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In the first week, Charlotte felt only pain. Not a physical ailment, but an internal one so vivid, she could scarcely breathe at times. Tears came easily, unbidden as memories lay at the very surface of her consciousness. Memories of a love returned, of a happiness she had never experienced, a happiness that was stolen from within her grasp before she had any real understanding of the promise that love might bring.
A month later the tears remained ever close, but she was grateful for having better control of her emotions. Now her eyes did not simply leak at any moment. But they did moisten still, every night in fact, as she lay abed, embarrassed to admit only to herself that she dreamt of a happy ending to her story - one in which Mister Parker claimed her as his true love. Instead, she would wake to the reality that life was not a fairytale and men did what they had to in order to protect their future.
At three months, her pain receded to a dull ache. One she was now felt quite assuredly would remain for the rest of time. She could smile - laugh even - and mean it mostly. The world began to regain some of its colour and she was able to send and read letters from her friends without the shame of tears blurring some of the inked words in the middle of a sentence. Progress, she was relieved to feel. Her heart remained broken, but somehow she could imagine being a whole and moderately happy person once more.
Almost six months to the day she left Sanditon, Charlotte received a letter from Lady Susan. It was not uncommon for her friend to extend an invitation for a visit to London. Months earlier however, the mere thought of breathing the same air as Sidney Parker, despite London being home to more than a million souls, felt a hardship she had no resilience to endure. However surely she might be able to avoid him and his fiance, as despite never asking, Georgiana had conveyed that their wedding day drew near. The elaborate affair, a word used by Mister Parker himself, would surely mean they would have little time for socialising.
And so, with a heart stuttering occasionally as it tried to mend, Charlotte bid her family farewell and travelled to London by carriage - one sent by Lady Susan specifically for her. The expense was an outrage, but no amount of objection on her part would sway her friend from ensuring her comfort and safely.
Despite her initial distaste for the busy city with its sharp smells, abject poverty but opulent splendour, Charlotte was enchanted the longer she remained within the confines of Lady Susan’s home. Her host took pains to expose her to all that society had to offer. They attended the theatre, intimate soires and lavish dinner parties. The guests were always carefully curated - a fact she felt was true, having no real courage to enquire as to weather Lady Susan purposefully excluded the Parker’s, or whether it was indeed simply a matter of chance.
“And how do you do my dear?” Lady Susan would often ask. “Very well, Susan. I am well.” Sharp eyes, knowing eyes peered into hers but never pressed for more.
At Lady Susan’s behest, she met the most diverting individuals - none who treated her with haughty dismissal. In fact, Lady Susan kept company with people whose minds were a marvel. Often she would spend evenings in their company, listening, sometimes participating, as they debated social and moral issues. How she thought of Georgiana often during these times, wondering also what indeed had happened to Mister Mollyneux.
Charlotte felt herself relax as the weeks passed, the breath she did not realise she had been holding expelled, leaving her feeling optimistic and dare she believe it, happy. She often thought of Mister Parker, but was resigned to it being the way of things. The dull ache had not faded, yet her ability to ignore it, to focus on the good, the splendour, the opportunity before her, enabled her to finally begin to see that she could be a whole person once more.
But fate challenged her resolve one afternoon as she descended the steps of the British Museum. And just like that, the man she dreaded yet hoped to see in equal measures, stood a ways away, conversing with a gentleman she was confident was Lord Babington. The shock of his visage, so handsome, so vital, stopped her stride. Shocked numbness, akin to her first swim in the Sanditon ocean, spread through her body as she watched, scandelously consuming the sight of him.
Lady Susan reached her and Charlotte jumped, startled from her improper stare. Roused out of her stupour, she smiled - or attempted its closest replica. Perhaps it was the furtive glance she had not meant to cast in Mister Parker's direction that alerted Lady Susan. But she turned, her eyes alight with comprehension. With determination, they descended the steps. Lord Babington saw them first and Charlotte tensed. Lady Susan acknowledged them with a smile and slowed, but kept them moving. Charlotte smiled in their general direction as not to appear rude, but in truth, she made no eye contact with either gentleman. She felt their stares though, his stare, and her face burned as her heart seemed to burst with a ferocious pain she thought she had managed to evade. They walked with confidence, not stopping until safely seated within the carriage. Lady Susan touched Charlotte’s hand. “Are you alright, my dear?” Charlotte felt her lip quiver but straightened. “Yes, thank you. I shall be.” Her friend nodded, her eyes filled with sympathy. “Good girl.”
As more time passed Charlotte was able to breathe once more. She was tired of crying, tired of feeling lonely and bruised. A momentary aberration, she convinced herself, certain now that her first sight of Mister Parker was over, she would be able to meet him with confidence. This resolve was tested post haste.
