A/N: Thank you again for kind reviews and messages! My goal is to wrap up this story before the next season premiers so as not to be influenced by those story lines. I know how I want this tale to end, and have thoughts on sequels/prequels, but I anticipate no more than 20 chapters. And how about those first look photos? Do you have any plot-point predictions? Personally, I am upset about Theo James not returning, but am hopeful for another love for Charlotte (hence how I wrote her here!) Enjoy :)
Sidney's wedding day dawned. There was freezing rain the whole morning, and a clap of thunder woke him up. As he sat up in his bed, groaning with a headache, he wondered if there could be a more fitting, more melodramatic start to his married life. He was not the sort of man to drink into oblivion these days, but last night it was all he could do. Somewhere in Sussex was Charlotte, and he was in London, hopelessly in love with her, and not the woman he'd meet at the altar this morning.
He remembered Eliza's taunts at Babington's wedding, about how their grand London wedding was to eclipse what she deemed a simple country affair. If he'd married Charlotte, their nuptials would have been austere in comparison to Babington and Esther's. With a pang he realized that with or without him, she'd live a life of simplicity. Comfort, yes, but not the luxuries he craved to give her. She'd be a farmer's wife, a gentleman's wife perhaps, but not fit to be in his social circle ever again. What reason could he ever contrive to see her again that would not reek of impropriety?
"Stop." He said to himself aloud, as he washed himself for the day.
"If you follow this train of thought it will take you to a place you deeply desire, but can never go." He whispered as he shaved and dressed.
"I will mourn her forever." He thought in the carriage to the church.
"I promise to love, honor, and cherish you." He lied to Eliza at the altar.
Sidney often woke before the sunrise; his appointments for the day began after his breakfast with the girls, but he used the early mornings to exercise, and oddly, he had lately re-started a practice he had abandoned as a child: speaking with God.
Sidney was at best, mildly religious. Christianity was a part of being a respectable man of good standing, not of personal conviction. He belonged to the established Church of England, had christened both his children, gave in the collection plate, and occasionally hosted the vicar and his wife for supper as a gentlemanly courtesy. Some might consider him pious for these actions alone, but his heart was not much concerned with the details of religion. He'd only thought of it more seriously after seeing the Drydens' unfashionable Catholicism on full display that summer.
Charlotte's conversion to Rome had unsettled him. If they were to marry someday, one of them would have to change for the other.
All this and more was on his mind one chill, late November morning, when he went to the Serpentine in Hyde Park for his morning rowing. He kept a small rowboat there, rented out in the daytime to pleasure-seekers.
I wonder if her late husband rose early to keep his figure strong as I do, Sidney thought, a little smug. Marriage to Eliza had heightened his vanity; all was theatre and costume as her husband. If success could be measured in terms of physicality and beauty, their marriage would have been perfect.
Charlotte's family was by all accounts beautiful. Clearly her husband had been a fine looking man-the children who took after him were admired for their northern looks. But the Dryden's lacked the curated polish that the Parkers worked so hard to achieve. The Dryden children were wilder, untouched and unaffected in their simple dress and grooming. His daughters would say it was the clear distinction between being raised in the town and country. Sidney was always swift to remind them of how they carried themselves in Sanditon if they ever became too haughty about being cultured, London girls.
The sun was rising, church bells rang, Sidney mounted his horse for home, and his thoughts returned to the divine. What would his daughters think of a Papist for a stepmother? It would wreak havoc on their entrance to society. He rode his horse past the only RC parish in the neighborhood, a small chapel squashed between shops. An early mass had just let out, and he paused to watch a small, round-bellied priest speak jovially to his flock. He mostly heard Irish accents of household servants, scurrying off to begin their workdays. This was the religion that Charlotte belonged to, that she clung to fiercely even after her reason for converting had left the earth. She joined these outcasts and invisibles in British society.
Sidney returned home, bathed and dressed. The morning post had arrived when he sat himself at the breakfast table, waiting on his girls. A letter from Charlotte was on top. He hurried to read it before questioning eyes arrived.
Dearest Sidney,
You've asked how I spend a typical day at Middlesmoor this autumn, as I rave about it being the best time of year. I would say Christmas trumps it, but we spend those in London with my mother-in-law.
