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Sidney was 22 years old, carefree, unattached, and steering well clear of the marriage mart, when Arthur began courting Miss Charlotte Heywood. He wasn’t even at home when Diana brought back her new best friend as a guest in the Parker family home for the summer. Being away himself, Sidney didn’t arrive at his childhood home in Sanditon until the courtship was already one month old.
Not only had the young lady been in his parents’ home for a month—he had not even been properly introduced when he quite literally bumped into her for the first time. Late at night. In the library. Him, dusty from a long horse ride.
“Ouch!” Sidney yelped as he hit the floor with a heavy thump. A young woman stood over him, brandishing a poker above her head. She had just kicked his legs out from under him.
“Who are you?” she demanded, adjusting her grip on the poker.
“Who are you?” he returned, holding up a hand to stay her wrath as he scrambled into a sitting position. Slightly better for his dignity, but not by much.
She sighed. “Charlotte Heywood, if you must know. Friend of the Parker family. Now, perhaps you would be amiable enough to answer my question before I scream murder?”
“Sidney Parker. Second son of the Parker family. Just now returned from London. If you must know,” he echoed with a smile.
Slowly, she lowered the poker and replaced it in the stand by the fireplace.
“Forgive me, I thought you an intruder.” She extended a hand to help him rise.
He took the offered hand, surprised by the strength in such a lithe figure. Smiling, he bowed, still holding her hand. “Sidney Parker. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Charlotte Heywood. The pleasure is all mine.”
She blushed when he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand.
“Will you tackle me again if I go for the liquor cabinet?” he teased.
“Depends. Are you going to drink from the bottle, or from a glass like a proper gentleman?” She took a mock step towards the poker stand.
“Originally from the bottle, of course. But in the company of a lady, the correct choice is a glass. Care to join me?” He grabbed two glasses and poured a drink, then a second after her approving nod.
Only now, with her standing before the fire, did he notice she was dressed solely in her nightgown. The thin fabric revealed a tempting, curvy silhouette, softly illuminated by the fire’s backlight.
Accepting the glass, she sank into one of the large armchairs by the hearth, curling her feet beneath her. He caught a glimpse of her tiny, pink toes peeking out.
“What brings you to Sanditon at this hour?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“I’ve an internship in London—got delayed by my idiot friends before leaving,” he smiled. “And what brings you?”
“Your sister. We met at Mrs Griffiths’ Academy for Young Ladies and became dear friends from the first day. Between you and me, a more fitting name would be the Gorgon’s Academy for Mean Girls. Dreadful young ladies, except for your sister, who is utterly delightful. I’ve never been by the seaside before and she invited me, so this is all positively exotic to me.”
With a beaming smile, she went on about the antics she and his sister had gotten up to. It was quite the surprise to Sidney that his mousy, quiet sister could be so bold, so free... so wicked. Though, in fairness, his late-night companion seemed to bring out wickedness in others too.
“Why are you up at this hour?” he asked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes after a vivid account of how they had painstakingly sewn in the waist of a particularly cruel classmate’s dresses, making her believe she’d gained three stone, as revenge for spilling soup in Diana’s lap.
“It was my shift to guard the house. Good thing too,” she chuckled, cheeks warmed by the fire, the drink, and, he hoped, him. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed something heavy to offer Morpheus in return for rest.”
“What did you pick?” Until now, young ladies had been a species to avoid, lest his mother got ideas. Miss Heywood was proving rather the exception.
“Heraclitus. Always a warrant for sleep when read at a late hour.”
He whistled. “Heraclitus? Not bad—for a young woman.”
“Is that so? Because young women are too frivolous, too full of frills and frocks to grasp Greek philosophy?” she bristled.
Raising his hands in surrender, he laughed. “I stand corrected. Forgive the obvious insult.”
“But speaking of sleep, I ought to head back up.” She set her glass down on a side table and rose. “Goodnight, Mr. Parker.”
