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Two years after the clifftop farewell…
Sidney rolled the letter and slipped it into the old bottle. He took the cork he had wedged between his teeth out of his mouth, jamming it into the top of the bottle. A dory bobbed expectantly in the surf, anchored in the sand. He scanned the horizon. The water was calm. The sky was clear. Stepping into the boat, he gently placed the bottle against the bench. He pulled in the small anchor and stowed it at the bow. Picking up the oars, he began to row out into the open water. He rowed farther and farther, until the island was covered by his thumb when he held it up. He retrieved the bottle and gingerly stood. Bracing himself with his feet, he pulled back his arm and hurled the bottle into the sea. Sidney watched as it floated out of sight, hoping it would get to its destination.
***
Five years later…
Charlotte strolled along the shore. She’d returned to Sanditon at the invitation of Lady Esther Babbington after a five-year hiatus. Esther was in the motherly way and ached for the friendship of the only one she’d ever been able to tolerate: Charlotte Heywood. Upon returning to Willingden, she locked herself away from the world, preferring the tedium of chores and housework and the safety of her father’s library, to the society pages of London. She had received several missives over the months, but as she failed to respond, the correspondence waned. The only ones who continued to contact Charlotte regularly were Esther Babbington and Susan Worchester. Neither provoked her with news of a certain man or a certain woman. Neither pushed her to “get back in the saddle” again. Neither expected anything from her.
It was a bit of a surprise, therefore, when Lady Babbington had written Charlotte prevailing upon her to return to Sanditon. Charlotte knew the risk to her heart. She knew there was a possibility of encountering the other half of her heart that would never again be her own. Yet, she had come. Her profound sense of duty and loyalty to Esther had outweighed any of the uncomfortable possibilities that awaited her.
Today was no different than the day before. The sky was overcast. The sea in between the sky and the land seemed undecided as to whether it should throw a tantrum, or peacefully ebb and flow. Charlotte was as uncertain as the sea today. Should she chance a visit to the cove? Should she stay away? Her feet made the decision and carried her to the cove, her eyes searched the piles of seashells, hunting for sea glass and other rare finds. Cutting through the sound of the surf thrashing the sand was a high-pitched clinking sound coming from the outcropping of rocks. Charlotte approached cautiously but her curiosity overtook her. At first, she saw nothing. When the sound continued, she looked closer, catching a glint of light as it reflected off the dark amber colored glass. Reaching down, she retrieved the bottle, inspecting it closely.
Squinting, she caught sight of a piece of paper within the bastion of the bottle. Once again, her curiosity overtook her and she glanced around, half expecting someone to speak up, claiming it as their own. The cove was deserted save her and the treasure. Charlotte settled on a boulder and popped the cork after some effort. She coaxed the paper into her waiting fingers and placed its home next to her on her perch.
Slowly, she unfurled it, and began to read:
My Dearest Charlotte,
I can scarcely believe it has been two years since my eyes last drank in your beauty. My heart and body ache with a longing for you that they have no business feeling. I was a fool to ever leave your side that night. I was a fool to stop your coach and torture us both without stealing you away to Gretna Green and making you mine. I sit on this island looking toward the horizon of home, wishing that the sea in between weren’t so vast, and that your heart and body were mine.
I torment myself daily thinking of you with a husband that is not me, children that are not mine. I wake up shaking in agony, lamenting how much of a fool I have been to have lost the only woman I have ever loved.
I could not go through with it, my darling. I could not marry her. Part of me is ashamed for doing to her what she did to me. I tried. I stood there at the altar, watching her walk toward me dressed in white, flowers in her bonnet, wishing by some strange magic she would morph into you. When she did not, I apologized and walked out of the church straight onto a waiting ship.
If I could but see you again. I would take you in my arms and never let you go. I would make you my wife that very day. I would love you to my dying day, and then forevermore. If only…
All my letters to you have gone unanswered, so I write this with the smallest hope that one day it will reach its destination and have the desired effect. I send it on the sea in between us, praying that it brings us together once again, and that our hearts rediscover one another. If, when, and until that day arrives, I am yours – body and soul.
All my affection,
Sidney
Her vision swam with tears that cascaded down her face. Her heart lit with the flame of hope. Perhaps one day. She kissed his signature then gently folded the letter, tucking it into her bodice -- close to her heart. Retrieving the bottle, she replaced the cork and stood, a bit unsteady with emotion. Charlotte turned, intent on walking back toward Sanditon proper and calling on Mary Parker. She looked up.
In the distance a tall, dark, and strong figure strode toward her. The wind tore at his coat, he gripped his top hat in his hand. She stood still, watching his approach, until he looked up and realized her presence. He stood only a few yards away, his eyes wide with shock, his breath coming unevenly.
Charlotte dropped the bottle in her shock and barely registered it rolling into the surf. He took a step closer, his dark eyes swimming and choked out, “You’re here.”
The breath she’d been holding came out in a stifled cry, “Yes.”
Sidney eyed her cautiously, afraid that he’d conjured her out of longing. He cleared his throat, “Are you well?”
She blinked, clearing away the jolt of surprise, “Quite well…and you?”
He swallowed, “Yes, quite well, thank you…” He stuttered, “Are y-you…are you visiting?”
“Yes…I’m staying with Lady Babbington during her confinement.”
He nodded, “And your family? Are they well?”
She smiled softly, “Quite well. I received a letter from my sister just this morning.”
He looked at her uncertainly, “And your husband?”
She looked down, noticing the bottle bobbing in the surf. Charlotte glanced back at Sidney, “I am getting married today.”
Sidney’s face dropped and he looked down at his feet, desperately searching for the strength to wish her congratulations. He registered the bottle bobbing in the surf beside them. Her hand appeared in his line of sight, holding a folded piece of paper out to him.
He glanced up at Charlotte, a blush painted her cheeks an elegant pink hue. His heart began to pound. Reaching for her, he swept Charlotte up in his arms, pulling her body against his, cradling her head against his cheek.
Tears flowed from his eyes as he sobbed in relief, whispering between frantic kisses, “Charlotte, Charlotte…my darling Charlotte...”
Charlotte’s tears mixed with Sidney’s as their hearts sang in euphoria at their reunion.
Many moments later, they parted, Sidney tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Come my darling, we have a stage to catch.”
They directed themselves toward town and walked arm in arm toward forever.