Chapter 5: Sharing the little joys in life

That evening, Sidney slumped down in an armchair in front of the fireplace. They had returned from their excursion some time earlier and both gone to their separate chambers to freshen up before dinner. Now he sat swirling a whisky around in the tumbler without drinking much, waiting for Huffington to announce dinner was served, content to let his thoughts drift randomly and listen to the crackle from the fire. For some reason he felt more at ease than he had in a long time and he was looking forward to having dinner with Charlotte.

He had liked seeing her happy today. More than could be expected, he reflected and took a sip of his drink without really sensing the taste. First, when he gifted her the ring and even more so when he accompanied her to the dress-maker. She had been so visibly surprised and appreciative, and it had warmed his jaded heart. It was not the first time his own actions and emotions in regard to her surprised him. He had spent considerable time in Rundell and Bridge's jewellery shop the day before, picking out the ring he thought would suit her best, one which was delicate and beautiful, without even considering the price. He had been disappointed upon discovering that she was not home to receive it when he returned that afternoon, then concerned when he understood how long she had been gone and knowing it soon would get dark outside. On horseback he had searched for her in streets, alleys and parks and had been beside himself with worry before he found her. He, who rarely let anyone, or anything get under his skin. Her defiant ungratefulness which indirectly ridiculed his feelings, had driven him mad and caused him to lash out at her when all he truly wanted was to embrace her and tell her how extremely relieved he was to encounter her safe and sound.

He did not want them to be enemies and making up this morning had restored a calm inside him. Finally there had been a moment to give her the gift and sliding the ring onto her finger had felt special somehow. It was strangely romantic and sensual, even if there neither was love nor physical attraction between them. He was not sure why he had felt so irrationally disappointed when she reminded him of that their marriage was a sham, or so happy when she thanked him for helping her and took back her previous harsh words that she hated being his wife.

He knew by now that he did not hate being her husband, but it had turned out a more difficult task than he had imagined. He had imagined she would be appropriately grateful for being saved from a life in ruin and then he would not notice her much, but she was so much more will-strong and intelligent than he had expected. When she told him she was not made of porcelain, he had to admit to himself that he had imagined she would not be much more noticeable than a figurine. He had not anticipated her to feel loneliness, anger or resentment, had not expected her to have ideas about what she wanted to do with her life beyond spending her days quietly embroidering or playing the piano. She was annoyingly demanding and opinionated, but also stimulating and amusing. He had laughed more today than he had in a long time.

It had been such an unexpected pleasure to accompany her to the modiste. It had been a spur-of-the-moment idea but one which he had not regretted one second. He did not know when he last had felt such pure happiness. Probably when he as a boy played on the beach during his summers in Sanditon, before he realised that the world was a dark place filled with greed and betrayal.

He knew from listening with half an ear to high society ladies' dull conversations, that the best modiste in all of London was Madame Devy's so he brought Charlotte there. He had watched her as they stepped inside the large locale and saw how the size of her eyes double and she unconsciously grasped his arm, something he quite liked.

"Is anything the matter?"

"This is just so different from the dress-maker in our village, the one where my sisters and I go to have our gowns made. This place is enormous, so many people working here, all those shelves filled with rolls of fabrics. I do not know how I will be able to choose one dress."

"Then let us make you several."

It felt so natural to be generous to her. He saw that she thought it was a jest and he appreciated that she was not greedy or spoiled and took it for granted that he would lavish her with gifts. It made him want to do it all the more.

"I mean it, come."

With a disbelieving look, she followed him to the clerk that came to greet them.

"I am Mr. Parker, and this is my wife." It felt strange to introduce her as his wife but in a good way. "She is in need of new gowns and can choose whatever she pleases."

He noticed Charlotte's stunned look but simply grinned at her.

"Welcome to Madame Devy's. As you may know we have a reputation to be the best modiste London can offer and we can we can create any dress you desire. Am I right to assume that you are a new customer to us Mrs. Parker?"

"I am", she answered shyly.

"Then I suggest we start by taking your measures and after that we will show you different designs and fabrics."

They spent more than two hours there. Initially he had been sitting in an armchair trying to read a newspaper offered to him as pastime but found that his thoughts strayed to what went on in the separate room where her measures were taken. Was she asked to undress to wear only chemise and stays and what did she look like then, he wondered? What did her female curves look like under the dresses she wore? As fashion prescribed, her gowns were high-waisted and loosely draped below, so it was impossible to tell the exact shape of her waist, hips or buttocks and he realised that he was curious to know. Unseeing he stared at the newspaper and was startled when she stood before him in the flesh again, fully dressed.