***
Sidney was 22 years old, equally annoyed, besotted, and grumpy, when Mr and Mrs Parker (the senior version) hosted a tea party in the large back garden.
“They make a darling couple, do they not?” Mrs. Parker asked her second-eldest son, nodding towards her youngest son in deep conversation with Miss Heywood.
“Do they?” Sidney wouldn’t be surprised if he lost a molar, his jaw was clenched hard enough to crack one. For a month, he had considered Miss Heywood an exception to the usual gaggle of giggling, empty-headed, superficial young ladies he encountered at balls and, God forbid, dinners arranged by his meddling parents and their ilk.
Much could be said of his younger brother, but Sidney had never had a deep, profound, or even remotely interesting conversation with him. He loved Arthur, yes, but they were less alike than Sidney and their older brother. And that was saying something.
For a month, he and Charlotte, since they had agreed to be informal when alone, had met clandestinely in the library once the household had gone to bed. At first it had been coincidental; later, he made damn sure it wasn’t. She stopped changing to her nightwear before coming, but did not stop joining him. He took that as a clear sign that she enjoyed his company too. They discussed philosophy and politics. She crunched her nose adorably at romantic novels but blushed beautifully when he read Lord Byron’s poems to her. It was easily his favourite hour of the day and he wished that the long summer nights did not keep his bloody family up so late.
Mornings too were theirs. He’d seen her take a horse down to the beach one morning and followed. Now, they raced every morning. Her laughter fell like sweet raindrops as she bested him. He always brought three apples—one for each horse, and one to share. The winner got the first, juicy bite. Naturally, being a gentleman, he made sure never to win. Ladies first. Of course.
Charlotte had an intoxicating hunger for life and adventure. Always out and about. Arthur was simply hungry. So, NO, Sidney truly did not see the compatibility between them. And, dear Lord—now she patted his brother’s hand!
***
Sidney was 22 years old, desperate, living for stolen rituals with his sister’s friend, and plotting fratricide, when his friends from London arrived two months into his visit. Mrs Parker had decided that so many single men under her roof with two young ladies in residence was pushing propriety past its breaking point.
After witnessing Crowe’s immediate infatuation and Babington’s incessant chatter in poor Charlotte’s ear, Sidney was eternally grateful for his mother’s foresight. He felt the two men were well and truly accommodated at The Crown.
Worse still came the yearly summer games, where upstairs competed against downstairs in cricket and rowing. Charlotte, of course, was seated beside Arthur, watching the cricket with rapt attention. Arthur, meanwhile, loitered mostly by the cake stand, constantly vacating his seat and leaving a stream of hopeful young bucks to sidle up beside her. His idiot friends among them. She ignored them, mostly.
Perhaps it was vain, perhaps wishful thinking—but her gaze did seem to follow Sidney more than most. And he did look rather spectacular in cricket whites, if he might say so himself.
Then Mr. Parker Senior twisted his ankle and Charlotte eagerly took his place, filling the air, as always, with laughter and the sweet scent of wildflowers. Stringer was pitching, fumbling with the ball as Charlotte stepped up, bat in hand, looking formidably capable and wholly focused. Had he not been so busy smiling, he mightn’t have lobbed her a ball so easy to hit. She sent it sailing to the far end of the pitch. Idiot.
They won. He and Charlotte. Yes, there were other players on the team, but they did not signify.
The rowing race he could have decidedly done without. Stringer, Fred, and some other worker had doffed their shirts, displaying strong torsos glistening with sweat. Sidney kept his shirt on in the boat like a true gentleman, and because Tom and their father did. It would have looked highly improper to be shirtless alone.
This time, Arthur clung to Charlotte’s side as they stood on the bank cheering for the rowers, whispering and giggling together. Honestly, how was one meant to compete with such disturbance?
Sidney lost. Not his father. Not his brother. It was Sidney’s fault alone, steering them into the shallow water of the river because he was too busy watching Charlotte and Arthur enjoying themselves.
