– in the sugar trade, do you mean?"
"That's certainly a part of it."
"What other reason could there be?"
"Georgiana's father, Reginald Lambe, was a good mentor and business partner. In the time I knew him, I came to regard him almost like a father myself, and I think he too saw me as a son. Losing him was… difficult. But I'm afraid that might have made Georgiana think her father was fonder of me as a surrogate son than he was of her as his own daughter. I believe she feels I usurped her place in her father's life, and that's why she resents me."
"Did you?"
"Of course not. But I suppose I can see why she feels I did. Lambe loved Georgiana, but he was not an attentive father to her. I didn't think anything of it because that is what most fathers are like, are they not? Expecting children to be brought up by nannies and governesses and tutors, to be kept out of sight unless they are needed?"
Charlotte couldn't say she knew; even with twelve children, her own father had never been distant with any of them, daughter or son. But was that how Sidney's father had been with his children?
"From what I understand," Sidney continued, "his inattentiveness towards Georgiana worsened after her mother died, shortly before I arrived in Antigua. Georgiana was about nine years old when I came to stay at the plantation, but I didn't see much of her in the first few years, though I worked extensively with her father."
"How did you come to stay with them?"
"Lambe saved my life, in more ways than one. I was badly injured in a–" he hesitated "–in a disagreement soon after I arrived in St. John's, and he took me back to his estate so I could recover."
Charlotte knew from Georgiana that Sidney participated in boxing matches and even the occasional underground fighting bout, but somehow this did not sound like the same thing at all. She wondered what had happened, and just how badly hurt he had been to need time to recover and someone to nurse him back to health.
"While I recovered, Lambe told me about his plantation. He wanted someone to help him manage it — a junior partner of sorts, I suppose." Sidney's lips twisted wryly. "And there I was, young and foolish, with no idea of what I wanted to do and no real plans for the future."
Charlotte squeezed his hand. "Not foolish."
He had been very young, even younger than she was now. And not foolish, but freshly heartbroken, with all his hopes and dreams for his future crushed by a vile woman's thoughtless actions.
Sidney's eyes were dark — old memories could still hurt. He roused himself out of his thoughts and gave her a wan smile.
"The reason I agreed to work with him was because he wanted to free all the slaves working on his estate, just like he had freed Georgiana's mother before he married her. But it was no small undertaking, which is why he wanted a partner — he wanted someone to help him see it done properly. Just setting them all free wouldn't be enough. Their safety and lodgings and livelihood had to be seen to as well, or they'd have no money, no homes, and would starve to death."
"Was that when you renounced the sugar trade?"
He nodded. "Not long after."
He had wanted out of the sugar trade almost as soon as he'd agreed to work with Lambe. Just because they had freed the enslaved people on the plantation, paid them wages, and made improvements to their working conditions, it did not mean the work was not gruelling and dangerous.
If Sidney had hoped that helping to free the slaves would bring him some measure of peace after being so brutally thrown over by Eliza, the guilt of knowing he'd profited at their expense had crushed his soul.
"Our money came from the… exploitation of other people. I cannot deny I had a part in it." He looked down at her hand that he held in his, his fingers tightening around hers for a moment, as if afraid she would pull away. "You were right that my fortune is tainted with the stain of slavery."
Sidney looked wretched, but Charlotte didn't know what to say. She sensed he'd never spoken to anyone before about his life in Antigua, and that it troubled him enough that he needed to talk to someone about it. She was touched that she was the one he was choosing to share it and unburden himself with.
"My uncle — my father's brother — died," he continued after a pause. "He had never married and had no children, so he named me his heir. He left me a not insignificant sum of money and his shipping company. So, I used this chance to leave the sugar trade and start my own import and export business. But I still lived with the Lambes on their estate and helped Reginald where I could.
"How long were you in Antigua?" Charlotte asked.
"Seven years. I came back to England two years ago."
"Why did you decide to return?"
As the years passed, things had begun to change in Antigua. Abolitionism gained traction, and some of the other estates had begun freeing their slaves as well. But many plantation owners were opposed to this, and the enslaved people on their estates had begun to rebel, to fight for their freedom. It hadn't been safe for anybody, but it had been particularly unsafe for Georgiana because of her mixed heritage. She wasn't looked upon too kindly by either side, especially as she was a wealthy heiress. So, Reginald Lambe had decided to bring her back to London. He'd wanted her to complete her education and take her place in polite society.
"As for me, I was ready to leave. Antigua had at the same time been paradise as well as hell on earth. I think I wanted to put it behind me."
"But… Georgiana's father died before he returned to England, did he not?" she asked.
"Yes." Sidney hadn't expected the hurt to be just as acute after all these years. "A few weeks before we were supposed to set sail, Lambe became ill with a particularly virulent form of consumption. He realised he did not have long to live, and that he'd be dead long before our ship reached England. So he made his will and the papers bequeathing his entire fortune to Georgiana, and named me her guardian until she turned twenty-one. He made arrangements for the two of us to go back to England.
"Georgiana was most upset — about losing him and about having to leave Antigua. She begged him to let her stay back with her mother's family. But Lambe thought she'd be safer in England, and didn't give in no matter how much she protested. He remained distant from her right until the end, expecting her to obey him and do as he instructed."
He took in a deep, shuddering breath.
"He was also in much pain in his final days, and refused to let her see him in that state. I and the servants tending to him, we tried to do as he asked, but it would have been cruel to keep Georgiana from her father when they had such little time left. At the same time, we couldn't let her be around him for too long; no one could. Consumption spreads easily, and we could not risk her or anyone else falling prey to it. So, Georgiana blames me for trying to keep her apart from her father while he was on his deathbed."
