Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tom had insisted Miss Heywood join them in the early morning hunting party, and she, of course, accepted. As the group gathered she told of growing up hunting and her famous marksmanship. It was too good a challenge for Sidney to resist, and well, his earlier complaints about the early start and dealing with the bumbling guests Tom had managed to conjure to the party had melted away. He simply smiled and commented that while she had spent her time in fields abound with rabbits, this hunting venture would prove to be well beyond her capabilities. She smiled in return, cunning and shy all at once. 

The party was divided between those looking to finesse their skills, and those looking to fill their cups. While Miss Heywood and he stood beneath the shadows of the trees, waiting for the partridge to make an appearance, a group stood some paces behind them, declaring it was late enough in the morning to get some of the brandy out. Sidney resisted shouting back at them to just shut up, they were scaring the game away. However he did not, he would not give Miss Heywood the advantage; if she wasn’t going to complain about the noise, well then neither was he. 

Sidney so desperately wished he had. 

There was no time to stop, no time to act other than to witness. 

The man, the boorish Baronet of Titchfield, had been up drinking since dawn. He thought it would be wise to impress the ladies of the party with some shooting (the whole reason for his being at this godforsaken seaside village was his mother’s insistence to find a wife). No servant would refuse a master, no matter how many drinks he had downed in the space of mere hours. He was handed a fine pistol without question, and went off in search of the elusive partridge.

One moment Miss Heywood pivoted to face the party, and cocked her head to declare something to Sidney, her eyes alight with a prize in mind. But then the gun boomed and her shoulder jerked back. She stumbled onto the ground, dropping her shotgun. The silence floated down off the echoes of the gun’s eruption. Miss Heywood lay on the ground and looked at Sidney, before turning her head to attempt a look at her shoulder. 

“W-What?” she said, her was voice breathy and confused. 

The blood began to pool from her shoulder, triggering her panic further. “I-I don’t” she looked back up from her shoulder at Sidney, breathing stumbling out of her in quick sharp breaths. It was the push Sidney needed out of his own shock. She tried to pull herself up, and fell backwards with a gasp as the pain from her shoulder grew. Sidney rushed at once, pushed one arm behind her back to pull her into him, whilst the other pressed into her shoulder. As he began to apply pressure she gasped and the tears began to fall. 

“What are you waiting for! Get me a horse now! She’s been shot!” he yelled at the group behind him, quick and panicked. He could hear the shouts and stamps of feet echo out behind him, but he did not listen. Instead he pressed down firmer on Charlotte’s shoulder, her tears fell quicker now with gasps and hiccups to punctuate her crying.

“Charlotte you need to stay awake” he muttered urgently, glancing at the blood cascading through his fingers. She looked around her like a startled deer, searching for some explanation for her pain, for her confusion. “Charlotte focus on me” he commanded. She needed to calm down, it would only make things worse.  

She looked to him, bright eyes flush with tears and panic and stress. It felt like his heart broke right there and then, seeing the pain so clearly on her face. “It burns why does it burn?” she pleaded with him. 

“Sidney, we have a cart” Tom said behind him, looking quickly between his deadly still brother and the young panicked woman in his arms. Sidney only nodded before looking down at Charlotte once more. “Do you think you-” he began to ask, but Charlotte’s breathing was growing even quicker and her eyes rolled back in her head which flopped to the side. Cursing, Sidney put aside gentlemanly manners, and scooped her up into his arms, rushing for the cart to take them home. 

“A doctor! We need a doctor!” Sidney yelled as he slammed through the front door. Charlotte was slipping in and out of consciousness, dazed and confused with all the flurry around her and the stream of sharp pain radiating from her shoulder. Sidney kept the pressure on her shoulder the best he could, holding her close, but even he knew that if she didn’t have a doctor soon… Well he didn’t let himself linger on that thought for too long. 