***
Sidney was 22 years old, in love, frustrated, and heartbroken, when his mother and father threw a garden party. In the three months since Charlotte had tackled him and worked her way thoroughly into his heart, he had watched helplessly as Arthur clumsily courted her.
The only outings his brother had the imagination to arrange were to the Greek art collection running at Denham House, the two of them going arm in arm at least every other day, giggling like two young girls. Please...
He, on the other hand, still raced her nearly every morning, discussed a wide array of topics in the evening, and had even set up a shooting range when she revealed she was quite the shot. The smile she had bestowed on him still flickered inside him like a warm ember.
Sometimes, when they walked into the dining room, their little fingers would brush against each other, sending a current of joy, and something more he was too much of a gentleman to name, through his bloodstream. And then there were the times on the beach when he helped her off her horse to take a walk, his hands on her slim waist, her lithe body sliding down his. He swore she blushed and bit her lip at those times. How could she not, when his entire being was lit with the fire of desperate, endless love for her?
Had it been anyone else but Arthur, he would have fought for her. He would have knelt before her, humbling himself, begging her to put him out of his misery and say yes to becoming his wife. To spend every day and every night with him. He would include her in everything she wanted to be part of, because she was sharp as a whip, and because were he married to her, he would spend every second he could by her side.
But it was Arthur.
Sidney stood watching the love of his life looking absolutely bored, trapped in conversation with some young ladies. He could not imagine them matching what he was able to give her. Arthur... that fool was picking between sandwiches, not seeing that his help was needed. No, she had to make her own excuses to escape.
Maybe the summer heat played tricks on him, but he imagined she searched for eye contact with him as she walked away... only to be met by Fred and Stringer.
This was harder to watch. They clearly flirted with her, and she laughed heartily. Sidney’s eyes scanned the garden for his brother. Oh, dear Lord, now Arthur was pouring himself a glass of port. Did his parents forget to raise him? Had he been dropped on the head, per chance?
Ironically, it was Tom who intervened, sending the two unsuitable suitors packing, or maybe they fled willingly, to spare themselves another vision from his elder brother. While their father possessed both vision and business sense, Tom had inherited only vision. Sidney, on the other hand, had business sense, already quite wealthy on his own. He probably lacked vision, otherwise he would have stormed home when his mother’s letter mentioned Diana bringing a friend. Then he would surely have beaten Arthur to it.
Again, his eyes found Arthur, who was piling cake onto a plate without shame. This was it! Sidney needed to have a serious conversation with the fool.
“Arthur,” he hissed, once within hearing distance. “What are you doing?”
“Um, eating,” the idiot explained, his mouth full of cake.
“Why aren’t you protecting Miss Heywood? Do you even know how to court a young woman?” Sidney had to be careful not to raise his voice, but he was quite put out with his brother.
“Court?” Arthur echoed, unhelpfully, crumbs of cake filling the air between them.
“Yes.”
“Who?” Really, had his brother always been such an imbecile?
“Miss Heywood.” Sidney swore to himself that if Arthur took another bite, he would knock the plate out of his hand. This was important.
“Erm... while I like Miss Heywood a great deal, and she has become a very dear friend, I am not courting her,” Arthur explained, returning his focus to his plate, trying to decide what to consume next.
“WHAT?” Sidney was practically vibrating with frustration now.
“I don’t know what gave you that idea,” his brother continued, taking a bite of his chosen cake victim.
“The fact that every time you talk to her, Mother or Diana—or even Tom—looks at you with heart-shaped eyes and exclaims, ‘don’t they make a fine couple’?” Sidney’s patience was wearing dangerously thin.
“They do the same when she talks to you,” Arthur said calmly, licking his fingers.
“Huh?”
“Mummy thinks you are in love with Miss Heywood. Tom wants you and I to have what he has with Mary because... well, he’s Tom and knows best. Diana hoped that I would fall in love with Miss Heywood—but that will never happen.” Arthur picked a new cake.
