It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when they returned to Trafalgar House after the fire, exhausted, covered in grime, and stinking of smoke. A distraught Mary immediately disappeared into the nursery, wanting to be alone with the children, so Charlotte herded the fretful and overwrought Diana Parker upstairs to one of the guest rooms.
Sidney and Arthur were still out, looking for Tom, who had disappeared even before the blaze was completely put out and had not been seen since. But as Charlotte came down the stairs, she heard the front door open and the sound of voices, signalling their return. She met Arthur at the foot of the stairs, and the weary shake of his head answered her wordless question – they had not found Tom. Clearly devastated by the fire, the eldest Parker sibling had taken himself off somewhere to grieve in private.
With nothing more than a tired "Goodnight, Miss Heywood", uncharacteristic of his usual loquaciousness, Arthur continued past her to turn in for what was left of the night – or morning now.
Charlotte found Sidney in the study, pouring himself a glass of brandy. When he saw her, he poured out a second glass and handed it to her. Accepting it without protest – she was in dire need of fortification – she took a seat on the sofa before the fireplace, and after a moment, he sank down on it beside her.
She'd seen him dishevelled before, on a couple of occasions when he'd turned up at Trafalgar House after a night of drinking and carousing with his friends. But never like this. His hair was tousled and his pristine waistcoat was ruined. His cravat, like her gloves, had become filthy as a rag while fighting the flames and had long been discarded.
Charlotte did not want to disturb Sidney's thoughts, so she sat in silence, taking the occasional sip of her brandy while he stared unseeing into the flames flickering in the fireplace. Finally, he heaved a deep sigh and knocked back the contents of his glass in one go, before turning to face her.
"What will happen now?" she asked.
"We will rebuild. The insurance will cover the costs."
"I've been helping to organise the papers." She glanced at the table behind the model of Sanditon town, one half covered in neat stacks of documents, the other half strewn with paper. She did not want to overstep her bounds and speak ill of Tom in case it offended Sidney again, although she hoped there was little danger of that now. But certain matters were only for family and, as close as Charlotte had become to Tom and Mary, she wasn't family.
"There are a great many more bills and payments than I'd imagined," she continued carefully. "And the amounts are... substantial. Mr Stringer said today that Tom still hasn't given the workers their full payment."
Sidney looked up, startled. "He hasn't? But I lent him—" He cut himself off with a grimace; somehow, he was not surprised to learn of this. What else could he expect when it came to his older brother? "Someone has got to rein him in before he bankrupts us all," he said wearily.
Esther Denham had made much the same statement about Tom on their walk when Charlotte had first come to Sanditon, she remembered. She didn't have to ask who Sidney meant by "someone"; as much as he did not want it, it would fall to no one else. Perhaps it already had, if he was giving Tom the funds to pay the workers. And to think she'd ever questioned how much he did for his brother. She felt like such a fool. "Mr Parker—"
"Surely we've progressed beyond such formality, Charlotte."
"Fine... Sidney, then." It felt completely natural to hear him address her by her given name – he'd done it on more than one previous occasion, though she couldn't deny the frisson it sent up her spine. So she was not quite sure why doing the same to him made her heart race. She set the thought aside for another time, not wanting to be distracted. "I owe you an apology."
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."
"You rallied everyone, you helped them pull together. You encouraged everyone to keep going when it felt like we'd never defeat the blaze." He made no effort to disguise the admiration in his voice. "We couldn't have done it without you. Just as I could not have rescued Georgiana without you in London. I'd given up all hope of finding her, but you were determined not to give up."
Sidney had made no conscious decision to do so, but he realised where his thoughts, his words had led him. He sat up straight, shifting closer to her in the process, and took her hands in his, amazed that such a simple touch could set his heart thundering so. "Charlotte," he breathed out, "I want to finish our conversation from the ball."
Charlotte's lips parted in surprise. She had not expected to resume their cruelly interrupted conversation anytime soon, not the least because of the lateness of the hour, but also because of the events between the ball and now. With the terrace burnt down, she had assumed that Sidney – for who else would Tom turn to at a time such as this? – would have far more urgent matters to deal with.
But he was looking at her like he'd done at when they'd danced in Mrs. Maudsley's ballroom in London, and when they'd stood on the clifftops this morning before he'd kissed her. The intensity of his gaze had taken Charlotte's breath away then, just as it did now. She realised he was waiting for an answer and nodded wordlessly.
