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Previously (one year ago, in a drabble entitled Crossing the ocean):
“America? Miss Heywood, so far from Sanditon! Mary, Sidney, what can we do?” A stunned Tom Parker shook his head.
An obstinate Charlotte responded. “I’m not part of your family. I must forge my own path. My uncle, in Baltimore, has offered me an opportunity.”
Sidney, his jaw tight, his expression sad, his body tense, remained silent.
Mary embraced Charlotte. “We will miss you, my dear.”
There, she had told them. The Sanditon page could be turned and Charlotte would be leaving the coastal village and the residence of Trafalgar House. The Parkers now knew she would be leaving the country, probably forever. Why, in the first place, had she agreed to come back to the place where her heart had been broken and her hopes had been dashed? To be honest, she wasn’t certain she knew the true answer to that question.
Everything should have been simple. Charlotte needed to get away from Willingden and the increasing pressure from her family. Ralph Sterling, her kind but so predictable neighbour, had declared his intentions regarding Charlotte to Mr Heywood. In despair, on a whim, Charlotte had written to an uncle in America, asking him if he could accommodate her. While she was waiting for a reply, a few weeks after the fire, Tom Parker had written asking for her help with the administrative organisation of the rebuilding work. Sidney was in London, occupied with his affairs, and most likely swamped by Eliza’s demands. A final trip to Sanditon didn’t seem like such a bad idea – she could wait there for an answer from her uncle, far from Ralph’s awkward pestering. And she would have time to say goodbye before leaving for a new life.
Then everything went awry. It was more difficult than she had expected to listen to Tom bleating on all day about how lucky his brother was, and his unexpected happiness after ten years of being alone. Difficult as well to bear Mary’s pitying looks, full of remorse, and her attempts to divert the topic of conversation. But, above all, it was when Sidney appeared one evening in the drawing room of Trafalgar House, two days after Charlotte’s arrival and clearly not informed of her presence, that things really began to worsen. The situation became stifling. It became unbearable when Eliza, despite her disdain for the provincial seaside resort, made her own appearance, declaring that she could not under any circumstance be parted from her fiancé. With a proprietorial air, Mrs Campion took her place in the drawing room at Trafalgar House and began to weave a web of poisonous remarks, condescending comments and haughty attitudes towards her entourage. Naturally, Charlotte was one of the prime targets of her caustic, acerbic observations.
The days that followed therefore saw Mary exercising all her talents as mistress of the house and all her skill in choosing appropriate conversation, given that some people present bore a past heavy with unspoken words. Charlotte attempted to avoid everyone, keeping herself as busy as possible. Every day, she watched out for the arrival of the mail, hoping for a reply that, she knew, would take weeks to arrive. The children were delighted to be able to spend long periods on the beach with her, when the autumn weather permitted. She visited Georgiana too, even though she did not necessarily find in her the comfort she would expect from a true friend.
Yes, the atmosphere was decidedly unbearable and the long-awaited reply from Baltimore finally eased the situation. The immediate announcement of her imminent departure had relieved her of a great weight.
On the evening of the same day, Charlotte gently closed the door of Henry’s room, having helped him fall asleep. A candle in her hand, she stopped for a moment, gathering the courage to go downstairs and face the evening party which, she knew very well, would once again be filled with malicious barbs. A deep voice behind her interrupted her thoughts:
‘So, you’re off to America?’
She froze, then turned around, her chin raised, defiant. In the semi-darkness of the landing, Sidney was facing her. Before she could reply, he continued:
‘I think you’re right to go there. It suits your character, your personality. It will kill me to think of you being so far away, but you’ll have opportunities for discovery, adventures and challenges over there that you’d probably never find here.’
He had travelled the world; he knew what he was talking about. His voice was low and resigned, but his tone was an admiring one. She swallowed the bitter words of self-defence that had nearly spilled from her mouth, softening her tone:
‘I have to go. As soon as possible. There’s no reason for me to be here. Apart from your brother Tom, who still doesn’t understand anything, we’re all unhappy, stuck in an impossible situation.’
‘I know. Of course I know. And yet...’
He approached her, serious, his gaze fixed on her big brown eyes.
‘If fate had not been against us, you would have had every reason to be here. Here in Sanditon, in this house, and... with me. You, living as part of our family – it was meant to be.’
His voice broke on those last words. He stepped away a little, turning his back. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she shook her head.
‘No. The only thing that makes sense now, is that your family is sheltered from harm, and that the livelihood of so many people in Sanditon has been protected. The rest... it was only a dream, the dream of a naive young girl who had seen nothing, who had experienced nothing.’
She turned away, her back to him. He came towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and whispered into her ear.
‘If you only knew how much I, too, shared that dream.’
Naturally, such a declaration from a man to a young woman who was not his fiancée was completely improper. And yet, there, in the shadows of the corridor, outside the constraints of etiquette, his words rang true, sincere and just. It was probably the last time they could be like this with each other, their last opportunity to sincerely open up to each other. A few distant sounds of voices escaped from the drawing room below, but they were upstairs, illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the window and the candle in Charlotte’s hand. It was an intimate, timeless moment. Softly, Sidney turned towards her, took the candle holder, put it on a nearby stand, then placed one hand on her waist and the other under her chin, raising her head slightly.
