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Chapter Text

It was mid-May in Sanditon, and one of the warmest the town had on record. The sun beat relentlessly upon the Parker family as they took their morning walk along the shore. Mary’s delicate parasol was of little help in cooling her - a fact that made her feel rather cross. Her children dealt with their discomfort by discarding their hats and shoes and running madly over the sand. Normally Mary might have tried to curb their exuberance, but she was so uncomfortable herself that she let them roam freely without complaint.

Tom was walking next to her, pulling at his cravat and grimacing in the blazing heat. “I say, it would seem that we are in for a rather trying season. I cannot remember when a Sanditon spring has felt so hot and unpleasant.”

“Yes.” was all that Mary could reply. She licked the inside of her parched cheeks. “We ought to head back. The children should have some water. The sun is nearly overhead now, and the climate will only get worse.”

Tom called after them, and for once the children obeyed immediately, gathering up their scattered things and racing towards Parker House. The family had not got far on their walk, and within twenty minutes they were retreating into the welcome shade and coolness of their home. Mary peeled off her spencer jacket, which was uncomfortably damp with sweat. “Thank you, Mrs. Hanley. I think we will take our walk earlier tomorrow morning. To avoid the worst of the heat.”

“Very good, Ma’am. And I’ve set some chilled lemonade in the parlor for you and the children, should you wish for some.”

“Lemonade? Good heavens, what a treat! Thank you, Mrs. Hanley.” Mary hastened into the parlor, scarcely less excited than her children. Alicia and Henry were already gulping it noisily, but Mary slowly savored her own drink – sharp, sparkling, and gently flavored with honey. Delightful.

“Excuse me, Sir.” Hodges, the butler, entered the parlor with a note for Tom. “But this arrived in the morning post.”

“Thank you.” Tom broke the seal of the letter and sat near his family, crossing his boots under the table. He began sipping his lemonade and reading the message with interest. “Ah! Here is some good news, at last. Sidney and Charlotte will arrive in Sanditon tomorrow!”

“What?” exclaimed Mary with delight. “I thought they would return to Benson Place directly after their honeymoon.”

“Sidney writes that they had some desire to return here. For two or three weeks, at the most.” Tom turned the letter over and smiled jovially. “This was posted last Sunday from Rome. What tales they will have to tell us all!”

“Auntie Charlotte is coming home, Papa?” Jenny asked eagerly.

“Auntie Charlotte is coming to visit,” clarified Mary, “and yes! She will be here tomorrow.” Jenny became so overwhelmingly cheerful at this news that she started to whoop and dance around the parlor. Alicia and Henry joined in with vigor, and Mrs. Hanley was obliged to shoo the children out of the parlor and upstairs towards the nursery. Mary laughed wearily as their noise faded out of earshot. “Those dear children are really getting to be too much to handle.” She looked at Tom, who was staring into the distance and was clearly lost in thought. “Will Charlotte and Sidney stay here, Tom?” she asked, bringing him back to reality.

“What’s that? Oh, no, they will keep their same apartment. On Waterloo Terrace.”

Mary smiled knowingly and reached for more lemonade.   

“Do you know…I think we ought to persuade them to take a permanent residence here.”

“What?” Mary raised her brows. “Live in Sanditon?”

“Not full-time, of course. Sidney’s business dealings would never allow for that. But, if they mean to spend any sizable amount of their year here, they ought to establish their own household. Become part of the neighborhood.” Here Mary gave him a weary, upbraiding look. “I am by no means intending to profit off their residence!” he insisted, holding up both of his hands in mock surrender. “Only think how pleasant it would be to have them so near. The children would adore it. And I’m sure they would prefer Sanditon to city life, in time.”

“Charlotte loves London.” Mary reminded him. “And Sidney has always made it quite clear that his interest in Sanditon does not extend beyond the beaches, and our family.”

“Yes.” Tom mused. “Well. Nobody is perfect, as they say.” With a wry smile he held up his glass of lemonade. “To the honeymooners – may they arrive in safety,” he chanted, “and stay among us, for as long as fate may allow.” He gave Mary a cheeky wink, and with an exasperated smile she clinked her glass against his.

Chapter Text

“Charlotte?” Sidney laid his hand gently on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Are you awake, Charlotte?” It was early morning, and sunlight was streaming in the window of their apartment on Waterloo Terrace. It was their third morning back in Sanditon.

Charlotte had been sleeping peacefully, and she groaned and shifted slightly at his touch. “Mmm.”

“Forgive me, my love. I thought you wanted to walk this morning.” He was sitting on the edge of their bed, fully dressed and ready to depart.

Charlotte stirred, her eyes finally fluttering open. “Mmm. I did.” She brushed her hair out of her face and looked around the room. Her eyes fell upon her nightdress, which lay in a heap on the floor. She smiled, sleepily. “But I believe all of these late evenings are beginning to catch up with me.”

He kissed her – a long, slow, burning kiss. Sidney could feel Charlotte respond to his touch, and he suddenly felt remorseful at keeping her up so late the night before. He stopped himself, giving her a gentle peck on the cheek before saying, “Not to worry. I’ll go for a ride instead.” She rolled over with another sleepy sigh, and Sidney tiptoed quietly towards the chair where his hat and coat lay. He glanced at his resting wife as he gathered them, smiling to himself. It was little wonder Charlotte was tired. He found she was quite a natural when it came to lovemaking, and the prior evening had been especially passionate. His eyes lingered on the small of her back, which rose and fell evenly with her breath. Sidney was struck again by a familiar sensation – of not quite believing his good fortune in life, and love.

He shut their bedroom door quietly behind him and began walking down the hall. At the end of it he came upon their temporary housekeeper, Mrs. O’Connor, who was climbing the stairs with a pile of fresh linens.

“Good morning, Mrs. O’Connor. I shall be out riding this morning, but will be back in time for breakfast. Please see that Mrs. Parker is not disturbed before that time.”

“Very good, Sir.”

Sidney walked to the stables and saddled Apollo himself, happy to have some physical task to do after weeks of luxurious travel. A brisk morning canter over the clifftops was sounding more and more inviting. He mounted and began trotting through the town. A few early morning shoppers roamed the streets, and groups of fishermen were hauling their morning catch to market in large crates.

Within a few minutes he passed the charred remains of the terrace, which remained fenced off from the town. Early morning dew evaporated from it in the sunlight, making it look like it was smoking anew. Sidney could see scrapings of names and etchings on the boarded windows – likely the work of the more daring youth in the town. He frowned at the building’s ugliness, but shrugged it off and began cantering towards the hills outside of Sanditon.

Apollo seemed similarly glad of the chance to exercise, for the horse galloped over the damp grass with greater speed than his master urged. The wind whipped Sidney’s coat behind him, and he clung to the beast with his knees, raising up slightly in the saddle. “Come on! Come on, boy!” Sidney shouted. Faster and faster they ran, until he could hear nothing but the snorting breath of his animal. Sidney began to sweat with the exertion of staying amount.

After twenty minutes of travel Sidney slowed Apollo to a stop. The horse heaved and tossed its head, pawing its hooves impatiently. He slid off his saddle and rubbed the animal’s gleaming coat. “Good man, Apollo.” Sidney panted slightly as he walked towards a nearby clifftop. The ride had been more tiring than he expected. He watched the fishing dories for a few minutes, but the sun was getting higher in the sky now, and the heat was oppressive. “Off we go.” He pulled the reins over the horse’s head and mounted once more. “Back to Sanditon, but slowly now. Easy."

They cantered back into town from the east, passing Parker House this time. He reached the stables and handed off his reins to the attendant. Waterloo Terrace was completely empty, but for them, so he made no effort to quiet his footsteps as he approached. Their apartment was the furthermost on the right – modestly sized but nicely furnished, consisting of two bedrooms, a parlor, and a morning room that doubled as a dining area. It was there that he found Charlotte, prettily dressed in sky blue and setting out muffins and tea. She smiled in greeting. “Good morning! How was your ride?”

“Invigorating.” He hesitated, unsure if he should approach her in his disheveled state. There were certain aspects of married life that he was still adjusting to, and he had no wish to put her off. “Ought I – ought I to wash up first?”

“No need.” returned Charlotte, merrily. “I am hungry.”

He laughed and joined her at the table. A pile of post was at its center, and they worked through it together as they ate.

“This is from Mama.” reported Charlotte, distractedly lifting her cup. “She wants to know if we will come to Willingden for Christmas. Goodness, that seems a long way off…”

Sidney frowned as he opened his first note. “Here is one from Lady Denham.”

Charlotte looked up in surprise. “Oh? What does she say?”

He read the message quickly in whole before answering. “She says she has heard we are in town, and would like us to call at Sanditon House as a matter of urgency.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Sidney folded up the letter, still frowning. “She did not say. But she demands that we come by the end of this afternoon.”

Chapter Text

A few hours later, Charlotte and Sidney were riding in an open carriage towards Lady Denham’s estate. They had deemed the day far too hot to walk. Despite the breeze their ride afforded, Charlotte’s curls stuck to her damp forehead. The old stone manor loomed grandly in front of them as they approached, and she suddenly found herself longing for the cover of its chilly black hallways.

They arrived in good time. Sidney lifted Charlotte from the carriage, and she took his hand reassuringly as they entered the hall. Their footsteps echoed over the marble floors as they followed Lady Denham’s butler. He led them into the reception hall, which was as dramatically opulent as Charlotte remembered. She could see Lady Denham sitting at its far end, clad in scarlet and lace and staring fixedly out of the window.

“Ah!” Lady Denham rose and greeted them. “So, you are here at last. Welcome back, Miss Heywood, Mr. Parker. Rome, wasn’t it?” She gestured to a pair of chairs opposite her. “Please be seated.” Charlotte did as she was bid, glancing at Sidney. He looked rather stiff.

“Would you care for any refreshment, Miss Heywood? That is, Mrs. Parker? Best wishes on the occasion of your marriage, of course, and all that.” Lady Denham smiled, but seemed intent on passing through pleasantries as quickly as possible.

“Thank you, Lady Denham. And no, I will take no refreshment.”

“And you, Mr. Parker?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Andrews, please give Mr. Parker some port.” The butler leaned between them, offering Sidney a drink off a tray and temporarily obscuring Lady Denham from view.

“Well Mr. Parker, I shall not beat about the bush. I have called you here today, because I wish for you to take on the management of Sanditon’s development.”

Sidney’s hand froze as he reached for his glass. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said that I would like you to assume sole responsibility over Sanditon.” Sidney remained frozen in place, his mouth slightly open in shock. He made no response. Charlotte was similarly lost for words, staring intently at Lady Denham. She could not have heard this correctly.

“Mr. Parker?” Lady Denham raised her brows. “Are you quite well? Did you hear what I said?”

Sidney cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Lady Denham, but I am not sure I fully understand your meaning.” 

Lady Denham groaned impatiently. “Why is it that all the men of the Parker family are bereft of any sense? It is a good job I have asked your wife to accompany you. No doubt you would forget this request altogether if I had not.”

Charlotte found her voice at last. “Forgive me, Lady Denham. But – are you not the primary stakeholder in Sanditon? You, and Mr. Tom Parker? Surely you will continue to be joint caretakers over the town’s growth?”

“I think not.” Lady Denham was eyeing Sidney through narrowed eyes. “For if the past is anything to signify, Mr. Tom Parker’s merits in the world of business are few.” Sidney opened his mouth to defend his brother, but Lady Denham cut him off. “Oh, he is a very good sort of man in his own way. He has his talents. But I have grown weary of his excuses. I will not make the mistake of partnering with him twice. I am resolute.”

Here Charlotte attempted to lighten the tension in the room. “Truly, Lady Denham…I am sure Mr. Tom Parker will do everything he can to restore Sanditon to glory.”

“Indeed?” She turned towards Charlotte with an arch expression. “Have you walked by the eastern terrace lately, Mrs. Parker? For I did just this morning, and I saw no sign of such restitution.” Charlotte opened her mouth as if to speak further, but here Lady Denham turned back to Sidney. “Summer is nearly upon us. Lady Susan Worcester will descend within weeks, along with her most fashionable friends. The eastern terrace is an embarrassment to this town, and to my good name. And what of the other planned amenities? The new stables, and the refurbishment of the pier? No progress has been made on these ventures. I want you to do something about it, Mr. Parker.”

Sidney looked wary. He set down his glass and moved to the edge of his chair. “Lady Denham – your wish to restore Sanditon is understandable. However, the fact is – “

“The facts are plain, Mr. Parker. Your brother still has great debts. No institution will extend his credit. And I will certainly invest no more of my money in the scheme. Therefore, it is on you to move the works forward.”

Charlotte could remain silent no longer. “Forgive me, Lady Denham, but it cannot be so. We leave for London in a few short weeks. Sanditon’s condition is…regrettable, of course…but why should it be upon Sidney to raise the town’s fortunes?”

Lady Denham settled back into her chair, lacing her jeweled fingers in satisfaction. “Why? Because he is a primary stakeholder. That is why.”

Charlotte let out an incredulous laugh and looked at Sidney. To her astonishment, his face was humorless. “What do you mean?” he murmured.

Lady Denham raised a single eyebrow. “You may well be surprised. But indeed, I know all about it. The fifty thousand pounds you borrowed against Mrs. Campion’s name. A sum contracted on your brother’s behalf, and promptly used to save him from ruin. I’ll wager you did more than pay off your brother’s debts. You purchased them, didn’t you?”

Reluctantly – most reluctantly – Sidney nodded. Charlotte’s eyes widened. “What?” she whispered. “It was at Mrs. Campion’s insistence.” Sidney explained, hurriedly. “She would not permit my loan otherwise. Her terms were absolute.” Lady Denham looked almost gleeful as she continued. “No doubt she hoped to gain control of the town herself. But then, as my sources tell me –“

“Which sources?” Charlotte asked, more urgently than she had intended. She felt rather overwhelmed by what she was hearing, and was trying to grasp the situation.

“ - Mr. Tom Parker himself, for one.” replied Lady Denham brusquely. Sidney looked away, biting his lip. Charlotte could see that he was irritated with Tom for sharing these private details. She felt rather distressed herself.

“As I was saying, I then learned that, even after you had broken your engagement, your own debt was satisfied. I know not how or when, and frankly I do not care, but the fact remains. You purchased a majority of your brother’s shares, and part of my own. You resolved your debt. Therefore, the stake is yours now.” Lady Denham reached for her own glass of port at this point.

Sidney stood up hastily. “I am afraid you are mistaken, Lady Denham. My debt was settled by a – a benefactor. Any claim to Sanditon would lie with them now.”

Lady Denham considered this revelation. “I have no doubt that is your hope, Mr. Parker. But it will all depend on the terms of your settlement. I advise you to review it, carefully. And to think about what I have said.” She tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Sidney with a look of resignation. “I trust you know, Mr. Parker, that you are not the partner I would have chosen. And yet – you seem to have a grain of ability about you. You have built a business from the ground up.” She laughed mirthlessly. “At the very least, you appear to have better luck than your brother, and that must count for something.” She stood. “Go home. Counsel together, and think on what I have said. I shall look for your answer in a week. Good day, Mrs. Parker. Mr. Parker. And happy congratulations to you both.” Lady Denham nodded curtly and swept out of the room.

Charlotte walked over to Sidney immediately. “We need to review the certificate. The loan cancellation from the Prince Regent. Is it here? In Sanditon?”

Sidney nodded urgently. “I’ve kept it with me since that day. It’s in the desk at our apartment. Come.” He took her hand, and together they walked quickly out of Sanditon House. The carriage ride home seemed to take an eternity, but at last they pulled in front of Waterloo Terrace. Charlotte nearly ran up the stairs, with Sidney following closely behind her.

She reached the desk first and rifled through its various papers. At last she found the most precious certificate, skimming it for applicable content. "Here!" she exclaimed, and began reading aloud. “I, Sir Hubert Whitney, President of the Central Bank of London, on this the third day of October in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fourteen, do hereby acknowledge the cancellation of debt in the amount of fifty thousand pounds contracted by Mr. Sidney Joseph Parker, and do further renounce and relinquish any claim the Central Bank of London currently has or has previously retained in regards to the properties funded by these debts.’ Then there is a long paragraph regarding legal documentation, and a row of signatures by President Whitney, a Mr. Crawford, etc.” Charlotte looked up. “Sidney…does this mean…?”

He sat down heavily and nodded, agonized. “We now own a one third stake in Sanditon.”

Chapter Text

Charlotte woke with a start from a tense dream. It was still dark, and she instinctively reached to her left for Sidney. He was not there. His side of their bed was empty.

She lifted herself up on her elbows. Sidney was across the room, sitting at the desk and reviewing his account book by the light of a single candle. He looked harried, and disheveled. His hair stuck straight upwards, as though he had been clutching it in frustration. Charlotte glanced at the wall clock. It was nearly three in the morning.

“Sidney.” Charlotte murmured softly. “Whatever are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” was his simple reply. He closed his account book and brought out his ledger, immediately scratching through the bottom line with his pen. “I’m sorry I woke you, darling.”

Charlotte sat up fully. “Are you thinking of Sanditon?”

“…Yes.”

“Tell me.” she entreated. “What’s wrong?”

Sidney hesitated, as though trying to find the right words. “Nothing's wrong. I’m just… thinking things over.”

“What things?” 

He grimaced. “It’s just that…I cannot see what possessed the Prince Regent to relinquish any right to Sanditon. Or to pressure the bank to do the same. He has essentially gifted us the freehold. Why? Why would he do so?”

“Perhaps he liked what he heard of you.” Charlotte offered, gently. Sidney shook his head. “But it defies logic. He might have retained the property for himself, and profited by it.”

“I suppose, when you are the Prince Regent…land has a different value. He has castles and estates throughout England. This must have seemed a minor plot to him. Neither a great gain or a great loss.”

Sidney tapped his fingers on the desk, considering Charlotte’s words.

“And at any rate,” she continued, “I thought you said that we had not been deeded the land itself. Just the right to develop it, to build upon it. The freehold, as you said.”

“Yes, that is true of the pier, which is for public use. I’m not yet sure how our ownership could apply to the town. Or its buildings.”

Charlotte frowned, thinking. “If this ownership was total, which sections would be yours now?”

“Ours.” he corrected her, raising his brow.

She smiled gratefully. “Ours, then.”

“I’m not sure. The old fishing wharf, I think. Part of the south terrace, along the beach.” He winced. “The eastern terrace. Or what is left of it.” Sidney rubbed his temple wearily. “The details are in the loan purchase agreements. But they are in London. I shall need to retrieve them this week.”

Charlotte nodded. “Georgiana is coming to visit on Wednesday. We can keep each other company here until your return.” She hesitated. “And Sidney…I think we ought to tell Tom. As far as he knows, he is still managing those sectors with Lady Denham’s full faith and confidence.”

Sidney exhaled roughly. “He will not like it. All I know is I want no part of this.” He looked up at her with renewed energy. “We could gift the freehold to Tom. Or Lady Denham.”

“But would she accept it? The land needs work, and she has no wish to invest further. And - ” Charlotte looked almost apologetic – “Tom is in no position to do so.”

“We could sell it, then. To another party.”

Charlotte nodded. “Of course. We could.”

“Is that what you want?” Sidney searched her face. Charlotte bit her lip and glanced out the window. The dark rooftops of Sanditon were just visible beyond it. She shook her head helplessly. “I hardly know, Sidney. I - I do like a challenge.” She smiled. “And, I must agree with Lady Denham. I think you would do a marvelous job.”

"Well...I don't recall her using those exact terms."

She laughed. "No. I suppose not." Charlotte grew solemn once more. “We have time, Sidney. There is no need to decide anything tonight.”

“Yes.” He groaned and closed his ledger. “I suppose you are right.”

Charlotte nodded. “Then Mr. Parker…viens au lit.”

Sidney slowly smiled, extinguished his candle, and walked towards her in the darkness.

Chapter Text

Sidney and Charlotte called on the Parkers the very next morning. They had agreed not to tell Tom of their visit with Lady Denham - at least, not until they had made a decision regarding their stake in Sanditon. Sidney planned to leave for London this evening, to retrieve his documents and meet with their solicitor. Although today’s visit to Parker House was strictly for social purposes, both Charlotte and Sidney had difficulty engaging in any conversation. The weight of their impending choice hung over the couple like a dark cloud.

Not long after they had arrived, Auntie Charlotte (who was a favorite with little Jenny) was abducted into the nursery to play Kitty-in-a-Corner. Mary decided to join them, and Tom and Sidney were left alone in the library.

“And you leave for London this evening?” Tom inquired. “How long will you be gone?”

“Two days. Three at the most.”

“Good heavens!” Tom’s eyes widened. “Quite a brief trip. Nothing amiss, I hope? With Miss Lambe?”

“No, not at all, she will be here herself in a day or two. There are some…business matters I need to see to.”

“Well!” his brother cleared his throat. “It is fortunate that you are here this morning, for I have business to discuss with you as well.” Tom kneaded his fingers together eagerly.

Sidney’s breath tightened. “Oh?”

“Yes. I am expecting a visit from two potential investors.” Tom had clearly been bursting to share this news all morning. “We have been corresponding for several weeks now - about the history of Sanditon, the current state of the works, the projected schedule of development, you know. I checked with the innkeeper, and the gentlemen arrived in the Crown Hotel last evening. They are due here – “ Tom consulted his timepiece – “well, they were due here about five minutes ago, actually.”

“Investors?” Sidney was immediately skeptical of this plan, but tried to maintain a politely curious expression. “What sort of investors? What do they want?”

“That is what I mean to find out.” Tom looked gleeful. “Think, Sidney, only think. If they like what they see here, they might fund the rebuilding of the terrace, the renovation of the stables – maybe even the construction of a second assembly hall, or an opera house!”

“Listen, Tom –“

“I know, I know what you will say.” Tom held up his hand to stop his brother’s objections. “And I promise, I will not get ahead of myself. But you cannot blame a fellow for his enthusiasm.” Tom grinned, and at that moment Hodges walked in to announce the arrival of Tom’s guests. “A Mr. Robert Langford, and a Mr. Edmund Langford here to see you, Sir.”

“Excellent.” Tom stood and straightened his vest. “Show them in, Hodges.”

A few moments later Tom’s guests entered the library – a tall, thin man with an an abundance of dark hair, and a shorter, stockier gentleman with swarthy skin and ginger whiskers. Both were impeccably dressed, with silk vests and fur trimmed coats that looked comically out of place in the Sanditon heat. The taller man spoke first. “Good morning, gentlemen. Please excuse our lateness. Robert Langford, at your service, Mr. – ?“ Robert Langford paused, looking from Tom to Sidney as though unsure who to address.

“Tom Parker.” Tom motioned to himself, and then shook hands. “Delighted to meet you in person, Mr. Langford.”

“As I was saying, you must forgive our lateness. My brother Edmund is an incurable optimist – forever underestimating the time it will take to walk across a room, let alone a street.”

“Your brother?” Tom failed to hide his surprise at this revelation, and Sidney shared it. The two men could not have been more opposite in appearance.

“Indeed, yes. Here you will say that we look nothing alike, and you would be right. You can blame our rather free-spirited mother for that.” He winked. “But!” Langford continued, clapping Edmund on the back, “Brothers we are.”

Tom remembered himself. “May I introduce my own brother? Mr. Sidney Parker. He has just returned from Rome with his bride, and is visiting for a few weeks on his way back to London.”

Robert Langford clicked his heels together. “Your servant, Sir.” He strode across the room and took a chair, his brother close behind. “What a charming little seaside village this is, Mr. Parker. Have you been here long?”

“About six years.” Tom took his own seat and began speaking very quickly. “And I have been engaged in the development of Sanditon for half that time. With the patronage of Lady Denham, of course. She is our primary investor, along with several credit associations. But there is ample opportunity for your involvement. As you will see, we are soon to be the finest seaside resort along the south coast. Already we have secured the tenancy of some of London’s most fashionable characters – Lady Susan Worcester, and Lord Grassby, among others. And you have arrived at a critical time in the town’s –“

“Yes, we look forward to learning all about the town, and its guests, during our stay here.” Robert Langford fingered his gold tipped cane and smiled coolly.

“We will be here at least a week.” Edmund Langford spoke for the first time. “Conducting surveys, evaluations, and talking with the local residents. I wonder if we might look at the planning charts you have for the town? If they are on hand?”

“Oh.” Tom looked rather distracted. “Yes, yes of course. They are just here.” Sidney held out a hand to stop him. “Investors, you say? What manner of investors? And what is your business?” Sidney was determined to ask further questions. He was distressed by how earnestly Tom was marketing the town, seeing as they knew almost nothing about these men. 

“We are not so much investors as magicians.” Robert Langford replied. “For our trade is renewal. Renovation. Rebirth.” He spoke dramatically, and Sidney could see that this showmanship was having an effect on Tom. “We have made our name in salvaging businesses throughout England. Seeing floundering empires for what they ought to be, and making them so.”

“Really?” Sidney was dubious. “And who are your clients? Any that I might know?” Though it had only been minutes, he already had a faint feeling of dislike towards Mr. Robert Langford. The man’s sallow, languid air and imperious manners irked him. Langford met Sidney’s gaze haughtily. “Bracebridge Emporium in Heyweather, for one. I believe your wife hails from Heyweather, does she not, Mr. Tom Parker?”

Tom looked astonished. “Well, yes, she was raised near there at least. Painswick Manor is her family home. But how did you –?”

“We like to research potential partners, Mr. Parker. All in the name of good business.”

Sidney heard a familiar light step just outside the hall. “Tom, have you seen the children’s kite? Mary and I are thinking of taking them to –“ Charlotte entered the room. “Oh, excuse me, I did not know you had company.”

The gentlemen rose in her presence. “Miss Diana Parker, I presume?” Robert Langford bowed. Tom laughed nervously. “No indeed, this is –“

Sidney intervened. “This is my wife, Mr. Langford. Mrs. Parker. Charlotte, may I introduce Mr. Robert Langford, and his brother Edmund. They are business associates of Tom’s.”

Charlotte nodded politely. “Pleased to meet you, gentlemen. Well, I shall leave you to your business. There are only so many places a kite could hide.” She smiled prettily and excused herself. Langford’s eyes lingered on Charlotte a moment longer than was needful, cementing Sidney’s dislike of the man.

“We ought to be going, Robert.” Edmund pocketed his timepiece. “Our first appointment is in ten minutes. If I might have the charts, Mr. Tom Parker? And your account books, to see where everything stands?”

Once more, Sidney stepped in. “You may make an appointment for after you have conducted your research. If, at that time, you still have enough interest to proceed, he will share the books and investment details. But not before.” Tom looked surprised at this intervention, but agreed to Sidney’s plan. “Yes. Yes gentlemen, we will meet again after your tour of the town. Tomorrow week?”

“Very well.” Robert Langford looked displeased at this arrangement, but rose and shook hands firmly. “Until then. Good day, Mr. Parker.” Hodges showed the gentlemen out, and Tom and Sidney were left alone once more. Tom cleared his throat. “I say, Sidney. You could have been a touch more welcoming.”

“Tom, you ought to use more discretion. You know nothing of these men.”

“They are fabulously wealthy, I can assure you of that Sidney. I have verified it.”

“But what is their reputation, their history? How do they work?” Sidney was having difficulty concealing his impatience. “You need to be more cautious, Tom. You cannot just hand over your books to perfect strangers, regardless of their promises to – “

“Sidney.” Tom looked almost desperate. “You know my situation better than anyone. And despite your kindness on my behalf, I am still thirty thousand pounds in debt. There is not a bank in England that will trust me. Right now, these men – these contacts that I have made - are my best hope in restoring Sanditon. So – “ here Tom gave a shuddering breath – “it would mean a great deal to me if you would just, just try to keep an open mind about them. For my sake.”

Sidney was at a loss for words. Being unable (or at least unwilling) to share his own news, he nodded stiffly. Tom looked relieved. “Thank you, brother. And now, if you will excuse me, I - I shall help my dear sister-in-law to find that kite.” Tom left the library. Sidney frowned as he watched him depart, mentally adding one more item to his list of London errands: investigating the brothers Langford.

Chapter Text

“And when is my insufferable guardian returning?” Georgiana asked. It was early afternoon, and she and Charlotte were in the terrace apartment’s basement kitchen. Charlotte had been seized by a sudden desire for activity, and had spent most of the morning making a cherry tart for their tea. Georgiana sat on a stool near the counter, reading her post and watching her friend roll out pastry.

“He’ll be back tomorrow.” Charlotte sprinkled flour over her dough and began pounding it vigorously. “How I wish you would give Sidney another chance, Georgiana.”

“To what purpose?” Georgiana replied. “In one blessed year I will be of age, and he and I will have nothing more to do with each other. We might as well just wait it out.”

“I know he dearly wants to be on good terms with you.” Charlotte looked very grave.

Georgiana sighed. “In marrying you, he has raised my opinion of him. But only slightly. Let us not waste time talking of him. We have more important topics to discuss.” She watched Charlotte’s work with interest. “For example - what can have possessed you to spend the day making messes here?”

Charlotte glanced down at her apron, which was covered in flour and cherry juice. “Mess is right!” She laughed and brushed pastry off her hands. “I suppose I was desperate for a distraction.”

“Why, pray?”

Charlotte did not answer, instead holding a jar of preserved whole cherries in front of Georgiana. “Try these. They are Mrs. O’Connor’s specialty, apparently.” Georgiana plucked one out and sucked upon it. “Mmm.”

“Good?”

“Very. At least, it’s one of the more flavorful things I’ve had since coming to this dreary little island.” Georgiana grinned slyly and returned to her post. She opened a thick, gilt-edged invitation with interest, but her face fell upon reading it. “Oh dear.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This is an invitation from Lady Denham.”

Charlotte gave her pastry another turn. “To her garden party?”

“Yes! Did you know about this?”

Charlotte nodded. “We received ours yesterday. Lady Denham must have heard you are in town.”

“I shan’t go.” Georgiana was resolute. “Nothing could convince me to spend another hour in that old bat’s company. You must tell Sidney that I shan’t go.”

“Just as you like.” Charlotte replied, mildy. She stirred the coals in the oven. “I’m not sure this is hot enough.”

“Are you attending? You, and Sidney?”

Charlotte straightened up again, looking thoughtful. “Yes. Yes, I think we must.” She shrugged. “It could be entertaining, you know. Mary says it is always a very large gathering.”

Georgiana pursed her lips. She had been rather lonesome with Charlotte away, and the idea of a day out together was more welcome than she wanted to admit. “I shall think about it. But whether I stay or go must be my decision, and mine alone. And if you would relay that message to your husband, I would be very grateful.”

“Consider it done.” Charlotte smiled and returned to her pastry. Georgiana stood to leave. “I have a few errands to run in town. Do you need anything?”

“Sealing wax, please.”

Georgiana tied on her bonnet and tripped cheerfully out the door. “I shall be back in time for tea. And take care not to burn the place down while I am away!” Charlotte winced at this jest, remembering that in all likelihood Sanditon’s actual burned terrace was now their property.

Putting it from her mind, she continued working the pastry for some minutes before returning to the coals. The oven did not seem to be drawing properly. “What is going on here?” she muttered to herself. Suddenly, she heard Mrs. O’Connor’s voice calling frantically down the narrow hall. “If you would just wait upstairs, Sir, I would be happy to let Mrs. Parker know you are here – Sir, I really must ask –“

“Not to worry, Ma’am, I truly have no wish to trouble you. Ah, here we are.” To Charlotte’s astonishment, Robert Langford strode into the kitchen, a red-faced and embarrassed Mrs. O’Connor close behind him.

“How do you do, Mrs. Parker?” Langford bowed.

“I tried to settle him upstairs, Mrs. Parker.” Poor Mrs. O’Connor looked very distressed. “But – but –“

“It’s quite all right, Mrs. O’Connor. However, would you please remain in the room?” Mrs. O’Connor nodded solemnly, planting her feet like a sentinel. Charlotte was caught off guard by Mr. Langford’s unexpected arrival, but attempted to remain courteous. “How may I help you, Mr. Langford?”

“Please forgive me for interrupting your –“ he looked over the crowded countertop and Charlotte’s smudged apron – “rather delightful enterprise.” Langford smiled, revealing a set of very white teeth. Charlotte supposed he might be called a handsome man, were it not for his wily demeanor. She repeated her question. “And how can I help you, Mr. Langford?” She waited.

He approached her counter, popping one of the jarred cherries into his mouth. “Mmm. Delicious. Pickled in brandy and cinnamon, if I am not mistaken?”

“That – that’s right.” stammered Mrs. O’Connor, from the doorway.

“One of the finest I have ever tasted. My compliments. I must say, I am surprised and delighted to find one of the great ladies of Sanditon hard at work in the kitchen.”

Charlotte raised her brows and began to line her pastry tin with dough, avoiding his gaze. “As you can see, we are rather occupied at the moment. Perhaps you might call another time?” She disliked the man’s familiar manners and wished he would go.

“As a matter of fact, I was hoping to speak with your husband. Is he about?” Here Mrs. O’Connor interjected. “I tried to tell him Mr. Parker was in London, Ma’am. But he walked past me, and – “

“Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor.” Charlotte said, soothingly. She turned again to Mr. Langford. “As you have heard, my husband is not here. It would be best if you called another day.” She spoke more firmly this time, but he only smiled in response.

“Rather a sudden trip, if I may say so. Very curious. I do hope nothing is wrong?” His gaze was a little too intent for Charlotte's liking. She was beginning to feel irritated now, and made no effort to disguise it. “We are perfectly well, thank you. Do you have a message for my husband?"

"No, not at all. I just hoped to talk to some of the local residents about the merits of Sanditon. It's a crucial part of our method when deciding whether to invest." He leaned his elbows on the counter. "And how do you like it here, Mrs. Parker? Is the town pleasurable enough to hold the interest of a young bride?" 

"I like it very well, Sir." She was liking Mr. Langford less by the minute.

"For this is where you met your husband, is it not?"

Charlotte frowned in surprise. "Yes. But now, Mr. Langford, I really must finish this. If you would be so kind as to follow Mrs. O’Connor and call another day?”

The woman sprang into action. “Right this way, Mr. Langford.” She looked ready to drag him from the kitchen if need be.

“But of course. Please forgive me for intruding. I shall come back once your husband has returned.” He placed his hat on his head and winked. "Best of luck with that pie. Good day, Madame." Mr.  Langford left as suddenly as he had entered. Charlotte watched his departure with no small amount of disgust.

Mrs. O’Connor returned a minute later, overcome with apologies. “Forgive me, mistress. I told him you were occupied, and he asked with what, and I said you were in the kitchen, and he said that I needn’t bother waiting on him, and that he would show himself in, and – oh, Mrs. Parker, I must say, I fear that man is no gentleman!”

“Yes.” Charlotte murmured as she placed her tart in the oven. “I believe you are right.”

Chapter Text

Phillip Crowe was, once again, lodging in the Crown Hotel of Sanditon. This was a highly depressing fact – one that could only be softened by ordering a double pint of their strongest ale. He tasted it as he walked away from the bar, wrinkling his face. Still ghastly. he thought. Not much had changed since he had last been here. The place was still cramped and dirty, full of dullards with shallow pockets. He took out his private hip flask for a sip of something stronger. Crowe sensed he would need it to get through this tedious evening.

He stumbled through the roaring crowd. Several barmaids approached him as he walked, but for once he shrugged them off. He was in a gaming mood, and surveyed the tables for interesting players. The first group did not look promising. Farmhands, by the look of them, or laborers. There would be no sport there. But to his delight, the second table on his right looked very lucrative indeed. Two gentlemen sat drinking and fingering a pack of cards – a tall dark man, and a shorter ginger-haired one. Both were fashionably dressed, with gold-topped canes and timepieces. He had found his quarry.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Crowe greeted them. “I see you are getting up a game. Might a fellow join?”

“It would be our pleasure, Sir.” The shorter man stood and extended his hand. “Edmund Langford, at your service. This is my brother, Robert.”

“Your servant, Sir.” Robert gestured for Crowe to take a seat. “And who might you be?”

“Crowe. Phillip Crowe. Lately of London, and most reluctantly back in Sanditon.” Crowe took another swig from his flask and swore under his breath. “I can’t stand this muddy little place.” Edmund Langford began dealing out the cards. “If that is true, then why are you here, Sir?”

Crowe picked up his hand, which was fortunately a good one. “I’m regretting it now, but I promised a chum I’d attend his aunt’s insufferable garden party. Or rather, his aunt-in-law. Of course I find upon coming here that the old fellow won’t even arrive until tomorrow. So!” He spread his arms wide. “What’s a gentleman to do but drink, and be merry!”

Robert Langford lit a cigar. “Are you speaking of Lady Denham’s garden party?”

“The very same.”

“Then your old chum is Charles Babington.” Langford blew out his match. Crowe nodded, a bit put off by the man’s deductions. “Lord Babington, actually, but yes. Do you know him?”

The man smirked and laid down a card. “No. I’ve heard of him. That’s all. He is said to be one of the wealthiest piers in the country.”

“So he is, lucky devil.” Crowe watched Langford for a moment, then shifted the conversation. “And you men? What tale of woe brings you to Sanditon?”

“No tale of woe, I hope.” offered Edmund, who was proving to be the less talkative of the two brothers. He threw more coins onto the growing pile at the table’s center. “We are here to ensure that Sanditon is a great deal less muddy and dreary in the future. If we get the chance of it.”

Crowe leaned back in his chair and surveyed the two men with greater interest. “Then you are the investors everyone has been talking about. The town is practically on fire with the topic.”

Langford smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Then we are making inroads.” He turned to his brother. “I think we ought to attend this garden party. Ingratiate ourselves with the town’s great lady, and all that. We might forge some valuable contacts.”

“What, you intend to show up, just like that?” Crowe chuckled at this insolence. Lady Denham’s outrage might make this trip worth it in the end.

“Oh, we shall secure an invitation. That is something of a specialty of mine.” Robert looked rather smug.