Charlotte inhaled deeply as she exited the carriage at Lord and Lady Babington’s home, mentally prepared for the ball. Lady Babington, a figure society was exceedingly curious about, had waited an extraordinary amount of time before opening her doors to polite society. As such, Charlotte knew that it would be unpardonable to reject the invitation. She also knew however, that Mister Parker and Mrs. Campion were guaranteed to be in attendance.
“You are a strong, capable young women. Equal to Mrs. C. Equal to any woman. Do not forget it, Charlotte.” Her nerves shuddered at the sage advice from Lady Susan, an echo of the sentiment once dispensed by Mister Parker in a ballroom a long time ago. But the words had the intended effect. Charlotte was bolstered.
They were welcomed by the Lord and Lady of the house. It was Lady Babington however that left the greatest impression. She had been a formidable woman in Sanditon - forthright, spoke her mind and had been, quite scandalously, in love with her step brother. When they last parted, she had appeared happy in marriage, but the woman before her seemed more than happy, she was radiant. Apparent still however was the air she radiated of someone who did not suffer fools, but quite close to the surface was a serenity, an inner glow that brought a blush to Charlotte’s cheeks when she caught the look of love that passed between her hosts.
“Lady Babington.” Charlotte curtsied. “Oh, for God’s sake,” Esther exclaimed as she rolled her eyes. “Its Esther.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Would you believe Miss Heywood that you are quite assuredly the most agreeable face I’ve seen tonight. The rest remain curious to see what type of harridan Babington has wed.”
Reading the humour in her demeanor, she whispered in return.”Their opinion matters not. From what I observe, Lord Babington is a man in love. His opinion seems to be the only one of any consequence.” Esther cocked her head to the side. “Just so, Miss Heywood. Just so.”
Lady Susan beckoned and Charlotte moved into the ballroom, the lights bright and beautiful. Already she felt her spirits lift as they watched dozens of couples dance in unison. The atmosphere was festive as music and conversation permeated the air. She relaxed, infinitely pleased when not ten minutes later, a Lord led her into her first dance.
Charlotte barely had time to breathe. For the next hour, two perhaps, she was swept across the ballroom floor, her partners entertaining and lively. Even the older gentleman who had on occasion stepped on her toes could not distract from her mood. “Thank you,” she said to Lady Susan when she had a rare space in her dancecard. “I am having a wonderful time.”
Susan smiled and squeezed her hand. “I am glad. Oh look, here comes Lord Hexham.” Charlotte laughed - perhaps her first real one in months - as she deposited her punch glass onto a waiting tray and led into the first movements of the waltz.
Struggling to catch her breath, Charlotte felt giddy and flushed. The wine coupled with the exersion left her feeling euphoric. Slipping out onto the balcony, she welcomed the cool breeze, a stark juxtaposition to the heat of the ballroom. Wanting to avoid conversation, she dashed into an open doorway and crashed into a solid body.
Her decisive oof was followed by “beg your pardon”. The warm, ungloved hands that had reached to steady her tensed. Charlotte swallowed as her instincts began to flicker to life. Those hands were familiar to her. Clamping down her panic, her gaze rose to clash with beautiful dark brown eyes.
“Charlotte.”
“Miss Heywood,” she countered automatically. They were in the library. The room was candlelit and they were alone.
Mister Parker tensed but thankfully took a step back. Charlotte felt relief and despair in equal measures. The reality of her own weakness gave rise to no small amount of shame. They stood in silence for a moment, their eyes locked as the tension mounted unbearably. Charlotte knew she ought to look elsewhere, the ground, anywhere , but could not. Her feelings for him, her sorrow about their permanent parting swept through her.
“Charlotte,” he said again. This time a whisper, a desperate plea. Drawing upon her will, she looked away, less he see the adoration and the tears she now rapidly blinked away.
“I trust you are well, Mister Parker. Please, excuse me.”
“Miss Heywood, wait!” She needed to go. Yet she halted. “I…” his hesitation seemed to resonate around the room. He tried again by clearing his throat. “I saw you, a few weeks back at the British Museum. You seemed in a hurry.”
“Yes, Lady Susan and I were late for an engagement.”
“I was afraid you were avoiding me.” Charlotte felt irritated. Why should she not avoid him? “I thought it prudent that we were not late for our appointment. I apologise if we offended you.”
“How is your family?”
“They are well, I thank you.”
“How are you enjoying London? Lest I’ve forgotten, you had no affection for the city.”
“I should go.”
