It was the final evening in Sanditon for the Dowager Countess of Leyburn. Charlotte always felt a start when she read that on an invitation, as she was doing right now. Dowager. It felt so old, and she only five and thirty. Tom Parker always had a sense of ceremony, and for their last hurrah he insisted on proper invitations with all titles, including her youngest two. The little girls were not used to being in company, and therefore unused to being referred to by their official titles. Charlotte had wanted her children to feel like children, not little lords and ladies. Oh, how poor Anthony had been forced to give up childhood to become an Earl.
She sat at her looking glass, looking at the invitation as Esther's maid finished up the final touches on her hair. These sorts of events had been more of a joy when James was alive, visiting the other Yorkshire gentry and peers, or visiting his mama in London. They'd start the night with a little game; how many times would Lord McAllister fall asleep at the dinner table, or if senile Mrs. Chumley would forget that James was married and try to arrange a match between him and her granddaughter. They'd always had a laugh together.
"Reed, are you married?" She asked the maid abruptly.
"Yes ma'am."
"I hope you won't mind my impertinence, but does your husband make you laugh?"
Reed looked surprised by the question.
"No ma'am, he's a quiet sort. Very kind, generous. He might say that I make him laugh." Reed smiled to herself, pushing another pearl pin into Charlotte's hair.
Charlotte thought about Sidney. Their relationship had been passionate, disdain turned to respect, but she rarely saw him laugh. They were silent for a few more minutes as Reed finished her hairstyle.
"Jewelry ma'am?" Reed began to open Charlotte's box of family jewels. After becoming a countess, countless heirlooms had become available to her. The previous earl had been a bachelor, and her mother-in-law had never ascended to the rank of countess, therefore Charlotte had an embarrassment of riches when it came to necklaces and earrings and whatnot.
Reed sat the box in front of her to peruse. She'd worn the famous Dryden sapphires to Jenny's wedding ball; they had been a gift from King Richard III. There was a tiara from the collection of Marie Antoinette that had been smuggled out of France during the terror, when there was a Countess of Leyburn among the ill-fated queen's court. She loved the history behind many of the pieces in her collection, but the ones she loved best were much much newer. Her emerald engagement ring, which she seldom wore, and a simple strand of pearls. Both had been gifts from James, when he was Mr. Dryden and she Miss Heywood. Emerald was James' birthstone, but after he had died she had found it hard to look at. Had it been any other gem besides his birthstone, perhaps, but the constant reminder of his life and birth was in that green stone. The pearls had been his personal wedding gift, one he gave her when they were finally alone together on their wedding night. That memory made her smile, how young and inexperienced they both were. Tonight she decided she would wear both.
Her gown was black, simple and tasteful. She needed Sidney to know she was still a widow, and today she was missing James acutely. It reminded her that healing from a great love was anything but simple.
Sidney had spent his youth in parties and drink, but he could not remember an evening as pleasant as this one at Trafalgar House. It was just the families, and ALL of the children. Babingtons, Drydens, Parkers, nearly twenty children between the lot of them. Though Tom was fond of pomp, he'd been persuaded by Mary and Charlotte to have a relaxed evening where everyone could enjoy one another's company without worrying over etiquette. Once or twice he caught an eye-roll from his daughters, but he chose to ignore it.
Dinner was served as a buffet, and there were no proper tables. They'd cleared the large furniture in the drawing room, and children sat on the floor with their plates, adults in chairs and eating from their laps. The Dryden children looked especially at home with such informality, while his daughters began to retreat to their city ways and refused to sit on the floor like Theresa and Anthony.
After dinner, the Parker family had prepared entertainment. It started with Tom and Mary singing a comedic and horribly off-key duet, a song about a wizard losing his cow or some nonsense. Eventually Diana took to the piano and his daughters regained their composure to teach the little ones a few dances, it was then he noticed that Charlotte was no longer in the drawing room. He used the commotion of 8 year olds dancing a quadrille to leave the room and search for her. Sidney didn't need to look long, as he found her on the terrace. She didn't look surprised to see him.