"Oh, Sidney!" Charlotte's heart twisted at the pain in his dark eyes as much as it did for Georgiana. They had both suffered, both lost someone they cared for very deeply, and instead of turning to each other for support, they had become adversaries. And although Charlotte did not fault Sidney for having to keep Georgiana away from her father because of his illness, she found she could not blame her young friend either for her anger. Her heart ached for how heartbroken Georgiana must have been at her own father's treatment.
He rubbed a hand over his tired face. "My own actions after I became her guardian did nothing to endear me to her, but I didn't care about that until you made me see the error of my ways. Her father had entrusted her to my guardianship, which I took to mean protecting her and her inheritance from fortune hunters, and seeing that she learnt to behave like a lady. I had no intention of failing Lambe."
The truth was, Sidney had seen Georgiana as an obligation, a responsibility he did not want. Charlotte had been correct in saying that he should have watched over her himself, and not abdicated the responsibility to other people. But Georgiana's own behaviour — wilful, wayward, difficult — and her hostility towards him did not endear her to him.
It was only after Charlotte's words to him in London that he had realised how lonely Georgiana had been, with no one to care for her, not even her guardian, who should have been the first. In hindsight, it was no wonder Georgiana rebelled so much against his authority. Her own father had neglected her, and not respected her wishes on any matter, and after he'd become her guardian, Sidney had done the same.
"When we returned to London, I rented a house for her just down the road from Bedford Place, with a governess and a few servants. But it was difficult to find trustworthy companions for her. Some of the governesses I interviewed refused the job when they learnt of her race. Others weren't really concerned about her welfare, just interested in the money that the job would being them. And Georgiana hated all of it. Then came Otis Molyneux. I thought at first it was a good match, they seemed to be well suited. Until I discovered his extensive gambling debts. In my mind, there was no other conclusion to be drawn other than the obvious one. So I thought it best to separate them, and brought her to Sanditon. And… well, you know the rest."
They sat in silence for a while, Charlotte thinking over everything she'd just learnt, and Sidney dreading her reaction.
"Do you think badly of me?" he asked when he could bear her silence no longer.
"It is… rather a lot to take in. Her father's neglect and your actions have hurt her. But no, I don't think badly of you."
Sidney let out a trembling breath and closed his eyes briefly. If she didn't think badly of him, then there was still hope.
He felt her take both his hands in hers and opened his eyes, finding her watching him with a kindness and understanding he had not expected.
"You have been trying to make amends, have you not? And I know you are an honourable man. You might have easily used her fortune to pay off your brother's debts–"
"I won't touch a penny of her money!" Sidney burst out, aghast and appalled. "Charlotte! It is not mine to–"
"I know, Sidney, I know! But any other guardian might have, would they not?"
He said nothing but his distaste at the very thought of using Georgiana's money — of betraying Reginald Lambe's faith in him — was tangible across his face.
"It will take time; you cannot expect her to forgive you right away. But you have to show Georgiana you care about her." Charlotte shifted on the garden bench as she turned to face him. "Think about how she must feel. You are her guardian and the closest thing she has to family, and I suspect I am her only friend in Sanditon. Now that we are engaged, she must feel like she's losing the only two people in the world who show some regard for her, to each other. She must feel so alone and forgotten, and she doesn't have Otis to turn to, either."
She waited, watched as Sidney considered her words, seemingly entirely unaware of how he was nervously fiddling with her fingers, which he still held.
He finally looked at her, a little uncertain. "Would you mind if she lived with us after we are married? We could give her a home, a family, you and I?"
"Oh Sidney! Do you truly mean that?"
"Yes. If that is what Georgiana wants, of course."
Overjoyed, Charlotte threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, before swiftly pulling back, shocked at her own actions and blushing from acute embarrassment. She had just embraced him in front of the children and anyone who might be watching from the house!
Sidney could not help but laugh — she looked so adorable and pink-cheeked, and her spontaneous gesture of affection swelled his heart with love.
He felt lighter than he had in years, as if a great, inescapable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had never spoken to anyone about Antigua before, but was not surprised he'd so easily shared his story with Charlotte. And he truly was sincere in his desire to make amends with his ward, which was also because Charlotte had opened his eyes to how he had fallen short as Georgiana's guardian. All these years, after all his experiences, he'd stopped believing he could change, be a better person. Until Charlotte. With her, he truly could be his best and truest self.
Charlotte met his gaze, smiling shyly, and Sidney could not help but move closer — surely he was allowed one kiss, they were engaged, after all! He leaned in, his intentions clear, and her eyes widened.
"Uncle Sidney!"
"Charlotte!"
The thundering of small footsteps running up to them snapped them out of their private bubble.
"Come and play with us!" Alicia demanded, reaching them first and throwing herself into Charlotte's lap in a heap.
"Can you show us how to make paper boats, Uncle Sidney?" Jenny's hazel eyes were beseeching.
Henry tugged his uncle's sleeve. "Can we have another sea battle? And can we win this time?"
Sidney sighed, then mock-frowned at Charlotte when she smothered a laugh.
"I don't know, Henry," he said as he got to his feet. "Do you think we can defeat Admiral Heywood? Or perhaps we should ask her to be on our side this time?"
"Noooo!" Alicia and Jenny protested shrilly, the latter tugging Charlotte up from the bench.
The two grown-ups allowed themselves to be dragged to the pond, all three children talking excitedly over each other. But Sidney's hand found Charlotte's, and he interlaced his fingers with hers for a few brief, sweet moments.
They faced uncertain, difficult days ahead. But at this moment, he was content.
Leave a review, let me know what you think! :)