“Charlotte, a moment please.” His tone was desperate, beseeching and something inside of her snapped. “Mister Parker, what is it that you wish to know? My thoughts on the weather? The Prince Regent’s recent visit? My family is well, my visit to London has been exceedingly diverting. Except for the part where I have been hoping, nay, dreading the thought of meeting you, of seeing you and your fiancé. I am sure that you have long ago settled into your new life, but I…” her voice cracked after the emotional declaration, born of frustration and hurt. “I still require time. And no matter how foolish it may seem to you, I cannot be around you.” Charlotte hated the tears that filled her eyes and silently fell. “I cannot.”
“I do not wish to hurt you,” he confessed. “I just wonder about you... whether you are well, whether you have found peace and happiness in Willingdon. I pray for it. For I have sentenced myself to much less.”
“You have no right to confess these things to me!” she declared. “You are going to be wed. There is nothing between us-”
“Nothing between us?!” he scoffed. “There remains everything between us. Everything! I thought you were vision, some apparition meant to torment me when I saw you at the Museum. I think of you often enough that I sometimes feel the grip of madness!” Her feelings of hopelessness spread. They could never be.
“I have not settled in my life. I have tried, but I cannot. The world has lost its colour, I feel no joy. I feel trapped in an arrangement underscored by duty and obligation. I want nothing more than to be free!” he declared. His eyes bore into hers, his misery, his vulnerability laid bare for her to feast upon. Inside his gaze, she recognised her mutual expression of longing. “I watched you tonight, happy in the arms of others. Men who could give you a life, one I desperately feel is my duty to provide.” Charlotte bit her lip for she felt the need to howl her misery at the moon. His pain mingled with her own. And yet, the pain - mutual or singular - only made them miserable.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, tired, resigned. “We are slaves Mister Parker, slaves to the choices we have made. You are engaged to another.”
“Charlotte-”
“Miss Heywood! Please, Mister Parker. Miss Heywood ,” she enunciated, mildly panicked, determined to keep the facade of propriety between them. “Do you not see there is nothing for us. My feelings, your feelings, mean nothing for they cannot be acted upon. There is no future, no hope, no happiness to be found by wallowing in our past.”
“I choose to believe there is always hope.”
“Hope? You would speak to me of hope?” Charlotte cried. “No, there is no hope. Because we will never be together. There is no place for us Mister Parker, because you chose to engage yourself for money.” She watched him flinch as if struck while she marveled at the words tumbling from her lips. “I would have given you-” Her tears were about to progress to wracking sobs and she knew that would not do. Breathing deeply she composed her wilted emotions. “We must move on.”
“And if I cannot?”
She closed her eyes and felt twin drops of moisture race towards her chin. With the back of her hand, she dabbed at her cheeks. “You must”. He offered her his handkerchief and she hesitated before reaching for it, careful that their hands did not touch. “Goodbye Mister Parker. I wish you every happiness.” She dabbed her eyes before offering him the square.
“Keep it,” he said, his voice gruff. Charlotte willed her limbs to move. As she slipped outside the room, she swore she heard him confess, “I shall love you Miss Heywood. Forever.” Less she shame herself by flinging her person into his arms, she hurried towards the ballroom to find Lady Susan. It was time to leave London.
Returning to Willingdon felt a little like her return from Sanditon. Her heart was broken again, but this time, she felt better prepared. She worked, she assisted her family and she consciously thought nothing of Mister Parker. Sheer will and determination saw her work hard during the day, so hard in fact that her mind and body could do nothing but recover in dreamless sleep. Her friends wrote her - Lady Susan, Georgiana, Mary Parker, even Lady Babington - a surprise most welcome. Esther was the only person who truly had no vested interest in her heartbreak and so their correspondence, although infrequent, cheered her immensely as they spoke on the vanity of London society. Soon a month, then two passed. By now she realised, Eliza Campion was surely Mrs. Sidney Parker.
Charlotte was roused from her perch in the garden by her younger sister. “Charlotte! You have a guest!”
“I am not expecting company!” she called in return. “Is it Georgiana? She has always threatened to surprise me.” Lucy was already running back and failed to reply. Charlotte dashed towards the house, eager to see her friend. Entering via the back door, she reached for a clean cloth and wiped her hands. “Is he Georgiana?” she asked another of her sisters. The response however was non-committal. Charlotte’s smile dissolved to confusion. “Who is it?”
“Papa has asked you to the drawing room.”
Walking towards the room, Charlotte’s curiosity peaked. There were no voices, no conversation, no clue to whomever the guest was. As she entered, her smile froze. Her parents sat on the settee and opposite them sat Mister Parker. At her entrance, everyone rose - even her parents. It seemed sitting in an awkward silence was even too much for them to bare.
