Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Miss Esther Denham became Lady Babington she wasn’t entirely sure how her life would change. She’d been raised to be the wife of a peer, prepared by governesses and tutors to carry herself with command and control, to contain and lock away any signs of weakness and depth of feeling. Her mother’s words always buried deep within, wound around her heart and rooted in her bones. “Esther, women live under the thumb of men. Your father left us nothing but debts when he died so you have only your looks to recommend you. Your step-father will do what he can for you, but you cannot rely on him. You must never engage your heart. Marry for stability and comfort and always be prepared to be disappointed.”

Esther has not listened. She had allowed her heart to feel and love and had ultimately given pieces of herself to a man unworthy of her devotion. She’d been left destitute and heartbroken, the self-loathing near stifling.

It wasn’t just her love for Edward that had kept her from giving Lord Babbington a fair chance, it was her hatred for herself that convinced her Babington could never truly want her.

I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. My dear girl, don’t you know that I’m in love with you?

But what were words? They were cheap and easy to break. And yet, what had she to lose? She had no money, no family—beyond Lady Denham—no prospects. She was alone and wanting.

So she kissed and smiled and took what he offered. She supposed if she couldn’t have love or happiness she would give into the words that had haunted her and doomed her.

Marry for stability and comfort and always be prepared to be disappointed.

She waited, wallowing in the lingering chill of the ice that had held her together for so long, expecting that great moment of disappointment, when Babington would prove the stability of men was as the waves, subject to the whims of the world.

And yet, in the time since her wedding, she found there were days when she forgot some of the heartache. Her husband loved as easily as he laughed. He delighted in her, took pains to ensure her happiness and her pleasure. Within months she had grown accustomed to his solicitations of her thoughts, input, and desires. She had to learn to navigate a life that was spent in the sunlight rather than the dark corners of a crumbling reality.

She began to lose the pretense.

When Charlotte Heywood had returned to Sanditon, she had beamed at her friend, reveling in the contentment that radiated from the once stoic and embittered woman, waving off the sadness in the corner of her own eyes when Esther inquired after her happiness. Lady Babington felt something new in that moment: a burning desire to help others find a better way to live and to love.

But there was something that crept in the shadows, late at night, when sleep didn’t so readily take her. At a little over halfway into the first year of marriage, she had begun to look towards another, more tangible side effect of marriage. She had few friends, but her pool of acquaintances had grown significantly, and she couldn’t miss the knowing smiles and the not-so-subtle glances to her middle.

She had never thought of herself as a mother, never believed she could be maternal or warm, and never dreamed she’d ever even desire the opportunity to try. She had seen her husband’s joyful, playful demeanour and knew he’d be the kind of father that she had never had the pleasure to know. He would love and care and provide for their children. He’d pass on traditions and stories. He’d create games for their amusement and spoil them with gifts and ensure holidays were truly a time of celebration and family.

She had expected to be disgusted with such notions but found a growing excitement and anticipation at being able to give that to him.

Only, she hadn’t, yet. She would blush to consider the times she and Babington had enjoyed each other's attention, if she didn’t smile quite so readily when she recalled those times together—the tender touches, the lingering kisses, the heavy strokes, and the consuming pleasure. She had been surprised by how much laughter had carried on between them in even the most passionate moments.

The expectation of a blessed event had begun to take root.

“Well, Esther, I imagine you’ll be making an announcement soon enough,” Lady D had grumbled one day at tea. “Lord Babington will be wanting an heir I’d expect.”

Esther had merely rolled her eyes, once again adopting the haughty, tight posture that had protected her for so long, desperate to hide the worry that had begun to fester.

She would, at times, catch Babington frowning at her lightly, watching her for moments before turning away. She had begun playing the argument out in her head, how she would shield herself from his disappointment and accusations. She had begun avoiding him during the day, taking long walks with Charlotte and claiming a headache as means to decline their morning rides.

She knew not whether she feared he’d seek her out or feared he wouldn’t.

But, of course, he did. He had proven long ago that he would always pursue when she ran. He did not hunt her. She never felt his prey, not like before and never with him, when she always felt on her guard and the need to bury herself amongst the weeds to camouflage her pain. No, this was something warm and tender. He sought her to save her, to save himself.

“Please Esther,” he began one night, refusing to leave her to her own despair. “Tell me, my love. What thorn has pierced our happiness? Have you heard from Sir Edward? Has Lady D been causing mischief. Please, speak with me.”

She had wanted to deny his claims, glibly tease the worry from his eyes, like the learned movements of a dance, to follow easily what she had trained her body and heart to do, time and time again. Yet she found she could not.

“I...fear that I am not yet with child,” she said slowly, allowing the words the freedom of space and time.

He had blinked, seemingly caught unaware.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Is that...well...that is, then you are not...tired...of me?”

It was her turn to feel surprised.

She had spent weeks picturing this difficult moment, building the fear and rejection in her head, and, of course, the reality was them both laughing at their ridiculousness.

After a time, they lay together, wrapped up in the intimacy of husband and wife, and spoke honestly. He held her as she allowed the emotions to escape the prison she’d held them in for too long, and she listened as he assured her that while he hoped one day they would experience parenthood, his true joy came from her, and she would always be enough to bring him happiness.

And Esther realized she believed him.

It was a moment greater than love. She had loved before.

But now she trusted.

Now she knew what it was to be loved.

She felt she could say it, and whispered, “I love you.”

Babington went still, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “My dear girl, do you mean it? Truly?”

She’d laughed, a happy, delighted sound. “Truly.”

They’d made love again, slowly, gently. Recommitting and worshipping.

In the weeks that followed, Esther felt the fear draining away, but the sadness remained.

Still no child.

When Charlotte came over one afternoon for tea, Esther took in the tired, sad smile and again felt that burning desire to help.

“It seems Mr. Parker and Mrs. Campion’s wedding has been delayed once again,” she said, noting the tightness around Miss Heywood’s eyes.

“Indeed,” was the only response.

“Babbers said that Mr. Parker seems quite altered from the summer.”

“Oh?” The feigned uninterest nearly made Esther smile.

“Yes. Babington mentioned that last summer he’d seen a change in Mr. Parker, that he’d seen some of the happy, mischievous Sidney that he’d known back in school begin to return, but that since the end of the summer he’d lost that bit of levity.”

The pain she saw on Charlotte’s face, fleeting as it was, proved enough to confirm her theory. From that moment Esther became committed to reuniting the lovers.

She kept the night Sidney showed up to their home--deeply in his cups, broken and desperate for some hope--a close secret. She’d ensured a bed was prepared then left him with her husband to sit with him most of the night in the library.

Sidney had bowed to her the next morning, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, an apology on his lips, but she’d silenced him with a shake of her head. She recognized the darkness he lived in, and was committed to helping him find the way out.

It seemed that whatever Lady Esther Babington put her mind to would come to fruition. She’d roped her darling husband into her scheming, along with the only Parkers she could stand to be around--which meant just about everyone but Tom--and the devious and quite clever Miss Lambe. Even Crowe found a part to play.

Their combined machinations and planning, including a perfectly timed introduction of Mrs. Campion to a recently widowed Earl during a hunting party at Babington’s family estate, brought her dearest friend, Charlotte, and her husband’s dearest friend, Sidney, to a state of holy matrimony. Charlotte had beamed and Sidney had smiled deeply, but Esther saw the tinge of uncertainty that colored his eyes—the inability to believe he was finally happy, finally free to love—and recognized herself. She had to believe he too would awaken one morning and believe himself worthy of love.

The night of the wedding, long after the bride and groom had made their hasty exit (hands entwined and smiles shy) and after the last of the many Heywoods and Parkers had returned to their homes, she and her husband had revelled in the memories of their own wedding night.

The weeks past (Sidney had whisked Charlotte off to places unknown, a gleam of excitement between them when they came to say goodbye before leaving on their wedding trip) and still no child.

Until there was.

And then there wasn’t.

Lord and Lady Babington hardly had time to believe it to be true when one midday Lady Babington began to feel an aching pain low in her back that grew so severe she had cried out. A maid had found her gripping the banister, the pain moving around to her side and finally to deep within.

The doctor had been fetched, but Esther already knew. She knew in the blood staining her chemise and sheets.

She had cried when the fear of the unknown gripped tightly to her heart, her hand gripped tightly to her husband’s, but when the doctor had confirmed the quiet loss, she could only feel silence.

“You can try again soon,” had been the doctor’s whispered words--cheap and breakable.

She’d refused Babington’s offer to send for family or friends, anyone who could help her understand. She wanted no one to know their pain. Their loss was theirs alone.

The silence spread in her.

Babington did his best to pull her from her heartbreak, grieving with her, but she found herself once more in the weeds.

Two months later they welcomed the Parkers home from their trip, a new found contentment and joy radiating from the pair, a secret knowing smile passing between them. A secret Esther understood as soon as she saw Charlotte pale when offered gooseberry cheese and Sidney’s gaze sharpen with concern. She watched as her friend’s hand went to her stomach before quickly smoothing out the fabric of her dress.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” Charlotte muttered before rising and making her exit.

Sidney and Babington stood, Sidney giving an apologetic smile.

As the men sat, Babington reached for Esther’s hand, his fingers lightly twining with hers.

“Everything well, I hope.” He spoke for them both.

“I’m sure,” Sidney answered easily, but definitively, ending all inquiry.

When Charlotte returned, she too offered an apologetic smile before resuming her seat, giving her husband a reassuring look when he pressed the back of his hand lightly against her thigh.

“Sidney,” Babbers began, “would you care to see my latest equestrial purchase?”

With a bow, the gentleman made their exit.

Esther smiled tightly at her husband before moving her eyes to her tea. She watched the ripples play on the surface, the light coming and going, and she knew she had a choice to make.

Which Esther was she now?

With a deep breath she looked up to her friend, her smile growing more easy--decision made.

“My, you two waste no time.”

Charlotte blushed but gave a grateful smirk to the teasing in Esther’s tone.

“We only had it confirmed last night,” she answered. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“How delightful.”

The words fell easily from her lips, the heaviness behind them keeping her grounded, focused.

