To reviewers Claire, Anita L, St0ryTeller, and Twistedcyn - thank you so much for reading and commenting!


Even as Charlotte dithered before getting into Mrs. Campion's carriage, one of the upper servants of No. 7 Bedford Place turned around the corner of the street on which the townhouse was located. Morgan, Sidney's valet, had been out running errands and was almost home when he spotted the Parkers' guest on the pavement outside the house. Despite the distance, he easily recognised the carriage she climbed into — such a handsome equipage was bound to stand out wherever it went, and besides he knew it well from when its owner had visited Bedford Place the previous week.

He saw Miss Heywood glance around and he could tell she was extremely uneasy, but she did not notice him. He sped up but he knew he would not reach her in time, and he did not want to create a scene nor draw attention to himself. So, he turned around and began ambling slowly back in the direction he had come from, waiting for the carriage to move past him down the road before following it. Luckily, it only went as far as the gates of Bedford Park.

Morgan watched as Miss Heywood and Mrs. Campion alighted from the carriage and walked into the park, followed at a respectable interval by a burly footman, and he followed them, keeping a discreet distance himself so as not to be noticed. He did not like the thuggish look of that footman.

The two women strolled some way into the park, talking, before coming to a halt under a large, shady tree. Morgan crept as close as he dared, taking care to appear as just another park-goer. He could not hear what they were saying but he was close enough to observe their expressions, and whatever discussion the two women were having, he gathered that it was not a pleasant one, at least for Miss Heywood. She looked increasingly distressed as the conversation progressed; whatever was said between them was clearly upsetting for her. Miss Heywood finally ended their exchange and walked off, leaving behind Mrs. Campion smiling in a self-satisfied manner, which did not augur well.

Still, Morgan waited until Mrs. Campion and her footman left too. He followed them out of the park, watching as the lady returned to her carriage and the footman climbed up beside the driver, and it moved off. Only once it overtook Miss Heywood walking on the pavement and turned around the corner of the street did Morgan speed up to catch up with her.

"Miss Heywood," he called, coming up behind her. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that he had to say her name twice more before she realised she was being called.

"Oh, Mr. Morgan."

He thought to ask if she was alright, but he saw it would be a redundant question — he had never heard her sound so fragile nor seen her face so ashen.

"Allow me to escort you back home, Miss Heywood." He gave her his hand and when she took it, he could feel her trembling. Despite this, she managed a wobbly smile of gratitude, and he admired her fortitude. He was well connected with servants in other influential London households and Mrs. Campion's reputation was no secret; she saw most people as beneath her and few were spared her stinging condescension. And it was obvious why Miss Heywood had incurred her enmity.

From what he had seen of Miss Heywood, he knew her to be a kind, courageous, intelligent, and thoroughly delightful young woman. It was no wonder that Mr. Parker — even with his reputation for being arrogant, aloof, and grim — had fallen for her. Although, as Morgan knew, his employer's reputation was not entirely deserved; Mr. Parker was merely a very private man who preferred that London society kept its collective noses out of his personal matters.

But with her sweet yet spirited disposition, it was not surprising that Miss Heywood had pierced his hitherto impenetrable armour and captured his heart. Mr. Parker was not one for grand gestures and declarations, but he did not hesitate to quietly show his regard for her nor did he try to hide how much she meant to him.

From Morgan and Mrs Mullins' perspective, for they of all the servants knew him best, this was a very welcome development. They knew he had spent the last decade keeping everyone, even to an extent his family and friends, at arm's length because of his bruising experiences in the past, and they had worried for him.

The household staff had quietly celebrated when they learnt that it was Miss Heywood who was to be the new mistress of the house and not the horrid Mrs. Campion, as they had for a few days last week feared. They too were not unfamiliar with Mrs. Campion's unforgiving temperament. Indeed, Mrs. Mullins, Mr. Parker's most staunch defender who had worked in his London townhouse for over two decades, had said she would rather quit if he married "that woman". So, it was quite natural that the servants of No. 7 Bedford Place felt protective of Miss Heywood.