"You are not too bored already, I hope? I am afraid this will take quite a while longer."

"Er, not at all… I was simply lost in thoughts." He smiled reassuringly and felt his cheeks heat.

She gave him a curious look but said nothing more.

Next, the seamstresses cut out the pieces for a simple muslin dress which would serve as pattern for the more intricate designs, meanwhile Charlotte was shown countless different dress illustrations and fabrics. At this point he could not resist joining her. He had never reflected on what an art it was to make women's clothes and was pulled in by her enthusiasm when she turned the illustrated pages and admired the colour and quality of different materials. Every now and then she paused to look at him and make sure it was not too much, and every time he just smiled and nodded. Rolls of fabrics where brought out, as well as an abundance of laces and multi-coloured ribbons. They had everything a lady could wish for, from simple muslins to luxurious silks. She pointed at illustrations she liked and occasionally asked if he preferred one over the other and he found that he appreciated being included.

He enjoyed watching her face glow when she stroke over a fabric she thought especially beautiful and when the modiste draped it around her in front of the mirror so she could envision the dress. First she only looked at designs for day dresses, but he pointed out that she should choose some for entertaining at home and evening gowns for dinners and even attending balls. Perhaps she also needed spencers, pelisses, petticoats, chemises and, he had felt slightly awkward suggesting it, nightgowns?

"Surely we cannot order all that at once?" she asked astounded.

"Of course we can. Choose the models you like and the fabrics you find most beautiful. I assure you I can afford it", he smiled.

"I won't be able to pay you back."

Her voice was suddenly anxious and again he noticed her changed expression, telling him that she still feared that any gift he gave her would eventually be accompanied by a demand to repay with something she was unwilling to give. It made him cringe inside. He took her gently by the elbow and pulled her aside, out of ear-shot from any nosy clerks.

"You are paying me back right now. When I see how happy it makes you. When I see you touch a fabric you like or imagine yourself wearing one of those dresses, or when I imagine you dancing dressed in one of them. All that gives me joy and that is enough for me, please trust me on that."

"I just find it hard to get used to such kindness from someone who does not know me," she said with low voice and looked down with flushing cheeks, biting her lip, understanding he had read her. He desperately wanted that insecurity in her to vanish.

"I guess the only way we can make you feel more comfortable is if we learn to know each other better."

Charlotte looked up at him again and he felt like he was being drawn into those big mesmerizing brown eyes. She seemed to conclude there was no sexual note in his words and nodded.

"So we will, with time, but for now, please go back to enjoying this moment."

Encouraged to do so, she had resumed the task at hand with his assistance. Together they had decided an entire new wardrobe for her and amused themselves in the process. They had admired illustrations they thought dazzling and behind the back of the staff laughed at some they thought ridiculous. They had selected numerous dresses, spencers and one pelisse. His breath had hitched when she paused at an illustration of an exquisite nightgown and he was slightly disappointed when she hastily flipped the page. When they finally left the modiste, he did it with a sense that he had achieved something important even if it only was ordering some female clothing.

In the carriage back home she silently looked out through the window and he began worrying that something was ailing her, until she turned to him with a wide smile.

"I don't know how to thank you enough. I have never been allowed to do something like this before. Growing up in Willingden, I was allowed a few gowns every year when I outgrew the old ones or when they were worn out, but never this much at one time. I am used to mostly have dresses that are designed to be practical enough to wear outdoors on the countryside. I have only ever had one or two evening gowns made for the country dances and there were never fabrics like these. It may seem frivolous to you that it means so much to me, but I never expected to wear something so beautiful. So forgive me if am silly, but I appreciate it so much. You are far too kind. Thank you."

Her words made his heart make an unexpected somersault.

"You don't seem frivolous to me. Please know that I enjoyed myself very much this afternoon too."

Her face lit up even more and he thought that she truly was like a ray of sunshine when she smiled.

"As for what we talked about earlier, learning to know each other more so we feel more comfortable in each other's company… I will not go out this evening. Would you like us to have dinner together?"

"I would like that very much", she said without hesitation. "I only wish I had one of my new dresses to wear."

He was close to telling her that she was beautiful no matter what she wore but held back the words, knowing they likely only would achieve making her feel uncomfortable again.