“Mister Parker?” Disbelief coated her words and she blinked a few times. Perhaps this was a dream - a play on one of the many she’s had about Mister Parker arriving to sweep her off her feet. But he moved, turned to face her and she knew it to be reality. No dream had him look so drawn. “What are you doing here?”
She turned to her parents for some explanation, but they remained silent. Mister Parker looked at her father and Mister Heywood nodded eventually. “Mister Parker has come to see you Charlotte. We will give you both a moment.”
“A moment?” Charlotte frowned as her parents filed out of the room. “Sidn-” rolled from her tongue and she snapped her mouth shut. “I do not understand.”
Mister Parker tugged on his cravat, clearly harassed. “Might we go for a walk Miss Heywood? I feel the fresh air might assist me in my explanation.”
“I do not believe that is wise-”
“Please.”
Not at all sure it was the right thing to do, she nodded nonetheless and led the way outside. Her parents were not in sight, neither were her siblings. Unusual indeed, considering the noise levels with so many siblings afoot. Outside, she was relieved to draw long breaths as she navigated towards the gardens. Passing through the gate, the pathway became wide enough to walk side by side. With a respectable distance between them, Charlotte peered at him. “Well?”
He chuckled, his elusive smile making an appearance. Her stomach clenched and she quickly looked away. “You’re eager.”
“Curious. Concerned. Unnerved. Most assuredly not eager,” she retorted, her face still flushed from her reaction to his smile. Shameful , she chastised herself.
“Alright then. Not eager.” Their boots crunched on the gravelled pathway as they slowly meandered. “I barely know where to start.” Charlotte said nothing, determined not to interfere. “Firstly, I would apologise for my behaviour at the ball. It was ungentlemanly of me to be so forthright about my situation and I remain regretful for putting you in such an abominable position.” He stopped and she halted too, forced to look at him. His gaze was intense, searching, as if trying to discern her thoughts. “Forgive me.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She took another step, hoping to coax him into walking but he did not move. He simply stared at her with a look akin to adoration. Charlotte felt her pulse leap and her chest squeeze. This was not right. It was too cruel.
“If that is all, rest assured that you have my forgiveness. Surely you could have written instead.”
“It is not all.”
“Well then?” she asked, biting her lip to stop them from trembling.
“As of a week ago, my business arrangement with Mrs. Campion has ended.” Charlotte gasped as she blinked back unwanted emotion.
“By business arrangement, you are referring to… to your engagement?”
“I am.” Her knees felt as if they might buckle and so she turned, walking towards the shade of a nearby tree. She reached for the trunk, pressing her hand into the bark, feeling the sharp pricks.
“Charlotte-”
“Miss Heywood,” she insisted.
He ignored her. “We have parted ways. Permanently this time.”
“I do not understand.” She felt her breathing deepen, acute alarm rising within her.
“You once told me that being apart from the person you cared for most in the world was akin to the keenest agony. I have felt this pain twice in my life. But none more severely than in the months since we parted. Miss Heywood, Charlotte, look at me.”
She could not. She would not.
“After the ball, Eliza and I conversed. We had tried - or perhaps she had - but our relationship had disintegrated into nothing more than platitudes and willful indifference. We were different people when we met years ago. And while she knew we had changed, she had hoped that given time, we would both learn to love each other again.”
She heard him step closer, tensed at the thought of him touching her. Half hoping he would, half agonised at what she would do if he did.
“But I had lost my heart quite spectacularly in Sanditon. And no matter how hard I tried, I could not gift it to any other.” Her body began to shake and her chin trembled. Charlotte covered her face with her hands as silent sobs wracked her frame.
“Charlotte.” From behind, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, his lips pressed to her ear in a desperate whisper. “Forgive me. Forgive me for not being brave enough to follow my own heart. Forgive me for loving my brother, but being unable to stand firm around my own happiness. Our happiness. Forgive me for hurting you abominably. Charlotte, my dearest Charlotte, forgive me for taking this long to make my way back to you.”
“You did! You took so long.” Her tears would not be stemmed but his arms tightened, holding her tightly against his chest. “You are the very best of me. Every part of who I am belongs to you. Please, tell me that I have not lost the chance to make you happy. For if you do me the honour, I shall spend the rest of my days dedicated to ensuring your happiness.”
It was a dream. It had to me. And yet, even in her dreams his words were nowhere near this perfect, this romantic. Perhaps because nothing ever came close to reality. Turning within the circle of his arms, she stared up at him with tear streaked cheeks and drenched eyes.