He walked quickly down the corridor, nodding between Charlotte’s face and the direction he was going. He was vaguely aware of the rush behind him, of maids scurrying to grab towels and hot water, of hushed words to the children to stay away, that all was fine. Sidney’s jaw tightened. It would fine. It should be fine. 

Gently, as careful as possible, he laid her onto a table with a cloth laid on top. “Charlotte,” he laid a hand back onto her shoulder, firmly and heavily, she gasped once more, he couldn’t help his grimace in return. “You need to stay awake, for the doctor.” She rolled her head to face him, her breathing still shaky. She didn’t need to say anything to get him to bumble along, he was desperate to try anything at all to distract her from the pain, to keep her conscious long enough. 

“I used to be terrified of hunting” he began, the words streaming out from some unknown place, from some unknown fear. “I went with father, just me and him, and I was utterly terrified” he let out a laugh, more of a harsh bark than a warm chuckle. 

“How - How old?” Charlotte asked, her voice low and distant, a shaky hand weakly joining his to press on her shoulder.

“I- I” he looked from their hands to her face once more, pale and struggling with heavy lids, “I was only a boy. Too small for the shotgun that’s for sure.” Sidney paused and panicked smile on his face. He looked at her blink long and languid. But, thankfully, there was no more time for the rest of the story, as the doctor burst in and commanded the maids to this, that, and the other. Sidney placed his other hand on her face, pale and unmoving, “Charlotte you need to stay awake.” 

The doctor came to her otherside, peeling off his hand from her shoulder to inspect the wound. Tom came to his side, bracing his shoulders and pulling Sidney away, “we need to let him do his job Sidney.” He let himself be pulled away, staring at her face as he left and as the door was closed. There was nothing else left for him to do but stand in front of the door, desperately wishing he could see through it. Tom stood with him and then gently said, “you should probably wash your hands.” 

Sidney looked down. His hands, shaking and running through the last ounce of his adrenaline, were covered in her blood. Dried bright red on his skin, he could trace the droplets that had passed through his fingers and down to his wrists. “Come on, you need to clean up” Tom clasped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, giving it a fraternal squeeze, “you can be back before they’re done most likely.” Sidney glanced up at his brother and simply nodded. There was nothing else to do but wait. 

He sat by the bed, unsure of what to do. With clean clothes, clean sheets, and a clean bandage on her shoulder, the adrenaline was replaced with an uncertainty. The sureness he acted with in the morning was replaced with anxious nerves. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of proprietary and gentlemanly behaviour. He had done what was expected of him, he could now bask in his glorious heroism. Sidney should not have been in that room, sitting by her bed, holding his breath. 

The clock on the mantle loudly proclaimed the passing of the seconds, minutes, and hours. He sat positioned between the bed and the window. He shouldn’t have been here. If it were anyone else, Sidney would be in the pub taking all the awards that come with such deeds. If it were anyone else he wouldn’t be sitting here, staring at her like a man possessed, counting her breathes and wondering if he was too late, if he hadn’t done the right thing, if he hadn’t done enough. If he had done the right thing she wouldn’t have been lying in bed at all. 

Her hand, small and slightly curled, lay on the bed. Close enough... but also not. If Sidney were honest with himself, he had spent the last ten (no, the clock chimed, the last eleven) minutes contemplating that hand, achingly close to his, as he casually leant on the bed. He glanced at the abandoned papers and accounts he had brought with him, naively assuming his mind would need some occupation while he waited. Yet, it had managed to supply a wealth of thoughts to consume him all on its own.  He continued to stare at her hand.

With a quick glance to the door, he raised his hand and placed it on hers. He held his breath and waited for the world to crumble, for his sister-in-law to burst in demanding an answer, for civilisation to fall, but the clock continued to loudly tick from the mantle while the wind outside raced and rattled through the trees. Miss Heywood’s hand was soft and warm beneath his. It was small and delicate too. He glanced up at her face, still surrene and asleep. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her stillness. Carefully, Sidney glided his hand over and under hers and held her fingers in his own. 