-o-

Now, she joined him where he sat by the fire and it struck him again that she was indeed more beautiful than he first had given her credit for. She was not plainly pretty even if she was not a classical beauty. Her face was sweet and expressive, her eyes so awake and when she was happy they almost visibly sparkled. As they went to take their seat at the dining table he noticed that she also looked more at ease than he had seen her in the weeks they had been acquainted, reflecting how he felt inside.

The dining table was a large one for a dinner party of only two, but the plates had been laid out on the places opposite one another and it felt surprisingly intimate. Having a meal alone with a woman in his home was another new experience to him and he realised it was yet another thing he could get accustomed to.

"Tell me more about your family", he asked her over the soup.

"What do you want to know? I'm not sure that you would find them that interesting."

"Anything. I am sure I will find it interesting."

As they continued the meal, she told him not only of her family but also about how she had lived her life before that ominous carriage ride to London. They were a large family, she had eleven siblings and from what he could read between the lines, Mr. and Mrs. Heywood had a very affectionate marriage. It seemed to be a pretty large estate, one which they all were involved in running and she described her days filled with duties from early morning until late evening and he could now understand why she found it hard to be idle all day in this house.

"You helped your father with the finances?" he asked with surprise when she described her daily chores.

"Yes, I did most of such work. That was why I immediately realised we were in a dire situation when Matthew's, my brother's, gambling debts were revealed. After a few years with poor crops I knew we did not have much to spare, not enough savings anyway." She paused and pushed a green pea around her plate with the fork. "To be honest, I am not sure how they will make it now and I worry exceedingly about them. We were counting on me to provide an extra income, that was the whole point of me going away. I must write them someday soon and tell them what has happened. I have started a letter many times but postponed finishing it, because I dread it so much."

She stopped eating altogether, like being reminded of it made her lose her appetite. He had not thought about this before, but of course her family must be told she had married. What an inconsiderate fool he was.

"What will you tell them?"

"I am not sure, even though I have given it much consideration. I always tell my sister Alison everything and I think I will this time too, but my parents… I want to spare them and Matthew the sorrow of knowing everything. I know they would never forgive themselves for me ending up in a brothel. Then I would rather have them think that I actually worked as a governess for a very short time but met you, fell in love and irresponsibly eloped."

"You would have them think ill of you to spare their feelings?" She amazed him.

"I know they will forgive me, but I am not sure they would forgive themselves if they knew I was kidnapped to a brothel and forced to marry a man I do not love."

She bit her lip, as if she had not intended to say those words but they slipped out anyway. He knew it was like that, still the reminder was hurtful. He pretended not to be offended by what after all was the truth.

"You want them to believe you love me?" was all he asked.

"Yes, and that you love me so ardently that you could not wait for my father's approval." She gave him a weak smile. "I know it will be hard to pretend when we see them, but would you agree to try?"

He cleared his throat, feeling flustered.

"Yes… yes, of course I would do that if that is the history you prefer to tell them. I will do my best. Would you like to go visit them soon?"

"I will write them and then we have to see if they invite us. I think they will, but of course I cannot be sure."

She looked down on her plate with a sad expression.

"You miss them."

"I have been with them every day of my life. Now I have not seen them for weeks and they do not know I am a married woman, neither do they know that I will not be able to support the family financially. I feel like I have betrayed them even if I could not help it."

Without thinking, he got up from his chair and walked around the table to kneel beside her and take her hand. She did not pull away.

"You have not betrayed them. You have done everything anyone could ask from a good daughter, but they do not know. I will do everything in my power to help you. Both to make your family accept this marriage and to help them with their financial troubles."

"That I cannot ask of you."

"Yes you can. You are my wife and that means they are my family too, even if they do not know it yet. Please write them and we will make it happen."

A tear was trailing down her cheek and before he could stop himself he reached out his hand and smoothed it away with the pad of his thumb. Appalled by his own action he quickly withdrew, letting go of her other hand as well, afraid he had overstepped the invisible boundaries. Hastily he got to his feet.

"Knowing that, do you think you have appetite to finish the rest of this meal?"

He hoped he sounded casual enough. She stared at him with an expression which he found hard to read. Sometimes she was like an open book, sometimes a conundrum.

"Yes… thank you again. It seems I am not able to thank you enough for the things you are doing for me. Like today, for a few wonderful hours you made me forget all my troubles and now this. You are too good to me and I do not know how to ever return it."

He simply smiled and returned to his place.

