A midsummer night's proposal

He chuckled. "Another one? I'm sure you do not—"

"I have always been overhasty to judge you, too quick to form my opinions without knowing the whole truth."

"You have done nothing of the sort." His voice was deep and warm, his eyes soft as they roamed her face. "How else is one to form an opinion, if not based on the information one possesses? As you said, I have, perhaps inadvertently, taken pains to remain unknowable. And, I confess, disagreeable. The blame is mine."

"Indeed it is not," she defended him. "I thought you reluctant to help Tom, but you do so much. More than anyone else, in addition to your own responsibilities and obligations. Forgive me for judging you too soon and too harshly, Mr Parker—"

"Charlotte, you have no reason to apologise. Tom's enthusiasm is... infectious. It's difficult not to feel as excited as him when he paints wonderful pictures of Sanditon's wealth and prosperity. And he's my brother, I can't not help him. Especially with everything that he's done for me. It's just that—" Sidney heaved a sigh, feeling disloyal for talking so about Tom, yet wanting to unburden himself, to make Charlotte understand, "—he neither has a head for practicalities nor any sense of moderation. He never did. You don't need to give him an inch for him to take a mile. He takes it as his due, without any consideration for others nor a thought for any consequences."

Despite the serious – and worrying – nature of the subject, her heart warmed to have him share his thoughts, be so open with her. Their relationship had changed vastly in the course of the past few weeks, but there were so many conversations they still had not had.

"I did not realize his demands on you were so... unceasing," she said, remembering the several instances she had been present when Tom had spoken to Sidney. She could not call to mind a single conversation where Tom had not asked Sidney for something or other – his time, his connections, his efforts – in a manner that insinuated that Sidney was shirking his duties, that he found helping his family tiresome.

She had thought Sidney reluctant because he never seemed to want to help Tom, but how long had he been dealing with his brother's unrelenting demands, giving in to his brother's pressure? "It is unfair of him to ask from you more than you can give."

It did not surprise him that of all the people he knew, it was she who understood him best. Right from the beginning, Charlotte had had more insight into him than anyone else, had forced him to confront his own thoughts and actions, had changed him, he hoped, for the better. But it still took his breath away, this feeling that someone could instinctively know your innermost thoughts, connect with you so intimately. How he should be so lucky that it was this amazing, intelligent woman, he did not know.

"The best one can do is try to rein Tom in," he said, his focus now shifted fully to her rather than the subject of his brother's many transgressions, "But in truth, it's as impossible as trying to hold back the tide. He just rolls over you."

Charlotte fell silent, looking as if she was deeply contemplating something, and Sidney allowed himself to drink in the sight of her. Her gown had not escaped the night unscathed, there was a faint smudge of ash on her cheek, and several errant curls had escaped her chignon to frame her face. Lit by just the firelight, her sun-kissed skin glowed. She was so lovely, so beautiful. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her at the midsummer ball, and he couldn't do so now.

"You were magnificent tonight."

Charlotte snapped out of her thoughts and looked at him, confused.

"When we were putting out the fire," Sidney clarified, taking her empty glass from her hands and setting it on the end table along with his own.

"I didn't do anything," she said, puzzling at his meaning. "It was you who led the townspeople in putting out the fire."