A/N: First of all I want to say I am sorry the previous chapter seems to have caused quite a few tears. I always aim to make you feel, but right now excessive sadness it not what we need. I knew it was sad of course, but perhaps it felt even more so because of what is happening around us. I felt I could not skip or change this part only because of the unfortunate timing and I hope the continuation eventually makes up for it. I appreciate your feedback so much, thank you!

I hope you all are well and stay safe. If this will distract your mind from more serious things for a few moments my mission is accomplished. Sending you virtual hugs - the safest kind.

Chapter 11: Spiralling down

When Charlotte had swept out of the room and disappeared up the stairs, Sidney collapsed in the armchair feeling more battered than he ever had after a boxing match. He was close to crying from exhaustion and what just had passed. He had achieved exactly what he had set out to do, but it left him feeling far from triumphant.

He had spent the entire night here, drinking to numb his desperation and trying to figure out how to realise the idea Eliza Campion had planted in his head. He found it ironic that the woman who once broke his heart should be the one to inspire him now when he felt at risk to have it broken anew. He had not been blind to her shameless advances and could not care less, in fact it irked him that she would think he wanted to be her lover when she had rejected him as her husband once, but he was grateful for the solution she unknowingly had presented him when it came to Charlotte.

After last night he had known he would not be able to hide his feelings for her much longer if she stayed in his proximity. The solution was to not have her here.

'Mr. Campion and I did not spend much time together. I had my interests and he had his own, which I very much encouraged. Sometimes days passed without us seeing each other and it made my life as his wife enjoyable', Eliza had said, setting the cog wheels of his brain in motion.

He was ashamed of how out of control his feelings and his desire for Charlotte were. Had he been another man he would likely have sought his release in a brothel or with Eliza since she offered it, but for him this was about so much more than a physical need. He knew that the arms of another woman would not even give him temporary satisfaction, only cause him to feel self-loathing. He wanted only Charlotte and he wanted her to be his with mind and body, not one without the other.

He wished for her to be happy and safe and was certain she would feel neither if she knew his mind. His love and lust would make her uncomfortable and scared that he one day might claim her. If he slipped, she would never be at ease in her own home again and neither would he even if he, in difference to her, knew he never would force her. Telling her would be selfish and accomplish nothing, so he must find another way out.

Tormented he had deliberated different options all through the night. There was no way to terminate the marriage. Returning her to her parents could not be done, it would be too big a scandal and reflect badly on her. There was a third option though; to let her quietly settle in his house on the countryside.

He had bought the estate, which bordered to Babington's larger one, as an investment sometime after his return from Antigua. He almost never went there but handled it from a distance by corresponding with the grounds keeper, Stringer. If she were to move there, months or even years could go by without them seeing each other.

The more he thought of it, the more convinced he became that this would be the right thing to do. He knew that she missed being useful and involved in practical matters like she had been at her father's estate. She would likely be much more content in the countryside than she ever could be here in London, where her only options were to socialise and look decorative. She did not love him, so she would not miss him. That pain would be his alone to endure but would for sure fade away with time and distance, thus fulfilling the purpose of the whole exercise to remove her.

As the night went on and the content in the brandy bottle shrank he convinced himself that this was the only way. Even so, the raging angst inside him only seemed to increase as dawn came closer, because this was not how he wanted things to be and he dreaded telling her.

Knowing Charlotte, she would put up resistance at first because she would not approve of him making such a decision over her head even if he as her husband had the legal right to. He would have to be firm in his stance and in the end she might agree it was for the better, but he hated that she would think he got rid of her only because she was an inconvenience in his life. Yet, this was what he had to make her believe to conceal the true reason. His deepest wish was the two of them planning a future together, as equals, but it could not be. He simply had to live through this.

It turned out to be even harder than he expected. The reproachful look in her eyes when she saw the state he was in was only the beginning and from there it got worse. It was excruciatingly difficult to lie to her face, tell her she suffocated him, and he needed space when it was the contrary. She seemed sad and disappointed rather than angry and it took everything he had not to close the gap between them, wrap her in his arms and tell her how he felt. He could barely look at her out of fear of breaking down, he spoke to her harshly because he dreaded he might start crying. When she finally left after accepting defeat, he was so full of mixed emotions that he felt completely empty instead. It was like the emotional overload made him black out inside.