“We weren’t…” Charlotte hesitated. “That is we weren’t expecting it to happen so quickly…”

To Esther’s horror she saw her friend’s eye take on a glassy sheen.

“Charlotte?”

The other woman wiped quickly at her eyes, but the pink in her cheeks deepened, testament to her distress.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t mean to be such a watering pot.”

“You are not happy about the baby?” Esther hedged, surprised by such a thought for someone as seemingly maternal as Charlotte.

“No!” The response came quickly. “I mean no, of course I’m happy about the baby. Sidney and I could not be more delighted, only…”

“Only?”

“Well, it did happen quite quickly,” Charlotte cleared her throat, prevaricating.

“Charlotte,” Esther said, her face taking on the bored, uninterested mask. “Just speak plainly.”

Charlotte took a deep breath, not unaware of the shift in her friend’s expression. “Very well. I merely worry that people will suspect Sidney and I anticipated our wedding vows,” she admitted in a rush, unable to meet Esther’s eyes.

Esther’s eyebrows drew together, momentarily confused by such a confession, before she laughed, heartily.

Charlotte, for her part, seemed unsure how to proceed.

“My dear,” Esther began. “You’re hardly the first woman to find herself in the family way after her honeymoon. And people can count back easily enough.”

Charlotte presses her lips together, her gaze once again anywhere but with Esther, before with a small huff said, “That’s just it. We did.”

Esther frowned. “Did what?”

“Anticipate our wedding vows.”

Esther’s eyes widened for a moment before she recovered, forcing her face into a neutral expression.

“By nearly a month,” Charlotte continued, her words coming fast, like the water through a split dam. “We didn’t mean for it to happen. We knew the dangers of adding to the scandal that surrounded us following the end of his engagement with Mrs. Campion, but we were so happy to be together, to have a second chance and there came a desperation and wildness with such a reprieve—like running in the sunshine of spring after a cold and dark winter. It was intoxicating. We wanted, needed, more of each other…” Charlotte trailed off, now a bright red. “Well, it happened, and now I am uncertain whether—”

“Whether the arrival of your happy event will serve as testament to your…indiscretion?”

To say she was surprised by her country friend’s admission was an understatement. She never assumed the correct, naïve little Miss Heywood capable of stepping outside the structures of society. Sidney Parker, however, she knew set very little by such ideas, though she had believed he’d abide by every rule to keep his Charlotte as free from stain as possible. Much had been done to try and keep the scandal surrounding them to a minimum, but no one had come out unscathed. The Parkers carried some notoriety about them in London and even among some in Sanditon. A premature birth would only add to the flame. She honestly couldn’t quite decide if she was irritated by their conduct or amused.

“Well I hardly think it will matter since you’re married. A few raised eyebrows and whispers behind teacups by some bored bitties, but you’ll hardly be ostracized,” Esther offered lightly.

Charlotte’s brow lowered, her face scrunching up with concern. “You’re right, of course, but my family really struggled with Sidney. My parents were not too pleased with…how everything turned out and the threat of scandal. They believe Sidney is to blame, and I know they’d blame him for...well they’d believe he compromised me but that’s not how...it was my idea you see, I insisted we…” Charlotte waved her hand vaguely about, allowing Esther to fill in the blanks.

”My, my, you are full of surprises today,” she finally said, amusement winning out, but her sweet friend looked so miserable and embarrassed. “I suppose you’ll just have to rely on the same passion that prevented either of you from considering your family, or their opinion, when you seduced your Sidney before marriage.”

Charlotte’s mouth opened then closed, her eyes wide with surprise.

Esther feared she’d quite offended her friend, when a soft giggle escaped. Charlotte’s hand flew to her lips as another bark of laughter slipped through and then another. Soon both women were bent forward, a shared release of ridiculous delight permeating the air.

They laughed heartily for some time until both women held their sides and could continue no more.

“Well Lady Babington, I had quite forgotten the shocking accuracy of your tongue,” Charlotte said easily, wiping the tears from the corner of her eye. “You are right, of course. I am being a simpleton and what use is there in worrying over what can’t be controlled or changed? I do not regret my actions and the end result of a child is all the consequences I care to devote my time towards.”

“Especially if the means by which you came by such a consequence is as enjoyable as the blush in your cheeks seems to suggest,” Esther offered with aplomb.

Charlotte merely reached for her teacup before sipping slowly, her eyes playfully.

They grew quite for a moment, the natural quiet of recovery following an enthusiastic guffaw, then Charlotte set down her cup and pressed her lips together once again.

“There is another matter,” she said slowly. “Only I am unsure whether to broach the topic or continue on playing the ignorant acquaintance.”

Esther frowned lightly, her breathing taking on a heavy, strange feel.

“I believe us to be friends Esther, and I only wish for the connection to deepen. I know what I owe to you and your husband, what you have done for me and Sidney...I cannot express…”

Esther waved her off, but Charlotte continued, her voice struggling under the weight of the emotions they carried.

“Please, allow me to thank you. And please know that I would never wish to harm or hurt you in any way. I know the private person you are, and I always wish to respect that. I have sensed deep heartache in you. I’ve heard it in the glib, dry comments you’ve made about your own expectations of motherhood, and I will say nothing more on the matter except that I am always at your disposal as a friend or sister. And I understand if…”

Esther again saw the tears in her friend’s eyes and fought the instinct to retreat. She could see it in her deep, brown eyes. She could see the truth of herself that she believed she had hidden so well. An understanding passed between them, an understanding that could only pass between two women.

“I appreciate your offer and I am grateful. Please do not distress yourself on my account. I am pleased for you and Mr. Parker, truly.”

Charlotte reached for her hand, and they sat once again in silence. Fear and uncertainty surrounded them both as they each walked a different path, but they were held together by mutual understanding and affection.

After the Parkers left, Lord Babington asked after her, the compassion in his voice her undoing. She could not answer him, excusing herself and fleeing to the garden.

She had chosen to leave behind a world of bitterness, but was struggling to reconcile her own heartache with the joy she felt for her friends. They had achieved so easily what she longed for and struggled to obtain.

She walked about for sometime, lost, thinking, feeling, when she felt a presence behind her. She knew it was him and made no move when he wrapped his arms around her.

“I knew you needed some time,” Babington whispered in her ear, “but I could not leave you alone in this.”

The sun had begun to set, the heavy cloud cover allowing only small rays of light through the grayness, a decided chill now in the air.

She pressed herself more fully into him.

“I do not want to be selfish in this,” she finally confessed.

“Esther, how can I help you know that your feelings are important and acknowledging them is not a selfish act?”

“But there is some selfishness to it. I want to be happy for them, I am happy for them but…”

“But why can they have such joy and you seemed denied?”

She said nothing, the pain of loss and emptiness clawing up from deep inside, choking her. Her silence wrapping about her, scrunching her face as she lost the battle against her tears.

Still he held her, her back pressed against his chest, her own arms now holding tightly to those holding her up.

“You know,” he began, allowing her the privacy of her release. “When Sidney admitted to me of his wife’s condition, my first thought was of the child we lost.”

Esther stiffened, caught unprepared by his admission. They had not spoken much of that, nothing of any true meaning anyway. They had cried and comforted each other, but had not shared much beyond that.

“It...was?” She asked slowly, her voice gravelly.

“Yes.”

She turned to look at him, her husband, the man who had taught her to love and to see the good this life had to offer.

“I think about the child every day,” he said, his red rimmed eyes meeting hers.

“I do too,” she answered simply.

As the last of the sun’s light disappeared, the stillness of twilight stretched around them, allowing a calmness to take root. They took dinner in the library, an informal affair of bread, cheeses, and fruits. As the fire crackled, they spoke of all they had lost and shared all they hoped.

They began to heal.

As the months passed, Esther and Charlotte’s friendship deepened, and Esther struggled whether to mention the child she’d lost. It always sat just on the tip of her tongue, but then Charlotte would stroke her now rounded belly and the impulse would fade. Was it fair to burden such a darkness on a woman soon to give birth? Rather she spoke of her own hopes to one day carry and welcome a child and did share her fear of never experiencing such a gift.

Charlotte, to her credit, never expressed pity for her friend. The seemingly naïve country girl truly possessed an astuteness and wisdom that Esther found comforting and trustworthy.

Charlotte approached her privately one day to ask if she would feel comfortable being her child’s godmother. The request surprised Esther, but she found she was quite moved by such an offer. Charlotte admitted that Sidney was eager to have the Babingtons over for dinner to make a formal request of the pair, but Charlotte had believed she needed to speak with Esther in private and allow the woman a chance to consider and reject the request if she needed.

That was when Esther had truly understood the love and respect Charlotte had for her. She accepted without delay, delighting in the joy on Charlotte’s face. She then promised to act surprised when Sidney repeated the request, and the two women reveled in the silly secret they shared from their husbands.

It was in that moment Esther finally felt she could share with Charlotte her loss. They held hands and walked through the garden, swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks, as they took on each other’s burdens in a way women had for centuries.

Shortly after the Babingtons had happily accepted their role as future godparents, Esther awoke to her body’s hints of new life. When the evidence became too much to ignore and the confirmation received, Esther struggled to find comfort. Happiness and anticipation warred with fear and dread inside her. Babington grew more solicitous of her care, earning him a stern set down and a tender smile.

Charlotte was well along now, their walks growing shorter and shorter, even as the anticipation grew.

“Charlotte,” Esther said as they made their way back slowly towards the estate one day. “I do not plan to tell many just yet, but I wanted you to know that…”

She took a deep breath.

“I am with child.”

Charlotte erupted with joy and hugged her friend as tightly as her burgeoning middle would allow. Esther begged her discretion, securing a promise of secrecy until she felt more assured.

“All will be well,” Charlotte offered, her dimple cheeks unable to hide her joy. Knowing what Esther has been through, she added, “This is a new chance.”

Esther wished she could join her in her confidence. Indeed, as the weeks passed and Esther began to see the changes begin in her body, she began to allow herself to believe.

When Sidney Parker was awakened late in the night by a footman knocking on their cottage door, with an urgent missive from his friend Babbers, pleading for Charlotte to attend Esther, he knew the worst had happened. He closed his eyes, an awful anxiousness deep in his stomach as he looked to his own heavily pregnant wife. He wished to spare her this, to spare his friends this.