Firstly, I wake when it is still dark to say my prayers. A decade of the rosary for each of my children, and then the girls wake at first light. We say another decade, and then we take a morning ride before we have breakfast. Three days a week Father McHenry gives catechesis to the girls, and as Helen receives her First Holy Communion this year, he spends an extra hour preparing her. Either my housekeeper or I sit in on all his lessons, and I read with the girls on other subjects the other two days of the week. Afternoons are engaged in what I call "feminine pursuits"; sewing, music, art. Before supper we might take another ride, visit our tenants, or work in the kitchen garden. When James was alive, he often took Helen with him round the farm. After the evening meal we read, play cards, or take turns playing the piano and dancing together. I encourage the families of the county to join us informally whenever they can, children and all.
On Saturday I write all my letters-to my family in Willingdon, Mary, Esther, and of course to Anthony. Sunday we attend Mass and eat a large supper before retiring early. I confess, it is nothing compared to the bustle of your life in London. When we are in town, we make calls and host parties, but those are more rare when we are in Yorkshire. I've promised to take Theresa and Anthony to their first opera this Christmastide, can we count on you and your girls joining us?
I think of you often, and pray for you even more.
CD
Sidney was mildly disappointed with her letter. Though she'd invited him to spend time with her and her oldest children, it contained none of the flowery affection he had been hoping for, none of the passion of the Charlotte he remembered. Had motherhood and being widowed stolen her emotion? Or was she guarding herself on purpose? He did not know what to make of it. Clearly, she welcomed his attention, but held him at enough distance. Always receiving his love, never quite returning. Even how she signed the letter, with her initials. Her married initials. She gave him thoughts and prayers, but where was her heart?
He was suddenly overcome with the oddest urge. He needed to kneel in prayer, right now. At the breakfast table, before a dish of eggs. He didn't like it, but he did it.
"Papa have you fallen?" Annabella's voice rang out as she entered the breakfast room.
"Ah, I, well.." Sidney stammered as he rose to his feet.
"Were you praying?" Marianne joined her sister with a confused expression.
"Yes, just blessing our meal." He said, as each of them came over to kiss his cheek. It wasn't entirely true, but better than the real reason; he was asking God to lead Charlotte to him fully in love.
"When have you ever done that?" Annabella said with disdain.
"That's enough impertinence for one morning. Please eat girls." Sidney snapped. He didn't relish being short with his girls, but sometimes they were an image of their mother in snide remarks, in their fear of anything different.
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
"The Dowager Countess of Leyburn and her family will be in town for the Christmas season." Sidney broke the ice.
"That will be nice for them. Perhaps we may see them at Uncle Tom's?" Marianne replied between sips of tea.
"Actually I was hoping to host them here for supper. And you've been invited to join the Earl and Lady Theresa for an opera."
"Must we?" Annabella complained.
"I thought you liked the Dryden family?" Sidney questioned.
"We do. But they are an acquaintance much more suited for the country, rather than town." Marianne replied.
"I don't believe we should draw such a distinction. If they are good enough friends in Sanditon, they are friends here. And they are a noble family, even their youngest daughter outranks me." Sidney said.
"Are you sure you aren't just nursing old affection for the dowager?" Annabella said out of the side of her mouth.
Sidney said nothing but fixed her with a stern look. She was right, but overstepped her boundaries. He welcomed questions from his girls, but he did not welcome rudeness.
"Excuse me, my piano master will be here soon." Marianne whispered and left the table.
Annabella said nothing and followed her sister out. Sidney knew he would need to smooth things over with them, but that also meant having a frank conversation about his intentions toward Charlotte. It would most certainly be met with resistance. It wasn't out of loyalty to the memory of their mother. They had few of those, and her leaving had brought scandal to their family. In truth, Sidney also felt sad about the day that his little family of three would change if he remarried. Of course, change was inevitable. The girls would marry someday and have homes of their own, and he would change his lifestyle in response.
In the years since Eliza's leaving and her death, all he'd known was to love and protect his daughters, as they loved and protected him. It was a special society, the three of them, bound together by the wounds inflicted when their matriarch abandoned them. At that moment, Sidney knew if he lingered any longer, he would lose his resolve and hurt his girls.
"Please summon Marianne and Annabella to my study." He said to his butler, who quitted the room as Sidney was finishing his meal.
When Sidney came into his study, his girls sat before his desk in bewilderment. He felt slightly nauseous. There was no other option, but to go forward.
"I intend to propose marriage to the Dowager Countess of Leyburn." Came rushing out of his mouth, and almost instantly, his daughters rushed out of the room.
A second author's note!
I am not especially proud of this chapter, and apologize if it is underwhelming. Life has been crazy for me, and getting back into my writing groove is taking more time than I thought. I have much planned for the remaining chapters...Bear with me!