‘I dreamed of marrying you one summer’s day in the church in Willingden that I will never get to see. I dreamed of making the acquaintance of your family, learning the first names of all your brothers and sisters.’
‘Mr Parker...’
Charlotte tried to move away but he stopped her, gently.
‘Grant me this moment, Charlotte. Grant us just a few minutes to imagine what we can never experience. I promise you that afterwards, I will let you go and you can plan a radiant future, far away from me and my miserable family.’
Charlotte closed her eyes, trembling with emotion. He thought she would pull away from him, admonish him for his crazy words and, unwittingly, he tightened his grip. But then she opened her eyes, regarding him intensely, and whispered:
‘I dreamed of showing you the hills of Willingden, the autumn colours of our forests and the cosiness of the fireplace in our home on winter evenings.’
Shyly, she extended her hand to entwine their fingers. He grasped her hand tightly, then his gaze travelled to her face. Without breaking eye contact, he gently laid his forehead against hers.
‘And of waltzing with you in my arms, year after year, at parties so dull that we would have laughed about it together.’
‘You know how I love to dance,’ she replied.
She continued: ‘Would you have taught me to drive your carriage?’
‘Ah, would we have found something that Miss Heywood cannot do? You could have driven our carriage, as you would have held the reins of our life together, Charlotte. And I would never have reproached you for not embroidering my handkerchiefs, or for not playing the pianoforte in public.’
She smiled sadly at the memory of their first altercation. He continued:
‘I dreamed of showing you the world, you who are so curious and so open to others. Where would you have liked to go on our honeymoon?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Oh, I hardly know. I believe I would have let you choose for me, as you have seen so much... Somewhere different... a place where your business would have taken us?’
‘You would have been my partner in life, the woman with whom I would have shared my business decisions.’
‘I would never have thought it possible that a husband would let me have these kinds of opportunities.’
‘Oh Charlotte... we would have left our mark on the world together, for the future of our children.’
Blushing at the last word, she made as if to move away from him, but ended up burying her head against his chest. Emboldened, he continued, his voice impossibly low in her ear:
‘My whole life, I will dream of these children who will never be born... I would have loved to be the father of your girls, bold, stubborn brunettes to whom I would have found it hard to say no. I would have loved to have a son, an heir to whom you would have taught the value of women.’
‘I would have watched you teach him to swim, to ride a horse. And you would have made them wooden boats and we would have floated them on the river, the English against the French,’ she smiled.
‘I would have returned in the evening to our home, where you would have been waiting for me with our newest born in your arms, surrounded by a handful of older children.’
They stayed silent for a few moments, their minds filled with visions of a future that would never be.
‘I think I’ve even dreamed of our arguments. You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.’
She laughed silently. She had discovered in London that he too was particularly attractive when anger accentuated his passionate, intense and protective nature.
He dared to say one last thing:
‘But more than anything, I would have liked to fall asleep every night in your bed, and wake up every morning by your side, sharing with you an intimacy of heart, mind... and body.’
‘I... I think I would have liked that.’
She did not know how to continue. Silence fell once more, as he gently rocked her against him.
‘Can you see how we would have been happy, Charlotte?’
For the first, and probably the last time, she let his Christian name slip past her lips.
‘I can see it, Sidney.’
The trace of a small, sad smile appeared on his lips, making him even more handsome.
‘Thank you. I will hold on to the memories of this conversation, in order to move forward as decently as possible in life. My fate is fixed, yours is not. But know that I will always think of you. What we have just imagined must not keep you tied to the past. It must give you the strength to go forward, make you aware of your value. Do not depart, thinking that you were not chosen. It’s not that, it was never a question of choice, you were not rejected. Never doubt yourself, and be happy. You deserve it so much.’
‘I hope that you will be happy too. You must try.’
She wept softly. He wiped away her tears, caressing her cheek with his thumb.
‘I will be happy because my family is happy, and my nieces and nephews will grow up protected from need. The people of Sanditon will have employment that will enable them to live decently. And I’m sure that I will find joy, and a refuge if necessary, at the home of the Babingtons.’
He did not want to tell her that before that, he would do everything he could to escape this future that seemed so final. He desperately needed time, reflection, friends and a miracle. But he would think about that tomorrow.
He brought his face towards hers slowly, very slowly, to give her time to refuse, to turn away. Their lips met. The temptation to slip towards the nearest bedroom was great. One night, could they perhaps steal one night from the fate that separated them so cruelly? But Sidney softly ended their embrace. He permitted himself a final caress of the dimple in the chin that was turned towards him, a final kiss on her closed eyelids, which opened as she felt him moving away.
‘I dreamed of a life spent by your side,’ he said finally, before descending the stairs and entering the family drawing room.