He should leave her to rest, allow her her recovery in peace. Sidney knew this, and not for the first time that afternoon, considered that line of thinking alongside the guttural feeling that kept him firmly in his seat and that teased him into gently caressing her knuckles with his thumb. He needed to know she was ok. He needed to her her blink those big eyes open and to smile widely like she had done so many times before. 

Outside, the wind was picking up even more and would soon be a gale. Though Tom would still insist on a daily walk through it all. Undoubtedly Charlotte would agree to attend. Her enamour with Sanditon was genuine, unlike the months of forced love his brother had curated. The sunlight still clung onto the fair summer’s day however, pushing through its golden hour like it was a promise. 

He glanced back at Charlotte, and there she was, softly smiling. She was beautiful in this light. Tired but there, smiling at him like he was just the person she wanted right that second. Sidney didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t let go either. 

“How are you feeling, Miss Heywood?” he asked, quiet and unsure of cracking the peace that had settled about the room during her hours abed. 

“Miss Heywood?” She asked, her fingers unconsciously tightened around his. Sidney kept still, not wishing to have her let go just yet. He clung on to this closeness like it was the only thing remindinging him that she was here, that she was alive. “You saved my life Mr Parker, I think you can have the liberty of using my Christan name” she smiled. 

“Well, Charlotte, then I must insist you use mine, would be very unkind for me not to allow you the liberty as well.”

“We are agreed then, Sidney.” At his name she smiled, smaller than before, but her eyes held a joy that Sidney did not wish to overthink too much, but instead simply revel in. 

“But how are you feeling?” He pressed on. Her tiredness was apparent and he really knew he should let her rest longer, but the beast in his chest needed to know. She pursed her lips. Sidney failed at not staring at them, pink and perky.  

“I am sure I will be quite well, given time. But at this moment I am simply relieved.” Sidney let out a low slow breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding in. “Especially now you are here.” His eyes snapped back up to her. His face must have worn his confusion completely as she explained, “you never finished your story of the hunting trip with your father.” It was his turn to smile, short and unexpected. 

“It’s not as exciting as you think, Miss- Charlotte - I was simply too small to hold the gun and almost shot my father in the foot.” 

She laughed, a bright sound that drowned out the droning clock and the relentless wind. “Surely not, surely you were always… well conducted?” she giggled, her lids fighting against the wave of exhaustion that always hit after an injury. 

“I can assure you, as a child I struggled. But I soon mastered hunting once my growth spurt kicked in.” He smiled at her softly, the light in the room fading from a golden beam to a soft lazy orange. She blinked at him slowly. His thumb continued its route up and down her knuckles. 

“I can’t imagine you being small” Charlotte mused, her eyes slowly descending into a slumber. 

“I can assure you that like most children, I was small.” Sidney replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He should leave her now, let her rest. But he was a selfish man, desperate to stretch a moment into eternity. But her eyes were closed, and the sunlight was dimming. Sidney stood from his vigil, his back stiff and aching. 

Charlotte’s hand was firmly clamped around his and she looked up at him. Gone were the smiles and the laughter. She looked smaller, somehow, looking up at him from the bed. She clung onto his hand and asked in a tired voice, “can you stay, just a moment or two longer? Until I’m back asleep?” 

She could have asked him to bring her the moon, to go to China and back on barefoot, to steal Napoleon's hat. He would have done it all for her, right there and then. Staying a moment or two longer would be his pleasure. 

Sidney kept his fingers enclosed around her fingers and settled back down in his seat. The sun puttered out its final stretches of sunlight. Charlotte fell back asleep, clinging onto Sidney’s hand, and Sidney did not dare let go.

Chapter Text

Charlotte was sat by the window in the library, the book in her hand long forgotten as she watched the rain patter down the panes and the trees battle against the growing wind. She was glad to not have joined the hunting party that morning, nor the ladies’ own hunting trip - shopping - which departed only an hour or so ago. She continued to watch the weather, her mind stuck between the meteorological performance before her, and the list of things she should really do instead. 