“You are not hoping to partner with Mr. Tom Parker, are you? Because I can assure you, if you are then you are in for a weary time. The man is incessant. Doesn’t have a lick of sense about him.” Crowe threw down a card.

Robert Langford tapped the ash off the end of his cigar, thoughtfully. “His brother may have, though.”

“Sidney’s a sharp one, that is true. Definitely the cleverest of the family.”

“You know him?”

Crowe chuckled and started in on his pint. “I should say so. I was best man at his wedding. Or one of them.”

“How delightful.” Robert Langford’s smile did not quite reach his cold black eyes. The men played in silence for a few minutes before Langford continued. “And how long have they been married? Mr. and Mrs. Parker?”

Crowe shrugged. “About a month now. Maybe a bit longer. Why?”

“No reason.” He laid down another card. “I meant to ask Mrs. Parker herself today, but she was not – shall we say – very open to conversation.” Langford took a long draught of his cigar. “Pretty little thing. Striking eyes.”

Crowe glanced up at him, frowning. “True enough, I grant you.”

The man breathed out a cloud of smoke. “Any room to play there, do you think?”

Here Crowe let out a short burst of laughter. “I should think not. At any rate, I would not advise it.”

“And why is that?”

He looked at the man dubiously. “Because Parker would murder you, that is why. Trust me. He is not someone to tangle with.”

Langford took another long draught of his cigar. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Crowe felt odd. Though he generally held marriage in contempt, he was strangely defensive of his friend and his wife. “And anyway, Mrs. Parker is not the type. You would be wasting your time.”

Instead of answering, Robert Langford doubled his wager. “Come now, gentlemen. Less talking and more playing, or we shall be here all night.” He lifted his glass in Crowe’s direction. “To your good health, Sir.” Crowe lifted his own mug and nodded, privately toasting to Sidney’s safe – and swift – return.

Chapter Text

Charlotte felt weary as she climbed the terrace stairs that night. She and Georgiana had dined with the Parkers, and the weight of her secret – combined with Tom’s growing praises for the Langford brothers – had made for a long evening. Charlotte bid Georgiana goodnight at the end of the hall and entered her bedroom. She stepped out of her slippers immediately, and was reaching for her haircomb when she realized with a start that behind the desk sat -

“Sidney!” Charlotte cried. He chuckled as she ran to him, catching her about the waist and lifting her slightly as they embraced. It was his first absence since they had been married, and only now that he was back did she realize how long their parting had seemed. “You have returned at last! And sooner than you said!” Charlotte could not conceal her delight.

“I finished my business early and caught the afternoon coach.” He kissed her cheek as he set her down.

“Well?” Charlotte asked with concern. “What news from London?”

“I do have news. But first,” he sat and drew her onto his knee, “tell me about your evening. What did I miss?” He looked exhausted, and in need of a shave, but content. She wrapped her arms about his neck and settled in comfortably, her legs curled atop his knees. She loved the feel of his strong chest at her side. “We dined with Tom and Mary. When did you get back, Sidney? You might have joined us.”

“Not twenty minutes ago. Mrs. O’Connor told me you were out for the evening, so I started in on some paperwork here.” He smiled and drew her a bit closer. “It is good to be home.”

She looked at him archly. “Home? Are you calling Sanditon home, now? Am I to take it you have made up your mind?”

Sidney shook his head. “No, I mean – back. I am happy to be back.”

Charlotte expressed her happiness at his return with a long, slow kiss. A minute later she realized Sidney’s fingers were hard at work on the buttons of her gown, and remembering that he still had news to share, she stopped him. “And what of your news? Did you meet with your solicitor?”

He nodded.

“And what did he say?”

Sidney sat back in his chair, looking pensive. “Nothing too unexpected. We own the rights to develop the pier and wharf, and the outright freehold to the south and eastern terraces.”

Charlotte let out a low whistle, which seemed to amuse Sidney greatly. “And if we were to develop them – am I right in assuming any profits would – would –“ she felt almost embarrassed to ask, but fortunately Sidney understood her meaning.

“Any profits would revert to us. But only if our ventures were successful. And I think we know from Tom’s struggles what a risk such ventures might be.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose so…what do you wish to do?”

Sidney bit his lip. “I already have a business, Charlotte. My interests have never been in construction, or development. And we have a home, in London. A life there. As – generous – as these circumstances may be…”

“…you think we ought to give up the stake?” Charlotte finished his thought. He looked troubled, but nodded. “Would you not agree, my darling? After all…my loan was not an honorable one.”

“Your reasons behind it were.” she defended him.

“That may be, but the mechanism was not. I suppose – to feel like any sort of man – I would have to excuse myself from profiting by it.” He looked very determined, and though Charlotte was more excited by the prospect than she had let on, she felt she was beginning to understand Sidney’s hesitance. It seemed his remorse at abandoning her for Mrs. Campion had not faded - and that his sense of honor would not let him benefit from a mistake. She pressed his hand solemnly. “I am not sure what I feel. But we have already been more blessed than I could have ever expected. So, I am satisfied. We can give Tom the rights to develop the pier. And sell the terraces.”

“But not to the Langfords.” Sidney sounded so firm on this point that Charlotte turned to look at him, curiously. “What did you learn of them?” she asked, with interest.

His expression darkened. “Suffice it to say, they are not the sort of partners Tom would want.”

“That comes as no great surprise.” Charlotte muttered. Sidney looked puzzled, and she continued. “Mr. Langford called for you today. But he arrived outside of calling hours, and we were very unprepared. I was occupied and kept hinting that he ought to leave, yet he would not go. Finally I asked Mrs. O’Connor to escort him out, and at last he left.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am afraid I found him very disagreeable.”

Charlotte saw Sidney’s jawline stiffen. “Which Langford?” he asked.

“Mr. Robert Langford.”

Sidney did not look at all surprised. “And what did he want?”

“He said he wanted to talk to you about the merits of Sanditon. He promised to call again once you returned.” At this Sidney cleared his throat. “No need for that. No doubt I will see him about town. I'll take care of it.”

“If you are truly set against the Langfords, you must tell Tom as soon as possible. He was extolling them all throughout dinner. I am afraid they have already endeared themselves to him.” She remembered Lady Denham’s invitation. “Tom and Mary will be at the garden party tomorrow morning. Perhaps you might talk to him then.”

“Very well.” He looked weary, and in desperate need of sleep. Charlotte gave him a quick little kiss and began unbuttoning his vest. “Right. Straight to bed tonight, I think. We will need our strength for tomorrow.” And though Sidney looked grateful at her suggestion, she could not help but smile at how enthusiastically he resumed work on the back of her gown.

Chapter Text

The next morning found Charlotte, Sidney, and Georgiana riding in an open carriage towards Sanditon House. It was a beautiful day, though still quite hot for Spring. Charlotte had opted for her lightest, thinnest white muslin, but still found herself daydreaming about kicking off her stockings to run barefoot through Lady Denham’s lush park. At least that might generate a breeze.

Even Georgiana seemed troubled by the warmth, for she fanned herself forcefully as they rode. She had consented to attend the garden party on the condition that she could avoid Sidney for its entirety. Charlotte agreed, though this saddened her. Attempts to prompt conversation between them fell flat, and at some point she felt too hot and uncomfortable to continue them.

Their carriage pulled around the back of Sanditon House, and it struck Charlotte that she had never seen it before. Like everything else about Sanditon House, it was impressively grand. Stone columns supported an outdoor gallery, which looked temptingly shady. A sunken maze wound through topiaries and precisely trimmed hedges. Beyond the maze were beds upon beds of roses, peonies, and azaleas, so fully in bloom that they spilled over the stone walk. White tents had been set up throughout the lawn for the comfort of the guests, who Charlotte could see were strolling lazily. And beyond the crowd, far in the distance, was a glimpse of the sea. It shone beautifully in the sunlight.

Sidney stepped out of the carriage first and helped them alight. Charlotte scrutinized the crowd for the Parkers, but needn’t have. Within moments a cheery voice greeted them. “Sidney! You are back!" Tom strode towards them, a wide grin on his face and champagne in his hand. "Ah! Good morning Charlotte, good morning Miss Lambe. And now we are all here!” Mary was close behind him, walking arm-in-arm with Mrs. Griffiths. “Are you ready?” Charlotte whispered to Sidney. He nodded gravely. He planned to warn Tom off the Langford brothers this morning, and refuse Lady Denham’s offer shortly thereafter. Sidney looked eager to get this business over with.

As Tom and Sidney began talking, Georgiana pulled Charlotte away to walk the rose garden. They strolled and took in the blooms – pale yellow, pink, red, and white. The roses’ perfume was almost sickly in the heat. “There is something I need to ask you.” Georgiana began. “Would you mind very much if I were to stay with the Parkers for a time? At least until we all return to London? I spoke with Mrs. Parker about it last night, and she is happy to oblige.” Charlotte was surprised by this request. “Of course, if that is what you wish. But why?”

Georgiana shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. “I mean no offense, but you and Sidney are a bit too – affectionate to make staying in close quarters with you pleasant.” She gave a wry smile as Charlotte blushed and stammered. “Not to worry.” Georgiana continued. “No doubt you will grow sick of each other within a few weeks, and then think of how comfortable we all shall be!” Charlotte laughed at this, promising to tell Sidney of the plan.

“Mrs. Parker!” Charlotte looked to her left, and unhappily realized the speaker greeting her was Robert Langford. He was walking their way, and she saw no obvious way to avoid him. “Good morning, Mr. Langford.” she replied, civilly. He took off his tall hat in greeting. “A good morning indeed, and made all the better by your arrival, Mrs. Parker. I wonder if I might ask for your assistance, for I am hopeless when it comes to botany, and require a good instructor to fully enjoy the day. Shall we walk this path together?” Something in his expression made her shiver; she was reminded of why she had disliked him. His presumptive manner was one thing, but his complete disregard of Miss Lambe was another. She ignored his question and introduced her companion. “May I introduce my friend, Miss Lambe?” He clicked his heels and bowed. “Enchanted, Mademoiselle.” Georgiana nodded more graciously than Charlotte might have expected under the circumstances.

Fortunately, her eye fell upon Lord and Lady Babington sitting under a nearby tent. “Would you excuse us, Mr. Langford? I have just seen some old friends of ours. Good day to you.” She pulled Georgiana along with her. “What was that all about?” she whispered.

“Nothing.” Charlotte shook off the encounter. “I don’t much like him, that is all.”

“Really? What a shame. I thought he was rather handsome.” Georgiana looked back at Langford. “Good heavens, he is still looking this way.” Charlotte paid no heed to this, as she had reached Lady Babington and was greeting her affectionately. “What a delight to see you again, Charlotte.” Esther led them both to a nearby seat as Lord Babington began talking with Georgiana. “It seems ages since we saw you in London! And now, you must tell me all about your honeymoon travels.”

Charlotte began recounting their tour of Rome, but noticed that Esther looked rather poorly. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was ashen. “Forgive me, Esther, but are you all right?”

“Perfectly well, thank you.” she insisted. “Go on.”

“Truly, you do not look well. Would you care for something to eat? A sandwich, perhaps?” Charlotte reached for a tray on a nearby table, but Esther held up her hand to stop her, looking queasy. “No, please. That would not help.” She stared at Esther curiously. Lady Babington sighed and leaned closer. “The fact is…I am in…rather a delicate condition.” Charlotte’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, Lady Babington. My happiest congratulations to you both!” She was ecstatic at this news and glanced at Lord Babington, who was still deep in conversation with Georgiana. “I trust you are being well looked after?”

“Too well, as a matter of fact.” said Esther, smiling in amusement. “Babington has not let me move from this spot all morning.”

“Quite right too, I should say.” Charlotte smiled. “Esther. I am so happy for you.” She had a thousand questions to ask, but at that moment she noticed Sidney and Tom at the far end of the park, engaged in a terse discussion. Mary stood nearby, looking very concerned. “Please excuse me, Lady Babington.” Charlotte hastened to where the brothers were standing, and her fears were soon confirmed. They were exchanging heated words over the Langford brothers.

"I need them, Sidney!"

“…listen to me, Tom. I spoke to my solicitor and every landowner I could find, and they all gave the same report. The Langfords are not so much investors as profiteers. They –“

“Sidney, they have made it very clear that they wish to become a standing part of this community!” Tom was nearly purple with indignation. “Word has poured in to me from every shopkeeper on the street. They have placed huge orders at the tailor’s, and the bootmakers, and even the booklenders and bakery –“

“Because they are buying favor, don’t you see?” Sidney replied sharply. “It is the same wherever they go. They find a struggling project, purchase it – no, not invest in it, purchase it – and replace it with their own venture. They build quickly, on the cheap – awful buildings, terribly made, and then turn around and sell to the highest bidder.”

“Perhaps they are simply better businessmen than you or I!” Tom looked angrier than Charlotte had ever seen him, and Sidney’s voice was quickly rising in intensity.

“If they retained some interest in their works I might agree with you. But they cut corners, all in the name of profit, and some of their constructions are now in such a state that – “

“But all they want is to bring greater entertainment to our citizens!” Tom cried. “You said it yourself, last year. Sanditon was dull, lifeless, you said. Your friends needed more to do, more sport, more diversion. The Langfords are willing to provide that, at their own expense, and for the meagre price of development rights. What is so wrong with that? I don’t know why you can’t see, Sidney –“

“Do you know what forms of entertainment they specialize in, Tom? Did you even look into them before they arrived? And who made the first contact? Does it not strike you as odd that they are so well-informed on your private dealings? They have clearly singled Sanditon out as a struggling town they could purchase for a pittance, only to exploit it for their own interests. I know what they have developed in the past. A slew of hotels, yes, but also gaming rooms and - boarding houses and – “

Tom laughed scornfully. “I am surprised you would object to those enterprises, brother. Considering your history.” Charlotte stared. This mean-spiritedness was not at all like Tom. Sidney flinched at his accusation, and sensing danger, Mary grasped Charlotte’s arm. “Charlotte, we must do something. What can we do?” But he was already walking towards Tom, shaking with restrained fury. “Such ventures might have a place in London, Tom. But in Sanditon? For your children to pass by each day?”

Charlotte tried to intervene. "Tom, Sidney, please -"

“The Langfords are not talking of setting up a den of sin by the seashore!” Tom yelled. “And if they do build a tennis court or two on the side, I don’t know that I would be sorry!”

Sidney pointed fiercely in his brother’s face. “Once they own the land, they can do whatever they want with it, don’t you see?” 

Tom exhaled roughly and shook his head. “It’s no good, Sidney. I need their funding. They want to develop the terraces, and they mean to rebuild the eastern one. Though I hope that they will choose to invest in the town, if they prefer to purchase the plots outright, I am disposed to let them. It will give me capital, and allow me to resume the other works.” He straightened himself. “My mind is made up.”

Sidney dropped his hand to his side, breathing heavily. “You cannot sell the eastern terrace.”

Tom let out a mirthless laugh. “So, you are giving the orders now, is that right? You, who have never cared a fig about Sanditon? And why may I not, pray?”

Sidney looked from Tom to Charlotte, anguished. She could almost feel the blood draining from her face, but she nodded.

Reluctantly, he turned back to face his brother. “Because it is ours. Mine, and Charlotte’s.”

Chapter Text

Tom’s face paled. “What? What are you talking about?”

Sidney looked around, noticing for the first time that a few of Lady Denham’s guests were eavesdropping (and trying hard to appear as though they were not). “Perhaps we should go through all of this another time. This evening.”

“No no no.” Tom held up a hand. “We will go through this now. You said that you own the eastern terrace. What are you talking about?”

Sidney took a deep breath. “I purchased your debts. And when our benefactor paid off my line of credit, the freehold reverted to me.”

Tom had started walking away before Sidney finished speaking. “I see. Your benefactor. How convenient.” Mary moved to stop him. “Tom, please. Listen to each other, and talk it through. It will not help matters if the two of you fall out.”

“I have nothing to say to him.” Despite this statement, Tom whipped around. “What else do you own?”

It was Charlotte who answered. “The freehold to the southern terrace, and the right to develop the wharf and the pier.” It was better he have all the facts at once, and be done.

Tom stared at Sidney, furiously. “You told me you settled my debts.”

“And so I did.” returned his brother, whose voice was rising once more. “Yet I was obliged to purchase them before doing so. At Mrs. Campion’s insistence, not mine. It was my best option to help you, if you remember the circumstances.” He paused and looked away, piercing his cane sharply into the earth. “I should have told you at the time. And for that I am sorry, Tom.”

“Tom.” Charlotte stepped in. “I know this is difficult, but please believe that this was not our plan.”

Tom began walking away with speed. “Come on, Mary. We are going.”

“Tom! Wait!” Mary cried after him. She turned to Charlotte, who was at a loss for words.

“Mary, I…”

“No, Charlotte, hear me now. I do not have time to ask more questions, but I want you to know that no matter what happens between the brothers, or with Sanditon, you and I shall never fall out. Do you understand me?”

Charlotte gave her a grateful kiss. “Thank you.”

“I will call on you soon.” With that, Mary tripped after her husband.

Sidney slowly approached Charlotte. “Well.”

“That was terrible.” she murmured.

“It certainly was.” agreed a voice from behind her. The speaker was Lady Denham. Charlotte did not know when she arrived at the scene, or how much she had heard. “Mr. and Mrs. Parker, would you be so good as to come with me, please?” Lady Denham began walking towards Sanditon House with unexpected speed. Helplessly, the couple followed. As they passed the Babington’s tent, Lady Denham called towards her niece. “I will be in my study with the Mr. and Mrs. Parker. And I am not to be disturbed.”

Esther frowned. “Should you not attend to your guests, aunt?”

“Nonsense. It’s a garden party, is it not? The flowers are not going anywhere. My guests can entertain themselves.” She shuffled off, not speaking to either Sidney or Charlotte until they were settled in her private study. It was a room Charlotte had never been in before. Much smaller, and warmer in color than the rest of the house. Charlotte wondered if using this venue marked - in Lady Denham’s mind - their transition from guests to business partners.

“So,” she said, gesturing that they should take two seats across from her, “I see that you have finally accepted your stake in Sanditon.”

“Acknowledged it, is the more correct term. Perhaps.” Sidney was clearly on his guard. Lady Denham raised her brows. “You are upset over that exchange with your brother. Of course you are. But you should not concern yourself. He will get over it tolerably well. And, he still has a minor share. A smaller plot may even be more manageable for him.”

Charlotte spoke up. “The fact is, Lady Denham…we simply cannot take on the management of Sanditon at this time. Sid – Mr. Parker has his business to consider, and – “

“Oh, I should think he could conduct all that from here if he wanted to.” Lady Denham’s eyes were fixed on Sidney, unblinking.

“Lady Denham - we plan to sell our stake.” His voice was calm and even, but Lady Denham only laughed. “To whom? Not those Langford oafs, I hope? For they seem to be the only interested buyers. Silly, foppish fellows. I should be very sorry if Sanditon fell into their hands.”

“So should we. And we would certainly not sell to them.” Charlotte assured her. “Then what is your plan?” Lady Denham demanded. “To let your property sit in ruin, crumbling and decaying year after year?” Charlotte looked at Sidney, who was shifting uncomfortably. Although he hated the idea of developing their plot, she could see he equally disliked the idea of abandoning its works to vandals and thieves. “Like it or not,” Lady Denham continued, “you have a responsibility now. To the people of Sanditon. To the town itself.”

Charlotte caught Sidney’s eye and mouthed a suggestion - One project? The rebuild? He hesitated, but to her great delight agreed.

“Very well, Lady Denham. We shall stay for a time, to complete the rebuild. That is all we can promise. And then, we shall return to London. To seek a buyer for our stake.”

“Excellent, Mr. Parker. And, we can certainly revisit that topic when it comes to it.” Lady Denham rose. “Come. Let us walk together.” Charlotte stood to leave, but Sidney remained seated.

“On one condition, Lady Denham.”

The great lady knit her brows. “And what is that, pray?”

“That Tom have a position. Any position, in the town’s development.” Lady Denham sighed. “Your brother has had his chance, Mr. Parker. He will still have his stake. He could turn it into a toad emporium, for all I care. But I do not want him coming near the rest of the project.”

Charlotte was struck by a sudden idea. “Commissioner of events and cultural activities.”

Lady Denham turned towards Charlotte, knitting her brows. “What was that you said?”

“We can make Tom the Commissioner over Sanditon’s events and festivals. It suits his talents, and will give him a sense of purpose. Being robbed of his project, he will need it.” Lady Denham scoffed, but Sidney seized upon the idea. “Of course. Make him the manager of the balls, the regatta, the - the cricket match, or whatever else is in the calendar. Charge him with designing new events to attract visitors.”

“Please, Lady Denham.” Charlotte entreated.

She pursed her lips. “Oh - all right. But –“ she pointed her finger warningly – “I reserve the right to change my mind at the first sign of trouble. Now – we must be getting back. It is time for the orchid potting and demonstration. I am pleased that the two of you will be staying, of course.” She patted Charlotte’s elbow with surprising warmth. “Very pleased indeed.”

As Lady Denham exited the room, Charlotte and Sidney exchanged a significant look. She sensed they knew each other’s thoughts without speaking. What on earth have we taken on?

Chapter Text

Robert Langford was looking for someone. Mrs. Parker, to be precise. She had slipped away half an hour ago, and he had not seen her since. The lady was proving very elusive. Perhaps she had sought some refreshment. He, on the other hand, was trapped in a soul-draining conversation with a local merchant and avid gardener.

At last he saw her, exiting Sanditon House with her husband. Langford shrugged off the tiresome men, who were in the middle of a long debate over the proper way to trim begonias, and began approaching the couple. He hesitated as he neared them. Mr. Sidney Parker had no liking for him, that was clear. And, the man was cleverer than most husbands he had dealt with. This would need to be managed gently. To his great delight, Mr. Parker left to summon their coach while his wife waited in the shade of the outdoor gallery. Here was his opportunity.

“Mrs. Parker!” Langford bowed. He was quickly learning that this pretty little woman was not skilled in disguising her emotions. Her expression at seeing him was unmistakably disdainful.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Langford. And where is your brother today?” She had attacked with a question, ensuring she was in command of the conversation. Spirited. He liked that.

And lovely. Langford was almost surprised at how attractive this girlish bride was to him, for she was not fashionable in the least. Her simple uniform of white muslin and a sage green bonnet might have marked her as a merchant’s daughter, not one of the leading ladies of the county. A pearl necklace was her only ornament. Yet, her skin was smooth as velvet, and golden brown - as though she spent hours in the sun. He looked over her soft pink lips, pressed tightly together in annoyance. She had deep brown eyes, fringed with heavy lashes, and an adorably dimpled chin. For a moment Mrs. Parker was distracted by the farewell of another guest, and he took the opportunity to glance over the rest of her. The prettiest little figure he had seen in quite some time. Slim about the waist, and tantalizingly soft in all the right places. His eyes snapped up as she turned back to him.

“Oh, he is about somewhere, no doubt. Probably holed up in a tree with a book or a ledger. He is my numbers man, Mrs. Parker, and typically leaves all the social business to me. He has no love of society, poor fool. It is his one failing.”

“Hardly a failing.” she replied curtly, now trying to crane her neck around him. Mrs. Parker was clearly impatient for her husband’s return. He gave a dry smile.

“You do not like me.”

She stopped craning her neck and looked at him in surprise. “Well…no, since you ask.” He laughed with delight at her impudence, and she scowled, adorably. What a woman.

“Good day, Mr. Langford.” Mrs. Parker began walking away, but he followed. He had charmed many women in his time, but none had intrigued him so much as this obstinate little thing that refused to be charmed.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He stepped in front of her. “At least inform me where I have offended, that I may make amends.”

“Mr. Langford, kindly leave me alone.”

“Is there a problem, my dear?” Sidney Parker had returned. His tone was light and even, but the man was glaring. Without hesitation he stepped in front of Langford, hiding Mrs. Parker from view. 

Langford answered. “No, none at all, none at all. I was merely trying to atone for my rudeness. Please forgive me, Mrs. Parker.” She ignored him and climbed into their carriage. Sidney gave orders to their driver. “Pull up to the gate, Wilson, and wait for Miss Lambe. I’ll walk over shortly.”

The carriage pulled away, and the two men were left alone. Parker's eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. “You certainly seem very keen to be on good terms with my wife, Mr. Langford.” 

“But of course. I am keen to be on good terms with all the residents of Sanditon.” Some more than others, he added inwardly. “Perhaps you might instruct me as to how I might make amends?”

Parker stepped even closer. The man was about Langford’s height, though considerably broader in the chest and arms. His threatening physicality might have put Langford off, had he not settled so entirely on what he wanted. 

When Parker spoke, it was in a dangerous growl.“I would take your instruction from my wife, if I were you. Leave her alone, Langford. That is a warning.” With a last menacing glare, he strode off, speaking over his shoulder. “And do not call anymore. If there is any business you have with me, write.” Langford watched Parker depart, and with anxiety saw that the man's idiot friend Crowe was stumbling over to him. He had regretted talking so openly to him the other night. Were his plans for Mrs. Parker to be outed?

He need not have worried, for Crowe had obviously been hard at the champagne all morning. The man was red-eyed and incoherent. He overheard a fragment of his slurred conversation. “Parker….meant to tell – hyup –“ he swore as he struggled to form a sentence – “watch – hyup. No good.” Parker patted him on the back. “Get some coffee, Crowe. And rest up.” Parker walked away, and Langford smiled to himself. He was safe. And the games had begun.

Chapter Text

Mary rushed into Parker House, out of breath but determined to confront her husband. “Mrs. Hanley – have you seen Mr. Parker?”

“He is in the library, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She crossed the hall, steeling her nerves for a fight. When she entered the room, she saw that Tom was sitting at his desk with a glass of port in his hands. She glanced at the decanter. It looked as though he had drunk through several glasses already. She slammed the door behind her.

“Thomas Parker. What on earth possessed you to behave in such a way? Shouting at your brother in front of all Lady Denham’s guests! Stomping off in high dudgeon! Leaving me to follow, and paying no heed to a word I said. It was simply disgraceful.” She was shaking with anger, but made no attempt to calm herself. “Why, Tom? After all that Sidney has done for us. Why?”

To her great surprise, Tom did not fight back. He merely sat there, looking pale and dejected. “I know, Mary. I know. I behaved like an abominable fool. And, I have already made up my mind to apologize to Sidney. And Charlotte. I – I just need a moment, that is all.”

Mary was determined not to soften until he owned up to each of his wrongs. “You seemed to accuse them of cheating you. Of scheming together to trick you out of your stake. Can you really believe your brother would have treated you thus?” she demanded sharply.

“No. I did not truly think it at the time.”

Mary sat across from him, her tone more one of grief than anger now. “Then why did you accuse them? You heard what they said. The freehold reverted to them as a result of their benefactor’s actions. Neither looked happy about it. Why could you not see, Tom? Why could you not just listen? For once?” Mary could not stop a tear from rolling down her cheek. She was greatly distressed at this threatened rift in their family, and would have Tom put it right if it was the last thing she did.

“I know, my dear. I suppose I am just – just upset over the loss of the venture. That is all.”

“But you still have a share.” Mary argued. “You must care for those plots, and be satisfied.” Tom gave a hollow laugh. “Waterloo terrace, and a few little shops. That is no stake. They are all but complete. Sanditon was my project, my labor. I have toiled, and worried, and grieved. I have shed my own sweat and blood, and it is all for naught.” He moaned. “I have failed. I have lost it all. I have nothing.”

Mary’s anger sparked within her. “You have your family, and an almost fully tenanted building to manage. That is quite enough for most men. You must focus on being a good father, and a generous landlord, and be done with grand schemes.”

Tom looked stricken. His lips moved wordlessly. A moment later he put his head in his hands, heaving with sobs. Mary had never seen him so overcome with emotion, and for a moment she was too shocked to respond. Finally, she laid a hand on her husband’s shaking back.

“Tom…” she began in a low voice. “…this cannot just be about the plots of Sanditon. What is truly the matter?”

Her husband sat up, trying to gather himself. He sniffed and wiped his face, roughly. “Nothing. Apologies, my dear. The wine has made me weepy.”

“Tom.” Mary repeated, gently but firmly.

“….Oh, Mary…it is…it is just that…” – he took a deep breath and struggled to form the words – “of course I am pleased that Sidney and Charlotte are staying. And, in a small way, I am happy that they will be working on the venture. Sidney is a clever man, a capable man. And I have long wanted him to get involved in the development of Sanditon, so, I suppose, I am even happy for myself.” He tried to laugh, weakly. Mary faintly smiled, and encouraged him to go on.

“…I have no doubt he will make a splendid job of it. He has done well for himself, and he is a good man. I am proud of him, I have always been proud of him.” Tom gave a shuddering breath. “I suppose…I suppose it has just been a long time since I have felt proud of myself.” He choked on a sob. “Mary…I seem to ruin whatever I grasp. Like that cursed King Midas of old. Except that everything I touch turn to ash.” He laughed in earnest this time. “Quite literally.”

Mary smiled through her tears. She was at once angry, and sorrowful, and moved. She squeezed his arm. “Tom. We have a purpose. To pay off our remaining debt, and to provide a happy home for our children. That must be our sole project and focus. And we will do it. Together.”

Tom looked at her adoringly. “I do not deserve you, Mary.” He kissed her. “Forgive me.”

“You must make amends with Sidney and Charlotte.” Her heart was still too wounded to answer his plea. “Go now, my dear.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I shall go this very afternoon.”

Chapter Text

Though Sidney was still reeling from his argument with Tom, he brought up the rebuilding as soon as he and Charlotte returned home. “We ought to start work on the terrace as soon as possible. Get it done quickly, and move back to London. We can ask Tom for the old drawings, and hire some of his same men.”

“Oh.” Charlotte’s face fell in disappointment. “You wish to use the same design?” Sidney looked at her curiously. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Well…yes. I have been meaning to show you, actually.” She walked to the desk and pulled out a large sheet of paper. He could see upon it a rough, but completed drawing of a building. “Now, please understand that this is completely out of scale. I do not know enough about geometry and proportion to make this drawing workable. At least not yet. But I have been thinking.” She looked eager. “We have an opportunity to design something entirely new, something that could be tailored to meet the needs of Sanditon.”

Charlotte laid the drawing on the desk and gestured over it. “Now, if we were to take out the central colonnade of apartments, here, we could build a double-story atrium in its place, with a glass domed window on top. Similar to the one at the British Museum. Light will spill in, even on rainy days. There would be a grand staircase at the atrium’s center, and each apartment might connect to this central area. It would be a communal space that every tenant can access.”

Sidney looked at her in amazement. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

She blushed prettily. “All week.”

“Then you wanted us to take up the stake?”

“…If I am completely honest, yes. But I was always prepared not to.” He stifled a smile. “Go on. Explain the open space. I am not sure I see the value there.”

“But is it not as you told me last year? London’s beau monde gather to see, and be seen. If we provide a place for neighbors to mingle and socialize, it will ensure that the residents cross each other’s paths every day. We might add a private dance hall, or a dining room, or a library!” Charlotte’s face beamed with enthusiasm, and Sidney could not help but be impressed by her proposal. She continued. “The promise of shared space would encourage large groups to travel together. Families, even. They might create traditions of returning each season.”

“Which would also promote reliable income for us.” Sidney pointed out. Charlotte smiled begrudgingly. “At the risk of sounding too mercenary…yes.”

He drew her drawing towards him, thinking. “You would lose a great deal of revenue by cutting out those central apartments.”

She nodded. “I have thought of that. But I think it could be recouped. These apartments would have greater amenities, so the rent would be higher. The rareness of it might also be a draw for the wealthy and fashionable.”

“It certainly might.” Try as Sidney might to deny it, he was becoming interested.

“Of course, this construction would be much more expensive…” Charlotte began.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Sidney said. “We could easily get a loan.” Charlotte looked worried at this suggestion. “There is much less risk this time.” he reassured her. “We could use our stake as collateral. It should be valuable enough that if we fail, my business would be unaffected. The bank would merely take the land.” He paused. “Ha! I would almost welcome it.”

Sidney leaned both hands on the desk, still studying the drawing. “I have contacts throughout the coast. Glass is costly to import, but…we could ship our materials at better rates using my suppliers. It might be doable. No, I think the hardest part of this project might just be finding an architect willing to take orders from a woman.”

She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I have no interest in construction, Charlotte. You ought to manage the designs. Let me keep the books and track shipments. All while attempting to keep my other contracts functional, of course.” Sidney could see how thrilled his wife was by this plan, and he nodded with satisfaction. “It is settled. We will find an architect to work with you. I will manage the accounts and orders.” He smiled. “You never cease to surprise me, Charlotte.”

Her face simply shone with joy. Taking his hand, she stepped coyly backwards. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Parker, that there are a few more discoveries you have yet to make.”

“Is that so?” he whispered. His dark eyes twinkled as he leaned softly over her, laying her on their bed.

*****

An hour later Charlotte was resting sleepily on Sidney’s chest - naked - and in a blissful daze over what had transpired. She began softly tracing his arm. Glancing up at her husband, she realized Sidney was watching her with a faraway expression.

“What is it?”

He smiled. “I was thinking about our first meeting.”

“Mmm…of course…the day you mistook me for a maid.” Charlotte gave him a playful tug of the ear. He chuckled and began rubbing her back. “That was my first mistake.” As his hand slid to another part of her anatomy, she whispered coyly in his ear. “Little did you suspect that the woman you mislabeled would one day share your bed.”

Sidney suddenly looked rather mischievous. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I thought it at the time. Or at least hoped for it.”

“Sidney!” Charlotte scolded him, but she was laughing. He drew her closer. “It is true. I wanted you long before I could speak it. I had never met your equal. I never will again.”

Charlotte smiled at this confession. “For my part...I did not know my feelings until the masked ball. In London.” She looked up at him with interest. “When did you first acknowledge them? To yourself?”

Sidney brushed a curl out of her face, looking thoughtful. “The first time…playing by the river. With the children. The second…after our fight over Georgiana, as dreadful as it sounds. Again, at the cricket match.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “And, I can truthfully say…each day since.” Charlotte’s heart was full to bursting at hearing this, and for a moment they shared a sweet kiss.

The moment grew. Neither moved to end it, and with an eager sigh she slid off Sidney's chest and back onto the bed. The strength of his kiss made her almost lightheaded, and she breathed more heavily as he moved over her. She truly had no sense of when their lips broke apart – it might have been seconds, or minutes - for once they had, Sidney moved fervently down her neck.

He did not stop his descent, and Charlotte suddenly felt very feverish. Sidney swept away a sheet that was tangled between them, and she pulled him closer once more. Within moments, a knock at the door startled them both. Charlotte quickly stifled her cries.

“Mr. Parker?” Mrs. O’Connor’s voice sounded muffled, and embarrassed. “I - I beg pardon for disturbing you, Sir, but Mr. Tom Parker is here to see you."

"Please send him away, Mrs. O'Connor."

"He - he did say it was a matter of some importance. Forgive me, Sir. I have settled him in the parlor, Sir.”

Sidney looked exasperated. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor – I shall be right down.” He moved off the bed and began dressing, hastily. Charlotte blushed at this interruption, and she clutched a sheet over herself despite Tom being a floor away.

“Forgive me, darling. I will go and see what he wants. It will only take a moment.”

“Should I – “ she gestured to her clothes, but he shook his head. “Not a chance. I mean to send him off.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he pulled on his shirt. “Do not move from that spot, Mrs. Parker.” Charlotte watched him leave, letting her sheet slip downward ever so slightly as he neared the door. To her great delight, he glanced back and hesitated before turning its knob.

Chapter Text

Tom paced nervously around the parlor, trying to summon the right words for his apology. “Steady on, Tom.” he muttered. “Steady on.” He heard his brother’s boots on the stairs and took a deep breath. Sidney entered, and with embarrassment Tom noticed that he looked suspiciously disheveled. His hair was unruly, and he wore no vest. His white shirt was only partially fastened. Above all, the impatience on Sidney’s face told Tom that he had just arrived at a most - inopportune - moment.

“Tom.” Sidney greeted him, brusquely. Thick tension hung between the brothers. He knew both were remembering the sharp words exchanged hours before.

“Good - good afternoon, Sidney. Thank you for meeting me, I – I apologize if I have come during – at a bad time.” Tom could feel himself flushing with awkwardness.

“You weren’t to know.” Sidney spoke stiffly. “What is it you want?”

Tom gave a shuddering exhale. “Sidney, I am here to say – I behaved badly this morning. I was greatly upset by your news. Shocked, in truth. And…I let it get the best of me. I owe you an apology. And dear Charlotte as well, of course.” He passed a hand over his weary brow. “I talked over her, cut her off, in a most ungentlemanly manner. Please give her my sincerest regrets when you return – that is, when you next see her.” Tom glanced at Sidney to see how this apology was received. He waited.

Sidney seemed to be considering his next words very carefully. “I am not your enemy, Tom.”

He nodded fervently. “I know. I know it. I just…I was eager to find a solution. That is all. And the Langford brothers presented one. I felt I ought to consider it.” He scraped together some semblance of autonomy. “In a way, I still do. If the circumstances were different, of course.”

Sidney looked as though he wanted to argue that point once more, but he stopped himself. In a gruff, but controlled tone, he replied, “I cannot dictate what you do with your own assets. But I do not think they are to be trusted, Tom. And I would advise you to be on your guard.”

“…Yes. Well. Mary and I have our own goals to focus on. Our debt to repay. My debt, I should say. That will occupy us, for the present. In the meantime, I – I dearly want to be sure that you and I are on good terms.”

Sidney walked towards him, extending his hand. “Shall we leave it in the past, then?” Tom grasped his hand gratefully, and shook. “Thank you, brother.”

He turned to leave, uncomfortably aware that Charlotte was awaiting Sidney’s return. But remembering his news, he called back to Sidney on his way out. “I received a note from Lady Denham herself this afternoon. And, although I am…although I have been relieved of Sanditon’s management, I have been appointed the Commissioner over its activities.” Tom gave a weak smile. “So, that is something at least.”