Sidney watched the play of emotions across her open face. That evening at the assembly rooms had been utter torment. First Tom, then Mr Stringer, and even Mary – if she hadn't intercepted him, Stringer would not have had the chance to ask Charlotte to dance in the first place, and monopolise her for practically the entire evening! – and finally that blackguard Sir Edward Denham. And then the fire! It had seemed as if all of Sanditon was conspiring to try and keep him and Charlotte apart.
He knew he should be doing this at another time – at a more appropriate time and in a more appropriate situation, and in more appropriate dress. Certainly not while he looked like a ruffian who'd just come out the worse in a bar brawl.
But he thought of their conversation the previous night, in this very room, when he'd tried to tell her how he felt about her. His words had been heartfelt and the absolute truth – when it came to Charlotte, he would give her nothing less than raw honesty – but as a declaration of love, had they been enough? While eloquent, did they truly convey all that he felt for her? He wondered if any words ever could.
He'd been up all night, unable to sleep, plagued by doubt, the conversation playing in his mind over and over again. It had taken him so much courage to say what he had said. He knew that after effectively declaring himself, he should wait for her response, allow her the time to consider his words. But did Charlotte truly understand how much she meant to him, how precious she was to him?
He had been unable to stop himself from going to Trafalgar House in the morning to see her, hoping to find some way to be alone with her, even if just for a moment. Her dress-fitting had given them the perfect pretext to get away. But he'd been so nervous on their walk this morning, he'd barely managed any proper conversation – he'd spouted inane observations about the weather the whole time, cringing at himself every time he opened his mouth.
And then, any words that he might have hoped to say had been wiped clean from his mind when he'd faced her, her hair blowing in the breeze, her doe eyes shining with emotion, her soft lips. He'd poured his heart out in their kiss, trying to show her how he felt, hoping she'd understand.
And now, she was watching him with the same expression that she'd worn when they'd danced together at Mrs Maudsley's rout in London – shy, vulnerable, slightly baffled as if she could not believe this was happening. He could not leave her in any doubt as to his affections, his intentions any longer.
Nervous, he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
"I told you I didn't want to put myself under someone else's power. But the truth is, I've been under your power since the tongue-lashing you gave me at Lady Denham's luncheon." He gave a wry chuckle when her eyes widened in amazement. "I refused to believe it. I denied it, I fought it, because I was afraid of how I felt, and because I didn't think you reciprocated my feelings. After the way I'd behaved with you, I thought you despised me."
The words came out in a rush now. "But everything you did made me fall more and more in love with you, even if it did drive me up the wall sometimes. The way you stood up for Georgiana to Lady Denham. The way you so capably took charge after old Mr Stringer's fall. How you came up with the brilliant idea for the regatta. How brave and selfless you were when we rescued Georgiana in London. That you've read Heraclitus. How you are not afraid to speak your mind. Especially with me."
He smiled at that last, part exasperated, part fond. "Every time you confronted me, every time you told me off, I wanted to kiss you as much as I wanted to argue back. Do you have any idea how many nights I have not had a shred of sleep because of you?"
He tried to sound aggravated, but it was clearly an act, given away by the slight blush on his cheeks and a boyish grin Charlotte had last seen when they'd danced together in London.
Charlotte's heart was soaring so much she was surprised it hadn't burst out of her chest from sheer happiness. The full, wide, dazzling smile that lit up her face quite took Sidney's breath away.
"I never despised you," she said, curling her fingers around his. "You intrigued me, you infuriated me." She gave him a coquettish grin. "I told Lady Susan you inspired an anger in me I did not know I possessed."
Sidney huffed out a laugh. "I am well acquainted with that predicament when it comes to you," he said, making her laugh as well.
"But I never despised you," she said, hoping he saw the truth in her eyes. "I don't think I could, even if I tried."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you did," he confessed. "I've given you enough cause. I've been a brute to you, inconsiderate of your feelings."
"No," Charlotte said firmly. "It is I who has been naïve. You were right – I am inexperienced. I've always been so certain of my opinions, my judgement. It didn't seem that I was ever truly mistaken, so I never thought to question it. But—" she paused, trying not to sound as insecure as she felt. Sidney squeezed her fingers, encouraging her to continue. "—before I came to Sanditon, I'd never even been beyond Willingden. I was sorely unprepared for the world outside, and blinded by sentiment and naivety. You've challenged me, made me think and see things differently. You've given me a... perspective I did not know I lacked."