It was peaceful, nestled in her chair, protected from the wind and rain battering the outside world, safe and warm from all that destruction. But, as often the case when one gets too comfortable, the destruction came to her. 

The front door was flung open and its clatter echoed throughout the house. Tom yelled “Doctor! Someone get a doctor!” 

Charlotte rushed out into the main entranceway, but the sight that greeted her caused her to freeze. Tom carried his brother, Sidney, desperately with one arm, holding him up right. His other hand pressed into his brother’s bleeding side.Sidney looked pale and unsteady, his jaw clenched as he stumbled forward, Tom almost dragging him towards the dining room. The blood at his side continued to drip through his brother’s fingers and stain his waistcoat. Sidney grunted as his brother began to pick up the pace. 

It was the trigger Charlotte needed to move. She rushed to his other side, gently lifting Sidney’s arm over her shoulders. He answered with a hiss but they made their way across the hall and into the dining room with minimal stumbles. At once Charlotte grabbed one of the sheets the maid had rushed in with, placing it over the table. With some help from his brother, Sidney was sat on the table, pulling off his coat with a groan. Charlotte couldn’t help the gasp that fell out of her, there was so much blood. Without thinking she grabbed another towel and pressed it on his side. 

“Always willing to cause me pain Miss Heywood” he groaned as she applied more pressure on the wound. 

“What happened?” she asked, her voice shaky, almost a whisper. 

He took a deep breath and placed his hand over her’s, applying more pressure to the bleeding wound. He looked at the floor when he spoke. “It was getting a bit slippery out there, and well there was an accidental gunshot.” 

“Accidental gunshot?” Charlotte practically yelled. 

“No need to alarm the children upstairs Charlotte” Sidney snapped, before taking another deep breath and a groan as he pressed their hands harder into his side. She stared at their hands. She could feel the warm blood as it leaked from his wound and seeped through her fingers, slipping through as easy as a brook flowed. Glancing up at Sidney, she could see him growing paler, his gaze somewhere off in the middle distance - riveted by an unknown spectacle. 

His grip on her hand had begun to ease so Charlotte pressed down harder. “Sidney you need to stay awake” she said urgently, the panic slipping into her voice. She had never seen him so unsteady. His eyes blinked closed, languidly. She gripped him tighter, using her other hand to cup his face. He was cold to the touch. “Sidney please” she stroked his cheek with her thumb, “please you need to wait for the doctor, I don’t know what to do, please.” 

Sluggishly, he pulled his eyes open, dragging them to look down at her. They stared at each other for a minute or a millenia, Charlotte wasn’t sure. 

“I hunt” Charlotte burst out, unable to handle his unrelenting gaze for much longer. She looked down at the wound on his side, still bleeding into her hand. His hand laid on top of her’s still, but his force was not there. “I used to go with Father, and then I would take the younger ones out - though no one could quite handle a gun as well as I.” 

Sidney blinked at her, his head falling forward, Charlotte carefully held it up and continued to ramble. “Father used to say I was like a bloodhound, always able to sniff out the fattest rabbits” 

“You always seem to find me” Sidney muttered, or at least Charlotte thought he did. 

But it was too late to ask for clarification as he slumped more into her, and the doctor burst through the door, followed by a flurry of servants with piles of towels and hot water. Tom followed after, stepping forward to help Charlotte lay Sidney carefully onto the table. She couldn’t help keep her hand on his face as the doctor began to fuss about. Sidney was out cold, breathing low. A hand gently lay on her shoulder, and Tom said quietly, “Charlotte the doctor needs to-”

Charlotte nodded quickly and yanked her hand back from Sidney’s face. She rushed out of the room, unsure what to do with herself. She kept seeing his face, pale and still. In the hallway, with the silence only being broken by the ticking clock on the mantle, Charlotte let the gasping sob erupt from her. She didn’t wait to be consoled, nor did she wish for any further commentary. She ran, she ran as quick as she could away from the hallway, from Tom’s devastated look and emotionally laden voice, from the memory of Sidney’s unmoving face, from the thought of the children being told- 