Sidney’s congratulations were almost too hearty. Yet, Tom left feeling hopeful that his new position would help piece together his pride. And as difficult as the loss of Sanditon would prove to be, he was forced to acknowledge that pain could pass. The pain of losing a brother, on the other hand - would have been permanent.

Chapter Text

Edmund Langford burst into his lodgings at the Crown Inn. He had heard the news all over town, and was eager to share it with his brother. He found Robert in the next room, sitting with his feet up on a chair and smoking a cigar.

“Have you heard?” he demanded, panting slightly from his run.

“Heard what?” Robert asked languidly. “And what the devil were you running for?” Edmund drew himself up importantly. “There has been an announcement. Tom Parker is not to head the terrace rebuilding after all. In a shocking turn of events, it has been revealed that Sidney Parker owns the plot, and has already taken the project up. He will start the demolition next week!”

“Oh, that. Yes, I heard.” Robert tossed aside the paper he was reading. He looked utterly calm as he struck a match to re-light his cigar, which had gone out. Edmund sat across from him. “Well? Surely this changes everything!”

Robert waved his match to snuff it. “Why?”

 He sputtered disbelievingly. “Why? Because the most valuable shares in the town are claimed, that is why. There is not enough room to maneuver. We have nowhere to build.”

“That has never stopped us before.” Edmund sighed. “No, but there are other opportunities in Brimley. More accessible ones. We should move on.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Robert leaned back. “I am rather minded to stay. I have some desire to buy out Parker’s share. Or bankrupt him.”

“Mr. Tom Parker?”

Robert scoffed. “No. Tom Parker has nothing we want. The rights to lease a few shops, and a large debt over Waterloo Terrace. No, I was talking of Mr. Sidney Parker.” Edmund looked at Robert suspiciously. “Why?”

“His plots are more desirable, for one. The southern terrace is right on the shoreline. A prime location, with excellent views. And – “ Langford added, brushing a crumb off his boots, “- he owns the right to develop the wharf...which is an ideal off-the-beaten-path spot for a boarding house.”

Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “This has nothing to do with Sidney Parker’s share, or prime locations. This is about the woman.”

Robert feigned innocence. “I am not sure what you mean, Ed.”

“Oh, yes you do.” He clutched his whiskers and winced, anxiously. “I might have seen this coming. You have set your sights on Mrs. Parker. You would not be so keen to stay otherwise.”

"Nonsense."

"It is not nonsense. Do not take me for a fool!" he cried sharply.

Robert held up his hands in surrender. “Very well. I confess, brother. And her name is Charlotte, by the way.”

“But why must it be this woman?” Edmund continued, agitatedly. “There are plenty of women in Sanditon. She is pretty, I grant you, but –“

“Not just pretty.” Robert stood to pour himself a glass of scotch. “Headstrong. Intelligent, a rare quality among women. And awfully funny. I admit -” he grinned, taking another puff of his cigar, “- I am more than a little intrigued.”

“It will be Somerset all over again.” he groaned. “I wish you would keep out of it. I am tired of acting as your second. Remember what happened with Greenley - ”

“ - What do you mean?" Robert interrupted. "I shot him, did I not? And the fellow in the last town did not even bother to show up. Coward.”

“Yes, but Mr. Sidney Parker does not seem like the kind of man who would back down from a challenge!” Edmund argued. “And, by all accounts, he is a very good shot!”

“How on earth would know that?”

Edmund scoffed. “I now make it my regular business to investigate the marksmanship of your lovers’ husbands. It is a more recent strategy I have developed, and the first thing I do when we enter a new town. Babington and Crowe have been hunting with him, and were my informants. I spoke with them during the garden party."

"You might have aroused their suspicion." Robert objected, raising a warning finger.

"Be not alarmed, I was nonchalant. I said nothing obvious. Crowe was drunk, anyway. I doubt he understood my meaning.”

Robert laughed. “Well done, old chap.” His brother took his seat once more, propping his feet against the wall. “It’s no good, Ed. My mind is made up. We will stay in Sanditon for the time being. Get us some more permanent lodgings, will you? Make it Waterloo Terrace. We shall aim to enchant the members of London high society when they descend. Get them on our side.”

Edmund nodded reluctantly, making a final effort to persuade his brother. “Robert. I wish you would see reason, and leave well enough alone. We are wasting our time here. There is too much risk.”

“I disagree. You know me, brother. I know what I want. And I mean to win.”

“...The woman, or the town?”

Langford extinguished his cigar, letting out a last puff of smoke. “Both.”

Chapter Text

Charlotte Heywood had never been so busy.

Work on the rebuilding had started, and her days were now filled with frantic activity. Sidney had hired an architect to develop Charlotte’s design - a Mr. Cox from London. He was an old associate of Sidney’s father’s, and had agreed to come out of retirement as a favor. They had put him up in one of the apartments near them (though not too near, as the newlyweds were still enjoying the luxury of privacy).

Charlotte soon discovered he was a dear old man, and a very willing partner. He did not at all seem to mind working with a woman. Perhaps it was because, being retired, Mr. Cox’s professional pride was not on the line. Or, it may have been down to him having four daughters of his own. Whatever the reason, Mr. Cox proved an open-minded colleague, and the three were fast forming a friendship.

Charlotte had at first felt overwhelmed by what she had taken on, but being a pragmatist, she set herself a schedule of tasks and stuck to it. She and Sidney rose early each day and breakfasted together. Then, while Sidney managed his London contracts, Charlotte met with Mr. Cox to go over the terrace design. He had taken her sketch and translated it into complex geometric plans. It thrilled her to see her vision represented on actual, crisp architect paper.

He helped Charlotte develop her ideas, not all of which had been realistic. Her plan to have each apartment open into the atrium required the addition of double balconies and a walkway, all funneling to the grand staircase. For a time, they were at a loss as to how to create a private room within that open space. Mr. Cox then had the idea of moving the staircase forward, and putting a paneled room behind it. They decided to make it a private dining room, adding some service and kitchen rooms below ground (ameneties that Charlotte had forgotten to plan for). The space was large enough that it could double as a dance hall, should the residents be willing to move out the furniture.

Mr. Cox talked Charlotte through each drawing as he made them, and she was learning a great deal through observing him. Seeing her enthusiasm, he even loaned her some of his old architectural instruction books. Charlotte studied them eagerly. Lately she had taken to working on the manuals’ basic exercises, and with delight she found her outlines for a simple building, walkway, and bell tower were as precise as any in her book.

After her studies, Charlotte would visit the site. She loved seeing its progress and asking Mr. Cox about the works. Sidney had put a double crew on the demolition and removal of debris, wanting to get the remnants of the old building out of sight long before the London guests arrived. They had chosen Fred Robinson, Mr. Stringer’s closest friend, as their foreman. And though it was his first time in the position, he had stepped up to the task rather well. The demolition was nearly complete.

In the early evening, she would meet with Sidney to go over supply lists and accounts. They took tea together, and (provided they did not get sidetracked into lovemaking), discussed any needed materials for the project. Charlotte was amazed by the vast quantity of timber and steel, slate and marble that was required, and in truth the costs rather frightened her. Sidney, having dealt with large numbers in the world of business for years, was not as fazed by these sums. He placed all their orders, negotiating competitive prices and even finding a bespoke glass factory willing to manufacture Charlotte’s key design element – the domed window.

The couple dined with Georgiana and the Parkers most evenings. By the time she arrived home each night, she was positively weary with the physical and mental exertion of the day. Sometimes it felt as though she could hardly lift herself into bed.

And she loved every minute of it.

Charlotte had never been so full of purpose, so interested in her own activities. She was studying a profession, and discovering with joy that she had some natural ability in it. She was active, and occupied. Her position in the town was helping her forge new friendships and connections. And most of all, seeing her ideas brought to life made her happier than she could express - and more in love with Sidney than she thought possible. He was her perfect partner; capable and encouraging, but honest as well. He was ready at all times to voice his thoughts and give open feedback.

Charlotte sensed how much he wanted to return to London. Though he never mentioned it, she saw it in small actions – his determination to put a double crew on the project, or the set manner in which he placed orders from dawn until evening. Then there were his casual suggestions that they escape to town for a day or two. Despite his hesitance about remaining in Sanditon, he never voiced a word of complaint. She loved him for it.

One cloudy afternoon, Charlotte readied herself for a visit to the site. The new terrace foundation was being dug today, and having been studying excavation in her manual, she had a desire to see the process unfold. She settled on a fawn-colored dress (which seemed appropriate as the work was dusty), and a light straw bonnet. Looking in the glass as she tied it on, she could see that her dark eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

She kissed Sidney farewell and set off for the site. It was as noisy and chaotic as it had been during construction last summer. The last cartloads of charred stone and timber were being taken offsite today. She could see a team of men with shovels tossing heaps of earth upwards as they dug the new lengths. In the distance was the thin, slightly stooped figure of Mr. Cox. He was directing Mr. Robinson, who was measuring what she assumed was the building’s entry. Mr. Cox saw Charlotte and lifted his hat, his blue eyes crinkling in a smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Parker!”

Charlotte walked over. “Good afternoon, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Robinson.” Mr. Cox replaced his hat over his startlingly white hair. “You have come at an excellent time, Mrs. Parker. Mr. Robinson is now measuring out the dimensions of the atrium.” He motioned for her to follow. Charlotte watched the workers for nearly half an hour. At the end of it she could see, even without Mr. Cox’s instruction, that they had finished measuring and staking the dimensions of the central space and were moving on to the apartments.

Mr. Robinson stopped his measurements for a moment to seek some water. “And how are you finding the work, Mr. Robinson?” Charlotte asked, kindly. “Are you enjoying being foreman?” Robinson wiped his swarthy brow. “It’s interesting enough work, I will admit. I can see what Stringer saw in it. And, I suppose someone has to step up to the task, eh? Now that he is off in London, designing for noble folk.”

Charlotte felt a slight pang at hearing James’ name, but her friendly interest soon brushed it aside. “Do you hear from Mr. Stringer often?”

“Often enough, yes Ma’am.”

“And is he well? How is he getting on at Howard and Carter’s?”

“Well…” Mr. Robinson smiled. “You know James. He’s a meek sort. But, reading between the lines of his letters…I would say he is rising quickly through the ranks.”

Charlotte smiled warmly. “I am not surprised to hear it. How happy that makes me.”

“That’s very good of you, Ma’am. Very good indeed. Actually, he will be back in Sanditon in a week or two. Visiting some of us chaps here.” Robinson hesitated for the briefest of moments before asking, “Should I tell him you are here, Ma’am, when I write to him?”

“But of course! I should like to see him very much.” In saying the words, Charlotte realized she meant it. She would always wish him well. Looking absently across the site, she saw with surprise that Georgiana and Mary were watching the work as well. She called to them. “Good morning, Georgiana! Good morning, Mary!”

They hastened over and greeted her cheerfully. Mary spoke first. “We have just been admiring your project. It has done my heart a world of good to see the last evidence of the fire carted away at last.” Mary looked truly unburdened.

“Is it going well?” Georgiana asked, and Charlotte was touched by the look of concern on her friend’s face. “Very well, as far as I can tell!” she laughed, gesturing to her companion. “This is Mr. Robinson, our foreman. Mr. Robinson, You remember Mrs. Parker, and Miss Lambe, I am sure?” Robinson nodded. “Yes indeed, Ma’am. How do you do, Miss Lambe? I am glad to see you back in one piece.”

Georgiana stared at him, then wrinkled her nose in offense. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

Mr. Robinson looked a little embarrassed, but explained himself. “Well, the last I heard of you, Miss, you had been abducted. It must have been a terrible thing to go through. I am glad to see that you are well, that is all.” Charlotte shifted uncomfortably at Mr. Robinson’s directness, but Georgiana only smiled coolly. “Yes, I am perfectly well, as you see. With my good humor - and most importantly – my manners, intact.” She cast her eyes scathingly over the mounds of dirt surrounding them. “What an unsightly mess. Are you the one managing this place?”

Robinson frowned. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well. I would advise you to learn your job, for this site is in disarray. The entire street is a terrible thing to go through. Good day to you.” She nodded curtly and marched away.

Mr. Robinson looked slightly stunned at this exchange. “Good day, Miss Lambe.” Gathering himself, he called after her retreating figure. “Always a pleasure, Miss Lambe.” Georgiana turned back for the briefest of moments, then resumed her exit. Robinson watched her depart with a bewildered look, then shook his head and turned back to Charlotte. “Please excuse me, Mrs. Parker. Could you see that your husband gets this note? It’s a list of the chaps working here now, and the pay owed to them.” Charlotte took the note. “I shall see to it. Thank you, Mr. Robinson.” He nodded and left. Mary looked down the street for Georgiana. “I wonder where she has gone. Perhaps I should follow her.”

“Come. Let’s walk this way in search of her.” Charlotte suggested. She took Mary’s arm, and the two women began chatting in sisterly confidence.

“How is Tom? He has not yet been to the site. I thought he might have visited by now.”

“No.” Mary sounded thoughtful. “He has been putting it off, though heaven knows why.” Charlotte nodded sadly. “I imagine...losing his position was quite difficult for him.”

Mary sighed. “Yes. It has certainly taken some of the wind out of his sails…and I pity him. Although – “ her voice dropped to a murmur – “if I may ask for your discretion, I must say…I am getting rather tired of propping him up. Some part of me wants to support him, but the other…the other says that I must let him succeed, or fail, on his own energy and merits, rather than what he has borrowed of my own.” She laughed hollowly. “I have not even had the heart to remind him to plan the ball.”

“Which ball?” Charlotte asked.

“The first ball of the summer. The opening ball. Do you not remember it, from last year?”

“Of course!” She had forgotten. It seemed such ages ago now. “But…that is in two weeks, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“And Tom has done nothing for it?” Charlotte began to feel slightly anxious. Lady Susan, and all of her friends, would be arriving within a week.

“He has engaged the band. Beyond that…I do not know.” Mary looked truly resigned. “And I do not care to know. I wash my hands of it.” They were walking by the bookstore now, and through its front window they saw Georgiana, who still looked rather upset. She was thumbing impatiently through a volume of The Flora and Fauna of South America. “Poor thing.” Mary sighed. “Mr. Robinson's remarks must have troubled her. I had better go in. Will you come?”

Charlotte was deep in thought. “Yes, in a moment. There is something I must do first.”  

Chapter Text

 After leaving Mary, Charlotte went immediately to Parker House. It was not far from the site, and by walking briskly she arrived within five minutes. It was Hodges who answered the door. His face brightened at seeing her. “Ah, good afternoon Mrs. Parker! Do come in.”

“Thank you, Hodges, but I shall stay on the doorstep. Is Mr. Tom Parker here?” Hodges looked confused at Charlotte’s refusal to enter, but answered politely, “He is in his library, Ma’am. May I escort you to him?”

“Actually, could you ask Mr. Tom Parker to meet me out here, please? On the entry steps?” Hodges’ look of bewilderment deepened. “Please forgive this unusual request.” Charlotte said. “It is just that I cannot stay long.” He bowed. “Of course. If you would be so good as to remain here, Ma’am?” The butler retreated, and Charlotte waited. Within a minute she heard Tom’s voice behind the door. “All right, all right. But why the devil would she not come in?” The door creaked open to reveal both Hodges and Tom.

“Mrs. Parker to see you, Sir.” chanted the butler, who seemed determined to do his job despite the unconventional situation. “Yes, I see her, thank you very much.” Tom responded absently. He joined her on the steps, and Hodges returned to the house. “Well, Charlotte. To what do I owe this…unusual pleasure?”

Tom looked awful. His hair was stringy and unruly, and he looked as though he had not slept in several days. There was a faint smell of sherry about him, and perhaps a whiff of something stronger. More than that, his usually dynamic affect was flat. He seemed almost lifeless. Though Mary’s words had led Charlotte to believe that Tom was struggling, she had not expected him to look quite so despondent. Remembering her purpose in coming, she spoke. “I have come to ask how preparations for the ball are coming. And to see if we can be of any help.”

“Oh, I have that well enough in hand. Do not worry, Charlotte.” Tom did not quite meet her gaze.

“I am not worried.” Charlotte replied. She took a deep breath. “I am disappointed.” The reaction to her words was immediate, as she had expected. He looked affronted. “I beg your pardon?”

“To my knowledge, almost no work has been done to prepare for the town’s opening ball. Since it is now only two weeks away, you must work hard to catch up.” Charlotte spoke evenly, but Tom grew increasingly upset. “The band has been booked, and the venue as well. There is nothing left to do.”

“But what of refreshments, and entertainment? Invitations? As you know, Lady Susan and her friends arrive within the week. Do you plan to invite them specially? These are the things you must think through, Tom.” Her brother-in-law opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly his demeanor softened. “It is of no use, Charlotte. I do see that you are trying to help. And I appreciate you coming. You are a good sister.”

“I am not talking to you as a sister, Tom.” Her voice was firm now. “I am talking to you as – as a fellow shareholder in the future of Sanditon. And in that role, I must say that I am very disappointed more has not been done to make the ball a success. You ought to have handled this better.” Tom’s face began to redden, and he chewed the inside of his cheek as though trying desperately not to retort. “So,” Charlotte continued, more unsure of herself now. “Will you do your job now? Or must it fall to another?”

“What is the point?” Tom suddenly cried. “To be a party planner, while you all go off and pursue the real work. At last I understand what has happened. I can see that I have been given a pity prize. A mere ceremonial role - oh, you like that, false vanity. The intent is to keep me busy, and out of mischief. Away from the important ventures.” He said his next words almost to himself. “It is just as well, I suppose.”

“This is not the Tom Parker I know.” said Charlotte, trying to control her anger. “The man I met last summer considered the activities of Sanditon to be as important as its buildings. He thought the people were its true lifeblood.” She turned outward. “Look, Tom. Look at this street.” At last she had come to her purpose for meeting him out of doors. “See the people. The shoppers, the travelers. The residents. A thousand different persons, each with different stories. Some pass through. Some think that they will, but stay. And some find that Sanditon is to be their home for life.” She looked up at him. “A thousand different personalities. But they all have one thing in common.”

He watched them glumly. “And what is that? What is your point?”

“Oh, Tom. They may have places to live, but what have they to do? They need connection, and community. They need entertainment. You can give them that. Or at least,” she finished, “you could. If you would begin to think of them, and not yourself.” Tom again opened his mouth in protest, but gave up, looking deflated. “Forgive me. Of course, you are entitled to speak to me in that way. You are my sister now. Or – or were you speaking as a fellow shareholder just then?”

She smiled. “Both, I think. Tom…this ball could be special. But only if you make it so.” She looked back at the passing crowd. “Make it special for them."

Tom chewed the inside of his cheek again, thinking. He was silent for several moments, and Charlotte could see that her words had begun to take effect. Suddenly, his eyes brightened with an idea. “By jove…a theme! A masked ball! No no no, not a masked ball.” Tom bit his knuckle, some of his old energy returning. “Every idiot in London has been to a masked ball. We must think of something unique, something that has never been done before. Something that would make us the envy of all Europe.” His face lit up with inspiration. “A costume ball. Still themed. The –“ he clapped his hands together triumphantly – “the legends of ancient Greece. Mythological characters, the gods and goddesses, and heroes of Olympus!”

Charlotte was ecstatic at this plan. “And perhaps, to encourage attendance, there might be a prize. For the most elaborate costume, at the end of the night?”

“Splendid! There is not much time for our guests to consider their outfits, so we must get invitations out by the end of tomorrow…dear me, dear me. I must go. There is much to do. Ambrosia and nectar must be procured! Then there are the decorations to consider, and the details of the costuming requirements to finalize, of course.”

“This is a wonderful idea, Tom!” Charlotte said warmly. “At the very least it will drive up trade at the local shops. Every guest will need supplies.”

“Yes!” Tom suddenly looked jubilant. “Poor Mrs. Millcroft and her sewing assistants will be run off their feet!”

“You ought to warn them, Tom.” Charlotte cautioned.

“Yes. Yes of course, I shall go directly. Oh, Charlotte, just think on it! A costumed ball! Now where is my confounded hat? Oh, never mind it, the weather looks as though it will hold. I am sorry I cannot stop, Charlotte. I shall be out all afternoon seeing to the details of our party. Not to worry, I shall take care of everything. You need only concern yourself with your costume, my dear sister! Good day, good day, Charlotte!” He clapped his hands once more and bid her farewell. Charlotte stood smiling on the stoop as she watched him leave.

Chapter Text

A week later, Sidney sat busily doing paperwork at his desk while Charlotte read. He had been balancing their accounts all morning, and was eager for a change of task. He planned to check their pending orders against his master supply list. “Charlotte, have you seen my order book?” There was no answer. He glanced up at his wife, who was studying Architectural Basics: Exterior Options, Claddings and Façades. She wrinkled her nose in concentration, and he smiled to himself. She was so engrossed that he might have clapped his hands in the air and she would not have noticed.

“Charlotte?”

“Hmm?” She looked up at last. “Oh, forgive me, Sidney. Yes? What is it?”

“Did you move my order book, by chance? I usually keep it on the desk, or in the drawer, but it is not here.” Charlotte frowned. “No, I did not move it. Perhaps Mrs. O’Connor did, while cleaning?”

“Perhaps.”

“Shall we go and find her?”

“No. I will ask her later.” He pushed his papers to the side. It had been a hectic morning, and he had not had much time for conversation with his wife. He suddenly ached to hold her. “Come here, darling.” Charlotte looked up once more. She smiled and closed her book, walking towards him. Sidney drew her onto his lap, his arms encircling her waist.

“And how is my husband today?” she asked in a low voice, kissing his forehead.

“Better now.”

Charlotte suddenly looked saddened. “Are you very unhappy here, my love?”

He could see that she was concerned, and it touched him. Yet Sidney was not entirely sure how to answer her. He had always railed against Sanditon, it was true. And it was certainly inconvenient to run his business from a distance. But at the same time, he was not finding the rebuild as distasteful as he had expected.

There were reasons for this, of course. As a businessman, he loved negotiating a solid deal. And because the majority of his work involved supplying the project, he had ample opportunity to do so. He had researched vendors and persuaded them to discount his bulk purchases. He had made new contacts that enhanced his London work. And, as the crates of timber and raw material finally arrived on site, his interest in seeing the finished product was growing. Sidney was liking the process more than he cared to admit, and his pride was smarting as a result.

Working with Charlotte brought him joy, and that is where he chose to focus his answer. “At this moment, I am happier than I have ever been.”

She kissed him gratefully. “It will not be long now.” she consoled him. “The foundation has been laid, and the timberworks will be completed in a day or two. That part goes up very quickly. Then there is the plastering and the finishing, and – “ she stopped herself. “Never mind all that. There is no need to catalogue each joint and juncture.” He drew her closer, admiring her enthusiasm but grateful for a change of subject.

“Now. What character have you chosen for the ball?” Charlotte continued. “We really must start thinking about it. We have only a week to prepare.”

Sidney shrugged. He looked around at the mountains of letters and paperwork on his desk. “Atlas.”

Charlotte laughed. “No, Sidney. We are meant to enjoy ourselves that night. Heracles might suit you.” She ran her fingers through his hair, fondly. 

“Or perhaps,” he said, sliding his hand playfully under the hem of her gown, “Eros?”

She laughed again - a wonderful, merry, tinkling sound. “Intriguing…though I am not sure that would be welcomed in mixed company.”

He kissed the dimple in her chin. “And who will you portray?” Sidney's hand moved higher up her leg, pulling at her stocking. “Hestia, goddess of architecture?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. I considered it, but it seemed too…self-important.” He loved that she had seriously contemplated it. Sidney now found himself genuinely curious as to what she would select. “What, then?”

“I am not sure. No doubt I will discuss it with Lady Susan this afternoon. I am meeting her for tea in ten minutes.” Charlotte rose from his lap, and his hands fell disappointedly at this side. “I have made a selection.” Sidney announced with mock gravity. “Orpheus.” He raised a hand out dramatically. “Farewell, my lovely Eurydice.”

Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she tied on her bonnet. “Orpheus? Truly? What a shame. For this evening, at least…I intend to be Aphrodite.” She left the room without another word. Heart quickening, Sidney immediately glanced at the clock to calculate her return.

Chapter Text

Lady Susan had settled comfortably into her suite on Waterloo Terrace. She was pleasantly surprised by the quality of her apartment, having leased it sight unseen. It was on the building’s top floor, providing picturesque views of the town in any direction. The layout consisted of a formal parlor and dining hall, three bedrooms, and a morning room that could also function as a study. The parlor in particular was light and spacious, with a large window that overlooked the south terrace and the sea beyond. And though the room’s furnishings were far simpler than her London home, she found them to be quaint and charming. Lady Susan had high hopes this would be a pleasant visit.

Or at least, it would begin to be so, if she could politely shake the man calling at this moment. Mr. Robert Langford had arrived earlier this afternoon, dropping his card and asking for the privilege of welcoming her to town. Lady Susan thought this a little presumptive, as they had never been introduced. But, assuming the man was some relative or acquaintance of the Parkers (and having nothing to do until Charlotte arrived), she admitted him.

The visit had started out pleasantly enough. Mr. Langford was a handsome and well-spoken man, and his engaging manners had at first diverted and amused her. As the conversation progressed, however, Lady Susan became less gratified by his attentions. Mr. Robert Langford was rather too eager to please, a trait she recognized easily in others hoping to join her circle. And being an excellent judge of character,  she detected subtle evidences of his arrogance. A certain idleness. Even coldness. After a half hour of his company, she was ready to dismiss him and ring for her footman.

She was about to do so, when Phillips entered. “Mrs. Parker to see you, Ma’am.” What a relief. Lady Susan thought. Here at last was a reason to be rid of him. “Thank you so much for calling, Mr. Langford. Good day.” The man did not answer. He had turned eagerly towards the door, watching as Charlotte walked in. Mrs. Parker was sweetly attired in lavender and white, carrying her bonnet in one hand and a bouquet of bluebells in the other. Langford greeted her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Parker! What good fortune to happen upon you here.” Charlotte’s response was surprisingly curt. “Good afternoon.”

Mrs. Parker walked past him, and Lady Susan’s eyes darted quickly between the two visitors. Charlotte looked stiff, and defensive. She had not returned the man’s gaze since entering the room. Mr. Robert Langford’s eyes, however, had not left her for a moment. He was leaning on his cane and smiling. “Are you looking forward to the ball, Mrs. Parker? I am, though I must admit I am no danseur. But you, Mrs. Parker – I can sense that you are most accomplished in the subtle art of dance. Perhaps I might have the pleasure of experiencing your skill firsthand, that evening.” From the way he spoke, Lady Susan was not sure the man was truly talking of dancing. Something in Langford’s expression was strange - almost hungry - and it suddenly made Susan feel very protective of her little friend. She intervened.

“Yes, I am rather looking forward to the ball myself. Charlotte and I have much to discuss regarding our preparations. We must begin our planning. Good day to you, Mr. Langford.” Phillips opened the door behind him, and Mr. Langford at last took his cue. “Ah, yes, the all-important topic of costuming. I look forward to seeing both of your ensembles that evening. Until then, Lady Susan – Mrs. Parker.” He smiled once more, then bowed and left the room.

Charlotte shook herself and gave Lady Susan a friendly kiss. “Susan! Welcome to Sanditon! And how have you settled in?” Lady Susan took her offered bluebells and seated them both on the settee. She was ready for a long and pleasant chat. “Very well, my dear! I am most comfortable. Particularly now that I am rid of Mr. Robert Langford.” Susan watched shrewdly for the effect these words had on her young friend. Charlotte wrinkled her nose immediately. “I was not aware you were acquainted with Mr. Langford.”

“I was not, until today. What sort of man is he?”

Charlotte’s response was measured, and deliberate. “Of course, you must form your own opinion when it comes to his character. But for my part…I do not like him.”

“Why, pray?” Susan suspected the answer, but felt an urgent need to fathom this out. Mrs. Parker shifted uncomfortably. “He just…he is constantly walking up to me, and engaging me in conversation, when I have never indicated any kindly feeling. He seems to be everywhere. Just yesterday, I was walking past the site of the new terrace, and he appeared at my side as if conjured from thin air. It took me several minutes to escape his conversation, and at last I walked away, rather rudely. Yet it seems to have had no effect. It is as though he is determined to plague me.” Charlotte finished in frustration. “Though, I could not say why.”

“Has he said anything untoward?” Lady Susan’s concern for her little friend was growing. She suspected Mr. Langford’s true intent, but Charlotte was guileless. Despite her now being a married woman, her innocence when it came to the ways of men still manifested itself often. “No, not exactly.” Charlotte frowned. “But there is…something about his manners that I do not trust.”

“I should be on my guard against him, if I were you.” Lady Susan cautioned. “Take care not to be alone in his company. Men like Mr. Langford live for sport. And the pretty young bride of an honorable man would be a coveted prize, indeed.” Charlotte looked rather shocked, but nodded. Susan was satisfied. “You do well to shake him off. I shall do so myself, in the future. We must punish his impertinence.” Charlotte seemed eager to change the subject, and took Lady Susan’s hands. “How glad I am to have you here, Susan! You must tell me all of your news. How was your journey?”

“Not too tedious, thank you. Though that is in large part due to the company I brought with me. Lord Grassby has settled in the apartment below, and Lord and Lady Babington are not far away. And then Lord and Lady Denby have taken the bottom suite, with the Harringtons right next door. We shall be quite a merry party. Although, my dear Charlotte –“ here Lady Susan looked remorseful – “I am afraid that I can only stay a week. I have engagements in London that prevent me from doing otherwise.”

“Oh, I shall be sad to lose your company.” Charlotte replied, earnestly. “But of course, you must go where you are needed.” Lady Susan nodded in satisfaction. She knew of Charlotte and Mr. Sidney Parker’s new venture in Sanditon. Yet, she could see that their financial interests had not turned her friend into an opportunist where Lady Susan was concerned. Charlotte remained as dear and good-hearted as she remembered. “But I shall certainly stay for the ball. I must say, I am rather intrigued by the idea. A costume ball, in sleepy little Sanditon? It promises to be an amusing evening, at the very least.”

“And have you settled on your character?” Charlotte asked, eagerly.

“Not yet. I considered Athena, but abandoned the plan when I heard Mrs. Harrington had selected the same. It is just as well. I have no great fondness for owls, you see.” The two women laughed. “Hera, then? Queen of the gods?” Charlotte suggested. “Oh, I think not.” Lady Susan protested. “She was rather vengeful, as I recall. Something little known would do very well. A minor character, that deserves greater renown than she has been given.” Charlotte’s face lit up with an idea. She whispered it importantly into Susan’s ear, (which amused her greatly, as there was no one in the room to eavesdrop). Susan smiled at the suggestion.

“Perfect!”

Chapter Text

Saturday evening came, and Charlotte and Sidney arrived at the ball early to assist Tom. It seemed that anticipation of the evening had inspired all of Sanditon to do the same, for the assembly room was already crowded with guests. Leading up to the event, Charlotte had been beset with anxiety on Tom’s behalf. Would the London guests participate? Would they even attend? In entering the ballroom, she realized she need not have worried. The guests had taken up the challenge with enthusiasm, and Charlotte was truly stunned by what she saw.

Ladies had exchanged their stately pastel hues for draped gowns in bold, daring colors. The room was awash with scarlets and purples, golds and greens – even turquoise. Headdresses of strange shapes and sizes towered over the crowd. The men wore long tunics over their breeches, causing them at first to look like a gathering of a strange religious order. Were it not for the telltale boots and slippers peeking from beneath each hem, Charlotte might have thought she had stepped into a mythical world.

The creativity of the guests was truly astounding. A grey-bearded Londoner had wrapped himself in purple linen, clutching a gold staff topped with a plaster lightning bolt. He was unmistakably Zeus. A second gentleman had arrived in full battle dress, complete with medals. Charlotte supposed him to be Ares, the god of war. Wood nymphs of all shapes and sizes roamed freely through the crowd, beautifully wreathed in greenery and fresh blossoms. Even Reverend Hankins had joined in the fun, donning a wooden sword and calling himself Achilles. Mrs. Griffiths was at his side, looking rather cross at being one of many Athenas that evening.

Charlotte had chosen to portray Artemis – a huntress, and goddess of the moon. She draped herself in folds of silver satin, which felt pleasingly light despite their yardage. Her hair, which had grown longer since last summer, was braided loosely and entwined with silver ribbon. She strung Sidney’s pearl on a silver chain and laced it through her curls, centering the gem on her forehead. Charlotte hoped this makeshift ferroniere would be reminiscent enough of the moon. Raiding the Parker nursery had given her the other needed accessories; a miniature bow and quiver now hung from a belt at her side. The obliging little Jenny had been only too thrilled that “auntie Charlotte” would borrow something of her very own.

She smoothed her gown and looked across the room for Sidney. He was talking with Mr. Crowe, whose reedy figure was dressed as a rather underwhelming Heracles. Sidney himself had nearly arrived uncostumed. At the last minute he had protested the theme, feeling it silly and undignified. Charlotte had insisted on his participation, and reluctantly he agreed to be Jason, the hero. Here again the Parker nursery had supplied weaponry: Henry’s wooden dagger hung at Sidney’s side, which, besides a rough brown tunic and leather sash, was her husband’s only form of embellishment. She smiled as she watched him. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but she knew he was determined to see the evening through for his brother’s sake. Privately, she formed a plan to thank every inch of him when they were once more alone.  

A joyful, unanticipated effect of the costume theme was that it equalized the company. Looking through the crowd, Charlotte could see members of London high society mingling and talking with the Sanditon bootmaker, tobacconist, and clerk. The boundaries of social custom seemed to have been relaxed, just for tonight; and most happily, no one seemed to care. The guests were laughing, and freely congratulating each other on their inspired ensembles. Nervous excitement and anticipation filled the air.

The room itself seemed transformed. Garlands of gold and silver were strung across each balcony, and the band (aptly lead by an Orpheus) was flanked on both sides by six-foot candelabras. Charlotte began looking for Tom. She soon found him scurrying about a side room, giving orders to servers and checking that the refreshment table was ready. Charlotte gasped when she saw it. It was overflowing with sumptuous food – towers of iced buns, baskets of grapes and figs, and even a tray of fragrant oranges. Then there were platters of cold chicken and ham, bowls of salty olives, and knots of warm bread. And, most magnificent of all, a shining white cake in the shape of a Grecian temple – complete with twelve sugar icing columns! Charlotte’s eyes widened in delighted surprise.

Tom turned at this moment, and rushed forward to greet her. “Ah! My dear sister!” He was dressed as King Midas, sporting a red tunic and a gold paper crown. “You are here at last! And how lovely you look. Splendid, splendid.” Tom was rubbing his hands together eagerly, and Charlotte could see he was positively glowing with the promise of success. “And what do you think of our assortment?” he asked, gesturing to their food supply. “Plenty for all, and plenty of champagne – I mean nectar, as we are calling it tonight.” He chortled.

“It is simply magnificent, Tom! It is beautiful. But…how…?” She hesitated, looking around at the extravagant assortment. Charlotte knew full well that the meager budget Lady Denham had provided for this evening could not have supported such finery. Tom looked at her shrewdly, guessing the source of her concern. “Fear not, my dear Charlotte! For nearly everything you see has been donated by our local businesses. The butcher, the baker, the…well, you know! I…I may have convinced them that it would be worth marketing their wares in front of our London nobility.” Tom looked justifiably proud of himself, and Charlotte cheerfully shook hands with him. “Tom, that was a simply marvelous idea! This will be Sanditon’s finest ball yet.” Mary rushed in, looking lighter and happier than Charlotte had ever seen her. She wore a blue silk cloak and carried a ball of string. “Tom, Lady Susan is – oh, good evening, Charlotte! You look simply enchanting!”

“As do you!” Charlotte returned. “Ariadne?”

“Yes! I thought of Demeter, but I am glad I chose against it, as there are three or four of them already in the ballroom. I have yet to see – “

Tom interjected. “What were you saying my dear? Regarding Lady Susan?”

“Oh, yes of course!” Mary looked almost giddy. “Lady Susan has arrived, and the bandleader is asking if you will come and open the ball.”

“Yes. Yes, I shall. Well, Charlotte. Well, Mary. It is time.” Tom strode solemnly away, and Charlotte had to suppress a laugh at his kingly gait. She and Mary followed close behind. Once Tom had reached the center of the ballroom, he held both of his hands out in rapturous welcome. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Or should I say, gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines, wood nymphs and water sprites!” There was a smattering of laughter from about the room, and a sudden burst of applause. Tom looked gratified, and continued. “I am King Midas - though I am more commonly known as Mr. Tom Parker – and as Commissioner over Sanditon's events and cultural activities, it is my very great pleasure to welcome you to our first ball of the season. I invite you to dance until dawn, to imbibe freely of ambrosia and nectar, and to revel to your heart’s content! Maestro Orpheus – if you would begin with your very liveliest reel, Sir!”

The violins and cellos began warming their strings, and Charlotte looked around for her husband. He was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, she heard a low voice behind her. “Excuse me, my lady?” She smiled and turned to see Sidney, stifling a smile with his hand outstretched. “Might a lowly mortal, such as myself, dare to request the pleasure of a dance with you, oh moon goddess?” Charlotte smiled wryly and took his hand. “Perhaps. If you make your sacrificial offering particularly generous this year.” They began to line up with the other couples. “I feel rather self-conscious!” she confessed, adjusting the pearl at her forehead. He smiled fondly as he drew her nearer. “Don’t be. It suits you.” The fiddles struck up a lively tune, and at last the dance – and the ball – began.

Chapter Text

Georgiana had no wish to dance, and quickly sought refuge in the corridor. It was blessedly deserted. She unlatched a window and sat by it, breathing in Sanditon’s salty air. The night was cool and damp, and she closed her eyes. A chill breeze swept over her skin, and she tried to like it. She tried yet again to think of England as her home. To believe she could forge a new life on this bland, colorless island. To forget Antigua, and Otis. To be happy here.

She could not.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought of what she had left behind. With her eyes still closed, she could picture Antigua’s tropic beaches, its fragrant blooms. She craved its flavorful food, and the warm company of her friends. She longed for kinship, for belonging. For a sense of purpose, and power over her own life.