He avoided her for the rest of that day, locking himself up in his room and only came downstairs next morning to see her off. He had considered avoiding even that, but the pull to see her one last time was too strong. He was not sure if it was co-incidence or deliberate, but instead of any of the garments he had gifted her she was wearing the same dress and blue spencer she had that morning when she came down to greet him in the brothel, the first time he saw her as she was. Natural and unspoiled. She looked just as fresh and lovely now as she had then, and his heart twisted. He had not known he would come to love her then. Would he have put himself through this misery if he had? Deep down he knew the answer to that, to save her he would have done the same a thousand times over.

When she stood before him, he noticed her eyes were red-rimmed as if she had been crying. He had not expected her to take it so hard to be sent away from a house she never really had considered her home. Again, he had to fight the strong urge to hold her and repeat to himself that his intentions were good, and this would for certain be for the best. She would get over changing a London house for a country house soon enough.

"So, this is goodbye", she almost whispered.

It was a statement, not a question but he answered nevertheless. Perhaps to make himself understand it really was so.

"Yes."

"Then I should return this to you."

She held out her closed hand and spontaneously he reached out his palm too, to receive whatever her fist was hiding. Her touched burned him but the small object more so. It was her wedding ring.

"No", he protested.

She looked up in surprise as he grasped around her wrist and gently slid the ring on her finger for a second time. Her hand was trembling, and he fought to keep his own steady, knowing this might be the last time he touched her.

"You need to keep it on, or people will wonder."

Truth was, he could not bear the idea that she would not wear his ring, that there would be no sign that she ever had been his, if only to the name.

She bit her lip, accepted with a nod and made a move for the door. There was no reason to prolong this awkward moment.

"Don't think too badly of me."

The words slipped over his tongue unpermitted and made her meet his eyes again. How could soft brown eyes be so piercing?

"I won't. I will forever be grateful to you for saving me. I wish things were different, but I understand that you are doing what you believe is best. I assure you that I will think of you as little as I possibly can."

With that she turned her back to him, almost ran out through the door, down the stairs and swiftly stepped into the waiting carriage without looking back at him again. He wished he had not spoken, because her words left him feeling worse than before. She would not think of him at all. God, he hoped he would cease to think of her too in due time.

He remained standing there, watching as the carriage drove away and thought he had closed the brief chapter of his life that was Charlotte, one which had been equally beautiful and painful to live. In this last shivering moment there was nothing but pain. His eyes were blinded by tears, his limbs paralysed with grief and it felt like his heart crumbled to dust sooner than the sound of the horses disappeared.

In the weeks that followed, he learned the hard way that it was not so easy to turn the page. He wondered how such a small person could leave such an immense empty space behind her. She had only been part of his life for a few months and much of that time he had spent trying to avoid her, yet everything reminded him of her, and her absence seemed ubiquitous. It was like her non-presence was more tangible than the things actually surrounding him. There were memories of her in the library, the parlour, at the dining table, in the carriage, even in his bed even if she never had set foot there in person. He bitterly marvelled at how precious moments transformed into purely painful ones, simply because she was not present anymore. He wanted to tell her things, show her things and again and again had to remind himself that he could not. He would never be able to share that again.

A brief impersonal letter came, letting him known she had arrived safely and was establishing herself there, but after that it was silent. He knew she had no reason to write him after what he had done, and even less reason to tell him she missed him, still he irrationally wished she would. He had picked up a quill several times and dipped it in ink, but in the end just held it to the paper until a big black stain bled on it. If he had sent it to her it would accurately had summarised how he felt, but he simply crumpled the paper and threw it away, remaining silent whilst withering away inside. He had been devastated after Eliza and thought nothing ever could be worse than the stormy feelings the young version of him had survived, but this ran deeper and was so much harder. Charlotte had made him live again, not merely exist, and now it was like that life was seeping out of him.