“My dearest heart.” He gently raised one thumb to swipe at the moisture on her face. Charlotte quivered as their foreheads touched. Placing a chaste, but lingering kiss to her forehead, Mister Parker slowly sunk onto one knee.
Fresh tears blurred her vision. “Oh.”
“Charlotte Heywood, would you do me the honour of offering me a chance at winning your forgiveness, earning your love, devotion and your respect. I have made mistakes, but none as foolhardy as believing that any circumstances would make a life without you bearable. Allow me the opportunity to be your husband, your friend and someday, a father to our children.”
Her fingers trembled as she tugged at his hands, encouraging him to his feet. With him towering over her, Charlotte stretched onto her toes and gently pressed her lips to his. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will marry you.”
Twelve months later
Happiness, Charlotte realised, was a state which arose due to the culmination of numerous factors. Affection, security, family, friends, diverting interests. She was grateful to experience them all in equal measures. Sitting at her writing desk, she completed the final passages of her letter to Georgiana but paused to reflect.
After Sidney had proposed, they had set a wedding date for three months hence. They would dearly have loved to wed sooner, but there were protocols and her family had wanted both of them to be sure. In truth she understood their reticence, having seen how badly her heart had been broken by Sidney before.
There had also been the matter of securing Sanditon’s financial future. With Sidney no longer attached to Mrs. Campion, the cost for the seaside resort had to be sourced from elsewhere. Surprisingly, Mrs. Campion did offer a small boon towards the project. And her confidence in the brothers Parker made it easier to secure the remaining funding. Sadly, Tom Parker was no longer in control of the financial future of Sanditon. That belonged with Sidney. But any creative licence still remained firmly within the older Parker’s domain.
Her own connections - Lady Susan in particular - had been invaluable in promoting Sanditon as a fashionable destination for London’s elite. With repairs now complete, Susan confided that she might persuade the Prince Regent to visit at the start of the new season. While Charlotte had confided this news to her husband, they had both wisely agreed to keep Tom in the dark until actual arrangements could be made.
For her part, she assisted with the organisation of things. She also helped keep Tom on track when his creativity threatened to become overzealous. Despite his flaws, Charlotte loved and respected her in laws greatly. Both Mary and Tom had apologised profusely for not firmly rejecting Sidney’s engagement. All of that however, was now firmly in the past.
“Charlotte!” Sidney had the habit of calling for her the minute he walked into their home. He did this despite finding her in generally the same spot at this time of the day. She signed her name and sealed the letter to Georgiana just as she felt his arms close around her and his lips press against her neck.
“Good afternoon. I have missed you.”
She chuckled. “You know, according to Esther, it’s quite unfashionable to be in love with one’s partner.”
He kissed her ear and she shivered. “She’s a fine one to talk. She’s mad for Babington.”
Charlotte swivelled around on the stool and pressed her lips to her husbands, marvelling in the shot of pleasure that raged from her belly to her heart. Her breath hitched as he deepened the kiss, raising her to her feet. Their kiss was interrupted though. “Looks like someone is happy to have their papa home.”
Sidney grinned and kneeled before her, placing his lips to her swollen belly. At eight months pregnant, she was round, and as her husband often teased her, ‘infinitely charming if a little awkward’.
Standing once more, he pulled her close to rest their foreheads together. “How are you feeling, my dear?”
“A little tired. But nothing I cannot manage.” His brows rose and she smoothed the furrow with her fingers. “I promise I am not doing too much. And should I feel in any way overwhelmed, you have my word - and that of Doctor Fuchs - that I shall rest.”
“Alright.”
Charlotte frowned. “Alright? No witty comeback, no trying to convince me otherwise. No negotiation?”
Sidney feigned innocence. “No.”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to Sidney?” He laughed, the sound still a joy to her after so many months of living with him. “I received some sage advice from Babington today. Apparently the advice was passed to him via Lady Denham.”
“Really?”
“Quite. He was counselled to never argue with his wife.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because according to Lady D, we’re saps who cannot successfully lord over our wives because we love them too much. And despite the ensuing argument, we generally agree to whatever you want in any case. So we might spare ourselves, and our precious partners the anxiety of a disagreement we are doomed to be on the losing end of.”
Charlotte smiled broadly and tried as best she could to wind her arms around his waist. With her belly between them, it proved a little challenging. “Sidney Parker following the enlightened advice of Lady Denham.”
He sighed. “I am a changed man.” He gently nudged her nose with his own, earnest as he declared softly. “A man wholly and completely in love with his wife.”
“Well then,” she pressed her lips to his. “We make quite a pair. For I am wholly and completely in love with my husband.”