He gently roused his sleeping Charlotte and did his best to break the news to her with as little distress as possible. As expected, Charlotte’s eyes grew glassy, even as she demanded he help up and into a dress.

Esther had awoken to the pain, crying out as she felt the warm blood between her thighs, soaking through her night dress and blankets. Her husband had run for help, sending for the doctor and, though he said nothing of it to his wife, sending for Charlotte Parker as well.

Esther was bleeding heavier this time, the pain more intense, as her body forced the life from within her. Babington did his best to get her cleaned up some and as comfortable as possible. When the doctor arrived he refused to leave, wiping his wife’s brow and wet cheeks as she pleaded for the doctor to do something. But of course there was nothing to be done. There was no medicine that could contend with Mother Nature.

It was all over by the time the Parkers arrived, and Esther was too exhausted and dazed to fight her husband’s insistence that Charlotte come see her. Lord Babington excuse himself, unable to hold back his own grief any longer, and needing a moment to collect himself, to find some sense of control before he could properly comfort his distraught wife. He found Sidney in the library, a dram of brandy in each hand. Babington took the offered drink, downing it in one go, the burn of liquid melting away the last of his strength. Without words, his head fell and he began to sob.

Sidney said nothing. He had no words, only the remembered pain of loss and heartache. He stepped to his friend and merely held him as best he could.

For her part, Esther lay stoic, staring up at the ceiling, unmoving, drained and numb.

Charlotte lowered herself carefully to the floor, kneeling by the bed, her face near Esther’s, her belly carefully hidden. But Esther could still see. She could still see the fullness of Charlotte’s face, the heaviness of her breasts, and the awkward way she turned her body to accommodate the child sleeping beneath her heart. She looked as Leto of old, a veritable Titanides of fertility and motherhood. While Esther felt as mad and angry as Rhea, often pregnant but never truly a mother to her children.

“Darling,” Charlotte whispered, her small fingers coming to stroke Esther’s hair from her eyes in that maternal way that seem to come so easily. “Darling, would you like me to go?”

She did. She wanted her gone. She wanted to just lie there, wretched and alone. That was safe. It was the home she had lived in for years. It had seemed a miserable existence but that was before she had known such happiness and hope. To be brought into love and safety only to now find herself wrenched from such a state seemed a crueler, more unforgiving way to live.

She said nothing though, merely stared unseeing into the shadows cast by the only candle burning in the room. The silence that had taken permanent space in her heart began to spread once again, stronger, more potent this time.

But the warmth of Charlotte’s touch, the sincerity and grief in her eyes, seemed a tenuous tether, refusing to allow Esther to drift beyond recovery.

“You are not alone.”

The words, spoken with such love and conviction, were enough to slip through the fog and Esther suddenly, desperately needed proof. She shifted enough to allow Charlotte space on the bed, and the other woman lumbered up beside her. One woman so full of life, the other empty and bleeding, and both wept.

When Lord Babington returned a short time later, Esther slept in her friend’s arms. Charlotte kissed her cheek before struggling to sit up and extricate herself without waking her. Babington quickly came to her aid, gently guiding his slumbering wife back against the pillows and assisting Charlotte to her feet.

“Mrs. Parker,” he began, his voice low and soft. “I thank you for—”

She shushed him, a sad smile on her lips, as she gave the hand that still held hers a light squeeze. He swallows hard, the emotions threatening again to erupt.

“Sidney is outside the door,” he said after clearing his throat. “I told him there is a room prepared if you wish to stay, but he said he’d leave the decision up to you.”

Charlotte took a moment to consider. “I think we will return home and come again tomorrow, if you both allow.”

Babington nodded, his head falling to his chest.

Charlotte reached out, her hand coming to his cheek. “We are here if you need anything, but know, we also understand if it’s too difficult for her or you to be around us right now.”

Her eyes fell significantly to her rounded middle.

He shook his head. “I appreciate your sensitivity to the situation, but she needs love. She’s always needed love. You love my wife…”

His voice broke.

“We will surround her... with love…”

He struggled through the words and Charlotte’s own eyes once again filled.

“We will return tomorrow,” she answered, forcing the words past the ache in her throat.

She moved to the door as Babington slipped into the bed, pulling his wife into his arms. Once she closed the door quietly behind her, she turned and found herself reaching blindly for her own husband in the darkened hallway. Sidney was ready and waiting for her, his arms wrapping around her as she buried her face against his chest. She sobbed into him, yielding all restraint, allowing him to take her weight as his own. He held her up, his strength surrounding her, refusing to waver.

When her tears abated and she could right herself once again, she leaned from him but didn’t release herself from his hold, her dark eyes meeting his.

“Babington wanted me to extend his apologies for pulling you out of bed, and he worried his lack of foresight on how this might affect you in your current condition would be cause for upset.”

Charlotte frowned. “Ridiculous. I would not have stood to be excluded at a time like this when they both need our support and love.”

Sidney’s lip twitched. “I told him as much.”

“Good,” she said. “Only…”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps I can be a little more in need of your comfort right now?”

He took in the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the natural exhaustion of creating new life, now compounded by the grief that surrounded them. He kissed her brow.

“Whatever you desire, if it is in power to give,” he promised.

“Take me home,” she pleaded. And when they arrived at their own small home, they fell into bed, exhausted.

When Esther awoke, the sun was well in the sky. She had no memory of her husband’s return, but he still held her tightly to him. She shifted some, enough to know he was awake, and sighed.

All she wanted to do was go back to sleep, to not think or feel or ache. Oblivion was her quick and ready solace. Except she felt sticky and damp between her legs and an uncomfortable pressure taunted her.

“I need…” She began but her voice was rough and gravely from disuse. Babington reached for a cup, bringing it to get dry lips, and she drank the cool water greedily.

Once done, she tried again. “I’ve bled through the cloth.”

“Right,” he said, moving to stand. She watched as he stretched dramatically, as if he'd not moved at all through the long hours, and, if she had to guess, that was exactly what had happened.

He rang for her maid and carefully helped her from the bed. Esther was able to relieve herself and clean up with lukewarm water. Soon soiled linens were replaced with fresh, and Esther was redressed in a clean night dress and tucked back into bed.

“I’ll have a tray brought up,” her husband said.

She gave him a small, empty smile. “Go get some air,” she told him. “I’m just going to sleep some more.”

He frowned at her in that tender way that always made her feel important, as if she were all that he ever had to consider.

“I just want to sleep,” she said, keeping her voice even.

He watched her a moment longer before nodding. “I will go and clean up as well. The Parkers will visit later.”

She noticed he didn’t give her the option to decline and part of her wanted to argue, to be left alone in her grief, but the part that went quiet deep inside her didn’t care enough to even try any more.

He kissed her forehead, his fingers lingering softly against her chin.

“You are my life, Esther,” he said, meeting her face fully. “We will find a way through.”

She said nothing, could say nothing, nothing was all she had.

After he left, she rolled over and shut it all out.

When she next awoke, she found Charlotte Parker standing near the window, her hands pressed firmly to the small of her back, her well-rounded belly protruding dramatically.

Esther watched her, making no move to alert her to the vigil. She watched as the other woman swayed slightly to and fro, her hands moving in small circles, massaging the concave of her body, eyes closed, lost in some imaginings of lullabies and baby toes.

Esther no longer waited for the bitterness; that had been loved out of her. She knew she would never go back to the creature of isolation and shame she was before, rather there was a bleeding rawness that seemed to come with every heartbeat, as if her heart had been made of glass all along, and that glass had finally shattered, leaving only the shards to cut and sliced her open.

“Esther?”

She turned, surprised. She had not seen her husband sitting by her bed. But the look in his eyes told her he had seen her, had seen all of her.

Charlotte then moved to the other side of the bed. They each took a hand, and she knew she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t much and felt a distant hope, like trying to remember a dream, but it was something. It was something to hold to.

Charlotte came every day until Esther was strong enough to be out of bed. Some days Sidney would take Babington out with him, some days her husband never left her side, and she felt loved and cared for. She recognized how grateful she was for that understanding, but also knew it was like a small bandage on a gaping wound.

Soon Charlotte’s visit began to be less frequent, her advancing condition making the daily excursion difficult, and, when Sidney found them in the garden one afternoon, his wife fast asleep against a cushion, warm in the sunlight, Esther told him to be the sensible one and keep his wife at home.

Sidney gave her a sardonic grin, one she knew and recognized.

“You think I’ve not tried?”

Esther nearly laughed. “Seems you’ve married well, Mr. Parker.”

“As have you, Lady Babington,” came his quick response.

She briefly wondered if that was more a slight against her rather than a praise of her choice, but she could easily see the sincerity in his face and took it as the compliment it was meant. She was surprised to realize how altered her understanding of Sidney Parker had become, remembering well the dark, brooding, mysterious man that had returned to Sanditon that fateful summer.

“There was a time, perhaps, when you and I were convinced such happiness was unattainable or even fanciful.”

He bowed in acknowledgement of her questioning tone. “I believe that’s true.”

There was a moment of quiet between them, not an awkward, uncomfortable quiet, rather a moment of catalyst that allowed for some greater recognition between them.

Sidney knelt lower, finding towering above the two women ungentlemanly. His dark eyes met her light blue, and she saw a tenderness that spoke to the shadow of mutual insecurity and shared loneliness.

“Lady Babington... Esther, we have been blessed with the love of two very happy, very forgiving, and very patient people.” His voice was low, rumbling from deep in his chest. “Each very good at picking up the broken bits of us and putting them back together.”

He glanced to where Charlotte still slept, his jaw tightening as he worked to keep control.

“But what if picking up our broken pieces cuts them to shreds?” She asked, not pausing to consider or weigh her words, allowing herself to speak what she could not say before. She feared her words, but knew that Sidney Parker understood.

She watched him swallow, his chin falling to his chest as he considered her question. Finally, he allowed a small breath before answering.