Morgan and Miss Heywood arrived home and she swiftly went upstairs to her room, brushing past Mrs. Mullins, who had just come from the servants' quarters. The housekeeper was surprised that Miss Heywood did not acknowledge her, for the young lady always had time for a smile and a kind word for the household staff.

She caught a glimpse of Miss Heywood's face as she disappeared around the corner of the landing and was concerned to see that she was clearly distressed and holding back tears.

Mary came out of the back parlour just then. "Was that Charlotte I heard? Has she returned?"

She was eager for news from Charlotte about her visit with Lady Susan. If that esteemed lady had agreed to help and found some way to save Mary's family, she would forever be in her debt.

"Yes," said Mrs. Mullins, still frowning at the landing where Miss Heywood had disappeared. "But I think something is wrong."

"Wrong? What's wrong? What has happened?"

Morgan joined them at the foot of the stairs. "Mrs. Parker, Miss Heywood has just returned from a walk in Bedford Park with Mrs. Campion."

"Mrs. Campion?" Mary gaped. "What could she want with Charlotte?" She did not know what to make of this news at all.

Morgan quickly explained what he'd witnessed in the park.

"Oh, poor Charlotte! I must go see to her!" Mary was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this.

"Mrs. Parker, I believe Mr. Sidney must be informed."

"Yes, yes, of course! But I don't know where he is." Mary wrung her hands. "He said he had a few appointments today."

"I know where to find him, Mrs. Parker. I will fetch him as soon as I can." Morgan was already heading for the front door.

Mary and Mrs. Mullins exchanged concerned glances and then rushed upstairs to Charlotte's room.


As soon as she crossed the threshold of Bedford Place, the thin veneer of Charlotte's composure crumbled. Tears blurred her eyes and she barely managed to thank Morgan for seeing her home before blindly rushing up to her room.

By the time she shut and locked the door behind her, panic had a full grip on her, and she felt as though she could not breathe. In desperation, she yanked off her bonnet and unbuttoned and flung off her spencer. When even that made no difference, she rushed to open the window and tried to gulp in lungfuls of air. If Eliza Campion saw her now, she would crow and exult in her victory, and it was this thought that finally succeeded in breaking through the veil of fear that had threatened to suffocate her ever since her conversation with her nemesis.

Charlotte breathed deeply for several moments, willing herself to calm. Gradually, the panic ebbed and released its hold, and her mind took to thinking and she began pacing around her room. When Mary knocked on her door, bidding her to open it, she politely assured her she was fine but did not let Mary in.

A slowly-building anger was replacing the fear. By now Mr. Morgan would have told Mary how he had seen her safely home from the park. Despite the harrowing encounter, Charlotte was now a little ashamed of how she'd fallen apart. She'd had to be helped home, for god's sake! She was even more annoyed that Mrs. Campion got to her so easily; it seemed as if she knew exactly where to stick the knife and how to twist it to trigger all of Charlotte's insecurities.

Mary would be alarmed and would fuss, and Charlotte didn't need that right now. She needed to think. So, she ignored Mary and Mrs. Mullins' further entreaties to open the door and talk to them.

She focused only on Mrs. Campion's threats towards her family for now, and put all other aspects of the conversation to the back of her mind; she would deal with them later. She knew she needed to be in a far more rational frame of mind to truly gauge how she felt about Mrs. Campion's revelations about herself and Sidney, because right now, her emotions were like a runaway horse. Besides, her family's safety was her priority. Her sure-to-be-uncomfortable discussion with Sidney had to wait.

Charlotte continued to pace, her brain working furiously as it turned over and examined ideas and solutions. Finally, she came to a conclusion. There was really only one thing to be done. The conversation with Mrs. Campion had made that clear as crystal.


Barely half an hour after Charlotte returned from her ghastly outing to Bedford Park, Sidney burst in through the front door of his townhouse, Francis Crowe and the trusty Morgan right behind him.

He strode through the entrance hall just as Charlotte came down the stairs, Mary and Mrs. Mullins close on her heels. Gone was the elegant gown from this morning; instead she was clad in the green pelisse she had worn on her previous trip to London. She was clearly dressed for travel, even carrying her small valise. Both Mary and Mrs. Mullins seemed to be trying to reason with her, but from the obstinate expression on his betrothed's face, he could tell they were having little success.