Sidney opened his mouth, and from the expression on his face, she could tell he wanted to defend her. But Charlotte would not back down from acknowledging her flaws. Besides, she had things to say yet. So, she silenced him with a look.
"I will thank you to let me speak my piece, Sidney." But there was no chastisement or rebuke in her tone, only gentle teasing. "Especially as I am listing your virtues at the moment."
He laughed. "Very well then. You perceive me all ears, madam."
"You are the kindest and most generous man I know."
"We both know I am not—"
"You are. Kind and generous and dependable. You have already shown it with everything that you've done for Tom, for your family, for Georgiana. For Sanditon. Even for strangers like Otis Molyneux. I cannot believe I ever thought you unfeeling. You care deeper than anyone I know, even if you do not show it in the way one usually would," she added teasingly, trying for a bit of levity as Sidney looked a little undone and vulnerable at her praise, as if he was not used to hearing it. She wondered how long it had been since anyone had wanted Sidney just for himself, and not because they wanted something from him. Her heart ached for him.
"The truth is, no matter how much we argued, your good opinion already mattered more to me than anyone else's. And, well, after everything that happened when we rescued Georgiana in London, I felt awful to think that I'd judged you so terribly, and that you had such a poor opinion of me."
His heart clenched, he shook his head – she could not be more wrong.
"When I realised how I felt about you, I was sure you'd never return my feelings." She took a deep breath. "And when I saw you with Mrs Campion at the ball and at the regatta, I resigned myself to the fact that you would go back to her, that maybe I'd imagined everything that happened in London—"
"Never." Sidney slid to his knees before her, pressing their clasped hands to his chest. "I've been such a fool, Charlotte. I can never forgive myself for causing you such pain. I became... distracted by my old feelings for Mrs Campion. It took me longer than it should have to realise I didn't feel the same way about her anymore, that she was not who I thought her to be. That I hadn't even really thought about her for many months before I saw her in London again."
He gave her a smile, tender and a little playful. "For weeks now, my heart and my mind have been besieged by just one person."
"Besieged?" Charlotte suppressed a sudden giggle. "That does not sound very... peaceful."
"I assure you, you have obliterated my peace quite entirely." He raised her hand to his lips, pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it. "You have a singular talent for it."
"Can I— Is there any way I can help you find it again?"
"I have no interest in a peaceful life. I want a life with you. Be my wife, Charlotte. Please. I know I'm not worthy of you. You deserve a far better man than I could ever hope to be, but—"
Charlotte was already shaking her head. "That's not true. And I don't want anyone else," she said, bringing her hand to rest against his cheek. "I want you—"
It was hard to tell who moved first, but less than an instant later, their lips met in an intense kiss that quite stole their breath away.
It was several long moments before Sidney pulled back. "Does this mean you'll marry me?" He had to confirm, and didn't care if he sounded desperate. "Was that a yes?"
Charlotte laughed. "Yes!" she exclaimed happily, "Yes! What else could it be?"
She was still laughing when he pressed his mouth to hers again in a searing kiss. He tumbled back onto the carpet, pulling her down with him and hauling her into his lap. They clutched at each other, his arms tight around her waist while she slid her fingers up his neck and into his hair and kissed him back with equal fervour.
Their first kiss on the clifftops had been so full of love, tentative at first, then tender and vulnerable. This was something else entirely, this was many things all at once – a reaffirmation of their feelings for each other, a promise of the life ahead they would share together, a realisation of the desire that suddenly flooded the both of them.
She made a sound in the back of her throat, something between a sigh and a moan, that shot straight to his blood. "Charlotte," he groaned against her mouth.
Lost to the world, insensible to everything but each other, they forgot all sense of time and place.
Mary's loud gasp had them springing apart.
Charlotte and Sidney shot to their feet, his arms going around her as she stumbled slightly. She clutched at him for a second, afraid that her knees might give way without support.
Mary stood just inside the door to the study, a hand at her throat, eyes wide with shock.
There was a long beat of silence. It was difficult to say who of the three was the most red-faced from embarrassment.
Finally, Sidney cleared his throat. "Charlotte, uh – Miss Heywood has done me the honour of agreeing to be my wife."
Mary's shriek of delight was loud enough to wake the entire household. It was a wonder Diana and Arthur didn't come running downstairs in alarm.