He found spending time home alone increasingly unbearable. As a happily engaged man, Babington was less out and about than during his single days, but Sidney resumed his acquaintance with Crowe and some other wild bachelors and drank away his evenings, interrupted by frequent illegal boxing matches where he fought more furiously than ever. He relished the physical pain of getting punched as it was a welcome variation to only hurting inside. Stumbling to bed in a drunken state was the only way he could fall asleep, even if the sleep that followed was restless filled with dreams of her. He was not sure if he tortured or consoled himself when he sometimes went into her chambers instead of his own, sat on the edge of the bed stroking over the quilt, unable to hold back the tears, then laid down to sleep there. In the beginning he could feel her lingering scent and when it faded he grieved it like losing her a second time. He was only half a man without her but refused to accept that she had the power to unknowingly destroy him even in her absence.

He lost track of the weekdays and did not care if he slept away half the day. It was therefore not an unusual circumstance that he was still in bed around noon, hungover from last night, when he one day was disturbed by some commotion coming from the stairs. He could make out protests from his housekeeper and the insistent voice of Babington approaching. The door swung open and just as he had suspected Babington appeared in the opening with Mrs Huffinton in tow.

"I'm terribly sorry, Sir. I told him you were sleeping", she apologised with an anxious face.

"You can leave us now." Babington gently pushed her out and closed the door, then merciless went straight to the windows and pulled the curtains open to let the sunlight in. Sidney groaned as it cut like sharp knives into his eyes.

"Sidney Parker! What the hell are you doing?!" Babington brawled, making Sidney's head hurt more than before.

"Leave me be", he groaned in response and pulled the quilt over his head, a strategy which worked only the few seconds it took for Babbers to transfer himself to the bed and brusquely pull away the quilt.

"Damnit Babbers!"

"Have you lost your mind?"

"I had a bit much to drink last night, not the end of the world. When did you become such a moralist?"

"I'm not talking about that even if you are in a sad state. I heard the news that you sent Charlotte away? Why?"

"What's it to you?"

"WHY?!"

"I didn't want her here."

"I don't believe you! I think you wanted her here very much and the fact that she is not, is what made you end up like this. If I am to believe Crowe you have been constantly intoxicated for two weeks and in between almost passed out because you allow yourself to be beaten up so badly."

"Maybe. Who is counting anyway?"

His mouth was dry like a desert and a drink seemed like a brilliant idea.

"You should be, it is your life."

"And if I don't care?"

"I will not even dignify that with an answer, you are pathetic. I'm going to make you sober up, and clean up, because now you look and smell like something that has been chewed and then vomited in the gutter. After that we are going to have a serious conversation."

"Can you not leave me in peace? That is all I'm asking for."

"Not when you do this to yourself. For Crowe to think you are drinking too heavily, things have to be really bad. I refuse stand by passively when you are ruining yourself and your life, because I am your friend Sidney. You may not like me right now, but you need me, so get your sorry arse out of that bed."

An hour later they were seated in the library. Sidney was clean, shaven, had fresh clothes on and had been forced by Babington to drink strong coffee and eat a bread roll. He still looked haggard but much less so than before.

"Now, will you please tell me what has happened?"

"I don't know why you of all people need to ask? You know it was a sham marriage. I put us both out of our misery."

Babington watched him with sharp eyes.

"Misery? Who do you think you are fooling Sidney? I have known you for a long time, both before and after Antigua and I have never seen you as happy as with Charlotte. What you had with her was far from 'misery', sham marriage or not. Where is she?"

"At my country estate", he muttered.

"At your…?! What on Earth possessed you to send her there? Or did she ask to go?"

"She did not want to go…"

"You took the decision about where she is to stay over her head?"

"… but I know it is the best solution."

Incredulous, Babington shook his head.

"Solution to what exactly?"

"That I cannot stand having her around!"

"But why? She is a lovely woman."

"Because I love her!"

He lashed out, then buried his face in his palms.

"…and she doesn't love me."

"Finally we are approaching the heart of the matter."

Sidney looked up again, desperation radiating from his eyes.