"Charlotte!"

Sidney's heart had almost stopped when Morgan had found him at his gentlemen's club and informed him that he was needed at home for Charlotte. His valet had assured him that she was physically unhurt, but his alarm had doubled when he learnt the true cause of her distress. There was no love lost between Charlotte and Mrs. Campion, and he felt uneasy that the latter had sought the former out.

Now, he rushed to Charlotte's side, his hands reaching for hers. But she evaded his grip and stepped away, and would not meet his eye. He stopped, confused.

"Sidney!"

It was Mary who looked relieved to see him; Charlotte's usually open countenance was unreadable, and his anxiety mounted. He gestured towards the living room, which would offer some modicum of privacy for their discussion, and followed them along with Crowe.

Morgan and Mrs. Mullins stepped back; they would not be privy to this discussion, of course, but remained close at hand in case they were needed.

"Charlotte, what has happened? Morgan says you spoke to Mrs. Campion?"

"Yes." Instead of taking a seat, as Mary did, Charlotte set her valise down and clasped her hands together, fiddling with her fingers. "I have to go to Willingden."

"Willingden? Now? Why?"

"My family–" Charlotte took a deep breath and forced herself to sound matter-of-fact and not panicky or hysterical. "Mrs. Campion threatened them. I'm afraid for their safety. A letter will not reach them soon enough. I must go myself and warn them. Now."

Even as she said the words, she could hear how unbelievable they sounded. Mrs. Campion might be influential in London society, but ladies of the beau monde did not go around threatening other people's families. It was a laughable notion, and more so that someone like Mrs. Campion would resort to it.

On second thought, maybe she should have remained panicky and hysterical. At least that would have shown Sidney and the others she had reason to be truly upset and that she was not making improbable accusations against his former love.

"Mrs. Campion threatened– are you sure?"

It still stung that he didn't believe her.

None of them seemed to believe her. When she'd first told Mary, her friend had looked politely nonplussed, as if Charlotte had spoken in a foreign language she did not understand. Now, Sidney looked baffled and Crowe, sceptical.

"I would not make such a serious accusation if it was unfounded," she said. A tremor in her voice betrayed her agitation. "She threatened to cause an accident that might hurt my father, to kidnap Ben or Emma or both, to have Alison ruined. I am aware Mrs. Campion takes great pleasure in finding amusement at my expense but I cannot take the risk that she meant it only in jest."

There was a pang in Sidney's chest even as several thoughts clamoured in his mind all at once. It was indeed a serious accusation, one Charlotte would never invent – why would she? It was simply not in her honest and forthright nature to be deceitful or petty. If Charlotte's family was in any kind of danger – because of her association with him, no less – they must of course be warned.

But what Sidney could not fathom was why Mrs. Campion might threaten Charlotte's family in the first place. It was not because he was still misled about her character; he had accepted that Mrs. Campion was not a good person. Either she had never been one and his infatuation with her as a youth had blinded him to her faults, or a decade spent in the uppermost echelons of society, obsessed with wealth, class, status and rank, had changed her.

He had witnessed Mrs. Campion's supercilious behaviour at the balls and parties he'd attended during the week he had spent in London prior to the regatta, and it had made him deeply uncomfortable. She was all too ready to denigrate people, especially other young women, whom she considered beneath her. Just as she had slighted Charlotte in the refreshments tent at the regatta.

Nevertheless, being rude and condescending to people beneath one's station was miles from threatening someone with harm. He could not see what reason Mrs. Campion, with her fortune and stature, would have to concern herself with a gentleman farmer's family buried deep in rural Sussex even if she did not get along with his daughter.

But it was Charlotte's final comment that had set off alarm bells ringing in Sidney's mind. Charlotte was successfully managing to keep her composure; he was sure Mary and Crowe only saw how bravely she was rallying. But her beautiful brown eyes blazed with tightly-leashed fury. And it was not only Mrs. Campion her ire was aimed at, it was at him too. That barb was meant for him.