“I’m sorry for your recent loss.” He spoke softly, knowing these were not things discussed between mixed company. He glanced again to his sleeping wife but did not allow his look to linger. She saw a moment of fear light in his dark eyes, a fear she knew all too well.

“I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child,” he continued. “But I know your husband would happily bleed for you and that he, and she,” he nodded towards Charlotte, “are stronger and more stubborn than they appear and will always love us more than we can hate ourselves. We need only to trust and believe in that.”

It was an odd sentiment, but Esther found herself greatly moved by the idea. She thought of her husband’s clear, blue eyes and cheeks that pinked too easily. She could hear his laugh and smell the smokey scent of his cheroot. She took comfort in him, even as she felt empty and lost.

“Take your wife home, Mr. Parker,” she finally said, no longer able to continue the conversation. “And convince her to stay there and rest until I am a godmother. It’s not proper for a woman to spend her confinement traipsing about the seaside.”

She raised her eyebrow at him, lending her the air of an empress giving a royal decree.

Sidney laughed. “I’m not sure my wife will ever be bothered by what is proper.”

“We must sometimes be the stronger one,” she added, her tone softer. “You must believe all will be well.”

Sidney bowed in acquiesce, gently reaching to awaken Charlotte from her rest, smiling bemusedly at her momentary confusion and delightfully frowny face.

Esther had to turn away as Charlotte unmindfully stroked her belly. She desperately wanted all to go well for her dear friend but hated that she was plagued with the nagging pain of jealousy—a jealousy she would not, could not ever fully acknowledge.

Three weeks later, Lord and Lady Babington received word that Mrs. Parker’s crisis had begun. The note arrived just as they sat down to breakfast, and Lord Babington‘s eyes narrowed some.

“Shall we head there now, do you think?” He asked, watching her carefully.

“Heavens, how should I know?” Esther laughed, the sound brittle and hollow. “I know very little of bringing a baby into the world, a fully formed, healthy baby anyway.”

“Esther…”

“Yes, I suppose we should ride over there now,” she said, speaking over him. “Though as I understand it, a woman can labour for hours and hours before the child arrives.”

As luck would have it, Charlotte Parker seemed made for childbirth. By the time the Babingtons put in an appearance, they were met by a deliriously happy and relieved Sidney Parker.

“A boy,” he beamed proudly, pulling them into the home. “The clever girl delivered a perfect, tiny boy! All healthy and robust with ten fingers and ten toes.”

“And Charlotte?” Esther asked, though she could gather the answer.

“Amazing,” Sidney replied, looking up the stairs as if he could see her. “Mrs. Heywood, her mother, who arrived early last week, said she’d never seen a baby come more easily into the world.”

Esther had to blink and bite her lip to keep from reacting. She’d never seen Sidney quite so buoyant and, she would have to say, giddy.

“I’ve only just left them. Mary and Mrs. Heywood are helping them both get cleaned up,” he continued, his arms moving about as if he no longer knew what to do with them. “I got to see them both for a few moments. He is the most incredible little creature, and Charlotte... she, I can’t even settle on the proper words... she was radiant.”

Lord and Lady Babington shared a secret, bemused look before a door opened and Sidney was called for.

“Come, come,” he urged, already running up the steps. “You must meet my son and see Charlotte.”

The room was bright, sunlight coming in, filling every inch. An exhausted, delighted Charlotte sat smiling widely in bed, a bundle held tightly to her chest, a picturesque Madonna. Sidney sat on the bed, a look of utter devotion and affection on his face as he gazed down at his wife and child. There was a feeling pervading the room, a unique sensation of excitement, uncertainty, achievement, and new levels of love.

Esther swallowed down her trepidation. She was glad the baby had arrived so quickly. She hadn't wanted to see. She didn’t want to witness the pain, the triumph, the shared maternal bond between the mothers in the room. She knew it was selfish, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Charlotte caught her eye, her face still red and puffy but clean, her grin firmly affixed. There was also an eagerness as she sat up straighter and lightly shooed Sidney off the bed, clearly indicating the spot was more meant for Esther.

Suddenly feeling self conscious, realizing she still wore her hat and gloves, Esther hesitated for only a moment, before quickly moving to the bed. Sitting carefully, trying to not jostle the new mother and child, she was unsure what was expected of her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Charlotte gushed. “I wanted you to be the first to hold him, apart from Sidney and myself, of course. His godmother takes precedence. ”

Before Esther had time to respond, Charlotte leaned forward and plopped the child in her arms with all the pride and happiness a mother could possess. She tense and had to fight the sense of panic bubbling just beneath her skin. Truth be told, she’d never held a baby before. She felt awkward and gauche, now very mindful of all the eyes in the room watching her.

“Is he not the most handsome, little darling?” Charlotte asked, her eyes fixed firmly on the child.

Esther looked down at the babe for the first time, really taking a moment to see what she held in her arms. Honestly, it wasn’t much to look at. She could see Sidney’s nose and Charlotte’s chin, but nothing much else of note. The baby slept, his face all wrinkly and red, his lips mashed together, with a patch of dark hair atop his head, and the rest of him was wrapped up tightly by the blanket, hidden from view. But he was the tiniest thing she’d ever seen, and he was warm and totally dependent on Esther for his protection and safety in that moment. Her shoulders relaxed and she pulled him tighter against her chest, an easy weight in her arms. She very much found herself not wishing to let go.

“The handsomest,” She breathed.

A short while later, as they bounced along in the carriage, Babington reached for her hand. The tears she’d held came crashing through at his touch, and she buried her face against him, sobbing for the children she’d never even gotten the chance to hold.

“Esther, my darling Esther,” Babington said, wrapping her up in his arms. “What shall I do, my dear girl? How can I make this easier for you?”

She could hear the desperation and need in his voice.

“Command me,” he pleaded. “Would you like leave? To travel and see some of the world?”

She said nothing, her tears and pain still choking all rational thought. Her arms ached under the weight of emptiness. She wound her arms more fully around him, holding tighter than was comfortable, yet neither complained.

“Just take me home,” she whispered.

She visited Charlotte and baby Nathaniel nearly every day.

“Between Sidney’s family and my own, it seemed every boys name had been claimed,” Charlotte explained during the first visit following the birth. “And we wanted him to have a name all his own. Georgianna actually suggested it, and, I admit, we both fell in love with it instantly. It does seem an awfully big name for such a tiny baby, but Sidney said he’ll grow into it.”

The baby still resembled a squashed potato, but Esther could see beautiful soft skin covered with a downy layer of fine hair and a strong brow that would dimple adorably when he scrunched his face just before crying. She nearly melted when his tiny pink lips rounded in a delicate yawn before emitting a soft whimper. She held him with more confidence this time, and the two women shared a look of utter fascination at even his smallest offerings of life.

Charlotte held nothing from her, but made no demands of her. She invited her in, never shying away from including her in some of the more intimate details of motherhood. There was the time she came to visit and found a sobbing Charlotte, drowned out only by the wailing of little Nathaniel as he struggled to feed those first few days. Esther had no words of advice, but she was able to help calm the exhausted mother and even settled the baby. One morning, after both Charlotte and Sidney has been up the entirety of the night with the baby, and they were both fractious and contentious, snapping waspishly at each other, Esther had offered to keep the baby, allowing them some time alone. She’d held the baby in her arms, walking around the Parkers’ small cottage, the smell of the sea thick in the air as the sky grew dark with heavy, ominous clouds. She held the sleeping child close, cherishing the gentle, burning ache as he lay peacefully in her arms. Despite the days beginning to cool, she could feel the crook of her arm growing damp from the heat of his skin. This little boy had found his way into her heart.

When the threat of rain became too much and she’d returned inside, finding both Charlotte and Sidney fast asleep, she’d eagerly spent the next hour allowing her mind to pretend, pretend in a life where she would never be without a child in her arms.

Esther began to feel more whole.

“You’re so good with him,” Charlotte said after Esther had managed to swaddle the baby after his feeding, rocking him gently to sleep.

The Parkers had hired a girl to help around the house every few days and help some with the baby, but Esther had been surprised by how involved Charlotte and Sidney were in the day to day rearing of the child. She knew money was an issue—had seen some of the worry in Charlotte’s eyes and the weariness in Sidney’s face at times—a great deal had been sacrificed by many to keep Tom Parker out of debtor’s prison, and Sidney’s steady London income had seemed to be the first victim of the eldest Parker’s poor decision making. Sidney’s choice in Charlotte was truly a blessing during these reduced circumstances. They had a small cottage, some chickens, and Charlotte would hunt grouse or fish. She knew Sidney worked most days helping Tom get back on his feet and that he relied heavily on Charlotte to ensure food was prepared and clothes kept clean. But even considering financial constraints, it was unusual for someone of the Parkers’ status to take on so much of the care and parenting. Yet, Esther was glad for it. She was able to learn about the mysteries that were kept from unwed women or women denied the role of mother.

She began to feel as if she could and would survive this world. The silent void within her beginning to slow its consumption of her. She felt a renewed purpose. Babington had smiled delightedly at her as she showed him the proper way to hold the baby and how to help rub the wind from him after feeding. She may not be a mother, but she could be motherly. She could love with a mother’s heart. Indeed, they both loved the baby greatly and stood proud and eager as godparents during the christening.

“I suppose still no news of your own to share?” Lady Denham pronounced loudly as every one gathered together to celebrate. Her pointed stare cutting through Esther, taking her breath away. An uncomfortable silence seeped into the room.

Esther straightened her back, her chin raised as she met the older woman’s bluntness with her own. “No, Aunt.”

“Mmm... pity.”

“To Mrs. Parker and Nathaniel,” Lord Babington said suddenly, gently pulling Esther more fully to his side. “May they both continue to grow in health.”

After the baby and Charlotte had been toasted, Sidney stood, raising his glass. “To Lord and Lady Babington. I am grateful and humbled by the love and care you’ve shown my son. Charlotte and I could not have chosen better for him.”

As family and friends raised their glasses, Esther’s eyes met Sidney’s and she was moved by the sincerity she saw there. Charlotte, who’d flitted about all day smiling increasingly, hurried over to her friend with the baby, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before plopping the four month old into her arms.

The gesture was clear for all to see.