“And why not? What is wrong with her? She is perfect!”
“Nothing. If I were to marry, I could not do better than her, but...” Finally, he looked at his elder brother. “Of all the members in this family, I would have thought you knew.”
“Knew what?” Sidney was truly confused now.
“That I... have a preference for Greece...” he explained hesitantly.
“Greece?...” And then it dawned on him. Arthur’s eyes glued to the naked torsos of Stringer’s rowing team, the many visits to the Greek art collection, his lack of interest when a beautiful woman entered the room. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed. Charlotte noticed—and for the first time in my life, I’ve been able to talk to someone about it. She is lovely... but she is a woman. Besides, she’s not romantically interested in me,” he added, knowingly.
“How do you know that?” Sidney was flailing now, his emotions all over the place.
“Because she doesn’t look at me like I look at this cake—or the copy of David. But she looks at you that way, Sidney. So if you like her too, I’m not in your way. I would love to have her for a sister.”
“You really think she likes me?” Sidney wanted to hug his brother, but they were in public.
Dear reader, Arthur knew Charlotte was very in love with his older brother because she had confided in him—but he did not see a reason to spill the beans.
“I think perhaps she does.”
Once again, Sidney searched the garden for Charlotte, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Sometimes when she needs a moment to herself, she takes a walk on the cliff road,” Arthur offered.
***
Sidney was 22 years old—in love, hopeful, and sprinting out of his parents’ garden, down the road in chase of his bride. His preference for wearing long boots—because they enhanced the length and strength of his legs—made running not only hard but warm, and he was quite out of breath by the time he finally spotted her.
Charlotte stood completely still, her face tilted up to soak in the sun, her white dress billowing in the sea breeze. She looked beautiful.
“Miss Heywood,” he softly called out, so as not to startle her. “Charlotte.”
She turned her head in his direction and smiled when she saw it was him. “Sidney! What brings you here?”
He closed the distance between them. “You.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Me?”
“Yes.” His heart was in his throat, and he had to cough to make room for words. “I was wondering if you would like to stay with me?”
“I would love that. I am in no hurry to get back to the party.” Her smile was as soft as her lips.
“No, what I meant was...” There was that bloody cough again. “If you would like to stay with me... forever?”
She crunched her brows in a way that looked very kissable. “In what capacity? Are you in dire need of someone to take the night shift protecting you from intruders?” she asked, with a cheeky smile.
He grabbed both her hands in his, running his thumbs over her silky skin. “I am in dire need of you in the capacity of my wife.”
“Is that so? And if I say yes to being said capacity, will there be something resembling a proposal? Just to clear away any misunderstandings.”
Oh, that wonderful woman! He dropped to both knees, moving his hands down to rest lightly on her hips. Feeling bold, he pressed a kiss to her stomach.
“Charlotte, I have been falling in love with you ever since you held a poker to my throat. Will you, please, do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
Charlotte joined him on the ground, cupping his face with her hands.
“I didn’t think you liked me that way,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Arthur,” he replied, looping his arms around her waist.
“Arthur?”
He chuckled. “Somehow, I got the impression he was courting you.”
“Did you really think I would spend so much time with you if I were being courted by another man?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief at his foolish notion.
“I was too in love to think or act rationally. And you, my love, are stalling.” Her chest was brushing against his, and it felt wonderful.
“Ah yes, what was the question again?” she teased, her breathing a little shallow as he pulled her closer.
“Will you marry me?” he whispered, his lips brushing ever so lightly against hers.
“Yes,” she managed to answer, just before he kissed her.
***
Sidney was 22 years old, happy, giddy, and freshly married, when, six excruciatingly long weeks later, he finally walked back down the aisle with Mrs Charlotte Parker on his arm.
And they lived happily ever after ♥️
Oh, and Arthur? He found his own happiness on a small Greek island.