He had underestimated how badly his foolish defence of Mrs. Campion at the regatta — where he'd apologised on her behalf and called her thinly-veiled insults a jest — had wounded Charlotte. He knew he had hurt her feelings; that much had been obvious from the tears in her eyes, and the way she had shrugged off his hand and asked him to leave her alone. But matters had sorted out between them soon after and then he had asked her to marry him, and old arguments and misunderstandings seemed to be a thing of the past.

But it was clear Charlotte hadn't forgotten his thoughtless remark at all. It occurred to him now that he had never apologised for his behaviour at the regatta. And there was more to Charlotte's current anger than his past missteps — it could only be something Mrs. Campion had said and whatever that was, it had deeply upset her.

He longed to talk to her about it, but that would have to be a conversation for another time. He did not want to discuss anything personal between himself and Charlotte with Mary and Crowe as an audience. Besides, they had more immediate matters to deal with right now.

"Charlotte," he said carefully, "Why would Mrs. Campion threaten your family? We have nothing to do with her anymore."

Charlotte almost snarled in frustration. She wanted to shake Sidney. He had once had a not very high opinion of her intelligence, yet he was the one being incredibly obtuse right now. How could he not see–

Surprisingly, it was Crowe who answered for her. "Dash it, Parker, don't be such a dolt," he drawled. "You invited her to the regatta and she expected you to offer for her. She's clearly set her cap at you. Besides, she has been spreading rumours at ton parties that the two of you will soon be engaged."

"What? Why would she do that? We agreed to go our separate ways!" Sidney was aghast. "Why didn't you tell me this before? And," he added, more to Charlotte than anyone else, "I didn't invite her to the regatta, Tom did!"

"I thought it was true until this afternoon when you told me of your engagement to Miss Heywood," Crowe shrugged. "Thought you'd decided to go back to Mrs. Campion. Which would have been a muttonheaded thing to do considering how fixated you've been on Miss Heywood all summer. Which, I assure you, Mrs. Campion noticed. Anybody with eyes and a brain at the regatta certainly did."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Crowe's words, said in his usual laconic, droll way, had the desired effect of taking the edge off Charlotte's rapidly escalating temper. Her face went a little pink. And Sidney's cheeks too had taken on a red tinge, which amused Crowe to no extent. His friend was one of the most unflappable people he knew, but apparently even mild allusions to his feelings for Miss Heywood could have him blushing like a debutante. Indeed, watching Parker tie himself into knots because of Miss Heywood had been one of the most entertaining aspects of his time in Sanditon.

"God, first Babbers and now you," he groused in a pretence of bored disgust. "Besotted fools, the both of you. Is there something in the water in Sanditon?"

"Well you shouldn't have to worry about that," Sidney retorted, regaining his wits, "You barely even touch the stuff."

The moment of levity had done its work. Mary unsuccessfully tried to smother a smile, and there was a tiny twitch at the corner of Charlotte's lips.

"I think," said Crowe, now that Miss Heywood didn't look like she wanted to throw a blunt object at his friend's head or possibly strangle him, "Miss Heywood had better tell us what exactly occurred with Mrs. Campion."

Charlotte was a little surprised at how Mr. Crowe, of all people, had so effectively steered the ship into calmer waters. Usually, he was at least mildly drunk and seemed to be barely aware of the goings-on around him. It was strange to see him so… lucid. And it dawned on her that he noticed far more than she had given him credit for.

But coming back to the present, his words reminded her that she and Sidney could have easily fallen into an argument without him even knowing what had transpired between herself and Mrs. Campion.

"She said you were spoken for, by her," Charlotte began, turning to face Sidney, "And she blames me for you not proposing to her at the regatta. She thinks I'm not fit to be your wife and I should stop having such delusions of grandeur." Good lord, it sounded so dramatic and exaggerated, like something out of a stage play. She could not bring herself to repeat any of Mrs. Campion's other distasteful insinuations. "She knows about Tom's debt and the deadline to repay it. She said no bank or investor in the country will lend you any money, and she is the only one who can save the family."

"How?" Sidney bit out. His face had become grimmer with every word of Charlotte's tale. Mary looked horrified.

Charlotte met his eyes calmly. "When you marry her, her fortune becomes yours."