The sting of Lady Denham’s sharp barb still burned within her, but she ignored it with equanimity.

“Insufferable old bat,” Babington declared once they’d left the gathering. He tugged angrily at his cravat, making a mess of his valet’s intricate knots. “I don’t know why you persist in including her in your life. She’s nothing but vinegar and delights in upsetting people. What has she ever done for you?”

He was quite worked up now, having pulled the cloth from his neck and balling it up to toss away.

Esther gave him a small smile, her hand coming to resting calmingly against his chest.

“Why, me dear fool, she brought you to me,” she answered, resting her head near her hand. “I know she is a bitter old woman, but a life lacking in love and affection has left her thus. I know the poison of such a life. There was a time when she could have easily tossed me away, left me with nothing and no one, but she stood by me and refused to allow me to give up on myself.”

Babington gave a begrudging sigh as he wound his arms around her. She loved how he could completely cover her, surround her with his body, scent, warmth, love. She could bury herself in his embrace and never feel the need to come up for air. They stood together a while, neither moving or in a hurry to let go.

She knew it was time.

“I did lie to her today though,” she admitted quietly, her cheek still pressed to his heart.

She felt him go still.

“Oh?”

She lifted her head to look at him, nodding.

“Perhaps third times a charm?” She said, trying for joviality but sounding more lost than anything else.

Babington’s hand came to cup her face, his own battle raging behind his eyes, all there for her to see.

“Esther?”

She tried again to smile but a lump had lodged itself in her throat and she had to swallow.

“Don’t get attached,” She warned, tears beginning to fall from the corner of her eyes, her heart bleeding with love and fear for the child she carried.

“We... shan’t tell... anyone,” she said, struggling with each word, each breath, each heart beat.

He wanted to argue, to promise her that everything would be alright, to protect her from any more pain, but that wasn’t how it was between them. They would face whatever came and they would do it together. No pretense.

Esther’s attempts to hide her condition failed spectacularly when she rather suddenly and violently lost every bit of her dinner one evening while playing cards with the Parkers. She’d only made it as far as the vase in the corridor, looking up to find Mrs. Parker beside her, a cup of water in her hand.

“Say nothing,” she begged. “Please.”

Charlotte gave her a sad look, but nodded.

They did not speak of it. Esther had learned to prefer the silence. She had convinced herself she could bear the pain as she had before, by refusing to engage her heart.

But unbidden images of a little girl with red hair or a little boy with red-appled cheeks plagued her nighttime musings, insisting upon her affections.

This time, when the bleeding started, it did not stop. The doctor worked frantically, Babington going near out of his mind, pleading for help from any deity willing to listen, the hours seeping away.

Esther slept for three days, her ashen skin and sunken cheeks bringing even Lady Denham’s sharp tongue to a halt as she and the Parkers sat vigil with Babington.

“What’ll I do?” he whispered to Sidney, the delirium of grief and lack of sleep lowering all defenses. “I can’t lose her.”

When she awoke she knew that part of her would continue on in slumber. She would never be completely whole again.

She was tenderly cared for, slowly began to gain strength, but there was a new sense of caution in the way everyone looked at her and spoke with her.

The doctor warned that there could be no more babies, his eyes meaningfully on Lord Babington.

“The next one could take her life.”

After a month of convalescing, her strength nearly fully returned, she walked from her room into her adjoining husband’s, her intent clear as she slipped into his bed, reaching for him in the darkness.

“We cannot,” he said, desperation and fear coating each word, each touch.

“I have lost enough,” Esther said. “I will not give you up or this part of our marriage. I need you. I need this.”

That night they made love to each other, discovering new ways to express affection, ways that would keep Esther safe.

A week later Sidney brought Nathaniel by for Esther and Charlotte’s scheduled tea. Delighted as always to see her godson, Esther immediately cuddled him close, the six month old grabbing happily at her earrings and babbling away to her. Other than his parents, she was the person baby Nathaniel loved most in the world.

“Well Mr. Parker, not that you aren’t welcome, but I do wonder where your wife is today.”

Sidney smiled. “I admit to being a poor substitute for my wife. Charlotte sends her regrets, she is feeling unwell this morning, but did not want to ruin Nathaniel’s outing to see you.”

Esther bounced the baby on her hip. “Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious.”

Sidney merely tilted his head, noncommittal smile on his face, but it was his hesitancy to meet her eyes that gave him away.

She slowed her bouncing. “Sidney?”

His brow furrowed, his hands going to his hips. “She... should be well soon enough.”

“You may as well just tell me,” she said, keeping her tone even.

He gave her a pathetic look, as if he’d betrayed his king and country. “She wanted to be the one to tell you.”

Esther only waited, knowing the power her silence could wield, and, as expected, Sidney began shifting uncomfortably.

“She... that is we, are expecting another child.”

She buried the white hot ache that shot through her, fed it into that void deep inside her, and smiled widely at him.

“How wonderful!” She turned to the baby in her arms. “Our little Nathaniel, a big brother.”

Sidney hesitated, seeming to want to accept her well wishes but uncertain.

“You two don’t waste time do you?” She teased, watching the tips of his ears redden, but his shoulders relaxed.

“Yes,” came his sardonic reply. “This was... unexpected.”

“Not wholly unexpected I hope.”

She may have enjoyed watching the redness spread to his cheeks. “Indeed, Lady Babington, as you say, not wholly unexpected.”

“And how is Charlotte, truly?”

He thought for a moment. “Overwhelmed.”

Esther nodded. “I can imagine.”

“She has felt a great deal more tired and unwell with this one, probably due to caring for an infant at the same time.”

She heard something in his voice. “And yourself? How are you doing?”

He took a deep breath, shaking off whatever was playing around in his mind. “I am well. Perhaps feeling inadequate to the task of caring and providing for a rapidly growing family, but excited.”

Esther understood. She knew the feeling of anticipation crippled with uncertainty.

“Forgive me,” Sidney breathed. “We have no room for complaint.”

We have a healthy child and another on the way.

The words were never spoken but they haunted the corners of Esther’s mind. She didn’t want them, but so much of life was made up of things she never wanted.

“Come, have some tea, and I’ll have Cook prepare some ginger biscuits for you to take home.”

She played with the baby until he fussed in earnest, ready for a nap, reaching for his Papa. Sidney took him into his arms, tucking him close and calming the baby with his deep, rumbling voice, before walking home with a basket for Charlotte on his other arm.

That night Esther sat reading in bed, Babington finishing his nightly ablutions.

She tried not to think of the coming months, of watching Charlotte blossom with life, knowing she would be twice blessed. Another boy? A little brother for Nathaniel to traipse around with. Or perhaps a little girl for Sidney to dote on.

“Something on your mind?”

The question pulled her from thoughts.

“Sorry?”

He stepped towards the bed. “You’ve been staring at the same page for some time now.”

She blinked then set her book aside.

“The Parkers are expecting again.”

Babington’s brow lowered in surprise. “Oh…”

He thought for a moment. “That seems... fast.”

Esther scoffed but said nothing. He sat on the bed, facing her, his thigh pressed against hers, solid.

“How do you feel?”

She turned from him, looking out into the darkness beyond the windows. Darkness within. Darkness without. She felt it welling up, growing, consuming. She wanted to scream, to run, to do something other than sit and watch it all happen around her.

“Let us go somewhere,” she said, ignoring his question. “You offered me the chance to travel once. Let us go on an adventure. London, Paris, Milan, the Americas for all I care, just take me away from here. Will you? Please?”

“I’ll make all the arrangements,” he promised.

A week later found Esther sitting in the Parkers’ parlor, sipping tea with a pale, wan-looking Charlotte and a slobbery, whiny Nathaniel on a rug on the floor.

“Still not feeling well?” She ventured, earning a distracted, placating smile from her friend.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Charlotte answered. “I’m sure it will pass soon enough.”

Since Esther’s most recent loss and Charlotte’s most recent gain, there had come a restraint between the two women that had not existed since Charlotte first came to Sanditon. It was not a cruel type of enmity, merely one of uncharted waters and a choppy sea. The openness that had brought Esther such comfort had faded.

And it hurt.

“I’ve come to tell you that Lord Babington and I are leaving in three days time.”

Charlotte’s head snapped up. “Leaving?”

Esther hesitated. “Yes. Right now we’ve planned a month in London then three in Italy.”

Charlotte’s already wilted posture visibly deflated.

“Charlotte?”

Her young friend pressed a hand to her mouth before setting her cup down. They sat silent as Charlotte took several deep breaths, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry,” she finally forced out, her voice struggling. She rubbed mindlessly at her belly. “I’m so sorry.”

“My dear, what is it?”

Charlotte’s face crumpled. “I’m going to miss you terribly, I have missed you terribly. I know I must seem so ungrateful and insensitive, but with Nathaniel teething and up all hours of the night and the new baby making my br... body so sensitive, feeding has become a painful struggle, and I’m so exhausted all the time…”

She broke off suddenly, angrily shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. I swore to myself I wouldn’t subject you to my problems. I have no room to complain—”

“Charlotte,” Esther interrupted. “I’m not made of spun glass. I do not need your protection. You needn’t hide whatever it is you’re going through just because I cannot carry a child.”

Charlotte winced, her wet cheeks scrunching up as her eyes met Esther’s. “No, you are not a fragile woman, but you are a woman who has endured much loss. You don’t need my protection, but I wanted to offer friendship, understanding and consideration.”

“Is this why you’ve stayed away? As some attempt to shield me from what? Your motherhood?”

Charlotte gave an inelegant shrug. “I don’t even know anymore. I just sensed that after... after your most recent loss, there was something different, something I couldn't touch, something that prevented me from being the friend you needed. And now you’re leaving and I feel in some part responsible. Am I wrong? Have I been merely the most ridiculous of women?”

Esther knew she could lie, could hide the part of herself that made her feel too much, hope too much, and regret too much. Perhaps, if it were anyone else, barring her husband, perhaps she would have lied. But, as difficult as it was, she felt no impulse to retreat.