Most of all, Georgiana still ached for Otis. For love, and acceptance. To escape from these miserable, stiff, self-congratulating snobs. She was contemplating an excuse to escape the party, and its company, when a noise in the corridor made her start. Opening her eyes, she looked upon Mr. Fred Robinson.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Miss Lambe.” He was dressed in a brown tunic with a bit of sheepskin draped about his chest. She supposed he had been invited by the Parkers, as he was their foreman now. Robinson looked cautious as he approached.

“Oh, it’s you.” Georgiana sniffed. “What do you want?”

He laughed hollowly. “Good evening to you too, Miss Lambe.” Her anger at Mr. Robinson flared dangerously. After his insensitivity in bringing up her abduction, he had the gall to imply that she was somehow lacking in manners? She returned to looking out the window. “If that is all you came to say, you can be off now. I would rather be alone.”

Instead of leaving, he approached. “And you look very well tonight, Miss Lambe, if I may say so. Let me guess at your costume. Blue, with gold, and seashells. You must be some sort of…goddess of the sea?” Georgiana frowned in irritation, wanting to be rid of the man as soon as possible. “Calypso. Now if you would please excuse - ”

“Ah, yes! Calypso. I have heard of her. I do not rightly recall the story, but I have heard of her. No, I am not much up to the Greek tales and legends, but my father did tell me a few. When I was a boy, you see.” He spread his arms wide. “I am Heracles, or at least I was, until I met twelve others out there. So now, I am Fred, the mighty sheepherder.”

“There is no Fred in Greek mythology.”

“Ah! But that’s the beauty of it, Miss Lambe. None of the noble folk in that room want to admit ignorance, so if I spin a convincing enough tale, they will think they have simply forgotten the legend of the mighty Fred. And, they will go along with the whole thing.” He chuckled in satisfaction. “Care to develop the story with me?”

“No, thank you.” She tossed her head. “So. You delight in deception, then? You are a con-man?”

Mr. Robinson let out a short burst of laughter. “Far from it. I only thought you might care to have some fun with the tale, Miss Lambe. That is all.”

“Why are you here?” she repeated impatiently. “Be gone with you, I am busy.”

“So I see.” He nodded. “Crying. During a party. The trouble is, that makes a fellow feel as though he should stay, and see what the matter is.”

“It is none of your business.”

He came and sat next to her, which irritated her even further. “Well…it may be partially my business, Miss Lambe. For I know I upset you the other day. And in truth, I came to ask forgiveness. I did not mean any harm. Though if I may say, I am still scratching my head over what I might have done to cause offense.” Georgiana’s festering unhappiness and anger had reached a tipping point. She longed to relieve her pain, and decided then and there to give Mr. Robinson a sound tongue-lashing.

“You had the insolence to bring up a very painful memory in my past. In the street, in front of everyone! Do you have any idea how humiliated I was after that experience? How desperately I wished to forget it? And for you to bring it up in common conversation, so casually, and brusquely - I have never met with such insufferable, ungentlemanly manners in my entire life. Now go, Mr. Robinson. I have no wish to be near you.”

Again, he did not go. He had sat unflinchingly throughout her tirade, with a flat expression. Then, he let out a low whistle. “You must be very unhappy, Miss Lambe. To speak like that.”

She was now fully enraged. “How dare you comment on my – “

“I am very sorry to have hurt you, Miss Lambe.” Robinson interrupted. The look of true regret on his face stopped her in the middle of her accusation. “You see,” and here Mr. Robinson stood, with a perplexed look on his face, “I am a rather straightforward chap. Uncomplicated. Some might say...awkward. Or graceless. If I have a notion, I speak it. If I feel something, I say it. I am not blessed with the ability to hide my thoughts.” He cleared his throat, gruffly. “I always mean well, but more subtle folk can sometimes take offense at my...my blunt ways." He laughed. "I tend to have a strong sense of justice. Of fair play. And that does not help matters much. You can just ask my sisters, who I know have found me especially trying. And so, I have learned to apologize. Please forgive my rudeness, Miss Lambe. I only meant that I remembered you had gone through a troubling experience, and I was sorry for it. That is all.”

Georgiana was so surprised by this frank speech that she forgot to be angry. Mr. Robinson sat next to her once more. “And I am sorry you are so unhappy, Miss Lambe. It must be very hard to be away from home, and to be here alone.” There, directly following his apology, was another example of openness bordering on impertinence. But this time she saw it through the lens of his confession, and it was – though she hated to admit it – interesting. Almost endearing.

“…Thank you.” she muttered, begrudgingly.

“I remember now!” His face broke into a wide smile. “Calypso, the daughter of Atlas. Cursed to remain alone on an island. Without her lover. Very good, Miss Lambe. Very fitting.” Georgiana opened her mouth to protest, but now feeling slightly guilty over her angry words earlier, she bit her tongue. “Let us not talk about that.” Georgiana took a deep breath. “Let us instead work to imagine the legend of Fred, the mighty sheepherder.”

He grinned. “Very well.”

“Although I must ask,” she continued. “If you are incapable of deceit, how on earth did you hope to weave a convincing enough tale?”

“Well, I hoped to have your able assistance, Miss Lambe!” Here again she might have taken offense, but acknowledging that she did have a gift for misdirection, she let it pass. “I think that Fred the sheepherder – “

“ – the mighty sheepherder - ”

“ - very well, the mighty sheepherder – was born in Crete. He was a demigod, the half-son of Demeter, goddess of agriculture – “

“That’s very good, Miss Lambe!”

“ – thank you. Now if you would please let me finish?” Mr. Robinson smiled, and sat back comfortably as Georgiana spun a story complex enough to fool any bumbling aristocrat. As she did, she began to wonder - most surprisingly - if she might get some enjoyment out of this evening after all.  

Chapter Text

After four dances with Sidney, Charlotte was obliged to take a rest. She was having some difficulty keeping Jenny’s quiver tied at her side (it bumped uncomfortably against her while dancing), and at last they had to leave the floor to adjust her belt. “Shall we find Tom and Mary?” Sidney asked once the repair had been made. He offered his arm. Charlotte had some desire to keep dancing, but as the band had already struck up its next waltz, she agreed.

They wandered through the crowd, marveling at the eccentric gathering of guests. A consistent, happy chatter could be heard above the music. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Charlotte’s heart was bursting with happiness for Tom. He was clearly in his element, darting about the room making introductions, welcoming latecomers, and ensuring the refreshment table was properly stocked.

Charlotte identified several more of their friends as they walked. Georgiana and Mr. Robinson stood nearby, talking with an older gentleman Charlotte did not know. She overheard a snippet of their conversation as they passed - “Oh yes, it is a lesser known legend to be sure.” Mr. Robinson was saying. “Fred the Mighty Sheepherder was born in Crete, you see, the half-son of the goddess Demeter. He lived an altogether unremarkable life, until one day a fiery flying serpent… ”

Charlotte could hear no more, for at that moment Lord Babington beckoned to them from a nearby corner. “Sidney! Charlotte! Come, join us!” He and Esther were happily grouped with Lady Susan, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Crowe.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Parker.” Lady Susan smiled warmly in greeting. She looked simply glorious as Iris, the rainbow goddess. Her dark hair was plaited with ribbons in soft pinks, blues, and yellows, and similar shades of silk were wrapped snugly around her waist. A diamond circlet was woven through her hair, sparkling like dew drops in the morning. Her eyes likewise shone, albeit with merriment, and Charlotte was relieved to see that Susan was having wonderful time. Of course, tonight was just the sort of folly that most amused her – a nonsensical, comedic display of the beau monde choosing fun over fashion.

“I have just made Mr. Cox’s acquaintance.” Susan continued. “Or shall I call you Daedalus, being the genius architect that you are?”

“You are very gracious, my lady, but Mr. Cox suits me well enough.” Charlotte was surprised to see that the old man was blushing. Mr. Cox was just the sort of good-hearted, tender old man that Susan had the tendency to take under her wing (and promptly wrap about her finger). The kind old architect looked quite bashful in this great lady’s presence.

“And you, Crowe?” Babington asked, slapping his friend on the back. “I thought you might turn up as Bacchus.”

“Very funny indeed.” muttered Crowe, now stowing his private flask. “Heracles, and I’ll thank you not to ask again. I find I am already sick of the question.”

“What about you, Lord and Lady Babington?” Sidney asked. “You both look very grand.” Lord Babington was in sea green, Esther in coral. A string of shells hung about Babington’s neck, and a similar circlet topped Esther’s loose red curls. “Poseidon and Amphitrite.” Lady Babington answered. “Though I must confess we put almost no effort into our costumes. It is a wonder we were able to get them up at all.”

“She is only saying that.” muttered a very amused Babington to Charlotte. “Esther has been looking forward to this more than she will let on. She gathered the shells for our adornments just this morning.” Charlotte concealed a smile. She was very pleased to see that Esther was in much better health tonight. There was a fresh color in her cheeks, and her growing abdomen was only just detectable beneath her coral silk.

“Right. High time for reinforcements, I think.” Crowe announced. “Care for a drink, Parker? Cox?” Crowe left before he could receive an answer, clearly in search of more champagne. “He’s had too much already.” Babington said with concern. “We ought to follow him, Parker. Much more and he may pass out on his feet.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Sidney replied, wincing. He glanced at Charlotte apologetically. “Please excuse me, Charlotte. I shall see to it.” Sidney retreated after Crowe, and the conversation soon turned to who would take home the coveted prize for most exemplary costume.

“Surely that would be your good self, Lady Worcester.” cut in a voice that chilled Charlotte’s blood. Mr. Robert Langford had joined their company, and Charlotte immediately stepped to the opposite side of their grouping. Lady Susan’s demeanor had similarly cooled, and for some moments an awkward silence filled the air. The Babingtons did not know Langford, and as neither Charlotte nor Lady Susan moved to welcome him, it fell to poor Mr. Cox to make the introductions.

“Lord and Lady Babington, may I present Mr. Robert Langford, a businessman who has recently arrived in Sanditon to restore his health.” Langford clicked his heels and bowed. Esther only nodded, disinterestedly. Silence again filled the air, and the ever-gracious Babington did his best to fill it. “And how do you like Sanditon, Sir?”

“Very well indeed, Sir. I have rarely seen such a beautiful village. Simply enchanting.” He looked at Charlotte, who had still not said a word to him.

"Very good, very good.” Babington replied, out of politeness. “And…who are you meant to portray this evening, Mr. Langford?”

“I wonder if you might guess.” Langford spread his arms wide.

“Hades?” Lady Susan suggested. Her tone was light, but her eyes had narrowed slightly. Mr. Langford sputtered in surprised laughter. “Certainly not, my lady.”

“What then?” Esther asked, mustering a little interest in the conversation. He was plainly dressed, with a bag of apples strung around his back. Charlotte could not tell who he was meant to be, and did not care to join in the game. She looked about the room, distractedly. She saw that Sidney was now dancing with Mary.

“Tantalus.” Langford tossed an apple in the air and caught it again. “A poor, wretched soul, afflicted by the gods. Tortured by the inability to grasp food and drink – and cursed to have his deepest desires always just out of reach.” Langford took a second sidelong look at Charlotte, and she recoiled at this attention. She fixed her eyes again on the dancing couples, watching Sidney.

“A rather fitting punishment, if I recall the story correctly.” Lady Susan replied. Her tone was now decidedly cold. “Did not Tantalus steal food and drink meant especially for the gods?” Langford took a disgustingly juicy bite of his apple. “That may be…but I confess I am of a more merciful frame of mind. I do not feel that any crime merits eternal punishment. Would you not agree, Mrs. Parker?”

Charlotte ignored him. Most unhappily, Lady Susan and Mr. Cox were interrupted at this moment by a London acquaintance, leaving her alone in conversation with Langford and the Babingtons. He moved next to her, obscuring Charles and Esther from her view. “Artemis.” he murmured in a low voice. “A beautiful choice, to be sure. Though, not quite in character, if I may say so.”

Lady Susan’s warning suddenly resounded in Charlotte’s head, and she felt an urgency to end the conversation. “You are entitled to your opinions, Mr. Langford.” She looked again for Sidney, but suddenly could not see him. Tom, however, was across the room, and he thankfully locked eyes with her at that moment. She beckoned him with a nod of her head. But Langford was still speaking. “Goddess of the moon, of virtue, of chastity. Rather too demure a character for a woman of passion. I encourage you to unbridle your imaginations, Mrs. Parker. Surely there are more pleasing roles you might play…” - here he whispered – “if you would but take the opportunity.”

Charlotte turned to Mr. Langford severely. “In answer to your earlier question, Mr. Langford, I have no sympathy for Tantalus. He knew the consequence of his crime, and persisted. Such a man will always deserve what he gets.” She walked away to join Tom, hearing Langford laugh behind her as she did so. Her heart began to pound with anxiety. Where was Sidney?

At last she reached her brother-in-law. “Ah! The lovely Artemis!” Tom chanted. “But why are you not dancing, my lady?” She cut off his gallantry. “Have you seen Sidney? He was dancing with Mary, but I cannot find them anywhere.” Tom surveyed the couples. “No, they have left the floor. Perhaps they went to fetch some refreshment? But – but what is wrong, my dear sister? You look as though you had seen a ghost! You must have some champagne yourself. Do not move from that spot, I shall fetch you a glass with the speed of Hermes!”

“No, no thank you Tom, please just stay with me until – “ but he did not hear her. He had disappeared through the crowd, and she was once more alone. Charlotte kept moving, unsure where Langford was in the room but as wary of him as a bird in the path of a snake. She passed a servant holding a tray of champagne, and she took a glass to fortify herself. Her instinct was to keep moving, and to find an acquaintance to attach herself to until Sidney returned.

With relief she recognized Dr. Fuchs, tonight wearing a powdered wig and shockingly yellow robe. “Good evening, Dr. Fuchs!” Charlotte called. “Good evening, Frau Parker!” the doctor replied in his thick German accent. “If you would forgive me, I am trying to communicate with this man, and it is not going very well. I am Apollo!” Dr. Fuchs nearly yelled to his companion, who seemed to be hard of hearing. “God of medicine, and healing. Apollo!”

The whole party was becoming extremely loud. The guests had taken Tom’s invitation to make merry very seriously, for the room was pulsing with energy. Peals of laughter filled the air. The noise only grew louder as the evening wore on, and Charlotte began to feel rather dizzy. She was not accustomed to drinking champagne, and it did not seem to agree with her. She was fast getting a headache. Charlotte moved away from the crush of people, still looking for Sidney and Mary. Escaping onto the outdoor veranda, she breathed a deep sigh of night air. Several couples strolled about, but the area was not nearly so crowded as the ballroom. She felt relief at being able to hear her own thoughts - until she realized she had been followed.

“I must beg your forgiveness, Mrs. Parker. My earlier remarks were presumptuous, and ill-judged.” It was Langford. She whirled around immediately. Her mind moved to her exit, and she would say whatever necessary to achieve it. “There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Langford. But you must excuse me, as my husband will be – “ she began to walk to the hall’s entrance, but he stepped in front of her, impeding her departure.

“I am at a loss, Charlotte. For no matter how hard I try, you are determined to avoid any manner of friendship with me. You have made getting to know you very difficult indeed. And it grieves me, for I should dearly like to know you.”

She repressed a shudder. “I have no wish to be your friend, Mr. Langford. And I have made no secret of it. Now please, let me pass.” She moved again, but he stepped once more in her path.

“In a moment.” Langford looked at her with a strange expression. “You have decided that I am some sort of villain, yet you know almost nothing about me. I should think your past experiences would have cautioned you against making quick judgments.”

Charlotte furrowed her brow in confusion. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“Never mind that now.” He stepped closer, looming over her. His eyes glinted darkly, and he took her hand. She moved to pull it away, but he held it fast. “Dance with me?”

“No, Sir. Let go of my hand. Now.” There were no couples near enough to hear this exchange, but Charlotte was prepared to scream if he did not release her within seconds.

He dropped her hand, but moved closer still. “One dance. Give me the opportunity to change your mind.” He smiled slyly, looking sure of his success.

Charlotte’s response was immediate. She threw the remainder of her champagne into Langford’s face. The man recoiled, choking and sputtering as he was doused. Charlotte stood shaking in anger and shock. She practically ran back into the corridor. A servant passed at that moment, and Charlotte felt as though she had been sent a guardian angel. She steadied herself, and spoke. “Mr. Langford has spilled his drink over his costume, and has decided to go home. Would you see that he is given his hat and coat? He will be leaving directly.” She stormed off, trying to calm herself as she resumed her desperate search for Sidney.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you're all right, Mary?” Sidney was helping his sister-in-law stagger to a coach, as she had turned her ankle badly during their dance. Mary was wincing in pain, but spoke with determined cheer. “Oh yes, I am fine! I just got overexcited, that is all. Champagne and dancing are a dangerous mix for me." Mary tried to laugh, but bit her lip sharply as they walked. "Do not concern yourself, I shall be well enough tomorrow.” Dr. Fuchs was steadying her on the other side. “Nein, you must take things slowly, Frau. Parker. Put up your foot when you get home, and do not move unless it is essential. I shall come and visit you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Dr. Fuchs.” Mary settled wearily in the coach. Sidney latched her door shut, trying one last time to make her see reason. “Let me fetch Tom for you.” Sidney insisted. “He ought to be here, and to help you.” Mary shook her head firmly. “No. This night is too important to him – to our family. No, I shall be perfectly well. But - please let him know that I have gone? Say only that I felt a little tired, and chose to return early.”

Sidney exhaled. “As you wish. Get some rest, Mary.” The driver snapped his reigns, and the carriage started its short journey back to Parker House. Sidney watched it go, then returned to the ballroom to find Charlotte. He had been gone much longer than expected, and could not easily see her upon entering. She was no longer with the Babingtons, that was certain, for Charles walked quickly over upon seeing him. Sidney was struck by the look of concern on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong, Babington? Has Crowe collapsed?”

“No, it's…that is to say, Parker, do you trust that Langford fellow?” Sidney’s chest tightened with dread. “No. Why?” He glanced around urgently. “Where is Charlotte?” Babington did not immediately answer, but now appeared even more concerned. Sidney sprung into action, weaving through the crowd to find his wife. Charles followed suit, hard at his heels. “Langford came up to us shortly after you left to find Crowe, and I - I got the impression he was not well-loved by our friends.” Babington nearly got left behind at this point, for Sidney suddenly ducked left past a group of wood nymphs.

“And – and he found a moment to get Charlotte alone.” Babington continued, catching up now. “I could see she was uncomfortable, and she soon left. Langford did the same, and I did not like it, but he was only speaking to a few friends of his for a time. But then – wait, Sidney, wait – I watched, and I could see that within a minute he seemed to follow. I do not know where he is now, and that is when I started looking for you - Sidney, slow down, I am coming!” Sidney did not slow down. Rage at Mr. Langford was quickly overtaking him, enhancing his speed. He could hardly detect anyone in this crowd of people, this blur of color and costumes. He swore softly in desperation.

“There, Sidney, there!” Babington was pointing to the veranda entrance, and with a burst of relief Sidney saw Charlotte. He rushed to her, taking both of her hands in his own. “What happened? Are you all right?” She looked strangely pale. “I – am perfectly well, thank you. But I…oh Sidney, I am afraid I have just thrown a glass of champagne over Mr. Langford.” Sidney was breathing heavily from his frantic search, and could not at first understand what she told him. “What?” Suddenly his expression darkened. “Did he touch you?”

“No.” Charlotte insisted. “That is – yes, he asked me to dance and took my hand, and I said no, and he asked once more, and I thought he was - and then, when he got nearer, I doused him.” Charlotte looked as though she very felt foolish. “I sent a servant to fetch his things, and he is going now. But – “

“Wait here.” Sidney told her. “Babington, look after my wife.” Charlotte began to plead with Sidney to stay, but he could not listen for the rush of blood to his brain. He had some awareness that Charlotte asked Babington to follow him. “Wait, Sidney!” his friend called. “Slow this down, talk to him - ask questions. Do not turn this into a challenge! Think of Charlotte.”

“I have no intention of dueling, Charles.” Sidney had reached the coat room, and sure enough a liveried servant was handing Langford his hat. Sidney could see that the man was still drenched with champagne. “Langford!” Sidney barked. Robert Langford froze at seeing him, but his brother Edmund began to shift nervously. Stepping between them, he said, “Good evening, Mr. Parker. What a diverting time this has been, but sadly my brother has spilled his ‘nectar,’ as they are calling it, and we must depart. Please give Mr. Tom Parker our congratulations on a most well-realized –“ Sidney stepped past him and took Robert Langford roughly by the coat. He slammed him into the wall, hard. “Oh, no.” Edmund whimpered, while Babington cried out in protest. “Easy, Parker!”

“Did I not warn you,” Sidney seethed, “to stay away from my wife?”

Langford had not flinched. A curious, unnerving smile was spreading across his face. “And so I have, Mr. Parker. I have done nothing…though I freely admit I asked her to dance. Is that, too, a crime in Sanditon?”

“I see your game.” Sidney breathed, dangerously. “I know your intent. Men like you will not be satisfied until they have mastered every facet of depravity.”

“And where is your proof?” Langford demanded with more energy. “What evidence have you that I have behaved in such a way? What would you tell a constable, or judge? That I took your wife’s hand to lead her to the floor, and released it at once when she asked? Ha! A weak case for depravity indeed, Mr. Parker.”

Sidney shook him roughly. “I warned you, that if you approached her again…there would be consequences.”

“Sidney…” Babington whispered, warningly. “He’s…he’s pond scum. Not worth it.”

Langford actually laughed, and in a moment of rage Sidney almost lost control. He wanted to beat the man senseless. Thinking at the last minute of Charlotte – who was only rooms away - he shoved Langford into the wall and released him. “I want you gone.” Sidney growled. “Tomorrow. Leave Sanditon.”

“I almost wish we could, Mr. Parker.” Langford replaced his hat, and again Sidney had the impression that the man took pleasure from these threats. “But, unfortunately, we have a vested interest in the town now. Oh, I will continue to stay away from your wife, if you wish. And, I suppose, I must beg your pardon for…for asking her to dance, was that it? But you have greatly misjudged my intentions where she is concerned. Mark my words.”

“Yet there will be no return challenge, Sir!” Edmund piped up anxiously. “You can be sure of that.” He looked at his brother sternly. “Come, Robert. We really must –“

“What are you talking about, a ‘vested interest?’ Sidney demanded.

Langford clicked his tongue against his teeth in satisfaction. “I am so glad you asked. We have just purchased two or three small properties along market street. Oh, none leased by your brother - do not worry, Mr. Parker. We only had interest in those the shopkeepers owned outright. The clockmaker, and milliner, and so forth. We offered them a tidy little sum - one that would enable them to retire almost anywhere. They quite jumped at the chance, it was almost touching. So!” he finished triumphantly, “we are soon to be hard at work on our renovations.” Langford walked away swiftly, calling over his shoulder, “And should you ever feel keen to unload any of your properties, Mr. Parker, I will choose to overlook tonight’s unpleasantness. It would be an honor to do business with you in the future!” Edmund at last managed to pull his brother out of the front door, and the two men disappeared into the night.

Babington appeared at Sidney’s elbow, scowling. “I wish I had let you at him now, Sidney. What an unconscionable scoundrel.”

“No matter, Charles.” Sidney answered darkly. “I shall take care of it.” It was now Babington who looked nervous. “But what is your plan?"

Sidney turned on his heel, calm enough now to rejoin Charlotte. “I intend to drive Robert Langford from this town, if it is the last thing I do.”

Chapter Text

Two days after the Sanditon costume ball, Tom Parker was still basking in its success. Many of his guests had danced until four in the morning, causing even old Lady Denham to proclaim it a “triumph.” And Lady Susan had thanked him personally. “I do not know when I have had a better time.” she had said, as she accepted the award for most exemplary costume. And she looked as though she truly meant it. Her enjoyment had prompted her to stay another week in Sanditon at least, and Tom was now brimming with ideas of how to entertain the London guests. He had spent his morning outlining a long list of tasks. First, he must organize a men’s swimming competition. Then there was the cricket game, of course, and Sanditon’s Second Annual Regatta to plan...this would be a very busy summer for him, that was certain.

The happiest outcome of the ball was renewed interest in Sanditon housing. Tom soon learned that a great portion of their London guests were not even residents. They were either friends or distant acquaintances of Tom’s Waterloo Terrace tenants, who, having heard of the costume theme, had put themselves up in whatever hotel or inn they could find nearby. Tom chuckled at the lengths the beau monde would go through not to be left out of an event. And yet more requests for apartment leases were pouring in. It was now they who wanted something of him. And he could not deny that was a marvelous feeling.

Although, if he was truthful, it was not so much Tom’s building that they wanted. It was Sidney’s. The visitors had seen the new terrace going up, and discerning that it was going to be much grander and more unique than Waterloo’s, they were understandably making inquiries. Tom had no doubt the building would be fully tenanted by next summer. His brother’s venture would be a success. And, having had an achievement of his own to celebrate, Tom felt he was finally prepared to congratulate Sidney in person.

He decided to visit his construction site. Tom had not yet had the heart to look at it, deliberately avoiding the sight of it when he passed in a carriage, or taking an alternate street when he walked. Yet the success of the ball had bolstered his desire to move forward and wish his brother well. Kissing Mary adieu, Tom walked the dusty streets of Sanditon in search of the new terrace.

He gasped slightly when he saw it. The site was awash with activity, and over two thirds of the building’s timber shell had already been constructed. Stone masons were now smoothing the exterior with a creamy plaster, which sparkled slightly in the sunlight. He watched the men for several moments, enjoying the satisfying push, smooth, and pull of paste across the façade.

Tom was astonished at the progress that had been made, and reluctantly impressed by the design. He could see it would have a grand entrance, centrally located and bordered on both sides by columns. And there were rows upon rows of windows planned – a light, luxurious, (and expensive) choice. It seemed that the roofing was going on today, for thick oak beams were being planed in every direction. Looking past the hammering carpenters, he saw a tall man in a dark coat surveying the works – Sidney. Tom took a deep breath, and approached his brother. “Good afternoon, Sidney!”

He received no response. Sidney seemed lost in thought, and was absently watching the carpenters lathing the roof. Tom cleared his throat and tried once more. “I said Good afternoon, Sidney!” His brother looked over at him in surprise. “Oh, hello, Tom. Forgive me, I did not notice you there.”

“Indeed! You looked miles away. It is no matter, no matter. I know that feeling well.” He jerked his head towards the building. “It is quite a lot to manage, is it not?”

“Some days, yes.” replied Sidney. “Most others, it is not so bad. But then – “ he slapped his brother on the back. “I only have one building to worry about, not a whole town.”

Tom cast his eyes over the site once more. “I have come to ask if I could be of any help, but it would seem I have missed all the excitement. By the looks of it you are nearly complete!”

Sidney gave a half-smile. “Not quite. None of the interiors have been done, and will not be until the place is watertight. There is a large dome window – for the top, there – that should arrive next week. After that and the windows are installed, the rest will go very quickly indeed. Or at least, that is my hope.”

“Sidney…how many men is this? It cannot be as many as twenty?”

“Thirty.”

“Thirty?” Tom’s eyes widened. “A double crew? Good heavens, Sidney.” Tom let out a nervous laugh. “That must be costing the earth.”

“It is worth it if we finish ahead of schedule.” Sidney looked at his timepiece, as though willing the crews to meet some imagined deadline.

“Still determined to leave, I see?” Tom felt a certain sadness about this that had nothing to do with the town’s development.

“Yes. As soon as possible.

He let out a slow sigh. “Well…I shall be sorry to see you go, brother. But I must say…the building looks simply magnificent. You – have a done a marvelous thing here, Sidney. Making good come from bad. I – I am only sorry I have not come to see it earlier.”

Sidney seemed to sense the effort it had cost Tom to speak, for he shook hands and nodded gratefully. “That’s quite all right, Tom. I haven’t been on the site much myself, if truth be told.”

Tom sniffed. “Speaking of truth, is it true what they are saying? That Charlotte is the primary designer?” Sidney now smiled in earnest. “Yes. With a little help from Mr. Cox, but…yes.”

“Indeed?” Tom did not know whether he was impressed, or simply shocked. “Well, I confess I am glad to hear Mr. Cox has helped. I have no doubt of Charlotte’s enthusiasm, of course, but…it would be a shame if a roof were to cave in during dinner!” He looked at Sidney curiously. “That is…most liberal-minded of you, Sidney. To let her steer the project.”

“Well. She has more of an eye for that sort of thing, you know.” But Sidney seemed to be pondering something deeply. “To be honest, Tom…I never really thought of doing otherwise. I gave Charlotte’s father my word that I would never impede her interests. And she has truly done very, very well." Sidney chuckled softly. "I wish you could see her - studying her manuals, and scribbling as though she hoped to one day become Mr. Nash himself.”

“Yes, that sounds like her.” Tom also laughed, but he was moved by the note of husbandly pride in Sidney’s voice. “You make a good team, the pair of you.” He turned his attention back to the building. “Well, I have already had inquiries about contracts. When is your projected finish date?” He was surprised to see Sidney frown at this question. “It was meant to have been the end of July. But there has been an issue with one or two of our suppliers.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear it.” He lowered his voice, looking around furtively. “A cash flow issue?”

“No, no, nothing like that. The vendors have already been paid.” Of course they have, Tom thought to himself, only slightly bitterly. Sidney was still speaking. “…it is due to a delay in the manufacturing. We are missing the ironworks needed for the roofing and windows. The seller writes to say he has been flooded with orders, and has changed the delivery date several times. He wrote yesterday to change it again. It is madness.”

Sidney seemed to be confiding in him now, which made Tom's heart swell slightly with pride. “Here I have a double crew ready to install the works, and finish the interior,” his brother continued, “but until the products are here, nothing can be done. The men are rapidly running out of work. And unless the building is weathertight by next week…the entire project will be delayed.”

“All of which – taking the thirty workers into special consideration - will cost you.” Tom finished, knowing only too well what Sidney faced.

“Yes.” his brother replied, simply. “And meanwhile…” Sidney’s expression now darkened, and glancing behind him Tom saw Edmund Langford driving past in a magnificent carriage. Tom turned back to Sidney, whispering. “Do you know what the Langfords are putting in? In place of the old shops?”

“Not yet. But I mean to find out.”

He was about to ask further questions, but Sidney’s expression shifted once more, this time in recognition. Tom turned to see Miss Lambe walking down the street. She was alone, and carrying a small white packet. “Georgiana!” Sidney called out, walking towards her. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Really? And why is that?” Miss Lambe returned flatly. “For it is not you I have come to see.” To Tom’s surprise, Georgiana passed by them both and greeted Mr. Fred Robinson most cheerfully. “Good afternoon, Mr. Robinson. I have brought you something - a  bit of gingerbread from Moffat’s bakery.” Fred took off his hat and wiped his brow. “That’s very kind of you, Miss Lambe, thank you! The favorite treat of any sheepherder, as you well know from the legend.” Tom did not understand this remark, but Georgiana laughed heartily and sat next to the man. She was now ignoring Sidney completely.

“Well!” Tom chuckled. “It would seem we have been dismissed.”

“Yes.” said Sidney, watching the pair thoughtfully. “It would seem we have.”

Chapter Text

Has he gone?” Georgiana asked, finishing her gingerbread.

“Mr. Sidney Parker?” Fred Robinson craned his neck to look behind her. “Yes, Miss Lambe.”

“Oh, thank heavens. I thought he would never leave.” She brushed the crumbs from her dress and leaned against a nearby scaffolding, letting out a contented sigh. Georgiana had high hopes of another diverting chat with Fred. She had been surprised to find him an amusing, if uncouth, companion at the ball. Perhaps he would help her while away the tedium of the day. Turning to him, she was startled to see Mr. Robinson looking at her intently. “If I may ask, Miss Lambe…Mr. Sidney Parker is your guardian, is he not?”

Georgiana frowned. “Yes. For ten more months, only.”

“And you do not like him?”

There it was again. That persistent, arrogant directness. Georgiana had hoped that they might have a pleasant afternoon together, and chewed her lip to prevent a bitter retort. “No. I do not.” She prayed Mr. Robinson would drop the subject there. His questioning, combined with the heat of the day, was making her feel dangerously cross.

But Fred pressed on. “Why?”

“That is none of your concern.”

He frowned, muttering gruffly. “True, Miss Lambe. But I am only trying to understand. From what I can see, Mr. Parker is a fair employer, and a decent man. All my men are paid up front, and in full. They are even given a half day off every other week. Which,” he chuckled grimly, “is a welcome change from Mr. Tom Parker. I have no reason at all to think him a dishonest, vindictive sort of person.”

“Then you do not know him as I do. You would not think so highly of him if you did.” Georgiana’s temper was flaring, but before she could change the subject her companion spoke once more.

“But what has he done? Might it not be righted?” There was no condemnation in Fred’s expression; no judgment. She could see that he was simply, genuinely, curious. Yet she was so weary of others’ attempts to mend her opinion of her guardian – Charlotte, Mary, Tom, and worst of all Sidney himself - that her temper got the better of her. “No. And I will thank you not to mention it again!” she replied, more severely than she had intended.

Fred looked taken aback by this outburst, and Georgiana was immediately remorseful. She had not meant to cripple their budding friendship. But why did he insist on discussing these most painful parts of her life? Why must he prod, with unfeigned interest, at the deeper layers of her nature?

And to what purpose were his questions? At best, he was a vain and idle gossip. At worst, he was seeking to manipulate her, to exploit her. To unravel the secrets of her soul and use them for his gain. For why else would he look at her so simply, so penetratingly? Georgiana was instantly defensive. And yet, as he muttered an apology and stood to leave, she found herself wanting to call after him. Somehow – despite his rudeness – she wanted him to stay. To continue to examine her. To want to know her better. And to keep asking his questions, no matter how many times she threw him off.

“Forgive me, Fred.” she called. As Georgiana had hoped, he stopped in his tracks. She took a deep, steadying breath. “I…I met Sidney when I was a little girl.” Fred immediately walked over and sat near her. This made Georgiana happier than she cared to admit, but pushing aside the feeling she continued her story. “He worked for my father, managing his exports. I did not know Sidney well – he would come to dinner now and again, and I saw him occasionally on the docks – but my father spoke often of his good qualities. Loyalty, hard work, and so on. My father thought him a fine man...a credit to him. Almost like his own son - he said those words over and over again. And when my father died - ” Georgiana’s voice wavered here, but she cleared her throat and pressed on, determinedly – “when my father died, he left me in Sidney’s care.” Georgiana resisted her next words, but before she could stop herself they poured forth. “And I hoped that, in time, he would become a – a sort of brother to me as well.” She realized with surprise that her cheeks were now wet with tears.

“What happened, then? After your father’s passing?” Fred was rapt with attention. Georgiana gave a hollow laugh, wiping her face with her glove. “Sidney revealed his true nature, that is what. A mere month after my father’s burial he ripped me from my homeland, and all my friends. He brought me to this awful, frigid place, and dumped me in the care of a ridiculous governess, with two giggling imbeciles as my only companions." Georgiana’s voice dripped with bitterness, and Fred let out a low whistle. He leaned forward onto his knees. “Quite a lot to handle. Losing your father. Being trapped in a room with the Beaufort sisters. No wonder you have been so unhappy. I am very sorry for it, Miss Lambe. And then,” he continued, frowning, “there is the whole business with Mr. Otis Molyneux.”

Georgiana looked at him in shock. Fred shrugged. “You hear things down the pub, sometimes.” She gave him a wry look and finished her explanation. “So, there you have it. He is a selfish, neglectful, incompetent guardian. He has maintained strict control over my friendships and activities. As such, I have no interest in being near him. And he would do well to stay clear of me.”

“Aye, that is understandable. Given what has happened in the past.” Fred straightened up, and she could see that he was hesitating. “But then…”

“But what?” Georgiana asked sharply. Fred shrugged once more. “Well…I know it is not for me to have an opinion, Miss Lambe…but, Mr. Parker removed you from the care of Mrs. Griffiths, did he not?”

“Only because Charlotte asked him to.” This was not entirely true - Sidney had made these arrangements during his engagement to Mrs. Campion. But she was not at all willing to admit this to Fred.

“Hmm. I see.” Mr. Robinson was still frowning. “But…has he not also allowed you great freedom, while you have been here this summer? Letting you stay with the Parkers, for example.” Fred looked around. “And you have no companion with you now, do you?” Georgiana bristled at these truths. “It is not freedom to be trapped in Sanditon, Mr. Robinson. Mark my words.”

“Well, would he take you to London, if you asked him? Or back to Antigua, for a visit if not to live?”

“I cannot ask him. The rebuild is not finished. He cannot go.”

“But have you asked him?” Fred insisted. Georgiana was losing patience again. “I assume you are trying to make some sort of point. If that is true, I wish you would just come out and say it.” She stifled a smile. “You promised me directness, after all.”

Fred leaned in closer, and to Georgiana’s surprise his proximity was not threatening, but comforting. “All I am saying is, he seems to be trying. And you ought to try a bit harder yourself, Miss Lambe. He may have been wrong in the past, but as I see it, you are the one making things worse now. And he’s not a bad sort, when it comes to it. Neither of you are.” Fred stood to leave. “Well. I ought to get back to work, Miss Lambe. A foreman has got to set the example, you see!” Georgiana’s mouth hung open in shock as Mr. Robinson began gathering his drawings and instruments. “You are, without doubt, the rudest, most arrogant –“

Fred interrupted her. “I would love to stay and hear you catalogue my faults, Miss Lambe. But unfortunately,” – he tapped his nose with a pencil -  “I have a roof that needs installing. Perhaps we might postpone this conversation? Take a walk with me. Sunday evening.” Georgiana raised her brows, but to her great surprise she heard herself agreeing. Fred grinned more widely than ever. “Until Sunday, then.” He strode away, and still slightly stunned, Georgiana began to collect her things.