"Oh! Oh my dears!" In three quick steps, Mary had leapt across the room to them, enveloping them both into a tight hug. "I'd hoped so for this!"
Still floating on their cloud of happiness, Sidney and Charlotte exchanged bemused glances over her head. The fact that they were now engaged to be married was only just beginning to sink in.
Mary stepped back, eyes misting as she took in the both of them, and pressed a hand each to their cheeks. "Oh, I'm so happy for you two!"
She let go of Sidney to embrace Charlotte. "My dearest Charlotte! You've become such a part of our family, and like a sister to me! I could not bear to let you go back to Willingden forever. And now you will be a dear sister in truth!"
Charlotte returned her embrace just as tightly. "You have been my most dearest friend, Mary, and you've made me feel so welcome in your home, your family. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful sister!"
Both of them had happy tears in their eyes as they exchanged the fondest of grins.
"And you!" Mary turned to Sidney, who had been watching the two women with a beatific smile on his face. "Sometimes, I worried for you more than I do for my own children," she said, hugging him warmly.
"I never imagined I could be so happy, Mary," he said, his eyes going to Charlotte.
"Yes, I know," Mary gave them both a knowing glance. "There were times when I was quite sure you two were going to throttle each other!"
Charlotte pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, as Sidney ducked his head sheepishly. They glanced at each other, smiling shyly, which turned into a look of longing where they were quite unable to take their eyes off each other.
Mary noticed, and cleared her throat. "Well, it's late, and long past the time we should have all been in bed. Come along, Charlotte, and off you go Sidney. The rest of the Parkers are going to be very happy when you break your news to them tomorrow. God knows we could all do with some good news right now, and this is the very happiest."
"Mary," Sidney pressed a comforting hand to his sister-in-law's shoulder when her composure suddenly seemed to wobble. The dreadful events of the night, which had been held back so far with this new happiness, suddenly caught up with them. "Everything will be alright. Please, do not worry."
For a moment, Mary looked overcome, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen. Then, she blinked and it was gone, replaced by her usual practicality and a well of patience that could only come from loving a man such as Tom Parker.
"Yes I know," she sighed. "This is not the first time I've lost sleep over Tom losing his sleep over Sanditon."
"He will be back soon," Sidney assured her. "You're not alone in this, Mary. We're all here to support Tom and you."
Mary nodded, looking much bolstered again. She took a deep breath. "Come on, now."
She herded them both out of the study, nudging Sidney towards the front door so that he could return to his room at the Crown Hotel, and guiding Charlotte to the staircase.
With no choice, the newly affianced couple reluctantly did as she bid. But Charlotte had barely climbed up two steps when Sidney caught her wrist and tugged it to hold her back.
Mary, some steps ahead of Charlotte, heaved an internal sigh and pretended not to be aware of what was transpiring behind her back as she ascended the staircase.
For a moment, the young couple swayed closer, as if pulled by an invisible thread. But there was nothing they could do, not with the footman hovering near the front door, within their view, and Mary, who was climbing the stairs as slowly as she could without actually coming to a complete stop.
"I'll see you in the morning," Sidney murmured, his eyes roving over his fiancée's face, taking his fill.
"At breakfast?" she asked. "Will you not want to sleep in a little, considering how late you will be to bed?"
"I fear I will get no sleep tonight, or in the nights to come until we are married and I can sleep with you by my side, in my arms," he said, watching with delight as she blushed deeply. "But," he conceded, "It might be a while before I go to bed yet. I had thought to go searching for Tom once more. There are a couple of places I did not think to look for him earlier."
Charlotte smiled. "I thought you might do that."
A pause then, where they sought to delay the inevitable.
With a sigh, Sidney drew Charlotte's hand up so that he could press a kiss to her knuckles. "Sweet dreams, my love."
Greatly daring, Charlotte leaned forward and gently kissed him on his cheek. "Sweet dreams, Sidney."
They let go of each other with utmost reluctance, and Charlotte finally turned around to make her way upstairs, glancing back for one last look at her fiancé.
Sidney waited until she had disappeared around the corner of the first landing, before turning to leave. The spot on his cheek where she had kissed him tingled from the touch of her lips on his skin. The thought of having to part from her for even an instant was most painful. But they'd see each other again in the morning. And soon, they'd have their whole lives to spend together.
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Thank you for reading!