Sidney's countenance went dark as thunder. "Did she say anything else?"

The bland recitation of facts felt so clinical, and yet it had gone miles in making Charlotte feel like she had regained her footing; instead of distressing her more, it had done the opposite and calmed her.

"She said I was keeping you from doing the right thing by your family. She wants me gone. She offered me five hundred pounds to return to Willingden."

A dark, ugly look crossed Sidney's face, and for an infinitesimal second, Charlotte saw the side of him that had earned his grim reputation. She could see why people could be afraid of a man like him.

"I presume," she continued, "that if I don't return, she'll go ahead with her threats against my family."

There was a pause.

"Anything else?"

Charlotte shook her head. They both knew she was lying, but she had no intention of bringing up any of the other things Mrs. Campion had said. Not yet, at least.

"But she seemed to… know things. She guessed I had — or would — speak to Susan," Charlotte began pacing, thinking out loud more than speaking to anyone in particular, "She told me not to expect any help from that quarter because Susan doesn't wield enough influence and the Prince Regent would never support Sanditon. She knew all about Tom's debts and the deadline. She knows we have been in town for three days. She mentioned Mr. Martin Blake– Sidney, I think– do you think she might be spying on us?"

Utter silence followed her speech. But as preposterous as her speculation sounded, none of them looked like they disbelieved her now.

"That can be verified… to an extent," said Crowe slowly. "The servants might have noticed something."

"They would have come forward if they did." Sidney frowned but stepped out to instruct Morgan to question the staff.

When he returned but a minute later, Charlotte's valise was in her hand again.

"I must go," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

"Charlotte, wait–" He caught her arm.

Charlotte's scowled at him, thinking he was going to argue and try to dissuade her from going.

Instead, after a moment's pause in which he looked into her eyes, trying to read her, he said, "You can't travel alone. I'll come with you."

That was certainly not what she had expected, and she felt a rush of warmth towards him. But– "You can't leave London now, Sidney. You have meetings with potential investors– oh, you have a meeting with Lady Susan and her financial advisors tomorrow!"

In the mess of all this drama instigated by Mrs. Campion, they had all completely forgotten that they had yet to hear from Charlotte about the outcome of her meeting with Lady Susan.

At Sidney's hopeful and questioning look, she nodded, smiling. "Susan is confident her advisors can help us craft a plan to deal with the debt. But you need to be here to meet them."

"Are they called the Abbots, by any chance?"

"Yes, do you know them?" Charlotte asked, surprised.

"No, I've never had cause to meet them yet. But they are Babbers' financial advisors too. He is also going to set up a meeting for us with them tomorrow."

Which meant Sidney had no choice; he would have to stay in London. He made a mental note to coordinate with both Babington and Lady Worcester for a convenient venue for tomorrow's meeting.

"That settles it, then," said Mary. "I'll come with you, Charlotte. Sidney can handle the meeting. Besides, it would have been highly improper for the two of you to travel alone together without a chaperone"

But Sidney shook his head. "I cannot let the two of you travel alone. It's not safe."

"No," Mary agreed, "But perhaps Morgan might accompany us?"

That was a better idea, but Sidney was still sceptical. Not to mention, he wanted them both to be present when important the financial discussions took place. It was their future as much as anyone else's that was on the line, and he did not intend to take decisions on behalf of the entire Parker family without their inputs. But it was imperative Charlotte's family be warned of whatever threats Mrs. Campion planned to carry out against them. (His mind still boggled at that thought).

"I'll go."

Three pairs of eyes swivelled towards Crowe. Sidney looked merely curious, but both Mrs. Parker and Miss Heywood seemed sceptical, which — oddly — made him feel mildly affronted.

"Tell me, Miss Heywood, how were you planning on getting to Willingden?"

She hesitated. "I was going to take the coach, of course."

"Which would not only be unsafe for a young lady such as yourself, but you would also not reach Willingden before tomorrow morning. That is if the coach even went all the way to your village," Crowe pointed out.

It didn't, as Charlotte well knew. She grimaced.

Sidney scowled at the thought of Charlotte making that journey alone. And then scowled even more when he remembered how she had stolen away on the London coach from Sanditon despite Mary's explicit instructions not to.