“Stringer!” she heard Fred call out, and looking up she saw him run across the street to a tall, sandy-haired man in a blue coat. It was James Stringer, the foreman-turned-architect. Georgiana did not know him well, but she knew he was Mr. Robinson’s closest friend. She watched with interest as the two men laughed and shook hands, then embraced and clapped each other on the back. “But when did you get here?” Fred asked eagerly. “I thought you weren’t due till tomorrow?”

“Mr. Carter gave me an extra day off, so I came up early.” Stringer was beaming. “You look well, Fred! It seems being foreman agrees with you!”

“Aye - most days. Someone had to pick up the slack, since our old one left us to become one of the gentry!” He punched Stringer playfully on the arm and chuckled. “No matter. For I’m fairly certain I’m doing a better job.” Stringer jerked his head in the direction of the new building. “Certainly seems so, Fred. This is really quite something.” He pointed to the curved beams now being installed on the rooftop. “Is that going to support a dome?”

“That it is!” Fred’s chest puffed with pride. Stringer turned to his friend with interest. “Who is the architect?”

“A London fellow, by the name of Cox.” Fred handed him one of his drawings, which Stringer unrolled eagerly. “Although, rumor has it that the main design was drafted by – “ here Fred hesitated – “by Mrs. Parker herself.” Stringer raised his head from the drawing, but Georgiana could not see his expression. “I see.” His voice had suddenly become lower, and softer. “She’s still here, then?”

“Aye.”

“…and where is she staying?”

“The eastern terrace. Top floor, on the right side.” Fred cleared his throat. “But no more of this. We’ll be finishing the roof beams soon. Wait for me at the inn, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Thanks, Fred.” Stringer rolled up the drawing. “I’ll meet you there later...there is something I have to do.”

Chapter Text

James Stringer hesitated at Charlotte’s door. He was not entirely sure this plan was wise. But bolstered by his purpose – and an irresistible desire to see her – he knocked. A small, gray-haired woman in a lace cap answered the door. He assumed this was the Parkers’ housekeeper. “Yes?” she asked. “May I help you, Sir?”

“Good afternoon, Madame.” James said, taking off his hat. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Parker at home?”

“Mr. Parker is out on business, Sir. But yes, Mrs. Parker is in this afternoon.” James’ heart leapt a little at hearing these words. “And are you hoping to call upon Mrs. Parker, Sir?” the woman prompted, kindly.

“Yes, if you please. Mrs. - ?”

“My name is Mrs. O’Connor. I am the housekeeper here.” James looked behind her, wondering if he would catch a glimpse of Charlotte. Mrs. O’Connor waited for a moment, then prompted him again. “And….whom may I tell Mrs. Parker is calling, Sir?”

“Oh, forgive me Ma’am. James. That is – Mr. James Stringer.” James fumbled in his pocket for a calling card. At last he found one, and handed it to the housekeeper. Mrs. O’Connor accepted the bent little paper with an almost pitying look. She allowed James to pass inside to a small parlor and gestured to a chair. “I shall fetch Mrs. Parker. If you would be so kind as to sit here, Sir.”

James did not sit, for he was nervous. He distracted himself by pacing and taking in his surroundings. The Parkers appeared to be the only tenants of this terrace, and as such had the prime suite of rooms in it. The interior of this apartment was painted pale blue, with decorative white moldings and tall windows facing the sea. Looking around, he saw evidence of a semi-settled life. Enameled vases – Italian, by the look of it – were scattered about the room and filled with fresh blossoms. A few pieces of wedding silver could be seen on a nearby bureau. It appeared that the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Parker expected to be here for quite some time.

Mrs. Parker. Charlotte Parker. This was a difficult, and still somewhat painful concept to grasp. He had not seen Charlotte since October, and did not send best wishes on the occasion of her wedding. In fact, he had not contacted her at all since the day they parted. What would it be like to see her again? James began to feel uncertain of the welcome he would receive, and to wonder if he had done a very foolish thing in calling. He had half made up his mind to walk out of the apartment, when he heard a quick, light step on the stairs behind him. “James!”

He turned to see Charlotte running down the stairs. She was clearly overjoyed to see him. Her sunny expression put him at ease, and he shook hands with a merry laugh. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Parker!”

“Charlotte, please!” She was still smiling. “I had heard from Mr. Robinson that you were coming to Sanditon. It is so very, very good to see you!” James was more gratified by this welcome than he could say. Their parting in London had been painful, and – for him, at least - humiliating. This warm reception was more than he could have hoped for. “Please, sit!” she continued. James took a better look at Mrs. Parker as he sat across from her. Charlotte looked simply glorious – older somehow, and more elegant. Though she still dressed simply, as was her taste, her could see that her pale green gown was of a fine quality. Her hair was plaited at her side, and peeking from beneath her dark curls were a pair of pearl earrings. Her brown eyes were as beautiful and playful as ever. James found he was quite bashful in her presence.

“And what brings you to Sanditon?” Charlotte asked earnestly. “How long will you be staying?”

At last he found his voice. “I will be here a week, at the most. Mr. Carter has given me leave, so that I might visit some old friends.”

“Do you mean Fred Robinson? And Mr. Phillips?” James could not help but smile at Charlotte’s eager questioning. “Yes. And our other friend, Andrew Cole, who is to be wed on Monday. I am here to support him.”

“How marvelous.” Charlotte still smiled, but he noticed now that she often glanced about the apartment, as though uncomfortable that they were alone. Now that the first flush of their meeting was over, a strained silence fell between them. He endeavored to break it. “I – I saw the new terrace on my way over. It’s a very fine piece of work.”

“Do you think so?” Charlotte smiled. “I am so pleased you like it. Mr. Cox and I have worked very hard on it.” She leaned closer to him, eagerly. “Did you see the joists that will support the dome? I am told they are going in today. The glass itself will arrive next week. The entire atrium will be filled with light!”

James nodded. “Aye, I noticed that. It’s a brilliant feature, and very practical too. Did you…did you take your inspiration from the British Museum?”

“Yes.” Charlotte blushed, and he was sure she was also remembering when they had toured it together. James cleared his throat. “Well. The building is magnificent, Charlotte. And very forward-thinking. Mr. Carter is a firm believer that a building should meet its occupants’ needs in twenty years as well as it does today. It would appear you have followed that philosophy.”

“And how are things at Mr. Carter’s firm?” Charlotte asked. “Are you still enjoying your work?” Conversation was flowing more easily now, and James was thankful for it. “Yes. Very much. I just designed an infirmary in east London, and am working on several other buildings along the Thames.”

“You are heading your own buildings now!” Charlotte sounded impressed. “That speaks well of your dedication. You must be distinguishing yourself.”

“I don’t know about that.” James replied, modestly. “But Mr. Carter has been very good to me.”

“But of course you are distinguishing yourself. I always knew you would be successful.” Charlotte insisted, kindly. She paused on the verge of another question, opening her mouth and then stopping herself. He watched as she bit her lip, considering her next words carefully. “And…how are you, James? Have you…have you been well?” She looked as though she regretted asking this, for her cheeks flushed and her eyes sought the carpet instead of his face. “Forgive me.” She said. “Only…I never expected I would get the chance to ask you in person. I have wondered this often, since we – since we parted.”

James hesitated, grateful they had at last arrived at his reason for visiting, but still shy of the words he was to speak. “I am very well, Charlotte.” He took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact…one of the reasons I came to call today, was to tell you that I – I am courting a young lady in London. I have been for several months.”

“Oh!” Charlotte looked surprised at the turn the conversation had taken, but he could tell she was genuinely pleased by this news. “James, that is wonderful!.”

“Yes.” He felt relieved at how normally they were speaking of this. “Her name is Miss Susannah Carter.”

“Carter?” Charlotte raised a brow in curiosity. “Carter, as in…?”

“Howard and Carter, yes. She is the daughter of my employer. Mr. Carter invited me to dine with his family one evening, and…well, Miss Carter and I fell into conversation.”

“Goodness!” Charlotte laughed. “If she is your employer's daughter, I suppose that means you could be head of the firm yourself one day!”

James blushed. “I don’t know about that. But we…we seem to get on very well.”

Charlotte turned sweetly sincere. “I am so glad to hear it. And…” she hesitated again before asking, “…are you happy, James?”

He smiled sadly. Seeing Charlotte had reminded James of the tender feelings he cherished for her. There was a certain bittersweetness at being near her, and he did not know if that would ever fade. But the turn his life had taken enabled him to answer, truthfully, “Yes. In a different way than I had expected, but…yes, I am happy.”

Charlotte looked simply delighted, and a few tears sparkled in her eyes. “What is she like? Please tell me about her.”

“Well…” James said more brightly, searching for the right words. “Susannah is…very good-natured. Quiet, and sweet. People say that she has a gift for listening, and I see that. She has a patience about her, and could hear others speak for hours without complaint. But she has her own interests, as well, you must not think that she does not. She is a great reader of history. Intelligent. We find a lot to talk about. And she thinks I am very, very funny.” James could not help straightening with pride at this statement. He exhaled. “I like her, Charlotte. I like her more than I dared hope.” He looked at Mrs. Parker. “You may think it odd, or presumptuous of me to come here and tell you this. I was not sure if I should. But I know that you and I parted in a…a difficult manner last Autumn. And when I heard you were in Sanditon, I thought…maybe…”

“I am so glad you did, James.” Charlotte interjected. “Truly. I wish you every happiness. I always have. And it makes me more joyful than I can say to hear this news.” She looked extremely sincere, and feeling emboldened, he turned to her gratefully. “I suppose I also came to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Charlotte blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“For your encouragement, last summer. Regarding my plans. For your…your friendship. I might not be an architect today without it.” Charlotte was looking at him shrewdly. “If there is anyone that should be thanked, it is you.”

“Me?” It was now James’ turn to look surprised. “Whatever for?”

She chanted a memory. “If you can draw a line, you can draw a bridge.’ Do you remember telling me that? And now –“ she gestured in the direction of the rebuild – “a great many lines have been drawn, some by me. And I am enjoying the process more than anything I have done in my life.” Charlotte smiled. “I have been out of my depth with this project, and ready to withdraw more than once. But that phrase you spoke comes back to me – ‘if you can draw a line’ – and I remember that I can, and I must not give up. So, it is I who must thank you.”

James was embarrassed by this praise, though it made him happier than he could say. He simply nodded gruffly. Glancing at the clock, he realized with a start that he was late meeting Fred. “Forgive me, Charlotte – Mrs. Parker – but I am due at the inn to meet some friends. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course.” Charlotte stood and extended her hand. There was a sweet, sorrowful expression on her face. He wondered if it was mirrored on his own. “Goodbye, James. Have a happy time at Mr. Cole’s wedding. And –“ she smiled – “if yours is to come in the near future, please let Mr. Parker and I know. We should dearly love to send a gift.” James squeezed her hand gratefully, then released it. He opened his mouth to speak, but unable to give life to the tangle of emotions inside him, he politely bowed and left the room.

Chapter Text

Later that evening, Charlotte read An Architectural History of Western Europe while sitting in her bedroom’s window seat. It had been a very long and tiring day, and she found it difficult to focus on the evolution of cathedral buttresses. After reading the same paragraph for the fourth time without comprehending it, she set her book down and impatiently unbuttoned her linen collar. Today had been most oppressively hot, and she unlatched the window in hopes of a cool breeze. A thick wall of humid air rushed in instead. Dark clouds rolled over the sea in the distance, and a crackle of lightning split the sky. She would welcome a storm, she thought, if it would temper Sanditon’s weather.

Sidney was across the bedroom, sitting at the desk and reading letters that had come in the evening post. Charlotte watched as he impatiently broke the seal to a thick envelope. He swore to himself, throwing the letter down on a growing stack. “Not again.” he moaned, rifling through his papers. Charlotte suddenly noticed how tired he looked, and she closed her book with concern.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Charlotte?” he called. Sidney had evidently not heard her.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Have you moved anything from this desk?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why? What are you looking for?” Sidney began opening each of the desk’s drawers. “What are you looking for?” Charlotte repeated. He turned back to his stack of letters, frowning. “I cannot find an order summary. From the glass manufacturer – the one with the measurements and specifications. I need it to place a new order, with a different vendor.”

“A new order? But why? What is wrong?” Charlotte walked across the room to join him. Sidney looked truly weary now, but continued searching through his stack of invoices. “The glass manufacturer has withdrawn from our project.”

“What?” Charlotte was shocked. “But why? They assured us the dome would arrive next week. Why would they withdraw now?”

“They write that the work is too complex, and that they must give their attention to other, more pressing projects.”

“Too complex?” Charlotte frowned. “But…they are a bespoke manufacturer, are they not? Surely they welcome complex orders?”

“You would think so.” Sidney’s jaw was clenched in dissatisfaction, and a muscle in his temple began to throb – as it always did when he was under stress. “And of course, they did not tell us this until after they received our payment. I shall make them refund our order, make no mistake. But it will take time for us to find a new supplier.” Sidney sat down behind the desk, swearing once again under his breath. “I always knew Sanditon would be the death of me. Where is that form?”

“Let me help you search.” Charlotte offered. Together they looked through and sorted all the bills, order summaries, and ledger sheets in sight, but the dome specifications were nowhere to be found. “Mr. Cox will have a copy.” Charlotte suggested. “We can ask him for it tomorrow.”

“Yes. Very well, very well. But for goodness’ sake…finding a new vendor will take at least a week, maybe two. And then we must wait for the delivery.” Sidney rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “The men are nearly finished with the exterior, and the building is still not weatherproof.” A boom of thunder rolled in the distance, as if emphasizing Sidney’s dilemma. “First the ironworks, now this.” he groaned. “What next?” He pulled his account book towards him, and began scratching new figures at the bottom of the ledger.

“Are we running out of funds?” Charlotte asked with concern. Sidney was busy calculating, and did not at first answer. Finally, he spoke. “As I thought. We have enough of the loan remaining to keep the project going for…” he scratched out a sum – “ten days. I would prefer to keep the men on retainer while we wait, but...it would require us to seek another loan.” Sidney exhaled roughly. “And I would rather not do that.”

“Nor I.” Charlotte was beginning to feel truly worried. “Can we not write to the glassmaker? Might we insist that they send us what they have completed? Perhaps a local craftsman could finish the work?” Even as she suggested it, she knew this to be impossible. There was no glassmaker in Sanditon, and even if there were, it would take a master craftsman to cast a dome that would so precisely lock into the roof casings.

“From their letter, it does not sound as if though they have even started it. An absolutely unacceptable deception, they will be hearing from more from me about it. But I do not understand – where has the summary gone? Has anyone been here? Jenny or Alicia, playing perhaps? Might they have moved it?” Sidney frowned, then crossed the room and opened the bedroom door. He called into the hallway. “Mrs. O’Connor? Could you come here, please?” Charlotte answered his earlier question. “No one has been to visit in the last week. Except – except Mr. Stringer, this afternoon. But of course, he did not come into this room.” Charlotte was not sure why she felt so embarrassed as she spoke. Sidney looked back at her in surprise. “Oh.” was his only response. “Yes…I had heard Stringer was in Sanditon.” Sidney cleared his throat. “So, he – “

Mrs. O’Connor entered, cutting off Sidney’s question. “Yes, Mr. Parker?”

Sidney turned to face her. “Excuse me for disturbing you, Mrs. O’Connor, but I am missing several papers from my desk. Important documents. Order summaries, bills, and so forth.”

Charlotte suddenly remembered something. “And your master order book. The one you thought you had misplaced, weeks ago.”

“Yes.” Sidney recalled. “Have you seen them, Mrs. O’Connor? Or even moved them? For cleaning, perhaps?”

“No, Mr. Parker.” Mrs. O’Connor looked slightly ashen-faced under this examination. “I am very sorry to say that I have not, Sir. I – I take special care not to disturb any of the papers on your desk. For I sense their importance, I assure you I do.” The poor woman’s voice began to tremble. “I should be very sorry if I have inadvertently caused their loss. I did open the window to freshen the room last week… perhaps the wind swept them away when I was not looking?” Mrs. O’Connor covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, Mr. Parker, it must have been my fault. Please forgive me, I –“

“I am sure that is not the case, Mrs. O’Connor.” Charlotte soothed her. She was finding that the woman was a great deal too apt to take blame for any misfortune. “I am sure the documents will turn up soon. It is most likely a misunderstanding.”

“Yes.” Sidney agreed, but he looked very distracted as he sat down and returned to his ledger. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor. Goodnight.” The poor woman left, whimpering a little as she did so.

“What was that about?” Charlotte asked.

Sidney suddenly froze, his pen hovering over his account book. “Langford.” he muttered to himself. He looked sharply up at Charlotte. “Do you trust her?”

“What?” Charlotte laughed. “What do you mean?”

“Do you trust Mrs. O’Connor?” Sidney repeated.

“Sidney.” Charlotte reproached him. “Mrs. O’Connor is the dearest woman in the world. Of course I trust her. Do not you?”

Sidney set his pen down and ran a hand over his chin. It was dark with stubble, and Charlotte was struck again by how tired Sidney looked. “Yes, I suppose so. But…something is wrong, Charlotte. I have no wish to sound…paranoid, for lack of a better word…but I am starting to think these manufacturing delays are not random incidents.” He leaned forward. “Think about it. Our project was progressing on schedule. But the ironworks have been held up for weeks now, and each time the vendor writes his excuses are weaker, more vague. Now we are without a dome at a critical stage of the build. We are losing capital. We may soon have to release our workers. And I have a sense of who might enjoy watching that happen.”

Charlotte was wide-eyed. “Do you mean…Robert Langford?” She had not mentioned either Langford brother since the incident at the costume ball. Sidney flinched at the name, but nodded stiffly. “You know that they have purchased the freehold to two local shops.”

“Yes, I heard.” Charlotte pulled a chair near him. “The milliner, and the… what was it?”

“The clockmaker. But Langford has already made it very clear he hopes to own more of Sanditon. Our portion, specifically.” There was a peculiar gleam in Sidney’s eye. He looked agitated - almost feverish – and, though she did not like to see it, he was obviously enlivened by the prospect of a challenge. Charlotte attempted to change the subject. She found she had no wish to discuss Robert Langford, or his ulterior motives. “Let us hope you are mistaken. Perhaps they will content themselves with a small venture. One or two bad buildings will not undermine all of Sanditon, after all.” Charlotte lowered her voice. “Surely they have gotten what they wanted, and will move on.” Sidney rubbed his chin once more, pondering. “No. That is not Langford’s game. He is moving slowly. But he intends to expand, mark my words. He has a foothold now. And he will fill the city like a plague. It is his way.”

“And you truly think he is behind the delayed orders?” Charlotte whispered. Sidney shrugged. “…I do not know. But we have had a string of bad luck lately. Costly bad luck. I have to consider it.”

Charlotte massaged her temple, thinking hard. “And you suspect Mrs. O’Connor is a part of some…plot? To steal and sell our secrets?” The words sounded ridiculous even as Charlotte spoke them. By Sidney’s reaction, she could see he felt the same. He let out a slow puff of air. “All I know is, the circumstances are suspicious. And if Langford is behind these delays, his information must be coming from somewhere. Cox, perhaps?” Sidney shook himself, as though thinking this too was a laughable suggestion. He returned to his ledger. “You suggested the documents might have been misplaced. Let’s leave it at that for tonight.” Sidney took a deep breath, seemingly ready to discuss lighter topics. “So…Mr. Stringer came by today, did he?”

Charlotte could feel herself flushing, but she met his gaze steadily. “Yes. He called this afternoon. He is in Sanditon all this week, for a friend’s wedding.”

“I see. Is he – is he well?” Sidney’s smile was rather fixed, and Charlotte looked at him curiously, unable to discern her husband’s emotion. “Yes. Very well.”

“Good. I am glad to hear it. And…what did he think of the new terrace?” Sidney’s tone was still determinedly casual. A smile slowly broke across Charlotte’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, frowning.

“Nothing. Only I thought…I thought you might be upset at hearing he called. Even angry. Or that you might have suspected I was…”

“What?” Sidney prompted.

Charlotte was truly embarrassed now. “…hiding a secret romance, perhaps.”

To her surprise, Sidney looked genuinely hurt. “Did you really think that? Do you doubt that I would trust you, Charlotte?”

“No,” she said, hesitating. “Not really. That is – I have worried you might have doubted me…since the – the incident at the ball, with Mr. Langford.” Charlotte had not spoken of her exchange with Mr. Langford after that night, and nor had Sidney. It still distressed her greatly, but she felt a desire to unburden herself. And since she and Sidney were speaking so openly, she ventured to do so. “I…” here voice began to quiver. “…I have been wondering if, if somehow it was my fault. If I have encouraged him without realizing it, or given him cause to –“

“No.” Sidney sounded very firm. “Langford is a snake. You did nothing. Do not reproach yourself. Men like Langford are predators more than people. They will always find a woman that loathes them the greatest trophy of all.”

“But surely –“

“Listen to me, Charlotte. This is not your fault.” His voice had now become very gentle, and despite his earlier look of hurt, he reached for her. She moved near him, and he drew her to his knee. She clasped her hands behind his neck. “And as for the other matter," Sidney continued, "…I suppose you worried that I might be jealous of Mr. Stringer. Is that it?” Charlotte buried her face in Sidney’s chest, wanting to avoid his gaze. “Yes.” she whispered.

Sidney seemed to be considering this. When he next spoke, he sounded as though he were thinking aloud. “A man with a wife like you, Charlotte, must know that she will be admired. I cannot quake with jealousy if other men recognize what I have seen.” Sidney began stroking his stubble again, thoughtfully. “I have already determined to brush off those little attentions given you.” He waved a hand. “I have done, already, several times. They are compliments – to you, and to my particular good fortune.” He suddenly cleared his throat. “Langford is a separate matter. He cannot be trusted, and if he dares approach you again, I mean to thrash him. Stringer, however - Stringer is your friend. So let him be mine as well.”

Charlotte was looking at Sidney in amazement. Her heart was full at hearing these words. “You trust me so implicitly?”

He nodded fervently. “I do. I know I can.”

“Of course I am grateful,” she said, trying not to be moved to tears, “and knowing myself, I know that trust is warranted…but why are you so convinced, please? How do you know?”

He shifted in his seat, thinking once more. “I suppose…” he looked at her intently, and she could see he was struggling to put into words what he felt. “Being married now, and feeling as close as we have…” he smiled. “…holding you, naked to my heart, and seeing the – the look in your eyes…I suppose I feel as though we – we are almost part of each other.” He seemed to struggle with the intimacy of this speech, but pressed on. “I know you too well to think you would stray. But at the same time, if you did…I would only want your happiness.” He cleared his throat, as though he had decided it was best to stay away from tender emotion in this moment. Sidney smiled wryly. “At the very least, I know you well enough to suspect that if you wanted to be rid of me, you would tell me straight to my face.”

Charlotte laughed at this, and a happy tear or two fell on her cheek. She kissed him. “Oh, Mr. Parker.” She smiled sweetly. “Look what we have done to each other.”

He drew Charlotte a bit closer, and she laid her head on his chest. She stayed there for some minutes, enjoying the warmth and closeness of this moment. “Mary once told me that your greatest trait is loyalty. That when you love someone, you love them for life.” Charlotte felt his chest tighten at these words. “Yes.” he replied, almost questioningly. She looked up at him. “Can you not see? I am the same. Even during our separation, I - I never ceased loving you. And whatever should happen in the future…I never will.” Her mouth was stopped at this moment by a passionate, unexpected kiss from her husband. Despite Sidney’s words, Charlotte could tell he was reassured. She could feel his gratitude, his love – and his longing. It seemed to course through every particle of his flesh, and hers by extension. He leaned her backwards, against the desk, and lifting her slightly upon it a pile of letters rained to the floor.

After a series of blinding kisses, his hand moved to the small of her back. She whispered in his ear a very private direction for specific, continued caresses. His breath quickened, and sweeping her off the desk he began walking to the bed. But, still kissing her, he stumbled – his boot had caught on the rug – and fell with her to the ground. Charlotte did not care. At some point she must have unbuttoned his vest, for in a flash of movement Sidney cast it off. Bending over her once more, he kissed her lips, then her neck…then gently, so gently, her collarbone…and lower still.

Charlotte was pulling off Sidney’s shirt when she realized that it had begun to rain, heavily. The window was still open, and water was now pouring in from the outside storm. “Oh good heavens!” she muttered, sliding out from Sidney’s embrace and running to the window. She managed to latch it, and stood looking out for a moment as a tremendous web of lightning flashed across the sky. She adjusted her chemise, which had slipped off her shoulder, and turned back to Sidney. He was sitting on the rug, now bare-chested, and with a letter in his hands. The note was one of many that had fallen to the floor, and as he turned it over Charlotte could see the seal was unbroken. Sidney was frowning. “I am not sure how I missed this.”

“Who is it from?” Charlotte asked, walking over.

“The local magistrate. I…may have asked him for information on the Langford brothers’ planning permissions. I want to know what they mean to build.”

“And he would share that with you?” Charlotte asked, impressed by Sidney’s forethought. “No, not normally.” he admitted. “But I suggested it would be to the town’s general benefit if he did so…as it might influence our own inclination to stay.” Sidney let out a short burst of laughter. “He seemed more eager to share after that.” Charlotte smiled and sat next to her husband. “Open it.” He looked hesitant. “Are you sure? You do not wish to…” he tilted his head towards the rug where she had lain.

“Open it.” she insisted, linking her arm through his and preparing to read over his shoulder. If this letter contained information on how to be rid of the Langfords, it would be well worth forgoing this moment. Sidney broke the seal. He was a faster reader than Charlotte, and within moments had let out a triumphant cry. “I knew it.” He jumped to his feet and began searching the desk for a second paper. “The magistrate confirms they plan to build a gaming hall, and an apothecary shop.”

“An apothecary shop?” Charlotte frowned. “That seems a bit out of character, does it not?”

“Not at all.” Sidney had found his second letter, and was re-reading it with the same look of triumph. “I wrote to a friend in London. William Blakeney. He’s a bit of a scoundrel, if I am honest, but useful when it comes to hard-to-get information.” Sidney sat near Charlotte on the ground. “William knows them. He says the Langfords own a string of businesses throughout England - gaming rooms, hotels, theaters, and the like. This we already knew. But he also says that in each town they have done business, they have constructed an apothecary shop. Why?”

Charlotte had no idea why Sidney looked so very triumphant. “Perhaps the Langfords are particularly conscious of their health?” she offered. A boom of thunder startled her, and she returned to the window to ensure it was securely latched.

“It’s a front.” Sidney answered, and he looked almost gleeful. “Oh, it is true, they sell herbs and remedies of all kinds. But William – again, a bit of a libertine, you must remember – says that the Langfords also secretly traffic in opium. They import it from the east, on the black market, and sell it in specific compounds that only their customers know to request. William has used their services himself.” Charlotte was truly shocked. “Opium? And no one has discovered this?” she whispered.

“A great many people have, of course.” Sidney was now gathering up the scattered letters and putting the desk to rights. He was reinvigorated with energy. “But anyone who has found them out has either been a willing customer, or someone stupid enough to be bribed to keep the secret.”

“You must expose their plans.” Charlotte said, urgently. “Surely the town would rally against them if they knew. Will you tell the constable? Or…” she looked at him in despair. “Will he already be in their pocket?”

Sidney shook his head. “We can do nothing yet. I need more proof. Perhaps I can get Blakeney down here. I will write to him tonight.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime…” Sidney ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I need information from Robert Langford himself. I think it is high time I accepted one of his invitations to play cards.” Charlotte was struck with anxiety at this idea. “Sidney, you must be careful. Keep your temper. Do not let him know you suspect.”

Sidney walked to the window, sitting next to Charlotte in its seat. He looked at her solemnly. “We must both be careful of the Langfords, I think.” The rain pelted harder at the window, and taking his hand, Charlotte watched the lightning in silence.

Chapter Text

That Saturday morning, James Stringer walked alone through the streets of Sanditon. He had spent the last few days sailing and fishing with his friends, and had not had a chance to check the progress of Charlotte’s building. Telling Fred he would rejoin the fellows later, he took the long way home so that he might pass it. Sanditon’s streets were still muddy after the storm, and his boots splashed pleasantly through puddles as he walked. As he neared the structure, he saw to his surprise that activity on the site had greatly lessened. Only five to ten workers could be seen, aimlessly shifting wood or drying off the more soaked parts of the interior frame.

James was not the only one observing the structure. About ten feet away stood a dark-haired gentleman, impeccably dressed and leaning on a gold-tipped cane. He was viewing the silent works with interest. Seeing James, the man inclined his head toward the terrace. “Shame about that, is it not?”

“About what, Sir?”

“The delay on the project.” The man sighed. “Word has it there has been a supply shortage, or some such thing. Such a misfortune for all the residents of Sanditon. To have put up with a burned shell for almost a year, only to have the replacement build sit unfinished. It seems a great injustice.”

“I would not worry, Sir. No doubt the works will resume quickly.”

“Oh I hope so, for Sanditon’s sake. A great many citizens of your charming town depend upon it.” The man gestured again to the scaffolding. “As you can see, the majority of Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s workers have been let go. Poor souls. Such a great misfortune.”

James had a sudden feeling of dislike for the man, although he could not trace why. Something in the man’s prematurely tragic expression irked him. He seemed more satisfied than sympathetic. Feeling a sudden obligation to defend Charlotte, James glanced at the roof and he replied evenly, “Rest assured, Sir. The Parkers are able managers. Once the building is weathertight, the workers will be called back. I have no doubt the interior could be finished in a matter of –“ he did some quick calculations in his head – “two to three weeks, under a double crew.”

The man was now looking at James with curiosity. “You seem to know a great deal about these proceedings. What is your name, young man?”

“James Stringer.”

“But of course!” The man strode towards him, extending his hand. “Sanditon’s very own architect. Robert Langford, at your service.” James shook the man’s hand, which was surprisingly clammy. “It is no wonder you are so well-informed,” Langford continued, “having previously been foreman on the terraces yourself.”

James frowned, pulling his boot out of a particularly muddy patch. “I suppose so. Forgive me for asking, Sir…but how is it that you know my name?” Robert Langford waved his hand dismissively. “I am a businessman. It is my duty to learn as much as I can about the towns in which I invest. Such a dreadful shame about your father, by the way. Tragic.” James stiffened at this unexpected, glib condolence. He did not respond and looked down, busying himself again with his boots. Langford spoke once more.

“James Stringer.” He looked ponderous. “How very fortunate I am to meet such a close friend of Mr. and Mrs. Parker. Tell me, how are the newlyweds faring under the strain of the build? No trouble in paradise, I hope?” James turned to face the man squarely. He had a sense that the less he said to this man, the better. “I could not say. In fact, I do not claim particular closeness with any member of the Parker family. I am afraid you have received faulty information, Sir.”

Langford raised his brows in amusement. “Indeed?”

“Yes.”

“Well…I am sorry to hear it.” Langford’s smile was a little too knowing for James’ comfort, and he shifted uncomfortably in the mud. “For if they are truly out of their depth – “ here the man nodded at the unfinished building – “then they will soon need the support of their friends. Charlotte in particular. Fiery types do not respond well to disappointed hopes. I have seen it time and again.” James felt a surge of annoyance at the intimacy with which Langford spoke of Charlotte. He was about to tell him off when the man raised his cane between them, suddenly. James flinched at the sharp motion, but Langford appeared only to be inspecting its golden handle. “No matter.” he said absently. “No doubt Mrs. Parker will find ample sources of consolation, when needed. Good day to you, Mr. Stringer.” And without another word, Langford walked off, leaving a bewildered James to sink slowly in the mud.  

Chapter Text

That same afternoon, Edmund Langford attempted to while away the heat of the day by resting. He had done everything he could to assure his comfort – opened the window, removed his boots, and doused his face and neck in cold water – yet nothing gave him relief. The heat was sweltering, and the itchy woolen blankets provided by the Crown Hotel did nothing to help matters. After tossing and turning in bed for twenty minutes, Edmund stood in frustration and went to pour himself a glass of brandy. As he drank, he looked out the window at Sanditon’s muddy street. “Cursed place.” he muttered to himself. Once again, he found himself longing for the day they would leave.

Robert had shown a peculiar tenacity when it came to this dingy little seaside town. He would brook no opposition, insisting that they remain and gradually buy out the Parker brothers’ shares. It was not the cutthroat nature of this plan that bothered him; Edmund was perfectly accustomed to Robert’s ruthless business moves, and applauded them. They had done well, after all. What Edmund could not condone was the lack of a clear return on the present investment. Robert was not usually one to buy or build unless it would turn a quick profit. And, looking at the books today, all Edmund could see was the outflow of sterling. Pounds upon pounds had been spent at every shop in Sanditon, in hopes of charming the community. They had even donated to the local church. And then there were the properties. Edmund winced as he thought of them. Two tiny shops, purchased for more than double their value. He feared Robert’s normally sharp financial instincts had been dulled by the strong allure of Mrs. Parker – an investment Edmund was sure would not pay off - and the prospect of bringing down her husband.

Edmund groaned and downed the last of his brandy. The thought of Mr. Sidney Parker was most worrying of all. The man looked as though he could beat them both senseless without bruising a knuckle. No woman was worth that, whatever Robert might say. He set his glass down firmly, determined to have it out with his brother once and for all. Pulling on his boots, Edmund heard sounds of a muffled conversation through the bedroom’s thin wall. Robert’s room was on its other side, and his brother was apparently having a private meeting. Edmund could make out Robert’s discreet murmuring. The other speaker’s voice was strangely pitched, and unfamiliar. He could not tell if it belonged to a woman or man.  

Edmund pressed his ear to the wall, immediately suspicious of this conference. He could make out only fragments of speech, and tried to quiet his breathing so that he might hear more.

“…and you are prepared for tonight?” Robert asked.

“Yes.” the strange voice replied. “All is in order.”

“Good. We are nearly there now.”

“But when will I –“

“You will get it when you return, and not before. And stop asking. Now go - take the back stairs.” Robert’s door creaked open, and Edmund heard a shuffle of footsteps as the speaker departed through the common room. Edmund drew his ear swiftly away from the wall, illogically worried that he might be discovered. Seconds later Robert knocked on his door. “Ed? Are you awake?”

"...Yes, all right, come in, then."

The door creaked open, and Robert stood in its frame. He seemed startled to see Edmund sitting at attention.

“What the devil are you doing there, Ed?”

“Who were you meeting with?” Edmund demanded. “Just now? What are you up to?”

Robert scowled and reached in his pocket for a cigar. “Eavesdropping, were you? I dislike a snitch, brother.”

“And I dislike a renegade.” Edmund retorted. “What are you planning, and why are you acting alone?”

“I’m not.” Robert lit his cigar, filling the room with smoke. “I was arranging matters for the card game this evening. My guest was merely assisting me. All is in hand.”

“Who was that guest? And help you with what?” Edmund pressed. He was becoming increasingly frustrated. “Robert, I implore you, keep things above board this evening. We need those planning permissions from the magistrate, and any trouble tonight will surely –“

“As I said, brother. All is in hand.” Robert sat down and kicked his boots up near the open window. Edmund wanted to say more, but remained silent. Arguments were clearly futile at this stage. He let out a shuddering sigh. “Fine. If you say that all is in hand...then I shall let it rest. For now."

"Good."

The brothers were silent for several moments. Edmund clutched at his whiskers, and broke the tension with another question. "Who is playing tonight, then?”

“You. Me.” Robert puffed on his cigar. “Sidney Parker, Tom Parker, and Lord Babington. Quite a group. I think we stand to do quite well.”

Edmund did not like this lopsided grouping. It was undoubtedly in Mr. Parker's favor. "Why has Sidney Parker agreed to play, after all this time?"

Robert shrugged, tapping ash off the end of his cigar. "No doubt he hopes to frighten me out of town. Or bleed me of cash. Ha!" Robert smirked. "If so, he has got another thing coming."

"You're enjoying this."

"I admit, I am."

Edmund looked at him with narrowed eyes. "And Mrs. Parker? Where will she be this evening? Abandoned, and husbandless, as was doubtless your intent?"

"No." He tapped more ash off the end of his cigar. "I have already made inquiries. She will be dining with Mrs. Mary Parker."

“I only hope you know what you are doing.” Edmund shook his head mournfully, but Robert's face split into a grin. “That I do, little brother. That I do.”

Chapter Text

Only a few streets away, Charlotte and Sidney were visiting with Tom and Mary. The family had enjoyed a luncheon together, and Uncle Sidney had just been ordered by Henry to play 'monsters eating children'. He immediately obliged, rolling up his sleeves and chasing his nephew through drawing room. Henry’s half-delighted, half-terrified squeak at this turn of events had the ladies nearly doubled over in laughter. “You will never take me alive!” cried the boy, kicking and punching at every inch of his uncle he could reach. Sidney simply growled and tousled the boy's hair.

“Uncle Sidney never takes prisoners, remember?” chirped Jenny, throwing paper balls at him from across the room. “But I shall save you, Henry! Look out, Uncle Sidney – a poisonous hailstorm!”

“Not that…anything but that!” moaned Sidney, feigning sudden weakness and withering onto the floor. “It is…deadly to me.” With a last exaggerated gasp, he collapsed on the carpet. Alicia and Henry tiptoed nearer. “Mummy,” whispered little Alicia, “have we killed Uncle Sidney?” Henry found the courage to nudge the corpse with his toe. At that moment, Sidney rose up with a sharp “Ha!” and chased the screaming children into the hall. Mary turned to Charlotte, still overcome with laughter. “I do not know when the children have had such a good time. What favorites you are becoming with them!”

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you.” Charlotte was smiling as she watched Sidney from a distance. He so dearly loved being with children. It was the first kindly attribute she had noted in him last year. Love for Sidney swelled quietly in her heart as she saw him help Henry with his shoe, which had fallen off during the chase.

“What a shame you cannot both join us for dinner tonight. When is the wretched card game, then?” Mary’s question brought Charlotte out of her reverie. “Eight o’clock.” she answered. “And wretched is the right term for it.”