-o-

They had finished the meal and bid each other good night. Now, he was lying in his bed, with hands clasped behind his neck, staring up at the ceiling unable to fall asleep. He could not escape the feeling how nice this day had been. He had never spent this much time with any woman doing normal things, if one did not count his sister Diana or his sister-in-law Mary and not even them he had accompanied to order dresses. Doing errands and having dinner, having conversations which were both serious and amusing, with a woman who was not family, was all new to him. It was bewildering how much he enjoyed it. He had not missed drinking and playing cards, had not wished to be alone even for a minute. He had simply enjoyed himself in a quiet way.

He had said to Babbers the other day that him and Charlotte would merely go on with their separate lives living under the same roof, but now he was not so sure that that was what he really wanted. Even if there was no attraction between them, perhaps they could be each other's companion of sorts?

Lying there sleepless, he also berated himself for not having considered her family. How ignorant of him to think he could make her happy by buying her things, when she had such serious matters to deal with. He had not thought about how she must miss them, or how she must worry about telling them of the things that had passed. Everything here was new to her, she was forced to live far away from home with a husband she had not chosen and on top of that she had to bring this news to her family, pretending she had acted irresponsibly. He could only imagine the angst that made her feel. From the little he knew of her, he realised it must pain her to withhold the truth. She seemed to be someone who would never tell lies, not even when it might be courteous, and now she was willing to tell a life-long lie to spare her parents and brother from pain. It was incredibly self-less and loyal and he knew he had to do anything to make them not think any lesser of her. He would rather have them think him a lecherous bastard who was impatient to wed her and had persuaded her to agree to go through with it against her better judgement. If they knew her, that was probably what they would think anyway.

He let out a groan of frustration at the complexity of the situation. It was truly impossible to sleep with all these thoughts spinning and even more so if he allowed himself to think about that she was sleeping on the other side of the wall. Was she already wearing a nightgown anything like the one they had looked at today?

Then he heard a soft click, like the turning of the key in a lock. Expectant he half sat up, supported on his elbows and stared at the door to Charlotte's room. Slowly it swung open and a small figure came tiptoeing. When she saw that he was awake and watching her, she stopped and smiled shyly.
"You said I could do want I wanted with the key."
"I did say that."
"After today, I wanted to unlock the door, wanted to be with you. Is that alright?"
"Well, you are my wife."
She remained standing where she was, with her dark curls swirling free down her shoulders, wrapped in a dressing gown, only held together by a ribbon around her narrow waist. He could see a hint of the roundness of her breasts in the V-shaped opening. He dared not move in case it would frighten her, make her retreat, but realised he may have to say something to make her come closer, which he very much wanted her to. He could not believe she was here.
"You are welcome to share my bed."
She took another step forward, which brought her into the moonlight falling through the window. With a cheeky smile she untied the dressing gown and let it fall to the floor. He heard a gasp and realised it came from himself.
With heart beating out of his chest he stared at his wife, standing before him naked for the first time. Her breasts were as perfect as he secretly had imagined, beautifully shaped with small pink nipples, but there was more. She was more voluptuous than was the ideal in fashion, but he adored every curve. He had to touch her. Without saying a word he held out his hand and when she took it, he pulled her towards him. With a soft giggle, a seductive sound he never had heard coming from her before, she straddled him. The quilt was between them but her breasts touching his bare torso and he felt her nipples turn stiff as they brushed against him. Then she leaned in and kissed him, first chaste but soon opening her lips for him, simultaneously letting her hands slide up along his arms, to clasp around his neck and tug at his curls to hold him closer. This was bliss. Resolutely he flipped her over to have her under him, but somehow he misjudged how far he was from the edge of the bed an fell out of it.
He sat up with a jolt and looked around in the empty room with dazed confusion. His eyes fell on the regrettably closed and locked door. He had dreamed that the wife he claimed to be indifferent to visited his bedroom and it had left him more aroused than he ever had been before. He willed his breathing and pulse to slow down, his physical reaction to fade away.

Dreaming was one thing, but did this mean that he desired her in real life too?

Damnit! If it was so, how very unexpected and inconvenient. He simply could not allow it. Sidney knew that any feelings of the sort had to be buried deep inside him. In his dream she may be seductive, but in real life any sign of desire would without doubt scare Charlotte and make her withdraw, destroying the budding friendly relationship between them. He had come to value that too much to let it happen. This dream had to be forgotten at all cost.