"Expecting me?" He joked.
"Yes." Charlotte answered honestly.
"Must you leave tomorrow?" Sidney asked. They were too old for playfully talking around a topic.
"My mother-in-law expects us tomorrow by suppertime, but even if she weren't, I think its time for us to go home. Junia isn't well, and I think we've all done quite enough reliving of the past, don't you?"
"We've grown up since those days." Sidney muttered. He hadn't expected that answer.
"Sidney, I know what you wan't to talk about and I would like to as well. We've been good friends these past few weeks, but we've never spoken of our marriages."
"I didn't think you cared to hear of Eliza after what I did."
"Hm. Perhaps fifteen years ago, but I'm a different woman now. At the least I must tell you about James."
"Yes, yes, you loved him, I know." Sidney responded.
"It's more than that. It's how he came into my life after you left, and his sudden death. You should know a little more about my past fifteen years before we say anything more."
"If you wish." Sidney acquiesed.
"It was an altogether different kind of romance than ours. From the moment James and I met we knew we wanted to be married, and we argued very little. I had to change my whole world for him, but there was nothing scary about it, and I was never insecure in his love. I'm sorry Sidney, but I was very insecure in yours."
"I don't blame you for that. It was very dishonorable what I did to you."
"We met in an assembly room, a riotous country dance without gloves and finery, September after I left Sanditon. I'd had enough of society, and that night there was not a titled person in sight, nobody to impress or sell a terraced house to. None of the pressures of life here accompanied us. He told me of his inheritance of the earldom, and in three months I was converting to his church to be wed. By February we were married, and by March I was pregnant. At first my parents were upset, but even that pained me little. James and I were so sure together that their acceptance was a temporary hiccup." Charlotte poured out.
"You talk of escaping the pressures of society yet you became a countess." Sidney said wryly. Hearing of how easy and happy her marriage had been hurt him on two counts; his own was far from perfect, and he was painfully jealous of the happiness that someone else had given Charlotte.
"It is rather ironic, I know. The finances of his estate were in ruins when he inherited, we could not live in Yorkshire at first, and the social circle for Catholics is limited in London. We lived very simply in those years, and we generally still do. Our only great expense is Ampleforth for Anty, and the livings of my mother and sisters in law."
"Charlotte, do you need money?" Sidney asked with true concern. She laughed softly.
"Oh, heavens no. James was wise, he made smart investments and re-organized the estate. We lived in the smallest apartments in the abbey our entire marriage, and only began to open up the rest of the house last year, when we had the capital to restore it."
"Last year?"
"Yes. But James never lived to see it. The day the east wing was reopened, he was out with his groom breaking horses. James was an excellent horseman, and had been thrown many times by a wild stallion to no harm. I don't really know what happened, but his groom saw him fall off the horse, clutching at his chest with convulsing pains. They brought him in only long enough for us to say goodbye and for last rites." Charlotte whispered.
"I'm so sorry, Charlotte."
"Our doctor said it was his heart. Junia's beats irregularly, and I'm worried she carries some disease in her heart that caused James' death."
"Is that why you want to go?"
"Partially."
"It has nothing to do with me?" Sidney asked. Charlotte smiled softly.
"How vain you are Sidney. I tell you my husband dies and you wonder what you've done wrong."
Sidney began to stammer out an apology, but before he could make a full sentence Charlotte took his hand in hers, and kissed it.
"I still care for you, you must know that." She said, still holding his hand.
"In truth, I did not." Sidney responded, regaining his wits.
"But I'm still mourning."
"That I can see."
"Then write to me?" Charlotte asked, her eyes hopeful.
"You want me to?"
"Unless you do not care for me?"
"Care for you? Charlotte, I still love you like I did fifteen years ago. I've wanted to ask you to be my bride since I saw you at Jenny's wedding ball."
"All I ask is a letter or two, not a wedding band," Charlotte stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to Sidney's lips, "For now." She whispered.