“Why should the game be wretched?” objected Tom, emerging from his newspaper. “I think it is a fantastic plan. We shall have a gentlemanly discussion of Sanditon’s future, and align our mutual interests. Sidney has a gift for persuasion, you see. Who knows but he and the Langfords might come to a diplomatic arrangement. I am rather looking forward to it.”

“You, my dear?” said Mary in surprise. “Are you playing this evening?”

“But of course!” Tom smiled jovially. Mary sighed and set down her teacup. “There is always something.”

“I am glad he will be there.” murmured Charlotte, so that only Mary might hear. “I am not at all sure the discussion will be as ‘gentlemanly’ as Tom supposes.”

“What do you fear might happen?” asked Mary, glancing at Tom with sudden concern. “Will it…will it be at all dangerous?”

“Will what be dangerous?” Sidney had returned from his game, and was rolling down his sleeves. It was Tom who answered. “Mary and Charlotte seem to think that tonight’s card game will be steeped in peril.” He reopened his paper in amusement. “The only peril I see is that of losing ten or twenty pounds to the Langford leeches. Oh, do not worry, my dear.” Tom said, as Mary opened her mouth to object. “I have already determined not to bid more than a ten. I am merely there to support my brother.” Tom smiled cheerily at Sidney, who was watching Charlotte with a grave expression.

“It will be all right, Charlotte.” Sidney reassured her.

“Mr. Langford will attempt to goad you.” Charlotte warned. “You must be on your guard. Do not let him…” her voice trailed off uncertainly. She was not sure how much to say in front of Tom and Mary. Sidney seemed to understand her implication, for he nodded stiffly. “The evening will be calm and cordial. I assure you. At any rate…I will have Tom and Babington there if things get - heated.”

“Lord Babington is also playing?” Charlotte looked relieved. “Good. You will outnumber the Langfords, at least.” She tried to laugh, but could not disguise her look of concern.

“We ought to be going, Charlotte.” said Sidney, pulling on his coat. “It is nearly three.” Charlotte stood and kissed Mary goodbye. “Where are you off to?” Tom asked with interest. Sidney took out his timepiece, suddenly avoiding his brother’s gaze. “Sanditon House.”

“Ah!” Tom tried to appear pleased as he walked them out of doors. “For a shareholder meeting, I presume! With Lady Denham. Oh, I see, I see. An…important task, to be sure. Well, off with you, then.” 

"Until this evening, Mary." Charlotte said, climbing into their carriage.

“Goodbye then, Auntie Charlotte! Goodbye, Uncle Sidney!” called the Parker children in a chorus, waving as frantically as if the couple had commenced a sea voyage. Charlotte laughed and watched as they faded into the distance.

*****

The drive to Sanditon House was not long, and within twenty minutes the couple was following Lady Denham’s butler into her study. The heavy oak door swung open with a creak, revealing Lady Denham sitting behind her desk. “Mr. and Mrs. Parker, Ma’am.” the man announced imperiously. Lady Denham looked up from a letter she had been reading with the aid of a silver lorgnette. A tiered platter of sugared sweets – pink, green, and gold - was at her side. “There you are.” she said in welcome, removing the glasses. “Please sit, Mr. and Mrs. Parker.”

They did so, and Charlotte noticed once again how much more comfortable and intimate this room felt compared to Lady Denham’s dramatic, grand reception hall. She, too seemed warmer outside of its black and gold glare. Smiling at Charlotte, she suspended the tiered tray in front of her face. “Would you care for some marzipan, Mrs. Parker? It is imported. From Spain. The rose is especially nice.” Charlotte caught a strong whiff of almond sugar.

“Oh – thank you, Lady Denham.” She took the flower-shaped pink, just for something to do. They had not met with Lady Denham privately since they had first come to Sanditon, and Charlotte was not sure this summons meant good tidings. Sidney seemed to share her thoughts, as he was once again viewing Lady Denham with politely veiled skepticism.

“I suppose you know why I have asked you here.” the great lady began. To Charlotte’s surprise, Sidney nodded and launched into a brisk report. “You would like to discuss the stalled construction. Very well. It is true we have stopped production for a time. But we plan to resume the works as soon as we can find new glass suppliers. And we have already – “

“A moment, Mr. Parker.” said Lady Denham, holding her hand up and frowning. “I have no interest in discussing your building. Despite its incomplete state, I hear tell that our London guests – led by your Lady Susan - are filling the town day after day, boating, and sea bathing, and admiring my dear asses.” Lady Denham seemed particularly proud of this last point. “I trust that you will, someday, complete your building. And in the meantime, it does not seem to be affecting the enjoyment of our tenants. So let us say no more on the subject at present. No, no…what I have to say relates to the wharf.”

“What about it?” asked Charlotte, politely raising the marzipan to her lips.

“It would seem,” answered Lady Denham, pulling her discarded letter towards her, “that your right to develop the old fishing wharf is being contested…by Mr. Robert Langford, and his brother Edmund.” Charlotte and Sidney exchanged a weary look. This news did not come as a surprise to either. She took a distracted bite of her marzipan and nearly choked. The rose flavor was quite overpowering.

“In my letter, Mr. Pickering says – “

“Pickering?” Charlotte interrupted.

“Yes yes, the local magistrate.” Lady Denham said with a brush of her hand. “He says that the Langfords are challenging your claim to the development rights, as no work has taken place on the wharf since that license was issued eighteen months ago. They cite –“ here Lady Denham held her lorgnette to her eyes once more – “a gross neglect of Sanditon’s economic prospects, a disregard for its public spaces, and a growing discontentment among its populace regarding the derelict wharf. They formally request the immediate revocation of Mr. Sidney Parker’s development rights, where both the fishing wharf and public pier are concerned.”

“After which they will apply for those rights themselves, I assume.” Charlotte was fuming at this news. “But consider, Lady Denham. We only took up our stake two months ago, and have worked devotedly on the terrace since that time. We have employed many of the town’s tradesmen. These claims of neglect are wholly unjust, and without basis.”

Lady Denham raised her brows. “Indeed? Of course I am sympathetic, Mrs. Parker. But I am afraid the Langfords have a stronger case for neglect than you will allow. Have you not always said that you plan to rebuild your terrace, and return to London?”

“Yes, but that is because –“

“And what will happen to these public spaces without you?” Lady Denham asked, pointedly. “Presumably you will sell to the highest bidder. Is that not so? Why should the public not feel abandoned?” Charlotte opened her mouth to protest, but could not find a logical rebuttal. She took another bite of the sickly-sweet marzipan. “Presumably, it is that sentiment the Langfords will invoke to strip you of your license. Of course,” Lady Denham continued, “these claims would crumble if you were to announce your own plan for the wharf. Something that would enrich and enliven it. Before the Langfords could make their greedy little move.” She looked sharply from Charlotte to Sidney. “Well? What are your notions?”

Charlotte sighed resignedly. “We appreciate your warning, and your vote of confidence, Lady Denham. But we have no plan to develop the wharf at present. Indeed, we have no concept of what to introduce.” Lady Denham was watching Sidney intently. She smiled and narrowed her eyes. “I would not be so sure of that, Mrs. Parker. I can see an idea is brewing in your husband’s mind.”

“What?” laughed Charlotte, looking over at Sidney. She had only just realized that he had been quiet this whole time, and glancing over, she saw that Lady Denham was right. Sidney’s expression was labored, and his eyes darted quickly over the carpet as though he were thinking, hard. He looked up at Charlotte reluctantly, and wincing slightly, he turned to Lady Denham. “A restaurant.”

Lady Denham's brow furrowed in disdain. “What is that? Did I hear you correctly?”

“A restaurant. On the edge of the sea, where guests might visit and dine together.” Sidney looked as though these words cost him a great effort to say. Charlotte, on the other hand, was thrilled by the idea. “But of course!” she cried. “A restaurant! Somewhere for our guests to gather, to break bread together. And right on the edge of the sea – the prospect will be lovely! And it could be easily supplied, there are farms not far from the wharf, and then of course there is the bounty of the sea – “

“A restaurant?” croaked Lady Denham with displeasure. “Is that not a terribly…a terribly French idea? Why, there are no restaurants at all to be found in England.” She laughed derisively. “I have never heard such a vulgar plan, not even from Mr. Tom Parker!”

“Let the cuisine be French, then.” said Sidney, nodding. “Let the foreign nature be a draw, rather than a detriment. Let it be exclusive.” Charlotte was so enthused she could hardly speak. “Think on it, Lady Denham. The first, and only, seaside restaurant in England.” Lady Denham’s mouth twitched at seeing Charlotte’s excitement. Yet she raised another objection. “That is all very well and good, but who would frequent it? Our wealthier guests will be gone by summer, and this little town could not support a French restaurant year-round.

Charlotte had at last found her opportunity. “That brings to mind another matter, Lady Denham. I have been thinking…” she glanced at Sidney for reassurance, and continued, “…about how to promote Sanditon’s tourism. It seems to me that – as mutual shareholders in Sanditon’s interest – we ought to discuss lowering the rental rates. To attract a wider variety of visitors.”

“Oh?” puffed Lady Denham. “And what, precisely, do you mean by that? A ‘wider variety of visitors?' What can that mean, pray?”

“Well…” Charlotte took a deep breath. “As the terrace apartments are priced now, we will attract only the very wealthiest of the upper class. This is certainly a small sector of society. Might we not generate greater a wider stream of revenue, if we lowered the rates so that working-class families could travel to Sanditon as well?”

“Working class families?” muttered Lady Denham in disbelief.

“Yes! Merchants, and tradesmen. Families from all around Sanditon might flock to our shores, filling our terraces. Which, as of yet…are mostly empty.” Charlotte finished quietly.

“But this is a most distressing notion!” protested Lady Denham. “Our fine apartments, built and furnished with the utmost care, hosting a – a milliner’s daughter, or a farmhand? It is most improper. I will not hear of it.”

“I think we must consider it, Ma’am.” returned Charlotte, now feeling a bit impatient herself. “For the working class are just as in need of enjoyment as the upper echelon, and will similarly spend to achieve it. It would be unwise to ignore such a ready source of income. And,” she continued hotly, “surely those families are just as deserving of entertainment and relaxation.”

Sidney interrupted. “Perhaps we might begin by lowering the rates on the off-season, when the nobility are back in London.” He took a sidelong look at Charlotte, mouthing, “Rome was not built in a day.” Charlotte nodded reluctantly, and cooled her temper Lady Denham, meanwhile, seemed to be considering this adjusted proposal. “Hmph. Very well. I cannot promise I will agree, but I shall reflect, and give you my answer before long. And in the meantime –“ she raised a finger towards Charlotte – “am I to tell Mr. Pickering that you and Mr. Parker will be building a –“ she wrinkled her nose in disgust – “a seaside restaurant along the old fishing wharf?”

Charlotte glanced at Sidney, who appeared to be wrestling with himself. She knew how much he longed to return to London. Yet, she could also see that, against his will, he was intrigued by this plan. At the very least, he was determined to keep the wharf out of the hands of the Langfords.

“Yes, Lady Denham.” Sidney answered.

“Excellent.” Lady Denham looked sincerely pleased. “I shall write to Mr. Pickering directly. Let us hope we can put this whole unpleasant matter behind us.” She rose from her chair, ringing the bell for her butler. “Good day to you, Mr. and Mrs. Parker. Oh - and may I offer you any more marzipan? To take home, perhaps?”

“Er – no, thank you, Lady Denham.” Charlotte curtsied and took her leave. As Sidney bowed and followed suit, she could hear Lady Denham saying, amusedly, “I see your wife is still far too inclined to speak her mind, Mr. Parker. Luckily for her, I am learning to enjoy it.”

Sidney was smiling as he joined her in the hall. He dismissed the butler, saying that they would be happy to see themselves out. Charlotte glanced at her husband slyly as they walked through the house's darkened halls.

“What?” he demanded. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Charlotte insisted, smiling archly. “I was just thinking about what we might call your new restaurant. Le Poisson Frais, perhaps, or Le Coquillage Peint...”

“No more of that crowing, just now, if you please.” said a begrudgingly amused Sidney, and Charlotte could not help but laugh as he playfully tapped her derrière.

Chapter Text

Robert Langford was cheating. Sidney recognized it almost immediately. He had played with many a card shark in his day, and quickly discerned that Langford was one of the best. The man had won each round so far that evening, and was quickly becoming exuberant with success. On any other evening Sidney might have circumvented or exposed the man; but he did not. He needed information. He needed to keep Robert Langford in an affable, sharing mood. 

So far that plan was succeeding. The gentlemen had already been playing for almost an hour, clustered around a small table in The Crown Hotel. Langford kept buying rounds of drinks for them all, but Sidney did not partake of much. He required a clear head, and to keep his wits about him. He signaled early to his friends to do the same, as he suspected Langford’s play might have been to loosen his companions’ tongues. Fortunately, his supporters tonight were supporters indeed. Charles was at his left, still looking reliably sober. Tom was at his right, and though he was a little pink-cheeked, he had kept his word to Mary, betting only small sums and going out first in each round. Langford was now dealing a fourth round of cards, and taking up his (predictably mediocre) hand, Sidney spoke.

“You are having far better fortune tonight than I anticipated, Langford. Do you accept pledges of payment?” All of this was intentional - the careful flattery, the misleading deception. Sidney had brought plenty of money, but suspected that Langford might delight in holding a debt to hold over him. He saw at once that he was right, for Langford’s face lit up with sinister enthusiasm. “Of course. We are all gentlemen here, after all. No reason we should not trust each other’s word.” Langford picked up his own hand and lit a cigar. “I must confess, Mr. Parker. I was greatly surprised when you accepted this invitation. Delighted, of course, but surprised. What changed, Sir?”

“I suppose I hoped to bankrupt you. I still do.” replied Sidney, throwing a note onto the table. He sensed honesty would be best in this moment. Too much civility between the men would certainly make Langford suspicious. Robert threw back his head and laughed. He took a long sip of ale from a tankard and threw down a card. “Well. If that is your intent, we must keep playing, gentlemen! Although I warn you, Parker. I am not in the habit of losing.”

“Yes, play we must, although more is the pity for me, I fear.” laughed Tom, embarrassedly dropping a small sum in the table’s center.

“Your pockets seem very deep indeed, Langford.” Babington matched Tom’s sum and looked at their hosts shrewdly. Sidney could tell his friend was irritated by his consistent losses. He made a mental note to reimburse Babington for what he had put out. Robert bowed his head with false modesty. “You might say so. Although, I sense we are in good company tonight, where funds are concerned. Only look!” Langford gestured across the table. “Here we have one of the wealthiest piers in the land, accompanied by an original founder of Sanditon.” Tom blushed and sputtered at this inaccurate compliment, but before he could say anything, Langford turned to Sidney. “And Mr. Sidney Parker. A major shareholder in the town’s success. A man of great property and means in his own right. And I must say, Mr. Parker – your new terrace is looking very well, very well indeed.”

Sidney saw through the man’s own attempts at flattery. He had dealt with customers like Langford before. And though he was rightly on his guard, he felt in no danger of being wheedled by the man. “I find,” Langford continued, “that I am very curious as to how such great tracts of land came into your possession.” The man took a long draught of his cigar. Sidney only tossed down a card and answered, shortly, “You will continue to wonder, I am afraid. That is a private matter.”

“Indeed?” Langford raised his brows. “Such a mystery. No scandal was involved, I trust?” Babington spoke up at this point. “Of course not. Parker has always been a dab hand at business.” Sidney could tell Charles wanted to come to his defense, and tried to mentally signal him to back down. He needed to keep Langford talking.

“So it would seem” Robert mused, airily. He stroked his chin with a long, thin finger. “For a less able man would certainly not have been able to rid himself of a great debt, by who knows what means...break off a wedding...marry his sweetheart, and use his surplus to secretly buy land out from under his brother. Ruthless. Marvelous. I applaud you, Parker.” Langford lifted his tankard in the air. Sidney was caught off guard. Here again, Robert had revealed a shocking amount of intelligence on his private affairs. So that was Langford's play. To sniff out a scandal, and discredit him. Sidney shot a glance at Tom, willing him to keep silent, but his brother was white with indignation and embarrassment. “Mr. Langford,” Tom cried, “you are quite mistaken. My brother – “

Sidney cut him off, keeping his tone carefully even and light. “If we are talking of curiosity, Mr. Langford, I must confess...I myself am very interested in what you and your brother hope to build.” Sidney needed Langford to discuss his planned apothecary shop. Then, he might begin to question him, in front of witnesses, as to the finer, more incriminating details of his business and wealth. “You now have two properties, in prime location on market street. We ought to discuss your plans, to avoid duplication of businesses and…align mutual interests.” Sidney had no intention of doing any such thing, but the effect of his words was immediate. Langford looked up sharply. “Duplication of businesses?” he questioned. “You are planning to introduce ventures of your own?”

“I might be.” Sidney took a slow sip of his drink, hoping Langford would take the bait. The Langford brothers were glancing between themselves skeptically. “I would not concern yourself, Mr. Parker.” said Robert, suddenly recovering. “We pride ourselves on our unique entertainment. You need not fear any competition where the brothers Langford are concerned.” Tom let out a short bursting laugh at this, and seemed to immediately regret it. He turned to a waiter, calling, “You there – might I just have a glass of water, please?”

“What a joy it is to hear you take a greater interest in Sanditon, Mr. Parker.” Langford laid down a trump card, once again collecting the money in the table’s center. “Everything I have heard indicates your dislike of the place. And you have made no secret of your desire to return to London...with your lovely bride.” Sidney bristled at this mention of Charlotte, but chose to let it pass. “And so we shall.” he answered. “Once the terrace is finished. And the wharf, of course.” Here again, Langford looked up sharply, and Sidney held his gaze with a challenging glare. Perhaps it was because of the man’s reference to Charlotte, but Sidney’s resolve to flatter and gratify this loathsome man was waning. His instinct now was to communicate, quite clearly, that he was not one to back down from a fight.

To Sidney’s surprise, Langford asked him nothing at all of the wharf. “And how is the terrace build coming, Mr. Parker?” he probed.

“As you said. Very well.”

“Really?” Langford adopted an expression of mock interest. “I am glad to hear it. I thought there might have been some sort of impediment. For there were only a few workers on site when I walked past today. I say Parker, if you have run into a cash flow problem, my brother and I would be happy to provide you with a loan. After all - “

“Can I offer you gentlemen any more refreshment?” cut in Edmund Langford. It was one of the first things he had said all evening. Sidney had noticed how on edge the man looked; how restless, and uncomfortable. Edmund kept casting his eyes over the crowded room, and suddenly suspicious, Sidney did the same.

There was nothing extraordinary happening. Workers and barmaids were mingling freely; a few London gentlemen smoked pipes in a corner, wreathing the crowd in clouds of burnt tobacco. A barman wiped glasses, while a portly drunkard slumped over his counter, and at the far end of the room, surrounded by a group of rowdy young fellows, was James Stringer. Sidney recognized him with a start; Stringer’s face was pale and solemn in comparison to his animated friends. James was obviously surprised at seeing Sidney, and glanced at his card companions with unmistakable mistrust. Sidney had some desire to walk over and greet Stringer, but was interrupted by Robert Langford.

“A fine idea, Ed. Ales all around, I think. And some of those buttered potatoes from the bar. They are ghastly, if truth be told, but we will need something to fortify our strength. For,” Langford said with a badly concealed smirk, “Mr. Parker has a long way to go, if he hopes to make back what he has lost.” Robert stood up to place the order, and contenting himself with a grave nod in Stringer’s direction, Sidney began dealing out another round of cards.

Chapter Text

“Charlotte, my dear, are you quite well?"

Mary’s question brought Charlotte back to reality. Her mind had been far away, fixed on Sidney’s game instead of the roast chicken and artichokes she was meant to be eating. She and Mary were dining alone at Parker House, as the children were already fast asleep. Glancing at the clock above the mantle, she could see it was just past nine. "Forgive me, Mary. What - what was it you were saying?"

"That Arthur and Diana are coming down for the cricket match next week." Mary looked troubled. "Are you feeling ill, Charlotte? You have hardly touched your food.”

“I am all right Mary. I just…I find I am anxious for Sidney’s game to conclude.”

“As am I.” said Mary, gravely wiping her mouth with her napkin. “Unfortunately, I suspect there will be some hours to go yet. These ‘gentlemanly conversations,’ as they have been called, take longer than they ought. At least in my experience.” Mary cringed in remembrance. “Tom played cards with a banker once, when he was first seeking funding for Sanditon. He did not come home until nearly two in the morning.”

The prospect of waiting that long for Sidney’s return did nothing to soothe Charlotte’s anxiety. To make matters worse, she was developing a splitting headache. She determined to go home, and rest until Sidney’s return. “Would you excuse me, Mary? I have a rather sore head, and I am not sure I could last until two in the morning.”

“Oh! But of course.” Mary agreed with concern. “I am sorry. And you do look pale, Charlotte. Can I not persuade you to eat something first? I am sure it will revive you.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Thank you, Mary, but…I believe this evening’s uncertainty has ruined my appetite.” She tried to laugh, but could not. She stood to leave the room, and Mary followed suit. “I shall go home and rest. Sleep will be a welcome distraction. No doubt Sidney will wake me when he returns, and tell me all about tonight’s events.”

“Very well.” Mary took her arm soberly as they walked to the front door. “At least allow Hodges to see you safely home. It is far too dark for you to walk alone.”

“Thank you, Mary.” said Charlotte, drawing on her gloves and her cloak. She gave her sister-in-law a grateful kiss. “I shall call on you tomorrow.” They pressed each other’s hands reassuringly, and bid farewell. “Are you ready, Mrs. Parker?” asked old Hodges, raising his hat. She nodded, and the kindly butler followed her as she exited Parker House.

It transpired that Hodges, with whom Charlotte was something of a favorite, made a very entertaining walking companion. He was highly complimentary of the new terrace design, and even had a few suggestions as to names for the new structure. Charlotte listened pleasantly, but found she could not add much to the conversation. The pressure in her head was building, and she longed to lie down in the comfort of her own home. At last they reached the threshold of her apartment.

“Thank you, Mr. Hodges. I shall be all right from here.”

“Good evening then, Mrs. Parker.” said Hodges, again raising his hat with a look of concern. “Take care of yourself, Ma’am. If I may – I am prone to get a sore head myself, Ma’am. And a black tea steeped with valerian root is as good a cure as any I have come across. With a little honey, of course. To cut the bitterness.”

Charlotte smiled graciously. “Thank you, Mr. Hodges. That is very kind.”

The man cleared his throat and bowed, deeply. “Until tomorrow, Mrs. Parker.” Charlotte watched him leave, then wearily opened her apartment door. She was startled to find Mrs. O’Connor sitting quite nearby in the parlor. The housekeeper was reading by the light of one or two candles. “Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Parker!” she said, rising immediately from her chair. “I assumed you would not be back until later this evening, and thought I might –“

“Not to worry, Mrs. O’Connor.” said Charlotte, now untying her cloak and bonnet. “I came home earlier than expected. And I am very glad to see you found a moment of leisure. You deserve it.” Mrs. O’Connor seemed to come back to herself. “Thank you, Ma’am.” She began helping Charlotte off with her things. “Is Mr. Parker still at his game, then, Ma’am?”

“Yes.” Charlotte glanced warily at Mrs. O’Connor. Although she hated to admit it, Sidney’s suggestion that their housekeeper might have been the Langford’s informant had taken root in her mind. She’d had to work hard not to alter her treatment of the woman as a result. “Mrs. O’Connor – I was wondering – have those documents of Mr. Parker’s turned up yet?”

“No Ma’am.” Mrs. O’Connor looked pained at the very mention of the missing papers, and Charlotte chose to drop the subject. Her head was now throbbing painfully, and she did not have the energy to host an interrogation. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor. I shall retire now. Please, return to your book.”

“Can I fetch you anything, Mrs. Parker?”

“No, thank you. Or perhaps –“ she paused halfway up the stairs – “do we have any valerian root?”

Mrs. O’Connor shook her head. “No, Ma’am, I am sorry to say. Are you unwell, Ma’am?”

Charlotte managed a weak smile. “I shall be perfectly well, thank you. I only need some rest. Good evening, Mrs. O’Connor.” She finished ascending the stairs and turned the knob to her room. The candles had not been lit, as it was early yet, but she could see the outline of her bed by the moon’s light. Eager to sleep, she slipped out of her gown and stockings and climbed beneath her blanket. Propping a pillow under the arch of her neck provided her with some relief, and at last Charlotte rested. For some time she lay still, breathing slowly in the dark and trying not to think of Sidney’s game.

She must have drifted off to sleep without realizing, for when she next opened her eyes the moon was higher in the sky. What time was it? She had some awareness that something had woken her, and rubbed her eyes blearily. The room was cold, and somehow damp. The long white curtain blew at the window, and with a start she realized the glass panes had been opened. Had she unlatched the window earlier in the day? She was sure she had not.

Suddenly there was a sound – a rustle of papers, to her left. With a start, she saw a dark shape crouching behind the desk.

“Sidney?” Charlotte whispered, her voice trembling. “Is – is that you, Sidney?”

The shape froze, and with a terrifying jolt Charlotte realized that it was not him. The dark mass sprang into action, and as it darted to the window Charlotte screamed, over and over into the darkness, “Mrs. O’ Connor! Sidney! Sidneeeeey!”

Chapter Text

“Care for a break, Langford?” Sidney asked. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven, and conversation had floundered. Robert had become tight-lipped about his plans, despite his generous intake of ale, and Sidney was ready to abandon the evening and return to Charlotte.

“What, Parker, quitting already?” Langford was pulling yet another pile of bank notes and pledges towards him. “Let us see how you feel after a ten-minute recess.” Langford winked, and he and his brother went to refill drinks at the bar. Sidney scowled as he threw his cards onto the table, and Tom let out a heaving sigh. “Well. That is all my coppers spoken for, and then some. What a shame. Never in my life have I been so thoroughly outplayed.”

Babington frowned. “You do know he is cheating, Tom?” Tom looked shocked, then relieved. “Oh, thank heavens. I thought my pride would never recover from this night.”

Sidney was about to tell them both he was leaving when Mrs. O’Connor burst through the entry of The Crown Hotel. She was white-faced, and frantic. “Mr. Parker!” she cried. Seeing Sidney, she rushed over to his table. “Oh, Mr. Parker! You must come with me at once! Mrs. Parker -” The look of fear on Mrs. O’Connor’s face chilled Sidney’s blood, and he immediately jumped to his feet.

“Stay with the Langfords, Babington!” Sidney yelled behind him. Tom had also gotten to his feet, and was running not far behind. “Sidney!” he cried, “Sidney, wait, what is the matter? I am coming!” Sidney did not wait, and began racing towards Parker House. “Mr. Parker!” Mrs. O’Connor yelled behind him. “She is not there, she is at your own apartment, she –“ heaving slightly, Mrs. O’Connor kept pace beside Sidney, speaking as quickly as she could.

“Mrs. Parker came home early from dinner, Sir, as she did not feel well. She went straight to bed, but then not ten minutes ago I heard a scream from her room, and entering it I saw Mrs. Parker crouched in the corner, Sir, looking very much distressed, and …and –“

“What happened?” Sidney demanded. “What is the matter with her?” Poor Mrs. O’Connor was gasping for breath now, but did her best to explain as she ran.

“Mrs. Parker could not speak for some minutes, Sir, but she said that there had been a – a man – in her room, and that he had - climbed in through the window – and –“

Cold dread filled Sidney’s heart, and leaving Mrs. O’Connor to follow behind with Tom, Sidney doubled his pace. His lungs and legs were on fire with the speed of his run, but he pushed himself yet further. His boots pounded over the pavement, until at last he had reached his apartment. He wrenched open the door.

“Charlotte!” Sidney cried, taking the stairs three at a time. “Charlotte!” He threw open their bedroom door, and saw Charlotte, still crouching in the corner, a poker in one hand. She was wrapped in her blue silk dressing gown, and was deathly pale. “Charlotte!” Sidney cried. He knelt next to her and took both of her hands, which were icy cold. “What’s wrong? What happened, my darling? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I am all right, Sidney.” Charlotte answered, and her voice was surprisingly calm given her pallor. “I am not hurt. But – I woke, Sidney, and there was a man – “ she pointed across the room – “looking in the desk, searching, over there. I called out for you, and the man startled. He ran to the window and climbed out, and – “

“Did he touch you?” Sidney could almost not bear to ask this. The question caught in his throat. But Charlotte shook her head firmly. “No. No, I screamed, and he ran off. He left through the window. It is still open, there. I know it was a man, because he cried out when he climbed down. He must have – have fallen, or gotten caught, or something.” By now Tom and Mrs. O’Connor had joined them in the bedroom, and Tom ran over to the window. Looking out of it, he gasped slightly. “There is a ladder here, Sidney. And footprints – bootprints, at the bottom, in the sand. They lead west. We must call a constable. Mrs. O’Connor, could you –“

“Can you stand, my love? And take some water?” Sidney helped Charlotte to rise. She was quite obviously in shock, but was doing her best to recover and reassure him. “I am perfectly well, Sidney. I am not hurt, only – only frightened.” Sidney poured her a glass of water. “Mrs. O’Connor, would you please fetch my wife’s cloak? She will be spending the night at Parker House.”

“Of course, Mr. Parker.” Mrs. O’Connor dashed off.

“Are you well enough to walk over, darling?” Sidney spoke with tenderest concern. “It will be quicker than waiting for the horses.”

“Yes, I am fine.” Charlotte insisted. “I can walk, I am perfectly well.” Sidney saw that she was regaining strength in their company, and turned to his brother. “Tom – please take Charlotte to Parker House at once. At once, do you hear? I will join you as soon as I can.” He kissed Charlotte, holding her shoulders and looking steadily in her eyes. “You will be safe. I promise.”

“Of course I will take her.” Tom answered. “But where are you going? To catch the assailant?”

“No need.” Sidney turned on his heel, grateful for a chance to hide the white-hot rage building inside of him. “I know who sent him.”

Chapter Text

With a crash, Sidney Parker threw open the door to The Crown Hotel. “Langford!” he roared. The room went silent, and all its inhabitants became still. The barman stopped wiping his glass; the drunkard stirred; even the London gentry stopped smoking long enough to view him with languid interest. Sidney walked slowly over to Robert, who was still standing at the bar, and pointed a shaking finger in his face.

“I am going to give you one chance to clear your name…was it you?” he seethed. “Did you send him? If you did not, you have ten seconds to prove it. If you did…you are a dead man.”

“What are you talking about, Parker?” Langford sneered, but he had gone pale.

“My wife was home this evening, Langford.” Sidney was so livid he could hardly speak. “She was home when he broke in. She was ten feet away.”

“This – this is outrageous!” squeaked Edmund Langford. “What exactly are you accusing my brother of, Mr. Parker? Robert has been with us this whole evening, has he not, gentlemen?” Babington reluctantly confirmed the fact, as did a few men standing nearby. Langford’s expression was strange, and unreadable. “There you have it, Parker. I am as innocent as a paschal lamb.” But the tiniest, maniacal smile flitted across his face, and Sidney knew. A split second later, he had punched Langford squarely in the face.

The crowd gasped as Langford reeled backwards, knocking over several wooden chairs. Edmund Langford moaned softly to himself, and the barman protested loudly, “That will do, gentlemen! I will have no fighting in my establishment!” But Langford was already doubling back, his fists raised. Sidney ripped off his coat, relishing the prospect of this fight. Langford swung his fist with a fury; Sidney ducked, and landed another sinking blow into Langford’s stomach. The man groaned sharply, and Sidney thought he had him cornered, but the barmaids suddenly shrieked. “Look out, Parker!” Babington yelled, and just in time Sidney jumped backwards; Langford had grabbed a glass from the bar and was preparing to shatter it over his head.

Throwing the glass instead at Sidney’s feet, Langford let out a roar and ran, headfirst into Sidney, overturning furniture and pinning him against a wall. The man was stronger than he looked, and an unpredictable attacker. Langford kicked him, hard, in both shins. “I say!” objected a gentleman. “Oy!”agreed a local farmhand, “Keep the fight fair, Sir!” Taking advantage of this distraction, Langford landed his own punch against Sidney’s cheek and lip. Sidney stumbled in pain, scattering James Stringer’s group of friends. He could see that James was still watching them, ashen-faced. “Somebody break those two apart!” shouted the barman. A few gentlemen hesitatingly rose, but seeing the expression on Sidney’s face as he straightened up, they quickly reoccupied their seats.

Sidney moved towards Robert, slowly. Langford had both fists cocked and at the ready. The man’s face was quickly swelling, and blood was streaming from his nose.

“I warned you,” Sidney growled, “to leave us alone.”

“And so we shall!” whimpered Edmund Langford from across the room. “That is a promise! Just – just stand down, Mr. Parker, and I promise we –“

Langford smiled, unnervingly. “Come on, Parker!” he goaded, his fists still raised, “Venerated businessman. Ha! Protector of Sanditon, and little Charlotte. Is that the best you can do? Come on!” Sidney answered with another hard punch, to the left, and a second, to the right. Langford stumbled backwards, against the bar, and a shower of glasses rained to the floor and shattered. The barman shouted once again, but Sidney did not listen. He threw a final, swirling punch across Langford’s face, and the man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

No one spoke. Sidney stood over Langford, breathing hard. A moment later he looked around the room. Each guest was watching him in solemn shock. Sidney looked at his bruised knuckles, then wiped his lip. He had only just realized he was bleeding. “Keep the Langfords here, Babington. Have them locked up, and tell the authorities this man -” he nudged Langford in disgust – “organized a series of break-ins to my apartment. The last taking place while my wife was alone at home.” Sidney pulled on his coat. He noticed Stringer standing nearby, and jerked his head towards the hotel door. “Fetch the constable.” Glancing down at the now heavily bleeding Langford, he added, “…and a surgeon.” James nodded gravely and dashed off.

Sidney reached into his pocket and tossed several gold sovereigns towards the barman. “For the damages.” With a last, loathing look towards Langford, Sidney swept out of the room and into the night.

Chapter Text

Sidney walked as quickly as he could back to Parker House. His knuckles and cheek were throbbing. He held his sleeve to his mouth, doing his best to stem the flow of blood from his lip. He did not want to frighten Charlotte. She had been through enough this evening already.

A carriage blocked his path for a moment, and Sidney impatiently took out his timepiece. It was nearly midnight. The Langford brothers would be locked up by now, with any luck. And he would do his utmost to see they were carted out of Sanditon tomorrow. Sidney tried yet again to quiet the fury the Langfords’ actions had awoken – but to no avail. The brothers had compromised Charlotte’s safety. They had put her in danger. And for that, he would never forgive them.

At last the carriage moved on, and Sidney crossed the street to Tom and Mary’s home. He let himself in, expecting all to be dark and quiet. To his surprise, Mrs. O’Connor and Mr. Hodges were waiting anxiously for him in the entry.

“Mrs. O’Connor?” Sidney questioned. “Where is Mrs. Parker? Has she gone up?

“No, Sir.” Mrs. O’Connor looked most aggrieved. “Mrs. Parker is not here, Sir. Shortly after you left, she… she went to search for the intruder.”

“…What?”

Mrs. O’Connor nodded mournfully. “It is true, Sir. She worried that the man might get away, and persuaded Mr. Tom Parker to accompany her in the pursuit. They followed the footprints, and sent me here to tell you where they had gone.” Mrs. O’Connor stepped forward apologetically. “I am truly sorry, Sir. I tried to persuade her not to go, but –“

Sidney immediately turned to exit Parker House. He had not gone two steps when Mary appeared at his left, emerging from the darkened drawing room. She had evidently been waiting up for Tom. “Sidney? Is that you? Is the game – oh, Sidney, what has happened to your face?” She glanced around anxiously. “And where is Tom?”

“I will bring him back, I promise.” Sidney shoved his hat on his head. “I need light – a candle, a torch, anything – “

“I suspected that might be the case, Sir.” Hodges handed him a glass lantern, already trimmed and lit. “Do you require any assistance, Sir?”

“No. Stay with Mary, and Mrs. O’Connor.” Sidney stormed out of the house, and Mary’s desperate cries for more information faded behind him. He would have explained if he could, but had no time to lose. He had to head off Charlotte and Tom before they actually found the assailant. “Headstrong, obstinate – “ he muttered wildly to himself. What had possessed Charlotte to take up such a chase? Did she have any idea how dangerous this might be? He continued cursing vehemently, knowing in some part of his brain these angry epithets were merely a mask for his fear – his dread – that Charlotte could come to harm. He quickened his pace, reaching their terrace in minutes. He ran around its back, stopping under their bedroom window and kneeling in the sand. The lantern cast a yellow glow over the terrain, and he saw what Tom had earlier described. Large, unfamiliar bootprints leading west, over the shore. Two other tracks now accompanied it – a second pair of bootmarks, undoubtedly Tom’s, and a much smaller, narrower footstep – Charlotte’s.

Sidney now became a tracker. He ran through the sand, bent low with his lantern over the shifting earth. The shore was abandoned, as it was past midnight now. The lulling rise and crash of waves was the only noise to be heard. Though the moon was high in the sky, it was of little help in lighting his path. Dark clouds obscured it often, and both the sea and the sand were black as ink. He nearly lost his trail several times, as the footsteps were so muddled in some areas they looked more like depressions made by wind.

After fifteen minutes of hard pursuit, he saw in the distance a small, dilapidated shed. He could tell it had been abandoned for some time. Weeds and moss grew through its walls, and it was missing several roof planks. Sidney had noticed it on his walks, always assuming it to be some sort of tackle storage. The tracks led straight into it.

He ran to the shed and threw open the door. Its air was dank, and musty. Coils of mossy rope hung along the wall, but there was no other furniture or ornament. A few rotting apple cores were scattered across the floor, and two or three rough shirts were draped over the ceiling beam. All this he observed in an instant. By the light of his lamp Sidney saw Charlotte and Tom, crouched in the shed’s corner with their backs to him. Two long, thin legs – the intruder’s – could be seen poking out from behind them. The man was laying on a makeshift bed.