She made it to her room and reached to grab the doorknob but was stopped by the sight of her hand. It was red, stained with his blood. She could trace the blood drops path down her hand, where the blood had slipped through her fingers and slid down to her elbow. Charlotte could only stare at her own hand like she had discovered a new creature, both the sight of it and the accompanying wave of emotion that overcome her were completely alien to her. This blood shouldn’t be on her hand, shouldn’t have been tainted by her touch. The tears fell freely down her face, caught in her red hand. 

She stood in front of the bedroom door, tired and unsure of what to do next. Charlotte rarely hesitated, she was an all or nothing sort of girl, but in this moment, she didn’t know what to do. She glanced down at her hands again, confirming (again) that they were clean. The doctor said Sidney should be well, if given enough time to rest. She should leave him rest, he was always complaining about how she would appear unwanted, so now was probably the completely wrong time to appear unannounced. 

Yet, Charlotte knew she had to see him. 

She couldn’t explain it, nor did she want to focus on the feeling that beat against her chest, nor on the need that clawed at her insides desperate to see if he was truly well. She had to see with her own eyes if he was well. Charlotte trusted the doctor, and had seen Tom and Mary’s relief, and yet here she was, before the large oak door hesitating. 

Charlotte was many things, but never a coward. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte latched onto this relentless need and opened the door. The room is generic, another guest room. She couldn’t help the mild disappointment that floated up, but then again what was she expecting? A portal into Sidney’s inner-workings? 

She turned her gaze away from the carpets and wallpaper, almost identical to the ones in her own room, and faced the man in the bed. She let out a breath she wasn’t even aware of holding. Sidney was asleep. He was still pale but his chest rose and fell with ease despite the large bandage wrapped around him. Carefully, Charlotte walked towards the edge of the bed, looking down at the calm form of Sidney. 

She never fully realised how much he frowned, and she was surprised at how much she missed it. His face was blank in sleep, calm and still. She definitely preferred his face in motion, letting his feelings pop up on his face. She loved when she managed to catch them - his true feelings- before he pulled on an expression of rakish indifference. 

The sea roared outside, and the rain continued to fall. The weather was relentless in its attack on the windows. Charlotte stared out at it for a moment, letting the noise blend into one cacophony of nothing. The rain pelted the window into an absurdist nothing, only greys and drab greens blending together. The outside soon became a blurred mess to Charlotte, a mess she was surprised to find she wanted nothing to do with. She didn’t want the exhilaration of the wind pulling at her hair, nor the flush of blood to her cheeks that only came from screaming from a hill top, rebelling against the oncoming storm. She found she wanted none of that, none of those childhood exploits that gave her mother a fright and made her younger siblings love her. 

She turned her attention to the man in the bed next to her and found that this is where she wanted to be the most. And so she rebelled in a new way, against from her childhood exploits, against the rules she was quickly learning about the ton, and indulge this new found want - no, need - that burned inside her. A need to simply be here with him. 

She indulged herself further and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and looked at Sidney, her eyes drinking up every part she could see. His brow was unwrinkled, his jawline dawning a shadow of a beard, his lips… Charlotte quickly averted her eyes from those and focused her attention lower.

His hand was on the bed so achingly close to her own. It was larger than her’s, unsurprisingly, but Charlotte stared at it and hoped that mere sight alone would answer the odd questions about it that began to form in her head; was it rough and weather beaten or was it soft and cared for? Was it strong and firm, or gentle and cautious? 

The answer would not be found through her sense of sight, so Charlotte seized on her curiosity (or rather used it as an excuse) and slid her hand underneath his. It was warm and her fingers fit through his perfectly. His hand wrapped around her hand completely and tightened his grip on her’s. At once Charlotte snapped her eyes up at his face, but he was still asleep, eyes closed and breathing as calm and steadily as before. 