“You are not wrong,” she confessed, carefully, thoughtfully. “Well, not completely. There was something in me that I lost, a part of me that clung to the hope of one day gifting my husband with a child, but when the doctor made it clear we... that I should never again attempt to carry a child, I realized I could no longer hide behind the idea that I wanted a child just to please my husband. I had to force myself to confront the fact that I wanted a child for me. I wanted a child to love and dote on and be loved by in return. I do not blame you for finding your own happiness, for being blessed with your own children. I am not angry with you or upset with you. But I couldn’t...cannot face my own loss with you there. Do you understand?”

She knew by the look on Charlotte’s face that she did. She knew she was heard.

“But we are not leaving because of you. I need time and space to come to terms with all that I’ve lost and have to give up. Babington and I need time together.”

She reached for Charlotte’s hand. “Indeed, I am loathed to leave you, especially now, but I cannot continue on as I have.”

Nathaniel began to fuss in earnest from the floor, kicking angrily, his face growing red. Esther watched as Charlotte moved to scoop him up, and began unlacing the front of her dress. The two women had abandoned a great deal of social etiquette in their many months of friendship, maintaining the pretense around others but they had been through too much together to waste time on such niceties.

Esther noted the pained grimace on Charlotte’s face as the baby began feeding, her eyebrow going up in question.

“It’s rather painful at the moment, with him teething and my body adjusting to the new baby.”

Esther’s own breasts has grown quite painfully sensitive for those first few weeks before she miscarried. She could not imagine enduring a biting, gnawing child suckling.

“My dear—“

“It will pass,” Charlotte spoke, her bravado nearly convincing. “You were telling me your reasons for leaving.”

Esther took no offense at her clipped tone, exhaustion was a cruel companion.

“I need something to change, something I can control. It is a degrading and suffocating thing to feel trapped. I cannot find peace here, not yet.”

Charlotte nodded but kept her dark eyes on the babe in her arms, an odd look on her face. Esther felt a moment of unease.

“Charlotte... are you feeling trapped?”

She asked the question lightly, fearing offense, or perhaps fearing the answer.

Charlotte shook her head slowly, her gaze rising to meet Esther’s, her eyes glassy. She blinked, sending a cascade of tears down her cheeks.

“No,” she said, battling to keep her voice even. “I am worn out right now, but Sidney and Nathaniel and this new baby are my life. They mean everything to me. I sometimes cannot help but imagine what my life would be like if he had been forced to marry Mrs. Campion, if we had never found our way back to each other, and I am physically ill at the thought of it.”

She paused, pulling the baby closer, lost for a moment in her own personal hell, before dragging herself free.

“I understand why you’re leaving,” she said, speaking again to Esther. “And I understand why you and I must part ways for a time... but please know how greatly I will miss you.”

Esther was surprised to find herself crying. These were not heavy, all consuming tears, but a soft manifestation of her own tender feelings towards her friend. They could not travel these roads together at this time. Esther needed to be free to mourn, and Charlotte needed the liberty to find space to both struggle with and delight in motherhood.

“And I you,” Esther said. “And this little man as well, desperately.”

“May I write you?”

“Of course! Please do. Please keep me up to date on all of Nathaniel’s accomplishments and... how other things are...progressing.”

Charlotte again nodded, doing her best to wipe at her eyes without a cloth.

“I am sorry it has to be this way,” Esther admitted softly.

Charlotte gave a small, struggling smile. “Me too. Take the time you need. Just promise you will come home, that you won’t stay away forever.”

Esther reached out for her free hand. “I promise.”

They sat in companionable silence until Sidney stepped in, pausing by the door as he took in both women’s red eyes and down cast demeanors.

“Forgive me,” he said, beginning to turn and leave.

“Wait,” Esther called.

Charlotte shifted a now sleeping Nathaniel away from her breast, allowing Esther to take him as she righted the front of her gown.

Sidney, who had turned back at her command, stood waiting for further instruction.

“Mr. Parker, please take your wife upstairs and put her back to bed immediately. I would like some time alone with my godson before we leave.”

Sidney’s brow went up, but when his wife’s gaze met his and he saw no protest in her tired eyes, he bent and quickly took her hand in his, helping her rise.

Charlotte paused to kiss Esther on the cheek, then allowed her husband to take her upstairs where he helped her out of her gown, his concern growing.

“I’ll be alright,” she promised. “Just hold me tight for a moment before you return downstairs.”

Sidney laid her down, stretching alongside her, careful to keep his boots off the bed, then took her in his arms.

Charlotte’s defense crumbled as she was surrounded by his warmth, his touch, his smell. She sobbed quietly against his chest until her body gave out, and she slept.

Dear Charlotte,

The delights of London are, quite simply, exhausting. The gossiping ton provide a great deal of amusement, but also a great deal of tediousness. The crush at last night’s route was
nearly unbearable. I am happy to report the scandal surrounding your marriage, however, has all but been forgotten—thanks, I would imagine, due to your friend, Lady W.

I do admit to enjoying myself immensely shopping and preparing for our trip abroad. It’s amazing the wonders wrought by an entirely new wardrobe. The fashion in London is positively delightful. The prevalence of satin for evening wear feels deliciously naughty, and I encourage Babington to adopt the style daily.

Give our love to that darling boy of yours and know that you and your family are missed. Indeed, I fear Babington misses his friend in your husband as much as I miss you, though he huffs and puffs dramatically when I tease him about it.

I think of you often and hope you are well.

Yours,
Esther

She sealed the letter, pausing to watch the hustle and bustle of the London streets, before passing it along to a footman. Two weeks in London had already allowed her some diversions, and she felt a renewed spirit.

Dear Esther,

I’m afraid I must admit to not feeling an inkling of jealousy for your time in London. As you remember, the city does not hold many happy memories for me, but I am nearly green with envy over new dresses. Mary generously shared some of her gowns made to accommodate a delicate condition but they have to be hemmed as she is taller than I, and, as you well know, I lack any skill at the needle.

Nathaniel grows by the day. He now proudly boasts two tiny teeth and is fast working on a third. Dr. Fuchs provided some clover oil which has calmed his irritability some and allows him to sleep better at night—which has been wonderful.

Sidney is working himself to the bone, rebuilding his income and Sanditon. I worry for him. I spend most mornings assisting him and Tom with keeping the papers sorted and coming up with new ideas to help draw visitors. I can see the toll it’s all taking on him. He’s worried our small home will not easily accommodate another child and I cannot describe to you the look on his face when he learned I had need of Mary’s hand-me-downs. But I grew up in a family of twelve. I am in no way deterred by wearing reconditioned clothing.

He has business in London next week, though I believe the urgency lies more in his desire to see your husband—which he heartily denies. We have truly married wonderfully silly men.

Yours,
Charlotte

Esther received Charlotte’s letter only a day before Sidney Parker arrived. He opted to stay with the Babingtons since the family home was being rented out in an effort to help Tom and his finances. She wasn’t there to welcome him, having committed to a luncheon with Mrs. Wentworth, but found him and her husband firmly squared away in the study, sipping their brandy and speaking easily. The atmosphere was relaxed and both men stood when she entered, grinning broadly.

“Sidney,” She greeted, even as her husband came to press a kiss to her cheek. “We’re delighted to see you.”

Sidney bowed, still smiling. “A pleasure as always Lady Babington.”

“Are you in town for long?”

He shook his head. “Only two days. I have some business to attend to then back to Sanditon.”

“Are we at home tonight, my dear?” Babington asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “I ensured our evening would be free and informed Cook we would be dining at home.”

“Excellent.”

Esther left the men to their talk, excusing herself to run an errand. When she returned, quite pleased with her accomplished task, a note had been left by her husband informing her they had gone but would be back well in time to dress for dinner.

Esther did enjoy running her own household. She loved the control, the freedom, the time and skill it required. Babington deferred all household decisions to her, trusting her implicitly. They often spoke of issues—dinners, concerns with the staff, redecorating—sharing ideas, but the final decision was left to her. She knew he respected her role.

She’d requested the Vermicelli soup removed with fish followed by wild duck then apricot tartlets. She wanted something nice for Sidney to tell Charlotte, to let her know her husband had been cared for.

When she entered the drawing room later that evening, the two men waited for her.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Babington said, extending his hand out for her, allowing herself to be pulled to his side.

“Did you have a successful day?” she asked.

Sidney gave a small smile. “Somewhat. When I had to sell my assets to pay back Mrs. Campion’s investment, I lost a significant portion of my income and, as a result, have been unable to maintain certain contacts that would afford me some advantages as I attempt to re-establish myself in the import/export business. Babington was kind enough to use his influence to help me reconnect with some of those contacts.”

Esther knew Sidney had given up everything to be with Charlotte, knew it had cost him significantly financially to break with Mrs. Campion and keep his brother out of debtors prison, nearly landing himself there. She supposed she had not stopped to consider how exactly he would manage to recoup what he’d lost. Sanditon would not turn a profit for some time, if ever, which meant Sidney and Charlotte’s means were meager at best. And that Sidney would be stretching himself between trying to rebuild his brother’s town and rebuilding his own industry.

“Well, I hope your endeavors prove fruitful.” It was all she had to offer at the moment—empty platitudes—and she could tell by the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the tight press of his lips that his concern over the matter weighed heavily.

Sidney nodded his appreciation. “I as well... for everyone's sake.”

“And how is Charlotte and little Nathaniel?”

Sidney’s smile grew genuine as he blinked away the lingering uncertainty. “Nathaniel is a wonder. He can sit up all on his own and has started making these babbling noises like he’s trying to speak back when spoken to. Charlotte isn’t quite back on her feet, still tires easily and hasn’t been eating much. I left them both with Tom and Mary. I’m afraid I’ve turned into a right bore, I’m loathed to be away from them.”

“Of course,” smiled Esther, looking at Babington. “I quite understand.”

The trio went through to dinner and enjoyed the fair and the conversation thoroughly, opting out of the traditional separation of the sexes once the meal was over, they spent the rest of the evening playing cards and speaking of things past, present, and future.

“I wish there was more we could do to help the Parkers,” she said that night as she and Babington prepared for bed.

“I as well,” her husband agreed. “I will continue to support his business ventures and drum up whatever support I can for Sanditon, but it is difficult to see my friend worry and struggle to provide for his family.”