“Charlotte!” Sidney breathed. “What the devil were you –“

Tom stood up quickly, interrupting him. “Sidney, what has happened to you? Did – did Langford -?”

Charlotte likewise turned, her eyes widening as they saw his bruised cheek and lip. “Sidney! Sidney, what –“

“Why, Charlotte?” Sidney continued angrily. “Why did you run off? Do you know that you might have –“

“He is hurt, Sidney.” She stood, looking grave. “We found blood in the sand, and followed the tracks here.” Sidney stepped forward, noticing for the first time that one of the intruder’s legs was crudely bandaged. The man gave a soft moan. He raised his lantern, and its light illuminated a face he at once knew and yet did not know. These were the hollowed cheeks, the yellowed eyes, the matted hair and emaciated frame – of Edward Denham.

Chapter Text

“You?” Sidney breathed in disbelief. Then again, furiously – “You? How could you –“

“I never meant to enter while she was home!” Edward shouted defiantly. “I had every reason to believe Charlotte would be away this evening. It was a bloody shock to find her there, and I got out as fast as I could.”

“Are we meant to thank you for that, Edward?” Sidney fumed.

“Sir Edward, if you please.” he snapped. “And yes, I rather think you ought, for I cut myself on your bloody windowsill in my haste.”

“That is no more than you deserve.” replied Tom, with surprising venom. Sidney could now see that Edward’s thigh was bleeding rather heavily. Charlotte was ripping one of Edward’s shirts to create a makeshift bandage. “Not that one, if you please!” Edward complained, but she had already torn a sizable length. She began wrapping it tightly about his leg, covering his first crude attempt and stemming the bloodflow. “We need to take him to Dr. Fuchs.” Charlotte murmured softly.

“No. Not until he confesses.” Sidney set down his lantern and loomed over Edward. “Tell us what you know.”

Edward set his face obstinately. “I shan’t. And nothing you do could persuade me.” Sidney seized Edward roughly by his coat. “I will not ask you again. Tell us what you know. Now.”

“Sidney.” Charlotte reproached. She looked at Edward pityingly. “Please, Edward – Sir Edward. How is it that you are here? We only wish to understand. It may be that we can help you.” Edward stared at Charlotte through glazed eyes. He seemed to soften at her gentle entreaty, and Sidney could see he was considering it. He released the man as roughly as he had snatched him, and Edward winced as he fell back on his bed. Casting his eyes over the three of them, the man sighed reluctantly. “It was a job, that was all. It was nothing personal. Naturally, if I had known you were to be home, Charlotte –“ Edward said this almost apologetically, an impertinence that infuriated Sidney. Charlotte seemed to sense this, for she cut him off with a hasty question. “Who put you up to this, Sir Edward? Was it Robert Langford?”

Edward hesitated, then nodded.

“And what did you steal?” Charlotte continued.

He coughed - a wet, rattling cough - then shrugged. “Just a few papers. Insignificant things.”

“Which papers?” she pressed. “Which, specifically?” Sir Edward sighed in resignation. “An order book, two invoices, and three order forms. And I saw and read your certificate of debt cancellation, but left it. I was told to take nothing too big, nothing noticeable.”

“An order book is fairly noticeable...” Tom began. Edward winced at the memory. “Yes. That was only my first time. And he made me pay for it, I can assure you.” Edward pressed his hand gingerly atop his bandage. “He said I had jeopardized the entire scheme.”

Sidney scowled. "The scheme to ruin us, you mean. To cancel our shipments and rob us of our suppliers. To bankrupt us." 

"Not bankrupt!" Edward denied with almost pompous offense. "Just - just unburden you of your responsibilities. Without your knowing, and objecting." Charlotte was still, understandably, fixated on the break-ins. “How many times did you steal from us, and when?”

Edward rubbed his leg thoughtfully. “Steal is such a dreadful word. I don’t know that I would use it myself. But if you insist on doing so...three or four times. As I said – before tonight - I only entered at times when you were both gone, I swear it. I was in, then out, leaving no trace or disturbance.” He seemed almost proud of this fact, and that must have irritated Tom, for he acidly reminded him, “Not so. You left a ladder tonight.”

“I could hardly carry it away with my leg split open, could I?” replied Edward, bitingly. “I was lucky that I got away at all, without being noticed.” Charlotte’s brow furrowed at this. “How did you get away all those times without being seen, Edward? Everyone in town knows you. How have you not been recognized before now?”

“Well, Sanditon’s residents would hardly have expected me to be wearing this, would they?” Edward spoke almost helplessly. Sidney could see that he was wearing a plain suit and rough white shirt. His boots were caked in mud, and his coat stained with travel. Sidney somehow knew that these poor garments were not a costume, but the only true clothes this reduced man now had. Yet this raiment was nothing compared to Edward’s changed appearance. The man was so thin Sidney could span him with a single hand. His now skeletal face caused his eyes to bulge, unpleasantly. Speaking feverishly under the dim light of the lantern, he looked almost mad. “I got away quickly each time.” Edward explained. “And I never went out except at night. Langford kept me supplied. Food and drink. A cigar here and there.”

“But someone must have seen you leaving the hotel.” Tom insisted. “The landlord himself knows you, and – “

“He has not been living at the hotel.” Charlotte broke in, sadly. “He has been living here. Haven’t you, Edward?” Sidney glanced around the place in shock. He could now see unmistakable signs of extended occupation. There was a rusty water basin in the corner, and a second pair of boots lined up at the wall. The straw bed on which Edward lay had a single worn quilt, and there were empty bottles strewn about at its side. Sidney turned to the man, a note of pity sounding in him for the first time. He quickly brushed it aside, determined that Edward should not get off easily.

“Oh, Edward.” Charlotte mourned. “How long?”

“…two months. I had to be here, so as not to be seen.”

“Two months?” she whispered. “Two months here, in all the heat, with rain coming through the roof? With nothing but this blanket? It is a wonder you have not died of consumption.”

“Tell us from the beginning, Edward.” Sidney’s tone was still firm, but he was less menacing now. This fact, and Charlotte’s sympathy, seemed to rally Edward, for he leaned upon his elbow, chewing the inside of his cheek. He seemed to have decided to confess, for within a moment he launched into a reluctant narrative. “Oh - all right. Very well then. Though you will have a devil of a time incriminating them, I can promise you. They have connections in very high places. I met the Langfords in the spring, at one of their – establishments.” Edward looked down and cleared his throat, uselessly brushing dirt off his filthy trousers. “I had fallen upon…difficult times…and I found myself obliged to negotiate with them. To relieve myself of a – a certain debt.”

“Acquired at their gaming tables.” Sidney discerned. “And – one of their apothecary shops?” Edward looked surprised at this, but with a single sharp nod confirmed the fact. Sidney did not need him to. Edward’s yellowed eyes and hollowed expression bore all the signs of sustained opium use. Sidney looked quickly through the room, hoping there were no traces of opium in plain sight. His desire to get Charlotte out of this shed quickly intensified.

“So you were indebted to them,” Charlotte prompted, “and they enlisted you to help them – what? To annex Sanditon?”

“Not quite.” Edward shifted his leg and grimaced. “They had never even heard of Sanditon. That is where I was most useful. Providing information on the town, and its occupants. Its competitors. Their history. Somehow I convinced them that Sanditon was a town ripe for the plucking.”

“Of course!” Tom clapped his forehead with realization. “Langford has always known so very much about us all. It struck me as odd, of course, but I never considered for a moment that – “

“And they offered to clear your debt if you worked form them as a thief and informant.” Sidney finished. It was well past midnight now, and he felt an urgent need to get Charlotte home. But he needed Edward to finish. They required a complete confession. Edward let out a short, barking laugh. “Better than that. Langford offered me my own share of the town, and money besides. And certain…other inducements.” Edward shifted uncomfortably. “Climbing through a window seemed a small price to pay. Although, I am genuinely sorry to have frightened you, Mrs. Parker.” This contradictory apology seemed lost on Charlotte. She was indignant for another reason. “And the Langfords kept you here for two months, like a rabbit in a hutch, doing nothing but breaking into our apartment three or four times?”

Edward stroked his chin. “I only dealt with Robert. He would visit sometimes, and ask me questions. Many about Mrs. Parker, actually. I thought that quite odd.” This unsurprising revelation motivated Sidney to turn Edward in as soon as possible. “Come on.” Sidney muttered to Tom. “We must get him up, and to the jailhouse. He needs to testify to the constable.” The brothers each took one of Edward’s arms, raising him from the bed. He cried out in protest, but neither man listened. They looped Edward’s arms about their shoulders and began walking him out of the shed, with Charlotte following close behind. “They will never imprison me.” Edward huffed. “I am a gentleman. And when Lady Denham hears of this outrage…” Edward’s last protest seemed to catch in his throat, and was quickly lost in the night wind.  

Chapter Text

The journey to the jailhouse was slow-going. Edward limped painfully over the sand, and Sidney and Tom had to bear up most of his weight. Charlotte pulled her woolen cloak more tightly about her as she followed behind. She was shod only in thin slippers, making her own trek difficult. Grains of sand spilled into her shoes, settling uncomfortably under her feet. For several minutes no one spoke, although now and again Edward would let out a cry of pain or indignation.

The whole party seemed exhausted. It was nearly one in the morning now. Charlotte could feel that she was physically weary, but her mind was on fire with what she had just heard. She busily connected Edward’s confession with Robert Langford’s subtle gloats and inferences. All was at last clear. He had paid off their glass vendor, or perhaps placed competing orders with their suppliers. Of this she was certain. The delays in their project had been part of a careful, masterful, meticulous sabotage. And most cruelly, he had capitalized on Edward’s desperate circumstances to achieve it. Charlotte was sure she would find no rest tonight.

Charlotte suddenly heard Sidney growl to Tom, “I thought I asked you to take Charlotte home.”

“I tried.” Tom returned defensively. “But she – we, determined that it would be best not to let the thief escape.”

“Do not be angry with Tom, Sidney.” Charlotte sped up so as to walk next to the grouping. “He wanted to wait, but I thought it best –“

“Charlotte, how could you have run off like that?” Sidney interrupted. She could see that he was very, very angry. “In the middle of the night, with no defenses, no plan. What were you thinking? And for heavens’ sake, Tom, I deliberately said –“

“You asked Tom to escort me home.” Charlotte replied hotly. “I asked him to help me. And it is a good thing too, or we might never have found proof of Langford’s guilt.”

“But Charlotte, you had no idea who the thief might have been! Of all the senseless, thoughtless…you might have been seriously injured, or even –“

“Hardly!” grunted Edward from between them. “I am not a savage that would attack a lady in the night. Give a fellow some credit.” Sidney now looked too angry to speak. Charlotte’s temper was also rising. “We had to do something, Sidney. For you were clearly not in search of the thief when you left. May I then assume your face is the handiwork of Robert Langford?”

“What happened, brother?” Tom asked. “Where is Langford now?” Sidney seemed to have decided to focus on matters ahead, rather than matters behind. At least for the time being. “The Langfords are with Lord Babington. Mr. Stringer was fetching a constable, so they may even be at the jailhouse by now. We will take Edward directly there.”

“And…” Tom hesitated, “are both of the Langford brothers…are they…”

“Both living.” Sidney grunted. He sounded almost insulted at Tom’s suggestion they could be otherwise. “Though I admit, Robert Langford is a bit worse for wear.”

“Really?” Edward sounded simply delighted at this news. “Well. That is one good thing to come of this evening, at least!” His chuckle was cut off by a sharp cry of pain. “I say…I hate to be a bother, Parker brothers. But I find – “ he winced, “I am in desperate need of a rest.”

“We are nearly there now.” Tom pointed to the jailhouse with his free hand. In her frustration with Sidney, Charlotte had not even recognized they were in town. This was a part of Sanditon she had visited only a few times before, and never by nightfall. It was the area nearest the old fishing wharf. Crookedly built row houses crowded both sides of the street, and a few shops with peeling paint flanked its ends. The road was mostly deserted, although a few men were drinking and stumbling nearby. Charlotte pulled her cloak’s hood past her face. She had a sudden wish to be as discreet as possible.

The jailhouse was halfway down the street, and Charlotte could see that Lord Babington and James Stringer were waiting outside its entrance. “Sidney! Tom!” Babington called out. “Where did you…” his face whitened as he saw who was between them. “Edward?” Babington cried. “What are you – Sidney, what the devil is going on?”

“No time to explain, Babington.” Sidney grunted as he and Tom heaved Edward across the street. “Where are the Langfords?”

“Inside with Constable Bradley.” Stringer explained. “They are locked up.” James turned to Charlotte with obvious relief. “Charlotte, thank goodness you are well. I – I had no idea if –“

“Come on, Tom.” Sidney interrupted. “Let’s get Edward inside, then.” They practically carried him up the jailhouse steps. Charlotte, James, and Babington were left outside to wait, and they would have done so, had not Sidney cried out as soon as he entered the jail. In a panic Charlotte and her companions rushed up the steps. She gasped with dread as she, too, saw the source of Sidney’s distress. Constable Bradley lay on the floor, unconscious. A dark bruise was forming on his head, and blood trickled from a small gash. He had been bludgeoned, and although Edmund Langford was whimpering safely behind bars, the second jail cell – the one that should have held Robert Langford – was empty.

Chapter Text

The room erupted into chaos. Charlotte immedoately knelt and began reviving Constable Bradley. He was still breathing, though faintly. “Constable Bradley?” she cried. “Can you hear me?” Sidney dropped Edward’s arm, and James and Babington rushed in to carry Edward to the now empty cell. Edmund scrambled backwards in distress as Sidney stormed to his holding place. He held up his hands and cowered against its back wall. “I will tell you everything, I will tell you all! Only do not hurt me!”

“What happened?” Sidney demanded, still feet from Edmund’s paddock. “Where is Langford?”

Edmund wailed miserably. “I do not know. Truly, I do not know. He – he called the constable near his cell, under some pretense or other. He grabbed him – by the neck – and, and got the keys. Then he hit him, hard, over the head. With a bottle. I don’t know how he got one. Then he – he told me he was leaving me here, but - but would arrange for my release. And he left.”

“How long ago?” Sidney urged. “Tell us, now.”

“N- not five minutes ago. But I truly could not tell you where he has gone!” Edmund howled.

“Should we search the town?” James asked, urgently. “No.” Sidney answered, thinking hard. He was ashen-faced. “Langford would have anticipated a search party. He means to leave Sanditon, I am sure of it.”

“And not a moment too soon." Edmund muttered. "My brother is right, Mr. Parker; he will arrange for our immediate acquittal.” He seemed to be regaining confidence. “It would be foolish to pursue him. We have contacts, you know. Magistrates in the highest courts of London.”

Tom began sputtering in disbelief. “London? But – but there are no more coaches tonight. He could not leave for London, not until morning at the very least!”

“There is a livery not far from here.” James broke in. “Mr. Poole’s. He might have taken a horse. We should -”

“But where would he hide?” Tom insisted. “If not in Sanditon, where? There is nothing but open cliffs and seashore for miles around!”

“Not so.” piped up Edward languidly. He was reclining on a cot in his now fastened cell. “Sanditon House is surrounded by woods. Lady Denham has over two hundred acres of thickly forested land.” Edward put both hands behind his head, apparently at leisure. “A perfect hiding place for any scoundrel, until a morning coach should come.”

“The only scoundrel here is you, Edward Denham!” objected Edmund furiously. “And you can be sure my brother will not forget it!” Sidney crossed the room to a cabinet. Throwing it open, he announced, “I am going after him. Babington – will you stay to guard Edward and Edmund?”

“With pleasure.” Charles replied darkly. Sidney tossed Babington a pistol from the case. Charlotte watched her husband closely, and to her dismay she saw Sidney quietly pocket a second pistol. “Tom,” Sidney continued, “fetch a doctor for Edward and Bradley, then take Charlotte home. Straight home, do you understand? Mary is waiting for you all. She will be worried sick.”

“Of course.” said Tom softly, suddenly looking stricken at the mention of his wife. “Charlotte,” Sidney finished, “go with Tom. Stay with Tom, and stay at Parker House. I shall be back soon.”

“I am coming with you.” James said firmly, and surprisingly Sidney did not object. “We need horses.” he said. “Where is the livery?”

“Follow me.” James and Sidney ran from the jailhouse, and Charlotte ran after them into the street. Tom followed. The livery was not far, and when Charlotte arrived, panting slightly, she saw that Sidney and James were rapidly bridling two brown horses. “Sidney, don’t go.” Charlotte entreated, close to tears. “Let him escape, and let others catch him. We know the truth, it will be enough!”

“If he makes it to London, all will be lost.” Sidney insisted, now mounting his horse. “He will buy his way out of this. We have to bring him in. It is tonight, or never. All will be well, Charlotte. I promise. Now stay with Tom, and go back to Parker House!” Sidney clicked his heels against the horse and galloped off at a wild pace. With a last reassuring look at Charlotte, James did the same. She watched helplessly as they turned a corner out of sight. “Let's go, Tom.” Charlotte said, walking towards the last remaining horse. She began hastily unlatching the animal’s gate.

“Charlotte, what – what are you doing?” Tom laughed nervously.

“We are going to follow them, using that wagon, there.” Charlotte pointed to a small wooden cart in the corner of the livery. She began bridling the horse. Having grown up on a farm, it was a task she could easily complete. “No, Charlotte.” Tom objected, very firmly. “It is too dangerous, and I absolutely forbid it. We will do what Sidney requested, and nothing more. We are going to get a doctor and return to Parker House.”

“Yes, we will send over the doctor.” Charlotte agreed, now handing Tom the horse’s reigns. “Hook him up, just there. The rest of the tack is along that wall.” She took a coil of rope off a shelf and threw it in the cart, along with a stack of heavy woven blankets. “And then we shall follow them.”

“Charlotte,” Tom said with undisguised anger, “listen to me. You have absolutely no –“

“Sidney is armed, which means Langford is.” Charlotte interrupted. “Did you not notice? He took a pistol from the armory. I would bet a pound to a penny he would not have done so if other guns had not also been missing. If my husband is walking into a crossfire, I mean to follow. We shall keep a safe distance, Tom. But we shall be there, if he –“ Charlotte’s voice began to waver – “if anything happens.  We shall help them.”

Tom looked very somber. “I know you mean well, my dear sister. But I really think –“

“And what did you plan to do after taking me to Parker House, Tom?” Charlotte challenged. “Did you mean to stay with Mary and myself? Because I suspect that you, this whole time, have been planning to join Sidney after getting rid of me.” Tom pretended to be shocked, but Charlotte saw at once that she was right. “Sidney told me to stay with you, Tom. And stay with you I shall.” She climbed into the cart and looked down at her brother-in-law, determinedly. With great reluctance, Tom clambered up next to her – but not before stripping a musket of his own from the livery wall.

Chapter Text

The two men kept up a hard gallop to Lady Denham’s estate. At first Sidney glanced doubtfully at Stringer, not sure if he could stay astride at this speed. But though James was a less confident rider than Sidney, he kept pace surprisingly well. They reached Sanditon House in minutes. “We are here.” pronounced Sidney, unnecessarily. The grand stone walls of Lady Denham’s estate loomed obviously before them in the darkness. Not a single light shone through its windows, making it look more like an abandoned tomb than a home. Sidney shivered at the thought. “Langford can’t have got far.”

“Blast.” muttered James gruffly. “You can’t see a ruddy thing.” And he was right. The moon, though high above head, was still covered by a thick layer of clouds. Sidney thought this was somewhat to their advantage; if Langford suspected a pursuit, he would be on the defensive. Even a poor marksman could hit an unsuspecting target, and the harder they were to spot, the better. On the other hand, the darkness made their own quarry particularly difficult to track. The two men cantered quietly through the park, on high alert for any unusual disturbance.

“Where might he have gone?” James whispered. Sidney pointed to the far edge of the house. “There. That is where the wooded lot begins. It’s sparse at the edge, but deepens. The trees may be largest at its center. If I were him…that is where I would seek cover.”

James cleared his throat softly. “I don’t know where he is, Mr. Parker. But this feels like walking into a trap. If he is armed, we ought to skirt the edge, and keep quiet. See if we can smoke him out that way.”

“Yes. I think you might be right.” Sidney kicked his heels into his horse and cantered over. James followed. Both men slowed their horses to a quiet walk as they neared the edge of the forest. Sidney felt in his pocket for the cold metal of his pistol. Though it reassured him, he prayed he would not need to use it. His mind went to Charlotte, and how he had not even kissed her goodbye. Sidney shook himself. There was no time for such thoughts. He would see her in an hour, two at the most.

The men guided their animals slowly through the thinner edge of the forest. For several minutes nothing could be heard but the soft plop of hooves against earth, and the occasional snapping of a twig. A barn owl suddenly screeched overhead, spooking the horses. Sidney’s mare began to buck and rear, and he quickly slipped off to grab the reigns. “Shh, easy girl, easy! It’s all right, it’s all right.” He managed to calm her, but feared (or perhaps imagined) that the forest around them had suddenly gone very quiet. “Let’s tie the horses off here.” Sidney murmured. “We cannot risk giving away our position. We will continue on foot.” James nodded solemnly and slid off his beast. They tethered the horses to a nearby branch and strode deeper into the tree line.

Though they tried to keep to the forest’s edge, the oaks and pines were growing noticeably thicker. It became harder to gauge their direction, and Sidney had a sense that they were being drawn deeper into its center than he would like. Suddenly James stopped walking. He held out his hand to halt Sidney and put a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. James pointed to a slender branch about four feet in front of them. It was broken, and dangling by just two or three green sinews. Even in the darkness Sidney could see that this branch was young and fresh, and could not have been torn by chance. Langford had been here. How recently, he could not say.

Sidney pulled the pistol out of his pocket, but let it hang by his side. James, not having brought a gun, picked up a thin log from the ground and held it before him like a club. The men looked at each other, then nodded. They moved in unison, treading soundlessly over the mossy earth. After a minute or two of careful travel, they froze. Just twenty yards in the distance, a black mare was tied up to a tree. It was nuzzling the ground impatiently, pawing and looking for something to eat. Sidney saw that a makeshift camp had been set up nearby. A bedroll lay next to a smoldering, unsuccessful attempt at a fire. A coat was strewn on the ground. Yet Langford himself was nowhere to be seen.

Sidney and James ducked behind a huge oak. Its trunk was wide enough to conceal them both, and a mutual understanding passed between the men. They would wait here for Langford’s return. Sidney would watch the camp; James would survey the forest. Both – under peril of being discovered - would remain deadly, deadly silent.

*****

“We are nearly there now.” Tom murmured nervously. “Sanditon House is just ahead.” Their little wooden cart rolled unevenly over Lady Denham’s gravel walk. Charlotte shivered and pulled her woolen cloak more closely about her. ThoughnThough otiit covered her well, under it she still only wore her loose nightdress and blue silkwrapper. How she wished she had taken the time to put on something warmer. This thin cladding did nothing to give her feelings of preparation and security.

Charlotte had been emboldened with purpose upon leaving Sanditon. But now that they had arrived at the estate, she was almost consumed by dread. Some of her anxiety was residual. She had been woken by an intruder just a few hours ago, after all. And then there was the shock of discovering that intruder was Edward Denham - a civil acquaintance of hers, if not quite a friend. Yet the tumult of Langford's escape made Edward's break-in feel as though it had occurred in another lifetime. And now there was no sign of either Sidney or James. Though Tom had driven the cart at a decent pace, they were twenty minutes behind at the very least. The two men were undoubtedly scouring the forest by now.

“Ought we to wake the house?” Charlotte whispered. “Perhaps the servants might help us search for Mr. Langford?” But Tom did not seem to be listening. “Charlotte,” he whispered urgently, “look. Do you see? Just there?” Tom was pointing towards the forest, but though Charlotte strained her eyes she saw nothing. The darkness was too thick. “No. What was it, Tom? Did you see Sidney?”

“I thought I saw – a shape, a movement. But I, I am less certain now.” Tom looked as nervous as Charlotte felt. “Perhaps we ought to go back, Charlotte. This is too dangerous. Anything might happen.”

“We must press on, Tom.” Charlotte tried to steady her voice. “If we are here, it will be four to one. Langford would certainly surrender before a shot is fired. If it were just two men…he may attack. He may provoke aggression. We cannot let him.” Charlotte spoke earnestly, and her words seemed to give Tom confidence. He exhaled sharply. “You are right. Of course, you are right my dear Charlotte. Sidney needs us.” He took a deep breath and slapped the reigns over the horse’s back. Seeing his somber expression, Charlotte wondered if this small action was, in Tom’s estimation, the most difficult thing he had ever done.

Chapter Text

After twenty minutes of waiting, Langford had still not come back to his campsite. Sidney and James were growing restless. “What could he be doing?” Sidney whispered. “Foraging for supplies? It is the middle of the night!”

“Perhaps he is relieving himself?” James suggested, with a soft laugh. It was a strange moment to make such a comment, but despite the strain, Sidney let out a reluctant chuckle. This fleeting mirth felt wonderful after hours of sustained tension. He suspected that was why James jested in the first place. Stringer became solemn once more. “I just knew something was suspicious about that bloke. Langford kept pressing me for private information about you, and Charlotte. What a scoundrel he turned out to be.”

Sidney took a sidelong look at James. “I appreciate your coming, Mr. Stringer. Though I admit, I am surprised that you did.”

James looked at him strangely. “Why should you be surprised?”

“No reason. I just…did not think you would ever want to assist me, that is all. I thought –“

James cut him off sharply. “ – thought what? That because I proposed to Charlotte and was rejected, I would be happy to see the both of you suffer? Or even hope for your injury?” He looked almost repulsed by the thought.

“I would not go that far.” Sidney murmured. “But…it is true that not many men would rush to the aid of a…a former rival.”

James shook his head and returned his gaze to the forest. “Perhaps. But I am not the resentful type, Mr. Parker. Charlotte can always count on my friendship, and my help, when it is needed.”

Sidney felt a sudden surge of respect for Mr. Stringer. Any lingering feelings of jealousy or mistrust he had where James was concerned suddenly evaporated. “Sidney.” he offered, more agreeably. James looked surprised, then gratified. “Sidney, then.”

Stringers’ expression suddenly changed. “Look!” he whispered hoarsely. “Over there!” Sidney could already see what caught his companion’s eye. A dark shadow seemed to be moving between the trees, far to their right. The shadow’s slim form and loping gait were unmistakable. It was Langford. Sidney quickly shifted around the tree trunk so as not to be seen. He cocked the hammer of his pistol, while James clutched his makeshift club. “He is coming straight towards us.” James whispered anxiously. “What is our plan? Langford would certainly shoot as soon as he sees us. He will not reach terms.”

“We need to get closer.” Sidney whispered. “Once we are in range, we can sneak behind and order him to surrender.”

“But won’t he see us approach?”

At that moment, Langford stopped. Sidney and James held their breath, praying they had not been overheard. But Langford’s interest had been advantageously captured by another noise, even further into the forest. Robert began walking towards the disturbance, and like lions hunting prey, Sidney and James steadily followed.

***** 

Tom and Charlotte were making slow progress through the forest. They had tried at first to guide their wooden cart through the central forest area, but it did not travel well over its roots and branches. The wooden wheels kept clattering over rocks, and the pair bumped about uncomfortably. Charlotte was sure they would be heard if they continued so. She asked Tom to steer them to the tree line’s edge, where the terrain was smoother and the arbor less dense. The journey was considerably easier after that. “It is so quiet.” Charlotte remarked softly. Even the night owls seemed to have been silenced. Tom did not reply. He was too busy glancing nervously into the woods on either side of them.

Charlotte looked behind her, at their supplies. The musket was lying in the cart, next to the rope and blankets. It occurred to her that they ought to have brought more ammunition. She was just wondering how many shots they might have when the cart jolted hard over a rock or branch. Charlotte was nearly thrown from her seat, and slid with a soft cry to the end of the bench. The musket and other supplies slipped to the back of the cart. “Blast!” Tom swore as he jumped out of the wagon. He seemed to be inspecting the wheel.

“What is it?” Charlotte whispered. “Have we damaged anything?”

“Stuck on a tree root.” Tom grunted. “There is a branch tangled through the wheel and axel. But I imagine I can get it free. Stay where you are, Charlotte, I won’t be a moment.” Tom stripped off his coat and scooted beneath the cart. She could hear him pulling at a branch underneath the wagon’s axel and swearing softly.

A snapping twig to Charlotte’s left caused her heart to stop with fear. Orders flew from her lips before she knew what was happening. “Tom, be still. Do not move, and do not speak.” Charlotte stood and stared hard into the forest at her left. A shadow moved through the trees, and somehow Charlotte knew. This was Langford. “Come out, then!” she called. “Do not just lurk there!” What was she doing? Langford emerged from the tree line, slowly. She had to repress a gasp when he came into better light. His appearance was gruesome; almost wild. Purple bruises covered his cheek and chin, and a bit of dried blood lingered about his nose. Charlotte’s eyes darted to the musket, now several feet behind her in the cart. Praying it was not visible, she straightened up with false confidence. “I have been searching for you for some time, Mr. Langford. I am glad to have found you at last.”

Langford raised his brows. “You have found me, Mrs. Parker? Are you asking me to believe that you have come all this way on your own? In the middle of the night?”

“Yes.” she lied. “I – I have come to ask you to return to Sanditon.” Charlotte glanced down at the wagon’s floorboards. Between its cracks, she could just see Tom inching carefully down the body of the wagon. She realized he was trying to reach the musket without being seen. Charlotte needed to distract Langford, and quickly. “And I must say,” she continued, “I think it was most unfair of you to leave your brother while you escaped to freedom.” Her indignation was believable, and Langford threw back his head in laughter. He suddenly looked a great deal less suspicious. “Oh, Ed will be just fine. I shall have him free by tomorrow afternoon.” Langford took a step forward. “Are you quite sure you are alone, Mrs. Parker? You were not followed? I should be very upset if my hiding place were to be discovered by anyone other than your charming self.”

“Yes, I am sure.” she replied acidly. “I took care not to be followed, so as to avoid any more unpleasantness between you and my husband.”

“Very wise, very wise. Then you have no idea where your husband is?” Langford was ten feet away now. This time Charlotte answered honestly. “No.”

“Excellent. Although – “ Langford hesitated as he moved a bit closer – “I still find it hard to believe that a fine London lady could drive a cart into a forest – alone – at two in the morning.”

Charlotte could see that Tom was now halfway down the length of the cart. She had to keep Langford talking. “I am no fine London lady, Sir. I was raised in Willingden, on a farm. I can manage a horse, and a small wagon, with perfect ease.”

“How perfectly delightful.” Langford took another step forward, but was silent now. Hurry, Tom! Charlotte thought. “And I would do more,” she continued hastily, “to prevent further violence between my husband and yourself. A duel is out of the question. I am here to beg that you will forgive Mr. Parker’s hot temper, and the harm done against you.” She would say anything to keep Langford’s attention fixed on her, and away from Tom.

Langford smiled. “Is that all…such a small request might have been communicated through a letter.”

“It is not small to me, Sir.” said Charlotte with affected gravity. “For I can see that this disagreement between you and my husband will not end peacefully. I am here to ensure that it does.”

“And your husband truly does not know?” Langford took another step closer. Charlotte glanced downwards. Tom was inching near the end of the cart. In another moment he could seize the musket. “Sidney does not know. And I would like to keep it that way.”

“That suits me very well.” Robert said, still smiling. He was only a few steps away now. “I confess, I am glad you sought me out. And I am very curious as to how you plan to – what was it you said? – ensure that we resolve our feud peacefully. How exactly do you intend to persuade me?”

“I beg your pardon?” Charlotte asked with feigned innocence. Tom, please! she thought desperately. “I – I can see that you are not open to negotiation.” she finished hurriedly. “I will go now, and – “

“But how can you, Mrs. Parker? With your cart damaged, and your brother-in-law trapped beneath it?” Langford pulled a pistol out of his pocket and cocked it. He pointed it at Tom, who had just neared the rear axle. “Out you come, Mr. Parker. Slowly, now, and with your hands above your head.” Charlotte suppressed a cry of fear. Tom climbed out from beneath the cart, ashen-faced. He raised his hands as he was bid. “You blaggard.” he seethed. “You will be hanged for this, Langford.”

“We shall see.” Langford’s mouth twitched into a sickening smile. “Now, Mrs. Parker. Back to our negotiation.”

At that moment, Sidney and James crashed through the trees behind them. “Drop it, Langford!” Sidney barked. With shock Sidney looked from Tom to Charlotte, and his face whitened. He turned back to his brother, enraged. “THOMAS PARKER!” Sidney bellowed.

“What!” Tom shouted, indignantly. “You do realize who you married, do you not?”

“Drop your gun, Mr. Langford.” James ordered. “You are surrounded. You cannot escape.” Langford did not move. He kept his pistol fixed on Tom. “You shoot me, Parker,” he seethed, “and I will shoot him.” Charlotte moved quickly. She leapt from the cart’s bench into the back of the open wagon, scrambling to the musket. In a swift move she cocked it and stood, aiming at Langford’s heart. “Will you shoot a woman?” she challenged.

“Charlotte, get down!” Sidney shouted. But Charlotte did not move. She stood poised and ready to act. “As I said, Mr. Langford, I was raised in the country. I have hunted many a rabbit and rodent before you. It would be unwise for you to test my aim. Do as my husband says.” Langford was watching her with a queer expression. He seemed almost amused by this turn of events. Winking at Charlotte, he began to raise his hands above his head.

The next few moments were a chaotic blur. Langford turned sharply and fired at Sidney. “No!” Charlotte screamed. But Sidney had anticipated the attack, and jumped to the side. “DOWN, CHARLOTTE!” he roared, and this time she obeyed. She crouched behind the cart’s wall, watching as James threw his club at Langford’s head. It made contact with a sickening crunch, and Langford began shouting expletives. Tom suddenly charged at Langford, roaring “You villain! You shall never touch my family again!” Robert fired once more, but James and Tom had caught hold of both of his wrists now. James bent Langford’s arm behind his back, and the shot burst aimlessly into the trees. Sidney ran in front of them and pointed his gun straight at Langford’s heart. “Drop it.” he ordered. “Drop the pistol, or I swear I will shoot you where you stand.” Langford struggled against Tom and James’ grip, but to no avail. With a look of pure hatred, he dropped his pistol into the dirt. Sidney kicked it under the wagon.

“Set him on the ground.” he directed, and Tom and James enthusiastically shoved Langford’s face into the earth. Sidney stood over the prisoner, keeping his gun on him. “My dear sister,” Tom panted, “the rope?” Charlotte had almost forgotten the coil they had brought with them. She tossed it out of the wagon at once, and James and Tom bound Langford’s hands tightly behind his back. “Do his legs as well.” Sidney instructed. “And his knees.”

“I will make you pay for this, Sidney Parker.” Langford breathed into the soil. “Make no mistake.” Now that Langford was confined, Sidney turned on his heel, away from the man. “And bind his mouth.” Charlotte tore a strip of her own hem to make this last request possible.

While James went to fetch their horses, Sidney lifted Charlotte out of the cart. “Are you all right?” he asked rigidly. She gave him a tentative glance. “Yes.” Sidney simply nodded. His jaw was set as firmly as stone, and after this response he did not look at her. He led Charlotte away from the cart, then helped Tom haul Langford into it. She noticed the brothers dumped him over the wagon’s edge with very little grace or care.

“Here is Stringer with the horses.” Tom said, pointing. James had emerged from the trees with three mares, one black and two brown. She supposed one had been Langford’s. “I can drive the cart back to town, of course.” Tom continued. “But someone ought to ride at the wagon’s side, with a pistol. Just in case. With Langford’s horse, that leaves one animal each for Sidney and Char –“

But Sidney was already lifting Charlotte onto his own horse and mounting behind her. She could sense that he was determined not to let her out of his sight.

“Mr. Poole will be glad to have his animals back.” James said simply, tying the extra horse off at the wagon’s back. He mounted his mare and took up guard duty at Langford’s side. Tom shrugged and climbed into his driver’s seat. With a snap of reins, the wagon began clattering away over rocks and tree roots. Sidney rode out in front, presumably wanting to keep Charlotte out of Langford’s view. Her husband had still not spoken to her, and this cold silence began to anger her in turn. She sat forward in the saddle, keeping several inches of distance between them.

The party traveled silently. Fierce wind rushed through the branches overhead, and Charlotte began to shiver with cold. She sensed Sidney’s strong arms at either side of her, and despite her vexation, she craved their warmth and comfort. Pausing for the briefest moment, she leaned back into his chest. Sidney’s response was immediate; his arms instinctively enclosed her, and she settled her head against his shoulder. The forest was brighter than it had been all evening, and looking up she realized that the wind had blown the dark clouds away. The moon was bright and full, and she could see several stars sparkling through the treetops.

“How beautiful this is.” she murmured to herself. “After the tumult of this evening…it is almost a gift.” Sidney cleared his throat gruffly, but said nothing. “Shall we go to Parker House?” she asked, determined to draw him out.

“If you like.” He spoke curtly.

“I would rather go home, and sleep in our own bed.” Charlotte admitted wearily.

“Really?” Sidney sounded genuinely surprised, despite his obvious anger. “You would not be frightened? To return to the scene of the break-in?”

Charlotte pondered this carefully. “I thought about that. But no, I don’t think so. It almost helps that it was committed by someone I know, as strange as it sounds. And,” she said settling closer to him, “I could never be afraid if we are together.” Again, Sidney made no answer, but she could have sworn he drew her nearer upon hearing these words.  

Chapter Text

It was nearly three in the morning when they reached Sanditon. The town was silent, and dark. Not a soul could be seen on its streets; even the drunkards had wandered home. Sidney dismounted his horse and asked James to wait outside the jailhouse, with Charlotte. He wanted to be sure Langford was properly locked up before returning home. Together, he and Tom carried Langford into the jailhouse. Both brothers ignored the man’s muffled shouts and threats. As they burst through the door, Lord Babington stood up at attention, pistol still in hand.