Biting her lip, and desperately trying to calm her fast beating heart, Charlotte looked down at the hand intertwined with her own. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, once, twice, thrice, again and again. It soothed her, she was surprised to find, the motion of her thumb cascading over his hand reminded her he was there. 

With her attention fixated on his hand, Charlotte didn’t notice the shift in Sidney’s breathing, nor the gentle frown that fixed on his face as he awoke to the soothing motion of a smaller thumb over his knuckles.

“Miss Heywood?” 

Charlotte stopped her motion at once, snapping her head up to look Sidney in the eyes. He frowned at her for a moment and asked, his voice hoarse and quiet against the raging weather outside, “are you alright?” 

“I-” Charlotte began, desperately ignoring the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes nor the pull of a relieved smile on her cheeks, “I’m fine? Why are you asking about me Mr Parker? You were the one who got shot.” Unconsciously, Charlotte resumed her gentle strokes, “how are you Mr Parker? Do you need anything?” 

“No” he replied, his confused frown replaced with a tired yet content smile, “I think I have everything I need.” 

“You mustn’t try to do anything yourself” Charlotte continued, suddenly realising it was urgent that he understood the extent of bedrest that was required of him. “If you require anything at all you should ask for it - I don’t want you to overexert yourself.” 

“To keep you happy, I shall ask” he concluded with another smile. Charlotte let her own bloom her face before quietly commenting, “I should leave you to rest Mr Parker - I am quite glad to see you well on the path towards recovery.” She made to leave, forcing herself to look at the door, but his hand’s firm grip kept her on the bed. 

“Miss Heywood” Sidney began, his voice low and rough, “I must thank you before you depart. I-” he stopped. “I can’t say thank you lying down.” He let go of her hand and tried to pull himself up, only to let out a gasp as his wound reacted to the sudden movement. Charlotte lent forward and grabbed his shoulders, unsure whether to push him back into lying down or to help him sit up. However, Sidney made the decision for her, as he grabbed her arm with one hand and pulled himself up into the seated position. 

The storm picked up even more, the rain now was a continual beat against the windows. Thunder and lightning surely would be on its way next. But Charlotte was unaware of the rain, or of the rising sea, or of the grey skies that raged on. 

She was only aware of Sidney, closer than before, a mere breath away. Aware of his warm hands, of his firm shoulders, of the bandage wrapped around his middle. She looked up at his face, pale but firm, breathing, there. He looked at her, his eyes pulling up from her lips to look her in the eyes. “I want to thank you for helping to save my life Charlotte” he said, barely above a whisper. 

“I’m- I’m” Charlotte began, the whirl of emotions stirring in her chest threatened to burst forth, how did she describe this feeling beating at her breast, how could she translate these tears of joy at seeing him into simple words? “I’m so very glad you’re alive Sidney.” Her reply was a whisper, breathy and secret, tumbling out of a place she had never felt before. 

It was either a moment or a millennia that they stared at each other. But Sidney’s eyes were fighting the natural tiredness that came with an injury. Gentle but firm, she pressed down on his shoulders and without any objection he let her push him down onto the bed. He watched as she stood from the bed, and looked down at him. “You should rest,” she said gently, as if making an observation about the weather rather than laying a strict command. Her feet weren’t quite ready to move just yet. 

Sidney watched her with heavy lids that blinked slowly and heavily against the weight of sleep, and Charlotte seized her chance. Carefully she placed a hand on his head and ran her fingers through his hair; once, twice, thrice, again and again. It was something that her mother did when she was ill and it was always so soothing. That was the excuse Charlotte told herself as she carded her fingers through the thick brown locks. His eyes fell shut and his breathing fell into a deep sleep. Charlotte knew she should leave him rest, goodness only knew what impact him sitting up had, but she stayed for a little longer, soothing his hair and ignoring the storm raging outside.