“Tom Parker is a fool, but is there nothing he can do to right his own wrongs?”

“Sadly, Tom has run up debts with every bank in London and dragged the Parker name through the mire. No established creditor with any business sense or trusted practices will loan to either him or Sidney. It was only through private investors that Sidney was able to scrape by and then only by the skin of his teeth.”

Esther knew each of the private investors, though that information had been kept from Sidney and made through a third party. The Babingtons, Crowe, Lady Worcester, and a few other smaller investors with whom Sidney had developed a strong relationship, had anonymously provided the funds to keep Tom and Sidney from immediate ruin.

“I fear Sidney suspects our involvement. I know he’s still investigating the anonymous donors.”

Esther slipped beneath the blanket, snuggling into the downy pillow. “Well he’ll have his hands quite full in the coming months. Spring is around the corner and ensuring Sanditon is prepared for visitors seems a daunting enough task, then there is the actual summer months and keeping visitors entertained and their purses opened, and, of course, the new baby arriving, and his other familial responsibilities. I would wager he’ll have no time or energy to pursue his inquiries.”

Babington nodded his agreement. “I hope you’re right. Sidney can be damned stubborn at times. He hasn’t spoken much about it but having to rely on the generosity of the Heywoods to help with the purchase of the home he and Charlotte share was a heavy blow.”

Esther frowned. “Am I misremembering that initially Charlotte and Sidney had planned to make their home in London for a time after they married, find a small place to rent in Cheapside or something and split their time between there and Sanditon?”

“I believe that was the plan, yes, but then—”

“The baby,” Esther interjected as realization dawned. “They decided on something more permanent after they learned the baby was on the way.”

She grew quiet after that, her mind wandering around in the memories of the last year, trying to make sense of the world.

“What has your brow so furrowed, my dear?” He asked, climbing into the bed.

She breathed for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “It’s incredible to me how complicated everything gets.”

“How so?”

“I spent years believing I knew exactly what I wanted, lying to myself in order to convince myself that I knew what love was and needed no one else.”

She looked at her husband, his open, expectant face seeming to hang on her every word.

“I had to lose everything to find you,” she said. “And finding you was the greatest gift life ever offered me. And we are happy and well-situated... are we not?”

Babington smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I would say we are.”

“Sidney and Charlotte had to lose everything to find each other as well, and I believe they are happy, but they are struggling just to survive. And yet they have what we cannot…”

Her husband frowned, a sadness he kept just outside of reach.

“I’m not...I don’t mean to wallow,” she said, not allowing him a chance to speak. “I am just thinking how odd it all is. Why can we not just be? The worst thing the Parkers did was fall in love. The worst thing I did was begin to hope for more.”

“Esther,” Babington began, “there are other ways to becoming a mother. I am happy with just you—”

She opened her mouth to interject, but he silenced her with his fingers to her lips.

“And I know you are happy with just me, but your heart longs for a child. That is not a selfish desire. As you say, I don’t believe either Sidney or Charlotte would give up even a second of their life together—as stressful and chaotic as it may be—for financial security. It is not wrong to desire such a bond. Your capacity to love has perhaps surprised you since you went so long without it. You have a mother’s heart and would be a blessing to any child. If you’re worried about the stigma surrounding adoption then we can extend our trip, return home with a baby, and it’s no ones business beyond knowing we have a child.”

Esther bit her lip, the idea rolling around in her head, looking for fertile ground to plant. Finally she said, “I would like to think on it. I’m not sure I’m there just yet.”

He smiled at her, a sweet, gentle smile, that always made her feel safe. “Fair enough.”

The next morning they all breakfast together, then spent the day going about their individual errands, and met back up that evening ready to attend dinner at the Thorpe’s.

“Parker!” Crowe called as they entered the Thropes’ drawing room, his liquid joviality contagious, despite its origins. “And the Babingtons! Well met. Come out of your country rustication to join us in our townie merriment?”

“I doubt we could keep up with your level of merriment Crowe,” laughed Babington, taking in the four or five other couples already circling about the room, “But we shall try our best.”

“And where is that buxom farmer’s daughter of yours Parker?” Crowe drawled lazily, earning a scowl from Sidney.

“Crowe,” he growled by way of warning. “My wife is at home in Sanditon with our child.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. Your little progeny,” he said, his disinterest palpable.

Esther rolled her eyes. “I’m going to greet our hosts.”

The two men made to follow when Sidney felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to find Crowe looking at him intently.

“It’s perhaps for the best she’s not here,” he said quietly but firmly, catching Sidney up short.

At his questioning look Crowe merely said, “Lord and Lady Westmoreland are in attendance tonight.”

A sense of dread hit Sidney low in his belly. He hated to run but didn’t think he had it in him to face the Earl and Countess of Westmoreland. He gave Crowe an appreciative nod for the warning then turned to where the Babingtons stood waiting. “Perhaps I should go. I’ve no wish for anyone’s night to be ruined.”

“Why Sidney, how could you be the cause of anyone’s ruin?”

The question came as a light hearted tease, but the tone dripped with accusations.

“Lady Westmoreland,” Sidney said formally, offering a small, stiff bow.

Esther could see the tightening of Sidney’s jaw and the tenseness in his shoulders, as a hunted animal may prepare to run or attack.

Before either could speak again, Babington stepped up next to Sidney, ensuring Esther was close at hand. “Lady Westmoreland, a pleasure to see you again. We apologize for missing the wedding. Lady Babington was unwell. I hope you received our note and gift.”

The lady’s cool, blue eyes gave little away as they shifted about. “Yes, Lord Babington, I thank you most sincerely. I hope you are feeling much improved Lady Babington.”

Esther smiled, a smile that spread wide but didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Much improved, Lady Westmoreland,” she parroted back.

“Eliza, please,” the blonde responded, her own delight saccharine and counterfeit. “And may I call you Esther?”

Esther gave an empty smile of acquiesce, wishing the woman to the devil even as she took her arm.

“Babington,” Lord Westmoreland greeted, coming behind his wife. “Crowe. Parker.”

The last was said with little warmth.

The four men made a small circle, the tension in the air an uncomfortable fog settling over them.

Esther and Eliza began promenading about the room, making their way toward Margaret Thorpe.

“Lady Babington,” The hostess greeted, a wide smile on her round face, though Esther could see a hint of panic in her eyes. “Delighted you could come.”

With appropriate niceties out of the way the three women talked of the weather, the excitement surrounding Lord Cavendish’s Burlington Arcade and whether construction would be completed soon, as well as a few on dits surrounding the ton. Some of the unease dispersed and a more relaxed feeling prevailed.

Esther enjoyed Mrs. Thorpe’s company immensely, and, for the most part, Lady Westmoreland’s. Esther had met Eliza only after her engagement to Sidney. They’d been in each other’s company a few times and other than a few odd moments of tension between the former Mrs. Campion and Sidney, Esther has little cause to dislike her. She was not privy to what had gone on between the ex-finances, nor had Charlotte ever spoken an ill word against the woman. And yet, there was something just below, like seeing dark water run beneath the thin layer of ice atop a frozen lake, that hinted at unpleasantness.

“Shall we go through to dinner?” Mrs. Thorpe asked, reaching for her husband’s arm.

As each woman returned to their respective husbands, Esther noticed an unease around Babington’s smile that had not been there earlier. Sidney’s face did little to hide his discomfort, a dark scowl taking permanent residence.

At her questioning look, Babington whispered, “Later.”

Esther was pleased to see Sidney sat far from Eliza and across from Westmoreland, making any conversation between them impossible. The meal progressed pleasantly enough and the food was deliciously crafted and lavishly presented.

When Mrs. Thorpe finally stood to lead the ladies from the room, Esther began to believe the night would end free of any drama. However, that feeling quickly abated when Mrs. Thorpe pulled her to the side.

“I’m terribly sorry Lady Babington,” The other woman said, keeping her voice low. “When you requested to bring Mr. Parker this evening, I had no ideas of what had happened between Lady Westmoreland and himself. I was in confinement that summer and failed to keep up with the latest gossip due to sick bed fever. It was my husband who made me aware but by then it was too late. I fear Lady Westmoreland was quite put out when I told them he was coming, even threatening to leave. The Earl was able to talk her round to staying, but I fear my ignorance may have ruined the evening.”

Esther was surprised to hear of Eliza‘s reaction, having seen very little of such upset, but realized such surprise was misplaced. Eliza was a countess now, she knew what was expected of her rank, and public hysterics would hardly qualify. Still, the evening had gone entirely too smoothly and Esther could feel the dread begin to spread.

“No, the evening has been delightful Margaret. You mustn’t worry. I believe the phrase ‘water under the bridge’ applies well enough.”

Mrs. Thorpe seemed to settle some after that, and Eliza headed directly for them.

“You two look deep in conversation,” she teased, though her tone hinted at suspicion. “And what is the topic of discussion?”

The women hesitated before Esther said, “What else other than husbands.”

Eliza laughed. “What else indeed.”

“And how are you finding married life to an Earl?” Mrs. Thorpe asked.

Eliza gave a wan smile. “I admit to enjoying marriage more the second time around. Mr. Campion was a fine husband, but his age made for many uneventful days as he preferred to be at home at his estate. Westmoreland and I are loving life in London and enjoy a great deal of society.”

It was unfortunate that the gentleman chose that moment to rejoin the ladies as Eliza continued, her voice unnecessarily loud and carrying. “Of course I owe Lady Babington for introducing me to Westmoreland and assisting me with my happy escape.”

The hairs went up on the back of Esther’s neck and she saw Sidney stiffen from his spot he’d taken up in the corner of the room.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Thorpe hedged, knowing Eliza intended her to pursue the topic but her unease clear.

“Yes. It seems we have each been fortunate in husbands, unlike some poor women. Like that sweet little Miss Heywood. I believe you're well acquainted with her, Lady Babington.”

Esther saw Sidney take a step towards them, but stopped himself even as her husband and Crowe carefully moved closer to him.

Mrs. Thorpe frowned. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that lady.”