“Sidney! Tom!” he cried. “You have returned at last...and - you caught him!”

“Oh, well done you.” purred Edward from his cot. “Put him with his brother, if you please.” Babington looked at him sternly. “You are not to give the orders here, Edward Denham.”

“Oh, forgive me for grasping at some semblance of comfort!” snapped Edward, bitterly. “And for enjoying the warmth and privacy of this cell, after weeks of wet and rotten damp.”  

“Someone ought to tell Lady Denham that Sir Edward is here.” Tom murmured. “It will be quite a shock, I imagine. Poor old woman.”

“Leave it to me.” answered Babington gravely. “I shall break the news in the morning.” Edward had been listening in to this part of the conversation. “And Esther?” he called from behind his bars. “You will tell her, of course? For my sister will not stand for this mistreatment, I assure you. I demand that you notify her of my condition at once.” Babington ignored him. “Constable Bradley was revived by Dr. Fuchs, and taken home.” he reported. “These two –“ he gestured to Edward and Edmund – “have been quiet all evening. Well…until just recently, that is.”

“This is an outrage!” Edward yelled. “I am a gentleman, and have been swindled and severely mistreated by the two gentlemen you see before you now. Any part I played in this affair was miniscule. They are the true architects of the scheme, and I was but a slave, a mere errand boy carrying out their misdeeds. Release me, and let me return to Sanditon House. Lady Denham will surely – “

“I think you should save your defenses for a court of law, Edward.” Babington spoke evenly, putting on his coat and not looking at the man. “What are we to do now?” he asked, addressing Sidney. “Who will guard them tonight?”

Sidney was moving Edmund Langford to share Edward’s cell. He wanted Robert to remain in a paddock alone – and still restrained. This seemed further insurance against a second untimely escape. He loosed the man’s gag to enable him to breathe easier, but not without whispering a warning not to speak if he knew what was good for him. “I want to take Charlotte home.” Sidney answered. “She has been through quite enough this evening.” He shot Edward a dark glance.

“I will stay.” Tom offered wearily. “Only let me go home and console Mary first. She will be half out of her wits with worrying.”

Babington nodded. “I shall remain as well. It is only a few hours until dawn. And I asked Esther not to wait up for me, so I shall not be missed. We can call for reinforcements in the morning.”

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Sidney said, sliding the gate of Langford’s cell shut and locking it with a satisfying click. He did not look at Robert, or the other prisoners. “A man is lucky indeed to have such friends.” He shook hands all around and bid Tom and Babington goodnight. Walking out of the jailhouse, he saw Stringer and Charlotte engaged in somber conversation – no doubt discussing the events of the evening. Charlotte had dismounted Mr. Poole’s brown mare, and James was preparing to take the borrowed horses back. He looked up as Sidney approached. “All is well, then?” James asked.

“Yes. Tom and Babington will watch the prisoners until daybreak.”

Stringer let out a puff of air. He looked simply exhausted. “All’s well that ends well, eh? Goodnight, Charlotte. Goodnight, Sidney.”  

“Goodnight James. And thank you.”

“Yes, goodnight James.” repeated Charlotte softly. Mr. Stringer bowed slightly and began walking towards the livery with three horses in tow. Charlotte and Sidney were left standing together in the street, several feet apart. A palpable tension hung in the air, one that had not existed between them since before they were married. Anger still simmered hotly inside of him, but he did his best not to reveal it. “Shall we go home, then?” Sidney’s tone was forcibly pleasant.

“Yes.” Charlotte looked at him skeptically. They began walking towards their terrace apartment. For a time, neither spoke. Finally, Charlotte asked, “Will they be tried in Sanditon? The Langford brothers, and Edward?”

Sidney shook his head. “Not if I can help it. As soon as day breaks I will arrange for them to be shipped north.” Charlotte frowned contemplatively. “Good.” was all she spoke.

“Well. Here we are.” They had reached the entrance to their building. Both were silent as they climbed to their top floor apartment. It struck Sidney as eerily quiet and vulnerable. The building was still mostly empty. Part of him cursed their decision to stay in such a sparsely occupied part of town. Had they not, a break-in that put his defenseless wife at risk might not have occurred.

In uncomfortable silence they entered their small parlor. “Do you think Mrs. O’Connor came back from Parker House?” Charlotte finally asked.

“Perhaps.” Sidney was having difficulty restraining the chill from his tone now, and Charlotte sensed it. She wrinkled her nose in affront and walked up the apartment stairs without him. He followed at a moderate pace, trying to calm his temper and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. As he entered the bedroom and closed its door behind him, he heard Charlotte say firmly, “I wish you would speak openly. But if you will not, Sidney, then I will. I know that you are angry. I know that you wish I had not followed.”

“I asked you not to follow, Charlotte. And you –“

“But imagine if I had not? What might have happened to you?”

“To me?” he said incredulously. To his surprise, he had to choke back a treacherous lump in his throat, and furiously blink away a few hot tears. “Charlotte, you might have been killed this evening, do you understand? What were you thinking? You deliberately put yourself in danger.” Sidney was saved from a show of emotion, for his anger was flaring once more. “You practically dared Langford to shoot you! Taking up arms and pointing them at an aggressor increases your chances of drawing fire tenfold, everyone knows –“

“Including you?” she cut him off sharply. “You pointed a pistol at him yourself, as I recall. And it is most unfair of you to lecture me on putting myself in danger,” she continued acidly, “when you chased after him into the night!”

“He had to be caught – “

“But not necessarily by you!” It was now Charlotte who quaked with passionate anger. Her cheeks flushed, and she took a deep breath. Despite her being nearly a full head shorter than him, she suddenly exuded a towering, almost intimidating strength. “Understand this, Sidney Parker. I am not of so delicate and frail a nature that I will run from the source of our troubles. Nor will I be content to remain at home, agonizing over your fate, while you pursue them. So either you will stop riding into dark woods with a pistol, or you will resign yourself to the fact that if you do, you will have my company.” She stood fuming and breathing hard, and even in this strained moment Sidney could not help but notice the way her brown eyes flashed with passionate feeling. A small twig and leaf were caught through her dark curls, and he longed to brush them away.

“Well?” she demanded. “What is it to be?”

Sidney’s mouth twitched. “…I am thinking.”

This suggestion of humor seemed to thaw the ice between them. Charlotte’s expression softened. “Consider in your calculations, Mr. Parker…that I am a much better shot than Robert Langford ever will be.” At that moment, the only calculation that interested Sidney was the number of steps between him and his wife. He soon found out, closing the gap between them and pulling Charlotte into his arms. “Forgive me.” he breathed in her ear, as she murmured the same. Other discoveries soon followed – how quickly he could remove her thin garment, for example. And the curious fact that both parties, though exhausted, had suddenly lost any interest in sleep. Sweet kisses soon evolved into blistering passion. Sidney had almost no conception of how they moved – for a time against the floor, the bed, the wall, and the bed again.

Both made love with vigor, indeed almost with urgency. Their desires seemed to have been mutually sharpened by the distress of the last few hours. Fear had caught up with them at last – the horrifying reality that they might have permanently been separated. This terror crested like waves, crashing over them relentlessly in the darkness. Yet as Sidney’s hands coursed over Charlotte’s soft skin, and as he was at last able to voice the horror he felt at the possibility of losing her - as he heard her moan into his ear again and again that she loved him – he had an ethereal, settling sense, that whatever dangers the future brought, it was Charlotte he wanted riding at his side.    

Chapter Text

Georgiana woke early the next morning. Her eyes fluttered open with a start, and for the briefest moment she wondered why she was already so alert. Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, it was not even seven o’clock. Remembering that it was Sunday at last, she stifled a smile and got hastily out of bed. Although Georgiana rang for Crockett, she began excitedly dressing herself before her maid even entered the room.

It was a source of some irritation to her that she had put so much thought into today’s ensemble. Georgiana could not fathom why a Sunday walk with simple, uncouth Fred Robinson should inspire such preparations. Consoling herself that she was always in the habit of looking her best, she selected her favorite dark blue gown and silver bonnet. These rich hues set off her complexion beautifully. While Crockett braided her hair high atop her head, she clipped on her favorite gold and pearl cluster earrings. “I must say, you look especially lovely today, Miss.” Crockett remarked. “Are you meeting Mrs. Charlotte Parker?”

“No.” Georgiana replied brusquely. “I intend to walk, that is all. What time is it?”

“Nearly eight o’clock, Miss.”

“Excellent.” She had arranged to meet Fred at nine, near the pier. Georgiana shrugged off Crockett’s hands, which were smoothing a few curls at the back of her head. “I am sure that is good enough, thank you Crockett. I shall leave you now.”

“Very good, Ma’am.” While Crockett curtsied, Georgiana tied on her bonnet and rushed out of her bedroom at Parker House. With a bump and a cry of surprise, she ran into Elsie, the Parker’s maid. “Oh! Excuse me, Miss Lambe!” twittered Elsie, who looked more than a little flustered as she stooped to gather the stack of linens she had been carrying. “Think nothing of it.” Georgiana replied dismissively, preparing to leave. Yet as Elsie began refolding her formerly perfect pile, she felt a slight pang of remorse. Bending down, she began helping the maid gather the scattered cloths. “It was my fault.” Georgiana said. “I should have paid greater heed to my surroundings.”

“Not at all, Miss Lambe.” laughed Elsie, nervously. “But I must say, Miss - you are up rather early for a Sunday morning. Is anything wrong, Miss?”

“No, no, nothing.” she replied curtly. “Are no members of the Parker family awake, then?” Georgiana sincerely hoped this to be so. She had some desire to slip out unseen.

“Oh no, Miss Lambe. They are all still abed. In fact…” Elsie, who was something of a gossip, glanced furtively about before she continued. “Mr. Tom Parker did not come home until daybreak! And he looked absolutely exhausted, I saw him from the balcony as he came in. I have no doubt he will sleep the day away!”

“Daybreak?” Georgiana was incredulous. She had never expected Mr. Parker’s card game to go on through the night. For Mary’s sake, she hoped Tom had not lost great sums. “Please tell Mr. and Mrs. Parker, when they wake, that I will be back in time for luncheon.”

“Yes, Miss Lambe.”

At last Georgiana made her way out of Parker House and towards the pier. She had never seen Sanditon by such early hours. Fish merchants and their wives were setting out today’s catch, hauling odorous crates and buckets into market. She passed the baker’s shop, and glancing through its window observed the owner hard at work readying this morning’s loaves. The smell of charcoal and hot bread hung strongly on the air, causing Georgiana’s stomach to grumble. Suddenly realizing she had taken no breakfast, she bought an iced bun or two and stowed them in her reticule. Perhaps Fred cared for iced buns as well. Georgiana shook herself, casting the thought out impatiently. Surely his preferences for pastry, or anything else for that matter, were of no concern to her.

This small errand did not quite fill her extra time, and she arrived at the pier almost twenty minutes early. Georgiana wandered around aimlessly, picking up shells but finding little enjoyment in the diversion. She suddenly felt foolish at her eagerness for this encounter. Georgiana had almost made up her mind to turn around and go home when she heard Fred call out, “Good morning, Miss Lambe!”

Turning, she saw Mr. Robinson walking towards her with his hat raised high in the air. He had put on a slightly nicer suit, though it was still decidedly plain and brown. Seeing that he was grinning as he approached, her heart jumped just a little. This response she squashed with immediacy, coolly replying, “Good morning, Mr. Robinson.”

“You are here early!” he continued jovially. “Have you been waiting long?” Georgiana was embarrassed by this question, and suddenly defensive about her premature arrival. “I was not early.” she asserted. “I just – wanted to walk the pier, that is all.”

“A fine morning for it too, I should think. Shall we take this way together?” he gestured along the shoreline.

“Very well.”

They began walking side by side. Georgiana kept her face straight ahead for a time, enjoying the pleasant sea breeze against her skin. But when Fred said nothing more, she began to feel awkward - ill at ease. Even nervous. No topic of conversation came readily to her lips, and in distress she glanced at her companion. To her great irritation, he was not paying any heed to her. Fred was staring into the sea, apparently lost in thought. After two or three more minutes of this he still had not said a word. This negligence was unforgivable, and she let out a discontented huff. Fred did not seem to notice. “I must say,” Georgiana finally muttered, “when you asked if I wanted to walk, I did not think we would do so in monastic silence.”

“Hmm?” Fred seemed to come out of a reverie. “Oh, forgive me, Miss Lambe.”

“What were you staring at?” she asked. “The sea? There is nothing out there at the moment. No boats, or even birds.”

Fred shrugged. “I was not even taking it in, to be honest. My thoughts were elsewhere. On the arrests made last night.”

“What arrests?” Georgiana’s annoyance was interrupted by a surge of curiosity.

“Then you have not heard?” Fred’s eyes widened. “The news is all over town. Robert and Edmund Langford apparently hired a thief to break into Mr. Sidney Parker’s flat. It would seem the Langfords have been holding up our supplies throughout the build. Our missing windows, our ironworks, everything we needed to complete the building – it is all down to their interference. It is hardly surprising, given that – “

“And they have been arrested?” Georgiana interrupted.

“I am getting to that, Miss Lambe, if you will only let me finish. Yes, for Mr. Sidney Parker heard about the break-ins, and by all accounts he bashed Mr. Robert Langford soundly. Both men were taken to prison – “

“Sidney and Langford?” Georgiana cried.

“No, Edmund and Robert Langford. But Mr. Robert Langford broke loose, and – “

“Is he on the run?” Georgiana asked, wide-eyed.

“No. The account is that Mr. Tom Parker, Mr. Sidney Parker, and my good friend James Stringer caught him near Sanditon House last night. He is back in jail now.”

“But this is quite shocking!” Georgiana said. “And are you quite sure this is true?”

“Aye, Miss. For James told me everything this morning. Word is they will be sent back to London to await trial.” Fred looked grave. “It serves them right. Those blokes had no right undermining our build. They put a great many of my men out of work, you know. Some families ‘round here just cannot afford that, not for one single day.”

“Well.” Georgiana mused. “I am glad he has been caught. Although it is a pity he turned out to be such a rogue. I thought him rather handsome, myself.” Without entirely knowing why, she glanced sideways to see the effect her speech would have on Fred. She received no satisfaction, however, for he continued frowning and gazing into the distance. Georgiana set her shoulders, determined not to be the first to break the silence again. It was several more minutes before Fred spoke, and when he did, she could not fathom his meaning. “You’re mistaken, Miss Lambe.” he said. “There is something out there.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What?”

“You said there was nothing out there. You are wrong.” Fred pointed to the sea. “Antigua. Just there. I can see it as plain as day.” He was clearly jesting, but Georgiana burst into hearty laughter for a different reason. “Antigua lies that way,” she corrected, pointing in the opposite direction. “Nearly four thousand nautical miles that way, as a matter of fact.”

“Ah.” Fred squinted past Georgiana’s pointing finger. “Yes of course. I see it now. It is easy to miss.” Georgiana was still laughing, and Fred gave a wry smile. “So, Miss Lambe,” he asked as they continued walking. “Is it still your dream to return to Antigua?”

“Not a dream. A positive plan.” she asserted. “The day I turn twenty-one, I shall board a ship and sail to my father’s house. I hope to never set foot on this dreary little island again.”

“Come now, Miss Lambe.” Fred objected. “England is not all bad. True, we have howling gales instead of tropical breezes. And, I admit, our sky is lined with clouds more than two thirds of the year. But if you don’t mind a bit of a drizzle, it is a right lovely place to live. Green hills, dotted with sheep. Thick gold wheat fields in the spring in summer. Just lovely.” He spoke cheerfully, and Georgiana could not help but be touched by his obvious national pride. “Quite poetic, Mr. Robinson. I suppose one cannot help but love their birthland.” she allowed with begrudging warmth.

Fred nodded. “Aye, Miss Lambe.” After a few moments, he cleared his throat. “So! You still have an estate in Antigua, do you? And some land? You are a very lucky woman.”

This question caught Georgiana off guard. He had never discussed her fortune, or any of her real estate holdings. A wave of sadness engulfed her. Could Fred's kindness to her have been mercenary? The mere thought ushered in suspicious anger.

“I suppose.” she fumed. “But I tell you now, Fred Robinson. If the reason you asked me to walk with you today was because I am an heiress, and you are hoping to get your share – then make no mistake. You shall never see me again.”

Fred looked shocked at this aggressive outburst. “I seek nothing, Miss Lambe. Truly.”

“And how can I believe that?” she demanded, almost desperately.

His brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “I asked you to walk today because you seemed lonely, and in need of friendship. That is all. I do not seek payment for that.”

Georgiana was deeply embarrassed, but hid it with a haughty nod. “Good.” was all she managed to say. Somehow, Fred's response had saddened Georgiana even more. He had asked her to walk out of pity, and she made a hasty resolution never to accept another of his invitations. This condescension was too much to be borne.

Fred was looking at her with a curious expression. “It must be difficult to have a fortune.” he said solemnly. “For how would you know if your friends are true, eh?”

Smoothing over an awkward moment, Georgiana changed the subject. “And what about you, Mr. Robinson? What are your own dreams? Where do you see yourself in a year’s time, or two?”

Fred laughed. “I am not the dreaming sort, Miss Lambe. I don’t demand much of this world. I never have. My friend James, he is the dreamer. Running off to London to build grand cathedrals and palaces.” Fred tilted his head to the side, thinking. “The most I hope for is a comfortable home, and a steady wage. The chance to meet and marry a nice lass, someday, and raise a few young ones. Perhaps teach my son a trade. That is all. That would be enough for me.” He smiled contentedly, and looked at Georgiana. But his face suddenly fell with concern. “Is something wrong, Miss Lambe? You look distressed.”

“No.” Georgiana lied. “Nothing is wrong. I am sure you will do well, Mr. Robinson. I hope you find your pretty wife someday soon, and continue to earn a steady wage.”

“I said nice, not necessarily pretty.” Fred began. “It does not matter if – “

“Oh, but I am sure she will be.” Georgiana snapped, through a forced smile. “And what a happy life you will have, I am sure.” She quickened her pace, walking a few steps in front of him in order to hide her expression. Fred stopped walking and fell behind, still looking decidedly confused.

“As for the steady wage, you must continue working for Sidney and Charlotte.” Georgiana rambled. “They are apt managers of Sanditon, and you will do better if –“

“You like me.” Fred’s voice sounded behind her.

Georgiana froze, then whipped around. “What did you say?”

Fred was wide-eyed. “You like me. You are fond of me. I can see it. That is why you are upset.”

Georgiana blushed to her forehead, and began spitting denials as fast as she could formulate them. “You are quite mistaken, Mr. Robinson. Again, you have made an obtuse and impertinent assumption. Perhaps it would be best if we parted company once and for all, and – “

Fred shook his head. “You are lying. You like me. And I have upset you.”

Georgiana looked away in despair. His uncanny ability to see through her denials – to discern her feelings, before she had acknowledged them to herself - was humiliating to say the least. She bit her lip, agonizing over the truth. “Yes.” she finally admitted. Then, in a wavering voice, “Though heaven knows why.” She looked up at Fred uncertainly, but he said nothing. He was regarding her with curiosity, but she could detect no other emotion. “Well?” she demanded anxiously. “What have you to say?”

A slow grin spread across Fred’s face. “I say that took a great deal of courage to confess, Miss Lambe.” Walking towards her, he extended his arm. “I should be honored to pass time with so brave and honest a lady. And the day is young. Let us keep walking, and become better acquainted. Perhaps we will like each other better and better as we do.” Georgiana took Fred’s arm, overcome with a strange and unfamiliar sensation: utter happiness. She reached into her reticule and pulled out her pastries. “Do you – do you care for iced buns, Fred?”

Chapter Text

Across town, Lady Denham hesitated outside the Sanditon jailhouse. Lord Babington had come back to Sanditon House just a few hours ago, with a grievous and unthinkable tale to tell. Standing outside of the prison door, she could not help but hope Lord Babington had been mistaken. Surely her nephew, being the empty-headed fop that he was, could not have orchestrated such spiteful sabotage. She prayed such malicious actions were beyond his abilities. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin high, she turned the door’s handle and entered.

A gentleman she did not recognize was keeping guard and stood immediately upon her entry. “Lady Denham!”

She ignored him, casting her eyes first to the cell on the right. Robert Langford – who appeared to be bound from head to foot – was perched like a menacing bird on a wooden cot. In the cell on the left sat two gentlemen: Edmund Langford, crouched miserably in a corner, and a second man whom at first she did not recognize. He was deathly thin, with a great quantity of uncombed, dirty blonde hair. With a shock she realized this was Edward. “Aunt!” he cried, sitting up on his own cot.

He looked simply terrible. Edward’s eyes were dim and yellowed, and his hollowed cheeks and blistered hands made him almost unrecognizable from the fashionable, languid gentleman he was just one year ago.

“I came to see if the rumors flying about Sanditon, in this instance, held up to examination.” Lady Denham said crisply. “I can see that they do.”

Edward tried to stand. She could see that his leg was injured and bound. “You would do well not to listen to rumors, Aunt. I have been grossly misused, and manipulated by these two gentleman. If you would learn the facts of the situation, you would find – “

“Oh, shut it, will you, Denham?” yelled Edmund Langford from across the cell.

“For once, I agree with Mr. Langford.” observed Lady Denham. She folded her hands in front of her decisively. “But I will take this opportunity to, as you say, ‘learn the facts of the situation.’ Did you, or did you not, break into Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s flat and steal critical building and supply documents?”

“Aunt, I – “

“Answer me, Edward. Yes or no will suffice.”

Edward bit his lip angrily. Lady Denham raised her brows. “You have no wish to speak? Very well. I shall bid you good day.” She moved to leave, causing Edward to cry out, “Wait! Yes. Yes, I did. But –“

“Excellent. You have enough honor left in you to tell the truth, at least. With a little prodding.” She turned back to him once more. “And did you, or did you not, receive payment from these gentlemen –“ she pointed to the scowling Langfords – “in return for your actions?”

Edward let out a short, bursting laugh. “I was promised payment, yes. Whether I received it is another matter.”

“Again, excellent.” replied Lady Denham. “I imagine that will be a factor in your favor when you come before the magistrate.”

Her nephew was visibly shocked by these words. “But…Aunt…I, I thought you might be able to – to…”

“You thought wrongly, Edward Denham. Your behavior has been despicable, and you will take full responsibility for it, mark my words. You will testify against these reprobates, and detail the full extent of your involvement in their crimes.” Lady Denham was very firm.

“Do you know the conditions I have been living in the last few months, Aunt?" Edward was fuming. "The dank and rat-infested holes I have had to call home, since you cut off my rightful inheritance? I –“

“I imagine your circumstances are very much of your own making, Edward." Lady Denham interrupted. "As I was saying, after testifying against the Langfords, you will then endure whatever sentence a court of law sees fit to bestow upon you. My sources tell me that this could very well mean a period of time spent in prison.”

“No!” Edward cried, almost desperately. “They would never convict a gentleman.”

“We shall see.” Lady Denham frowned. “And now, for my good news.”

This last statement clearly sparked hope in her nephew, for he staggered to the front of his cell and gripped its bars eagerly. “Yes? You will help me?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Lady Denham absently straightened her plumed hat and drew herself up solmenly. “If you are a good lad in prison, and do what you are told, then when you are released...I shall purchase you a commission in the royal navy.”

“What?” Edward cried out. The Langford brothers began laughing wickedly at this announcement. “The navy?” Edward protested. “To be stuck on a ship among ruffians and tradesmen? You cannot be in earnest, Aunt.”

“Oh, but I assure you I am.” Her tone and expression were deadly serious. Convinced of her sincerity, Edward staggered slightly backwards in despair.

“You can refuse the commission, of course.” said Lady Denham. “But I advise you to think it over carefully. For it is the last good deed I intend to do on your behalf, Edward Denham.”

“Lady Denham,” Edward began with renewed anger, “I really think – “

“What other options have you, Edward? Presumably you have no money, no friends, no connections that will champion you. Why else would you have taken up with these scoundrels?” She waved her hand dismissively over the Langfords.

Edward began chewing the inside of his cheek, but said nothing.

“It is high time you learned the value of honest labor.” Lady Denham continued. “A simple choice is before you. Will you take up a profession, or lounge in squalor? Start again, Edward. Make a life on the sea, away from us all. Try to rise up in its ranks." She gave a hollow laugh. "If such achievement is possible for you. Stay far away from - how shall I say this – certain tempting compounds from the ancient east. Settle in some foreign land, and build a modest home. You might even start a family, if you can find some working-class girl who will take you.”

“I am a gentleman of England!” yelled Edward, infuriated.

“You may write to me when you have been released from prison,” Lady Denham pressed on, “and let me know what you have decided. Until that day, I caution you to be a good lad, and cooperate with the authorities. You may be assured that they will be keeping me informed as to your behavior. And now, I must take my leave.” Lady Denham swept around and began leaving the prison.

“Aunt!” Edward suddenly cried out. She turned back to face him. His face was flushed, and his expression tense. His knuckles whitened as he clutched his cell bars. “Is…” he gulped. “…is my sister well?”

For the first time that morning, a note of sympathy hung over Lady Denham. Mustering her dignity once more, she replied, “Sister? I am not aware that you have a sister, Edward Denham. But if by chance you meant to refer to Lady Babington – yes, she is very well indeed.” Turning away from Edward, one heartfelt parting involuntarily escaped her lips. “Goodbye, my nephew. And good luck.” Without another word, she shuffled out of the jailroom and into Sanditon’s busy street.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, Sidney Parker watched in silent satisfaction as the domed glass window was finally installed in his terrace. It had been manufactured quickly after the Langfords had been arrested. Sidney had sent investigators to each of his troublesome vendors, and the suppliers had quickly confessed to taking bribes from Robert Langford to cancel his orders. A local magistrate allowed the vendors to stay in business, but ordered them to furnish the fixtures free of charge as recompense. Ironically, Robert Langford’s interference had in the end placed Sidney in a strong economic position. A double crew was back at work, and within a few hours the building would at last be weathertight.

“Easy there boys, easy!” called Fred Robinson from a second level scaffolding. “Fit the dome in gently, we only get one shot at this!” It was rather nerve-wracking to watch the huge glass dome being lifted by delicate hooks and ropes. “Come on men.” Sidney muttered to himself. For the briefest, terrifying second it looked as though the glass would fall and shatter to powder. Fortunately, two quick-thinking workers on the roof steadied it and pulled it safely atop the building.

“Oh, thank heavens!”

Sidney turned to see Tom a few feet behind him. His brother was laughing nervously. “By jove…I thought for a moment they might not get it up. How dreadful that would be, after all this trouble!”

“Indeed.” Sidney smiled. “Hello, Tom.” They embraced, clapping each other on the back. “What brings you to the site today?”

“Progress, of course, progress!” Tom rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I heard you were fitting the windows and fixtures today. I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to seeing the finished product. It – it is simply beautiful, Sidney.”

Sidney had to concede that fact. The terrace, with its stately columns, finely glazed windows, and grand sweeping staircase, was coming together better than he could have ever hoped. It was the sort of design that would have been welcome along the streets of London, let alone Sanditon. He noticed with pleasure how its white plaster cladding sparkled in the sunlight. “We are calling it ‘The Pearl,’ until a more permanent name can be found.”

“Perfect!” Tom exclaimed. Sidney was pleased to see that he was genuinely excited. Any sense of competition or bitterness between them had long since faded. “But that is an excellent name.” Tom continued. “Evocative of the sea, and altogether lovely. Why not ‘Pearl Terrace?’ It certainly looks the part.”

“Perhaps.” Sidney considered, smiling to himself. “If Charlotte is agreeable to it.”

“I rather thought she might be here.” Tom remarked, looking around. “With the dome being installed, and all that.”

“She was, earlier. But she has gone to call on Lady Denham. They are drawing up plans for reduced rental rates during the off-season.”

“Ah!” Tom raised his brows. “That is going forward, then? We shall have an influx of merchant families, and tradesmen?”

“Yes. All eager to enjoy the delights of the seaside, and spend money at your local shops, Tom.” Sidney spoke deliberately. “Hopefully, it will mean Sanditon is a great deal more populous this fall and winter. You shall have to plan a grand calendar of events to entertain them.”

Tom clasped his hands behind his back and puffed out his chest slightly. “You can be sure I will, brother. I already have a thousand ideas, ripe for the plucking. There will be a harvest ball, of course, around Michaelmas. And a kite flying competition, in early March when the winds are at their strongest. Then of course there is the –“

“It all sounds excellent, Tom.” Sidney clapped his brother on the arm and turned his attention back to the building. The dome was now being nailed in. “Gently, lads!” Fred yelled. “It is made o’ glass, after all!”

“What a summer it has been.” Tom sighed. “I can hardly believe it is at an end.” He glanced sideways at Sidney. “Any…any more news of the Langfords?”

Sidney frowned. “A bit. They were taken to Templeton Prison in London, and are awaiting trial. The attorneys doubt it will be held before next year.”

“Really?” Tom turned towards him with interest. “Why is that?”

Sidney laughed bitterly. “They have a mountain of evidence to sort through, apparently. Others have come forward since they have been arrested, accusing the Langfords of various crimes. Blackmail, theft. Even violence. It will take time to organize the charges.”

“I am not at all surprised.” Tom murmured darkly.

“Yes. They are not likely to leave Templeton Prison any time soon.” Sidney felt immense satisfaction in saying these words aloud.

“But are you not concerned?” Tom whispered. “That they might bribe their way out of this, as they threatened to? What of their connections, within the court? They practically boasted of having one of the top magistrates in their pocket!”

“I must trust that justice will prevail. Or that the reduction of their assets will be enough to limit potential bribes.” Sidney kicked a stone, imagining it to be Langford’s face. “At any rate, even if they were to be set free… they would not return to Sanditon. Robert Langford’s a rascal, but a coward underneath it all. He will not be back.”

“And you mean to leave it there?” Tom looked at him in surprise. “Truly, brother?”

Sidney shrugged. “I have no wish to be caught up in an eternal crusade for justice, Tom. He has caused enough distress to my wife, and myself. Let him rot in prison, and struggle along afterwards. I mean never to think of him again. At any rate,” he gestured towards the building, “I have enough to trouble me now. This building has to be filled by next summer to turn any profit. Charlotte and I need to secure some tenants, and quickly.”

“Ah!” Tom rocked back and forward on his heels, clearing his throat. “That brings me to my other order of business.” Sidney looked at his brother curiously; Tom was a hopelessly transparent person, and it was evident he was bursting with some delightful secret.

“Yes? What is it, Tom?”

“You know that we had a great many visitors from London around the time of the costume ball,” Tom began, speaking very quickly, “and that those visitors stayed as long as Lady Susan did. Sea bathing, and fishing, and walking, and so forth.”

“Yes.” Sidney prompted.

“Well…” Tom pulled a stack of envelopes out of his pocket, looking positively gleeful. “The fact is, they all had a marvelous time. Several even asked that the costume ball be a regular feature, implying that they would return with…but I digress. A great many of those visitors were nobility, of great fortune and renown. They too wanted to take apartments in Sanditon, and seeing your building, they were naturally drawn to its magnificent scale. Inquiries began pouring in, week after week.” Tom handed Sidney the stack of letters. “These are requests for leases. Thirty-four in all. I counted them myself. You may take your pick for Pearl Terrace, and funnel the rest into the other empty apartments along your terraces.”

Sidney took the stack of letters in shock. “Tom…this is…but surely, you must –“

“Oh, hush Sidney.” Tom laughed. “Waterloo Terrace is nearly full. I have no need of these. And it is your building they want, anyway.” There was a hint of sadness in Tom’s expression, but he swept it away quickly. “I am so very pleased and proud to be able to give these to you, Sidney. And it is the very least I can do, after…after all you have done. For my family.”

There were no words for what Sidney felt. He merely extended his hand, and with a look of silent respect and understanding, the two shook hands in the middle of Sanditon’s street.

Chapter Text

The rest of the summer passed peacefully for Sidney and Charlotte. Their building was officially completed on the twelfth of August. Charlotte christened it ‘Pearl Terrace’ after all, to Tom’s immense satisfaction. Mr. Fred Robinson was given a bonus salary as a thank you for his dedicated work, which he quickly put into a savings account. When he was asked for what purpose, he vaguely alluded to an interest in visiting Antigua. Charlotte suspected, happily, that she knew the reason why.   

Mr. Cox returned to London, but told a delighted Charlotte he would return next summer. The kindly old architect confessed that he had grown extremely fond of Sanditon during his time there, and had found the sea climate ‘particularly beneficial for his gout.’ With his patronage, and that of the London guests, each apartment in Pearl Terrace was now spoken for. Many of the other terrace apartments were also attracting tenants, and both Sidney and Tom enjoyed well-based hopes for the town’s success.

Two days after Pearl Terrace’s completion, Sidney was woken from sleep by an unexpectedly chill breeze. Blearily rubbing his eyes, he saw that the window across from the bed was open. He reached instinctively to his right, but found only a tangle of sheets. Charlotte was already awake. He sat up slightly, and to his surprise saw that she was sitting in the window seat, staring out at the sea. She was still naked after last night's impassioned pursuits. A loose sheet clutched about her legs was her only covering.

The sun was just rising over the ocean. Its rays burst over the horizon, setting the water aglow with brilliant oranges and golds. Sidney smiled to himself as Charlotte leaned her elbows upon the windowsill. Her dark curls blew softly in the morning wind, brushing prettily against her bare back. Sidney realized Charlotte was humming – a simple, haunting melody he had heard Sanditon’s fish wives warble as they walked to and from the docks. Quietly, so quietly, she sang: 

“Soft o’er the waves, love,

Soft o’er the waves,

For yet the night star looms high in the sky,

And here in my arms lie our blessings and dreams,

So soft o’er the waves, love,

Soft o’er the waves.”  

Sidney smiled to himself. It was the first time he had heard Charlotte sing. Her voice was pleasant – soft, and almost flute-like. Sidney climbed out of bed, joining in the song. He sang well, although few had heard him do so outside of a pub. Charlotte looked immensely surprised, but smiled as they continued together:

“The wind it is rising,

The mist is chill gray,

And even the gull has abandoned the sky,

And we must keep sailing, all night and all day,

So soft oe’r the waves, love,

Soft o’er the waves.”

Sidney – also bare skinned -  sat next to Charlotte on the window seat. “Your voice is lovely. You are a true baritone.” she said, still smiling. “Why have I never heard you sing?”

“I might ask the same.” he said, kissing her tenderly. “Good morning, Lady Godiva.”

Charlotte laughed and rolled her eyes. “I suppose you think me indecent, Mr. Parker. But I woke early, before first light, and the sunrise was simply too beautiful to miss. And anyway, I have this at the ready, should anyone pass by.” She held up her sheet, with such a funny little expression that Sidney laughed out loud.

“You are mistaken, my love. I was thinking that, if anyone should see you while passing by…they would be very lucky indeed.” He kissed her again, and she reproached him with a playful tug at his hair. They watched the sunrise together for several minutes, listening as the waves gently lapped the shore. The tide was coming in.

“Will you miss it?” Charlotte asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Will you miss Sanditon?”

Sidney turned to look at his wife with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

Charlotte smiled. “The summer is over now. Pearl Terrace is complete. It is time we returned to Benson Place, is it not?”

He stared at his wife in amazement. “But…but I thought you would wish to remain in Sanditon. To begin work on the wharf, and the pier.”

Charlotte looked out at the sea once more. “Someday, yes. But we have a life in London as well, do we not?” She took Sidney’s hand. “Sidney…you – you gave me so much this season. You sacrificed your comfort, your time, your sleep, your money, and so much more to make my hopes a reality. It is my turn to give to you. And if there is any Sanditon business that needs seeing to, we can coordinate it from a distance, or come up for a weekend if we must.” She straightened her shoulders decisively. “It is time for us to return home.”

Sidney was more gratified than he could say, and kissed her deeply as words would not suffice. “But we have two homes now. Do we not?” he whispered.

Charlotte’s eyes brightened at his implication.

“Let us spend our summers here, each year.” Sidney continued eagerly. “To see to the town’s growth, and keep up our properties. And enjoy some sea bathing, of course. We did not go at all this season. What an abomination.”

She laughed merrily. “I heartily agree.”

“It’s settled, then.” Sidney smiled, for this plan was as agreeable to him as it was to Charlotte.

“Thank you, my love.” she whispered peacefully. He brushed a curl from Charlotte’s forehead and let his hand rest gently at the back of her neck. “But why spend a dreary fall and winter in London?” he remarked with sudden animation. “We have proved our business can be coordinated from anywhere. Let us travel, and see the world. We could sail to Spain, or the Americas. Or Egypt.” His eyes lit up eagerly. “You told me once that you would not rest until you saw the great pyramids. Here is our opportunity. The voyage itself will take several months, but…”

“Sidney!” Charlotte laughed.

“What is the matter?” he entreated. “Don’t you wish to go?”

Charlotte shook her head, slowly.

“Why ever not?”

She said nothing. But with a quiet smile she took his hand – the one still cupping her neck - and slid it gently past her breasts, to her stomach. She held it there in radiant silence.

Sidney’s eyes widened in shock. “Wha – what?“ he stammered. “But you - no, you are – are you sure, Charlotte?”

She nodded and laughed, a few tears sparkling in her eyes. “I am quite sure.”

“But you – is it really - oh, my darling!” Sidney kissed her fiercely, his heart bursting with joy. He sank to his knees, rapturously kissing Charlotte’s neck, her chest, and finally – most tenderly - her stomach.

“Hello, little one.” he whispered gently. “I am your Papa. And I – I am very much looking forward to meeting you.”

Charlotte knelt next to her husband, cradling his head in her arms. She was weeping with happiness, and Sidney had to keep privately wiping away his own tears of disbelief. He, Sidney Parker, was to be a father. Charlotte – his beloved Charlotte - was his wife. And they were to have a family of their own. In this moment, Sidney had everything he ever wanted. A silent prayer of gratitude swelled in his heart. As the wind blew gently over the couple, they watched the rising August sun usher in all things new: a new day, a new season - and a new life.  

THE END