Sanditon revisited

13: Not the same man, not the same river

"I doubt it. You are far too sensible to form such a misguided and futile attachment."

"Why should it be futile, Miss Heywood? For all you know, your feelings are repaid five times over", he said eagerly.

She had thought so during the dance, until Tom abruptly pulled her head back down from the clouds.

"I allowed myself to believe so for the briefest of moments, but I cannot deny the evidence of my own eyes." She blinked to get rid of some excess fluid suddenly glazing her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. "No matter. There is nothing to be done. You were right, Mr Stringer. You are a sympathetic listener indeed."

Charlotte did not notice how Stringer's eyes turned dark, how the muscle at his jaw twitched or how he clenched his fists. He understood in this moment that she was not talking about him but another man. She so lacked vanity that it did not cross her mind that he might have feelings for her, and as a friend she shared her trouble over someone else. Someone who apparently was a fool for not appreciating what was offered to him.

They had reached the part of the river bank where the finishing line was to be. He had intended to help her, but found he was too disappointed and upset to put a lid on his feelings for much longer and decided it was for the better to leave. Charlotte simply gave him a warm smile as he bid her goodbye saying he had better return to his fellows. She thanked him for walking her there but did not miss him much when he left. She who usually was an attentive observer, was too preoccupied this day to see the signs of barely contained hurt and frustration, or unrequited love.

-o-

In contrast to what Charlotte believed, Sidney was not amusing himself. He tried to be attentive to Mrs. Campion, tried to enjoy her company, but found that he could not. Arthur's words echoed in his mind. 'I admire your spirit of forgiveness. That is all. If it were me, I do not think I could bring myself to trust her again.' It was like those words had created small cracks in the dam which for long had existed within Sidney, the wall so efficiently holding his feelings in check. Now, everything he had strived to repress began seeping out like persistent droplets of water finding their way through. As the day went on and Mrs. Campion made one silly or snide remark after another, the cracks widened, and the emotional droplets turned into a rivulet flowing at a steady pace. He needed time alone, needed to think and allow himself to feel what he really wanted.

By the time luncheon was served he found the perfect excuse to leave Mrs. Campion. He had already told her he needed to revive his slumbering rowing skills before the start of the gentlemen's boat race, and she had made it abundantly clear she did not wish to join him in a boat which she feared might tip over.

As he walked towards the river he thought to himself that rowing was not the only skill he needed to revive, he was not sure he knew how to love a woman again. Would he remember how to do either?

Then he saw her, Charlotte, and his heart made the same little somersault it had ever since the night in the carriage, or perhaps even before that. She had not yet seen him and for a moment he observed her unnoticed, enjoying the view more than he should. She was alone, in the shadow of the makeshift pavilion set up for the occasion, busy with the last preparations. Her blue jacket had been discarded in the sunny weather and she looked adorable in a white, thin muslin dress. Just like during the cricket match, he allowed himself to secretly admire her shape underneath the layers of fabric and it hit him once again how naturally beautiful she was.

The cracks grew wider within Sidney, the emotional rivulet now turning into a swirling stream.

He was touched by how engaged she was in making the regatta a success for the sake of Sanditon' s and Tom's prosperity. Indeed she had done more than anyone both in terms of the initial brilliant idea, the preparations and by tempting Lady Worcester to come here. Incredibly enough, he had not recognised the notorious and admired lady when he saw her in London, but his attention had been on Charlotte not on any other woman then. Until he saw Mrs. Campion, he reminded himself. Yet it was her he needed distance from now, meanwhile seeing Charlotte made him feel lighter at heart despite that he had come here to be alone. Instead of wishing he had found the place empty, he wished he could spend more of the day with her.