Chapter 5 The Eaves

At Heywood Hill, James was warmly welcomed by the family and after dinner was even invited to spend time with Mr. Heywood in his well worn book room. The smile that covered James' face uncovered his love of the written word. Mr. Heywood looked pleased.

"So Mr. Stringer, what do you think of our place here?" Mr. Heywood leaned against gleaming desk, arm crossed, watching James scan the shelves.

"I think you have a very healthy farm and your house is beautifully situated on the land." he found a book of interest, "May I?" He pointed.

"Aye, My forefathers had good taste and understood the land. I sometimes fear I have not done as well. I mostly worry about my tenants cottages. I am a loss as to what to do at this point. But I did approve of Charlotte fixing up the attic for a space of her own. That was the best decision I ever made. "

"Indeed. I have been working on my cottage when I get a chance. We all do our best with what we are given. I like to think hard work does not end in vain." They smiled at each other in agreement.

"You enjoy poetry, Mr. Stringer?"

"Oh. Sir. Please call me James. I am working on enjoying poetry. " He held up the volume of John Keats Ode to a Grecian Urn. "My tastes always ran to, I'm embarrassed to say. Folk Tales."

Mr Heywood smiled broadly and patted young Stringer on the back. "Well, my friend, you are in the right place. I have been reading my children folk tales for nigh near 20 years non-stop. Your help will be very welcome. Do you like reading the work of the Brothers Grimm?"

Charlotte overheard the men speaking and peeked her head in to call them for music in the parlor. Annie, the fifth girl, had a strong clear voice and Benji the brother right behind her in line, played the fiddle with gusto. Together they entertained the family.

James recognized the dress Charlotte wore from her time in Sanditon. It was a soft indigo dyed linen with a v neckline that she modestly corrected with a tan hemp chemisette. James wore his blue linen sleeves and a tan linen waistcoat. They were a matching pair. It was clear to Mrs Heywood that James was more than a friend of Charlottes. He was a suitor and that made her sad.

"Would you like to dance, Miss Charlotte?" James reached out his hand and bowed awkwardly. He felt the eyes of the room upon him.

"Yes, of course, you know I would." Her smile fixed everything. He doubted he would ever meet with another woman whose mere presence made him feel relieved. She soothed his nerves and excited his pleasure.

Annie didn't know any slow songs so they all hopped and jumped and swung and slid for a solid hour. Mother and Father and all of the siblings danced together. Four complete couples and the littlest boy who danced by himself, skipping in and out of the line as he pleased.

James pulled off his neckerchief and wiped his brow, drank some lager and bounced the dancing rascal on his knee for the next round. Little Maggie didn't like not being the center of attention so she pulled James hand until he stood up with her. She squealed with delight when he spun her off her feet. Watching James interact with her siblings gave her a glimpse of what he would be like as a father. It was clear to her from the shameless manipulation of her little brother and sister, that he would be a complete pushover. She liked what she saw.

He was grateful to have had the pleasure of dancing again. He enjoyed the physical activity as much as anyone. His temperament was always agreeable and engaging. He soon won over the whole Heywood clan.

At the end of the night Charlotte, Allison and Anne took James to his room under the Eaves. .

"Here it is. Your very own room. I am sleeping next door with Alli and Annie."

"It's nice. Smells new." James dropped his bags and strolled around the space with his hands on his hips.

"I did it myself. It is usually my private room. " .

He raised his brows in surprise. Alli and Annie left them alone. He whispered warmly in her ear. "Well done." He took his candle over to the wall to inspect it more closely, touching the smooth paint. "Well done indeed."

"I have something else to show you. Come this way." she took his hand and crawled out the window in the closet onto the roof of the Library and morning room. The harvest moon shown large and bright James blew out his candle.

"This is spectacular. " The cool breeze of October was descending on the fields and the expanse of stars glittered magically. "The view takes my breath away." But she noticed he wasn't looking at the view. He was staring at her. Her breath quickened as he moved closer to her and boldly reached up to stroke her soft cheek. "You are every bit as beautiful as I remembered."

Charlotte lowered her eyes, blushed and nervously replied, "You are too kind. You are always too kind, to me. I fear I have never deserved your good opinion and you always gave it without condition." She pulled back.

"That's not fair, Charlotte. You deserve the best. Maybe my good opinion isn't as hard to get as one from another man with nothing but criticism for a young girl he barely knew. " The comment was laced with bitterness.

"Why you ever gave me the time of day is beyond me. " She said shaking her head.

"I am attracted to you like a moth to light." He confessed moving even closer until his body almost touched hers. His eyes held a fascination for her she could not break. A heady supernatural feeling overcame her senses and she lost herself. He slowly tilted his head mesmerized by her lips.

She swallowed hard, lowered her head to break his spell and turned her face to the wind.

"I reckon fate will sort it out." she crossed her arms and shivered. James heat wasn't enough to warm her body and the cool night air wasn't enough to put out the fire on her cheeks.

James noted the shift in the atmosphere.

"I forgot to give you the letters the Sanditon folk sent with me." They went back into the room to his bag and he handed her a stack of missives.

"Georgianna...Mrs. Tom Parker...Lady Denham and...Jenny."

"What a collection!" she glanced up at him. Time stood still as they stood in the dark. "Thank you, James. Goodnight." She curtsied and quickly excused herself to read the news. She knew they had come very close to that precipice young ladies fall into when facing an admirer.

Georgianna's letter detailed a sad and lonely young woman who had been abandoned by her guardian, forbidden from her true love and was still being held hostage in Sanditon against her will. Charlotte was determined to write back and invite her to Willingdon.

Mrs. Tom Parker was expecting again and she gave a full account of Sydney and Eliza's wedding. There was something lackluster in the way she described the scene which made Charlotte feel a little better.

Lady Denham's note was short and sweet but sending her thoughts and regards. It was Jenny's letter that gave her a shock. It wasn't from Jenny at all, but Sidney.

Dearest lovliest Charlotte,

When I said goodbye on the hill I could not have anticipated the overwhelming sorrow that permeates my cold black heart. And cold and black it must be to forsake you, and my deep respect and dare I say it, undying admiration for you.

I do not know if you were aware of the financial particulars surrounding my lamentable decision. I assumed you must have known but now I am not sure. Tom did not insure the work on the building resulting in a complete and total loss that would take the Parkers and the Denham's into bankruptcy and ruin. You knew Lady Denham was livid and thanks to your quickness in buying us a week I was able to save the situation but not my hopes and dreams for a life with you.

I am the most miserable man in the world. I hurt the one person I should never have. Please know my heart belongs to you and you have every right to throw it to the sea and be done with me. I will never forget you. You haunt me day and night. Maybe someday our paths cross again under different, dare I say, more hopeful circumstances.

Your most devoted servant,

Sidney

Tears. Always tears. She was sick of crying. She tore it into tiny pieces, leaned out her balcony and tossed the scraps into the wind. It needed to stop. Her heart needed to recover. How dare he pierce her again.

That night James Stringer lay a bed in an agitated state. His mind returned to their ride to the farm. Her warmth behind him. The feeling of her hot thighs squeezing his hips to stay a saddle. She must feel something more than friendship for him.

He wondered where her heart now lay. Was she still in love with Sidney Parker? He considered how the Parker family had rallied around Eliza Campion Parker and welcomed her into their bosom not because they were fond of her but because they were grateful for her money and their resurrection.

He cracked open the Ode to a Grecian Urn and tried to distract himself.