"I'll go. On horseback," Crowe clarified. "I'll be quicker to reach Willingden — if I leave within the hour, I could make it there by midnight. A carriage will take longer, and a coach much longer still."

Charlotte gaped at him. Any signs of inebriation and complacence had vanished. In place of the Crowe who wandered around, at least half-foxed, was a different man entirely.

"If you give me a letter that I can give to your parents, explaining the situation," Crowe continued, "I'll see it delivered to their hands. And perhaps you should write something that only your family would know, so they would wouldn't think my errand was some sort of falsehood or trap."

Charlotte's mind marvelled at his quick thinking, but she was too stunned by this change in his demeanour to reply. Also, if she was being honest, she was a little uncertain of him. If it were Lord Babington, she would have no reservations. But Crowe had always seemed the most unreliable of the trio that were Sidney and his friends.

Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face because he smiled at her sardonically. "You can trust me, Miss Heywood," he said with a wry chuckle. "I'll do this, if not for you, then for Parker's sake."

"Of– of course," she stammered, mortified; she hadn't meant to insult him.

Morgan knocked just then and stuck his head in, his eyes zeroing in on Sidney, who immediately went to check what he had to report. Crowe followed him out, calling out over his shoulder as he left: "The letter, Miss Heywood!"

Charlotte turned to the writing table in the corner to pen a quick note to Alison. It would be faster and easier than writing a whole letter of explanation to her parents; Alison knew everything and would know exactly what and how much to tell them on behalf of her sister.

Mary, who was quite overcome by the afternoon's events, sank into one of the chairs. She sat there, eyes unseeing, focused blankly out of the window as Charlotte's pen sped across paper on the other side of the room.

Charlotte was just sealing her letter when Sidney and Crowe returned.

"We cannot be sure whether or not Mrs. Campion has someone watching the house," Sidney reported. "The grooms have spotted a couple of unfamiliar faces in the mews in the past few days. But they might easily be new employees hired by one of our neighbours. Morgan will make enquiries."

"If someone is watching the house, they'd have a better chance of remaining undetected if they did it from across the street." Crowe added.

"So, what should we do now?" Mary asked.

"Continue to act as if you are unaware and unsuspicious," Crowe replied. "Bedford Place is a bustling area with dozens of people coming and going every day. It would be nigh on impossible to interrogate every unknown face in the vicinity of the house. But you must be alert and careful. If you are observant and lucky enough, you might spot something useful. Now," he turned to Charlotte, "If you give me your letter, Miss Heywood, I will be off."

"When you reach Heywood Hall, please ask for my sister Alison. I have written to her regularly and she is up to date with the situation here. She will know what to tell my parents. Mr. Crowe, thank you," Charlotte added, infusing her voice with as much sincerity as possible. She realised her hesitation must have come across as impossibly rude earlier.

He smiled – probably the first genuine smile he had given her. "Not necessary, Miss Heywood," he replied, taking the letter from her and tucking it away in the pocket of his waistcoat. "I merely strive to be useful in the best way I can."

He put on his coat and hat, which one of the footmen had brought for him.

"Mr. Crowe, will you– you will let us know as soon as possible when you reach Willingden?"

"Of course."

Crowe left, heading straight to the back of the house to get to the mews. He would take Lucifer, Sidney's own large black stallion, and set off for Charlotte's village immediately.

"Mr. Crowe does not have a twin brother by any chance, does he?" Charlotte asked, still perplexed by this new side of Sidney's friend.

Mary and Sidney laughed, and it went a little way in easing some of the tension that had built up.

"No," said Sidney, "But I imagine his change in demeanour is unexpected to someone unused to him. He was in the army; taking charge comes naturally to him. When he wants to."

Both Mary and Charlotte looked startled.

"He fought in the war with France," Sidney added.

"I see." Charlotte's eyes immediately softened in understanding. She knew it was difficult for some of the soldiers who returned home after the war. Perhaps that was why Mr. Crowe was the way he was.