The pleasure in Eliza's eyes brightened. “She’s not spent much time in London, a rather provincial country girl you see from a large family and very little money. But a sweet girl with a pretty enough face. Such a sad story. I believe her family was hoping for a match that might elevate her and bring a bit of fortune to the family, but sadly she was drawn in by circumstances her naive upbringing had not prepared her for and has made a most imprudent match with a penniless pretender.”

Mrs. Thorpe’s brow went up, properly scandalized for the poor woman of whom Eliza spoke. Esther’s brow, however, lowered as her anger began to bubble to the surface. She could see Sidney practically shaking with the same emotion.

“How awful,” Mrs. Thorpe said, turning to Esther. “And you’re familiar with the woman?”

“Quite,” Esther said, her voice lacking any warmth. “Though I fear Lady Westmoreland’s account is a rather skewed perspective.”

“Oh?” Eliza said, feigning ignorance. “How so? As I have heard it, her husband is ruined, with nothing more than mounting debts to his name. Of course, he got a child on her right away, some have even speculated that was the reason for the marriage all along, that her family had no choice but to allow the union or their daughter would be ruined. He’s a rake, you see. Even now he leaves the poor woman buried in the country as he comes to partake in the delights of London—”

“Enough, Eliza,” Sidney snapped, his use of her first name and the coldness of his tone silencing all other conversation. “We had an agreement.”

“Here now,” Lord Westmoreland interjected, moving to stand between Sidney and his wife. “Mind yourself, Parker.”

Mrs. Thorpe’s face blanched as realization dawned. She looked frantically to her own husband.

Mr. Thorpe hesitated, unsure how to intercede, but it was Esther who spoke.

“I am sorry, my dear Lady Westmoreland, that sadly you have been fed such false information. I do know Mrs. Parker. I count her as one if my dearest friends, and I’m happy to report that both she and her husband have one of the happiest and most loving of marriages. And I can assure you that both Mrs. and Mr. Parker are well satisfied with each other.”

Her implications were clear, and Esther met the flushed face of her hostess and Eliza with a cool, confident stare.

“Music?” Mr. Thorpe said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Perhaps you’ll bless us with your talent in the pianoforte, my dear?”

As Mrs. Thorpe quickly moved to the piano, Sidney excused himself, his anger palpable. There was an awkward moment as everyone struggled to know how to act. When Lord Babington made to follow Sidney out, Esther stopped him.

“I’ll go.”

Eliza watched on in silence.

Esther found Sidney in the hall, his hand on his hips, starting unseeing at a portrait hanging on the wall.

“Sidney,” she ventured softly, just loud enough to gain his attention.

He said nothing for a moment, the strains of Thomas Atwood’s “Allegro” drifting around them. He finally let out a puff of air, his head dropping to his chest.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “I shouldn’t have come tonight. I was here as your guest, and when I learned she was here I should have just left. I did not mean to ruin your night or risk bringing censor down on either of you.”

Esther waved off his apology. “What did you mean when you said you ‘had an agreement’?”

He pressed his lips together, his brow furrowed. “Eliza agreed to release me from our engagement, contingent on certain...requirements.”

Esther expected no less. An engagement was tantamount to marriage. For Sidney to walk away risked him being sued for breach of contract and possible prison time, for Eliza to walk away risked her reputation and any future relationships. It was no small thing to absolve such a connection, particularly when they had a previous failed engagement.

“I, of course, paid back every bit of her money invested in Sanditon, plus ten percent, and Eliza was free to spread about whatever story she felt properly freed her from the engagement with as little impact to her reputation as possible, placing all responsibility into myself. However, while she was free to say whatever she wished about me, Charlotte’s name was never to be dragged into it by her. That was my only stipulation, and I, in turn, would never reveal her part in our engagement.”

Esther frowned. “Her part?”

“When I first approached Eliza as a possible investor, I told her of Lady Denham’s time limit, and marriage was the only offer she would accept in return to save Tom and the family. Such machiavellian tactics coming to light risk undermining the narrative she preferred to put about that I was a money grabbing fortune hunter manipulating her and a rake meant to drink and whore away her fortune.”

“So you sold everything you owned, including your business to pay the funds,” Esther said.

Sidney nodded. “And it seems Eliza was taking our agreement to heart. I’ve run into several roadblocks in my attempts to establish myself, and tonight Westmoreland hinted heavily that they are the cause of such impediments.”

“Good heavens,” Esther said. “How long will you be punished?”

Sidney shrugged. “I admit I was upset, but I had agreed to the consequences, and I would agree again if it ensured Charlotte and I were together. But when she began disparaging Charlotte...I could not endure it.”

“Of course not,”’ Esther agreed. “Will you stay?”

Sidney shook his head. “No, I’ll take my leave.”

“Running away?”

The question surprised them both.

Eliza stood, an eyebrow raised haughtily, watching them.

Sidney said nothing, only turned to leave.

“Do you know why I agreed to your terms?” Eliza said, stopping Sidney in his tracks, waiting for him to face her, his broad back a veritable dam as all held perfectly still.

Esther knew she should leave them, knew that was the respectable thing, but respectability be damned. She wasn’t going to walk away now.

It seemed neither was Sidney. “I assumed it was because, once again, you’d found a better offer.”

His words were sharp, the meaning cutting.

Eliza ignored the implications of his words.

“It was because I believed you would come to regret your choice. I knew the power of patience. I waited a decade for the chance to be with you again. I am very good at waiting. I knew if I just waited long enough I would see the evidence of your self-ruination. How could you come to me after months of careful indifference and, with passion and love in your eyes, ask to be released? You would not look at me with such eyes. I knew in that moment that you would never care for me as you once did, and I wanted to see you punished. You were so convinced that little country mouse would make you happy, but I knew otherwise. I knew your pride could not handle being brought so low.”

At Sidney’s dark look Eliza straightened, challenging him, her words coming fast as she gained confidence.

“I agreed not to speak of Miss. Heywood because I believed the ton would naturally ensure her name was dragged through the mud along with yours. Granted, there were some who began to whisper about her, but I underestimated the relationship she had with Lady Worcester. I did not anticipate such protection. I suppose your little thing deserves some credit for making powerful friends.”

To Esther’s surprise she saw Sidney‘s shoulders fall, his stoney demeanor falter. Eliza’s face grew triumphant.

“Even now I see you grow weary with it all. You face a lifetime of poverty, shackled to brats and babes and your simple, provincial wife—”

“You mistake me,” Sidney interrupted. “I do grow weary Eliza. I grow weary of the vitriol that pours from you. But you are right. The man you knew, the man who thought he loved you all those years ago, allowed his pride to rule him. When you broke our engagement and married Campion, I believed it was my heart you had injured, but, in truth, it was my pride. It was my hurt pride that sent me to gaming halls, to drinking hells, to near ruin, and finally to the other side of the world. Not love.”

Eliza’s eyes hardened even as Sidney stepped closer to her.

“I know it wasn’t love because, even now, when I am all but a ruined man, I have no need of pride. I would live a thousand lifetimes struggling for every morsel of food on my table, bearing every shame you or your husband could reign down upon me, if it meant I could love and be loved by Charlotte. And those ‘brats and babes,’ as you call them, are the very heart beat within my chest, and I would endure any pain and loss to ensure their protection.”

He stood directly in front of her now, a hair’s breath away, forcing her to look up at him. His voice growing lower, softer.

“Could you say the same Eliza? Could you believe yourself ready and willing to follow me into a life of struggle and hard work? Of mornings gathering eggs and baking bread to ensure there is food on the table, of nights spent calming and rocking a crying babe, of days spent mending hand-me-down dresses? Because that is the life my wife has committed to living, with no promise of relief. I wish…” He stopped, his throat working, swallowing down the emotion that threatened to overwhelm and disarm him. He forced his throat clear, though his eyes betrayed him.

“I wish more than anything that wasn’t the kind of life I provided her, but that is the love we share. It is a love that allows even the greatest of sacrifices to feel bearable, that takes the hardest moments and transforms them into blessings. I would lay down my life for her, and I would live everyday for her. And I believe we both know that you and I never shared such a love.”

Esther could see Eliza’s eyes turn glassy, her cheeks red.

“No,” she finally whispered. “No we didn’t.”

There was a finality to the moment as Eliza turned and walked away. There was a brokenness that spoke of freedom, that promised some relief, and Esther felt a strong, unexpected desire to weep.

“Come, Sidney,” She said gently. “You will not run from her. We shan’t stay long, but we will go back in, and you will allow your friends to circle about you. Enough is enough.”

He followed her without comment.

True to her word, they stayed only an hour longer, but Sidney was surrounded by those who saw and cared for him. The Westmorelands stayed in their corner, Eliza refusing to even look their way, and the rest of the evening progressed smoothly before they made their excuses.

The ride home began somber, Sidney unable to hide his exhaustion and Esther unwilling to pretend she didn’t understand his withdrawl. However, it wasn’t in Babington’s nature to brood—having become quite adept at pulling his wife and best friend from their morose moods—and he soon broke the tension.

“Well, that was an awkward evening. Was I the only one to notice Westmoreland’s cravat poking out through the top button of his waist coat? What a peacock! I was quite distracted by it all night. Did I miss anything important?”

Esther looked to her husband, eyes wide, before the mirth bubbled up, escaping as a giggle. The sound was infectious and soon all three were smirking and fighting laughter.

Just as they arrived home, the door to the carriage was pulled open by the Babingtons’ butler.

“Milord, milady, sir,” he greeted. “My apologies but a rider has just arrived with an urgent missives for Mr. Parker.”

He handed the folded note to Sidney, holding his lantern high to provide light to read.

Sidney perused the letter. “It’s from Mary…” he said, continuing to read. His face grew pale and he balled the note in his fist. “I must get back to Sanditon right away. Charlotte has fallen ill and collapsed.”

Sidney jumped from the carriage, looking about, seemingly lost, unsure how to proceed.

“Of course,” Babington said. “Prepare my horse for Mr. Parker.”

Esther felt her stomach drop. Not another loss. Not another unrealized child, please. “Sidney, be safe. We’re praying for all to be well.”

Sidney nodded his thanks then ran into the house to change from his evening wear and grab his bag. He was delayed only minutes before he was riding off into the night.