"I always said I would marry only for love and consequently never would marry. I should have stuck to that."

"But you do love?"

"It takes two."

"How do you know she does not love you? Have you asked?"

"I did not need to", he shook his head but immediately regret it as a sharp pain shot through it again. "She told me often enough that it only was a façade and the time we shared bed she slept so far to the other end as she possibly could without falling out from it."

"Did you not do the same?"

"Yes, but only because she did."

Babington stared at him like he was an idiot.

"It never occurred to you that you could win her? You are not a completely unattractive man if we disregard how you look today…"

"Thank you", he snorted.

"…and if you made the effort to show her affection, it is not impossible that she might fall in love with you."

"I think I did try."

"But did you try enough? Or were you too coward? If you did not allow any of your true feelings to show, how could you possibly have tried enough? I had to completely humiliate myself before Esther accepted me, but it was totally worth it because she will be my wife."

"This is different. Charlotte already is my wife and cannot escape the fact. I don't want her to feel I'm forcing myself on her. That is all."

Babington sighed, realising he would not get anywhere with this discussion right now but had secretly not given up.

"I think you made a huge mistake not telling her, but it seems I cannot convince you. Let us leave it for now then, but Sidney, you cannot live like this. If you are determined not to live with her, you cannot waste your life living without her. This has to stop. Now."

Even if Babington was unable to change his mind with regards to Charlotte, the intervention made Sidney realise it was indeed time to pull himself together. Babington was right, if even Crowe thought things were bad, they were really bad.

Over the coming weeks he changed his habits, cut down on the heavy drinking, stayed away from boxing and focused his attention on his business again. He resumed a more normal social life, at least on the surface but he never felt like he was really present during any social gatherings. Every now he got letters from his grounds keeper, Stringer, and that was the only thing that made his heart beat faster because he hoped there might be some lines disclosing something about Charlotte. Stringer kept him meticulously updated on everything related to estate, sometimes asked for money for improvements or investments that needed to be done on the grounds, however he never mentioned Charlotte with so much as a word. Perhaps Charlotte kept to herself, so they did not have much contact at all, but Sidney still found it a bit odd.

Months went by like this and Sidney found a rhythm much similar to what his life had been like before Charlotte, but he was a different man on the inside. The sharp pain had transformed into a dull, ever-present ache and he wondered if it ever would cease and if he one day would truly care about anything again. He was alive, his business thrived, it seemed like he had to accept that as his lot in life.

Autumn turned into winter, which turned to spring. Then two things happened which rattled his emotional vacuum of an equilibrium.

The first was that Babington announced that Esther had changed her mind and did not want a big, fancy London wedding. Instead she preferred a more modest wedding in the country.

"We will marry in the church at my country estate."

He knew Babington was watching his reaction and tried to keep his face blank, but the words created butterflies in his stomach, and he placed his hands on the mantelpiece he was standing next to, to ground himself as he took in the news.

Naturally he would attend the wedding, he was the best man. He would have to visit his own estate then. There was no reason for him to stay at Babber's house when they were neighbours and consequently no valid reason for him not to see his wife.

Charlotte. Even now her name sounded like a whispered promise in his head.

"Even if Esther does not hold you in high esteem after what you did, you are still invited and have to come. You will have to see her." Babbers stated the obvious. "Will you be alright?"

"I will be perfectly fine", he said with conviction he did not feel.

"I was thinking about…"

"I know, but I am over it. Over her. Whatever it was I convinced myself I was feeling, I know now it was just a passing fancy. I think I can handle seeing her for a few days. It will be a good opportunity to check up on the estate, talk things through with Stringer and to see Charlotte without any drama."

He was lying through his teeth and hope he did it well enough.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Then we will travel there together in May."

Babington did not look entirely convinced but as Sidney had promised to come, he said nothing further. Deep down, he hoped that this might give his friend an opportunity to put things right because he remained downright miserable.

The second thing that happened was even more unexpected. In the early spring, Babington invited Sidney to join him to one of the most spectacular balls of the season and he had grumpily accepted knowing it was a great opportunity to maintain important business relationships. He had always been grateful that Babington, a lord and friend of the Prince Regent, helped opening doors to the beau monde for him. Once he had considered it a mix of pleasure and business, now he saw it as plain work. There was nothing here to tempt him.