Sidney's thoughts were on Charlotte and less on his friend; Crowe's history was not new to him, after all. He wanted nothing more than to speak to Charlotte. He was not particularly looking forward to the conversation, considering it would involve discussing Mrs. Campion, who — ironically enough — he had expended more than enough thought on for a lifetime. But he knew Charlotte was unhappy, and the mere thought of her unhappy was like a knife to his heart.

And on top of that, she was anxious about her parents and siblings. He understood the fear one felt when one's family faced any kind of threat. The Heywoods would soon be his family too, and he shared her worry.

Now that Crowe had left, it felt like an opportune moment to have a private conversation with Charlotte about what had occurred earlier in the day with her and Mrs. Campion. Surely Mary would understand and would give them some time alone? He moved closer to Charlotte, his hand instinctively seeking hers again. But she stepped away once more and had gone back to not meeting his eye.

"I think–," Charlotte stammered, her eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Sidney, "I think I should like to rest for some time in my room." Before Sidney and Mary could say anything in response, she practically fled the room.

The two Parkers stared after her.

Mary suddenly put her face in her hands. "This is all my fault," she said in a tortured whisper.

"How is Mrs. Campion being a terrible person your fault?" Sidney asked wearily, heading for the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a drink.

"It's not yours either," Mary said knowingly as he collapsed onto the sofa, glass in hand.

"No, but Charlotte's family being in any kind of danger is my fault. It is because of Mrs. Campion's association with me. It's a wonder Charlotte is even speaking to me right now."

"Give her some time, Sidney. She's angry and worried, but I know she doesn't blame you. Now, Tom on the other hand…" Mary sighed. "I would not be surprised if she blamed him for everything. And me. If I'd kept a check on him, we wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place."

"How could we have known, Mary?" Sidney took a large gulp that depleted half his drink. "Tom has made some unsound decisions in the past, but never anything so– so– foolish. If we had to keep a check on him, we would have to take over the running of Sanditon."

"Maybe we should have let him deal with the debt himself. Fix his own mistakes."

"Do you really think I would have stood to one side and done nothing as you and the children were beggared? As my brother was carted off to prison?" Sidney demanded. "What kind of man do you take me for, Mary? How can you expect something like that of me?"

"You have always come to Tom's aid when he has needed it," Mary said. "And god forgive me, I suppose I have asked you to help him one time too many. But I'm afraid it might be the only way Tom might learn his lesson. And if he still doesn't… well. I will know that his family, his own wife and children, never really mattered to him."

"He loves you. If Tom has one redeeming quality, it is that." He reddened when he realised what he had implied about his own brother. He was trying to reassure Mary, for god's sake!

But Mary did not seem to notice. "Does he?" she replied bleakly. "He never told me if anything was bothering him. He hid everything from me, pretended everything was fine, pretended to be cheerful. Why didn't I see it?"

Mary got up from her seat and began pacing around aimlessly.

"No, I did see it," she corrected herself. "And I asked him what was wrong. I asked him to share his worries with me, to confide in me. But he brushed me off every time, saying I was making a fuss for nothing, or that the problem was temporary and would be easily remedied. Why did he feel as if he could not share any of his troubles with me?"

Sidney had no answer to that, and as Mary did not seem to expect one, he stayed quiet.

"Sidney," she turned to face him, her demeanour extremely serious. "I know it is not my place to advise you."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a firm glance. So he stayed quiet and listened.

"I did not try to introduce you to young ladies because I knew you would not like me interfering with your life. I admit, I even thought you and Charlotte might be well-suited after I spent time with her and got to know her better in Willingden–"

Sidney's eyes widened at that

"–but that was not why I invited her to Sanditon. I invited her because I truly came to cherish her as a friend. And after her time with us, I have come to see her as an own younger sister. I could not bear to see her hurt. So, promise me that whatever you do, you will never keep her in the dark about anything. That you will never hide any matters of importance from her."

"I promise I won't," Sidney said immediately.

Mary eyed him, but he was not being flippant. It was an easy answer to give, because he had already made himself this exact promise.

"Good," his sister-in-law said. "I have already lost my husband to this godforsaken town. I will not have your and Charlotte's marriage become its victim too."

And with that, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Sidney wondering worriedly what she'd meant about the state of her own marriage.


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