A few hours in on the evening, when Sidney already wished to be home in his bed, there was some commotion by the entrance and people nearby seemed to almost stand to attention, which soon was explained by the announcement of the arrival of the Prince Regent and his favourite dame, Lady Worcester.

Sidney thought everyone was embarrassingly eager to meet them, but as Babington was closely acquainted with the Prince he approach him without hesitation, knowing he was likely one of the few people in here which the Prince really had any interest in seeing. He convinced Sidney to join him and Esther, so reluctantly he did.

After jovially greeting the couple himself, Babington introduced both his fiancée and Sidney. Sidney bowed most courteously but did not expect that any of them truly would take any interest in him or even remember his name and he did not care much either. However, as he looked up from his deep bow, he noticed a curious look on Lady Worcester's face. Moments later, when Babington and the Prince were occupied in conversation, she surprised Sidney by approaching him.

"Excuse me for asking Mr. Parker, but do you happen to be the Mr. Parker who is married to Charlotte?"

"Yes, indeed. Do you know my wife, Lady Worcester?"

That the Prince's illustrious mistress would know his wife was the last thing he had expected. Charlotte did not cease to astound him even in her absence.

"Please, call me Susan. Charlotte and I are acquainted, and I became very fond of her during the short time we met. We had a very interesting conversation at another ball in October and I have been curious ever since how things developed for her."

"Developed?"

"Yes, in a certain matter that was close to my heart."

"As I'm not aware what you refer to, I'm afraid I cannot be of assistance."

"Is she here tonight?"

"No. No, she does not live in London for the moment."

Her expression changed to one of concern.

"She does not live in London? Where does she live then?"

"At my estate, in the country."

"Oh, I see. If you don't mind me asking, how long has she been living there?"

He felt increasingly uncomfortable about the conversation topic but could not snub the Prince Regent's mistress.

"Since October. She moved shortly after the ball you mentioned."

"But you live here in London Mr. Parker?"

By God, this woman was inquisitive!

"Yes."

She squinted her eyes and made a disapproving sound.

"I'm sorry, Lady Worcester…Susan, but I'm not sure I understand why our living arrangements are of such interest to you?"

"Because if you live separated from such a lovely wife as Charlotte, I fear she never dared to have the conversation with you I was hoping she would have. The one I encouraged her to have as you two so obviously needed it."

Her words made him increasingly confused.

"And what conversation would that be?"

"That, my dear Mr. Parker, is something you should ask your wife. It is not for me to tell. I will tell you this though, if you are a man of any sense, you will seek out your wife instead of leaving her alone in the countryside. My gut feeling is that you have both been very silly and I am never wrong when it comes to matters of the heart. I hope we will see her here in London soon again."

With a knowing smile she turned her back to him and left him alone with so many questions. He had a feeling similar to when he had been told off by his stern governess as a child, for doing something in a way that was not to her standards. He should perhaps be offended for being called silly, but instead he felt an inexplicable glimmer of hope deep inside.

He could not stop thinking of what the conversation signified, not that night, not in the following days.

Charlotte must have met Susan after that wonderful yet devastating dance, because that was the only time he had left her side that evening, and it was also the only ball she had attended.

What had Charlotte told Susan, that she apparently never had told him? Why would it make things different? What would it change? Why was Susan so convinced they would not live apart if Charlotte had told him? What had they both done or not done that she found so silly?

Ever since Babington told him that the wedding would be in the country his feelings had been equal measures of dread and giddy expectation. He was desperately looking forward to seeing her even if he knew it was bad for him. Susan's words made his heart strings play, slowly shifting from minor to major and eventually he realised he would not be patient enough to hold out until the rest of Babington's party would leave for the wedding. He could not put off seeing Charlotte for that long when Lady Susan's word constantly were on his mind, nagging him to go. When he departed from London Sidney was nervous like he never had been before but could hardly wait to see his estranged wife.