Like the inconsistency of the wind that chased the clouds across the sky, only to pause the next moment as if to survey the chaos of the churning earth in peace, this face evoked many different reactions in Sidney. The play of shadows for the sun's favour, rested for a moment as their gazes met.
Dark, promising seas. Like the unknown depths of the ocean. They glittered with energy and hope, like the source of a small stream that did not yet realise it would eventually grow into a huge river.
Sidney furrowed his brows in wonder that he was having such strangely peaceful thoughts. Lately, looking at a face for pure pleasure had become a rarity. If he had to equally endure close observation, it was usually for reasons of whether he was really as strong as his appearance suggested. Whether he was honest or like his brother. And whether his word could be trusted.
Apparently he couldn't even trust himself right now. When he wanted to avert his gaze and yet prevented himself from doing so. The contrasts he read there in this fine face were too interesting. Big naive eyes that seemed to sparkle with intelligence. A fine nose above almost indecently full lips. The ladylike flushed cheeks and the proudly, almost cheekily, raised chin. Upright, like a lady from a noble family, the dark hair swirled untamed in her face, like that of a young wild girl.
Reluctantly, the sun slowly slipped behind a cloud, grazing the young maid's dress with a single ray as if to smooth it down. Nobly white and, on second glance, sprinkled with splashes of the nut-brown earth. When she tore her gaze away from his, he felt something inside that he could not name.
As if she had not noticed his gaze, she greeted the workers' wives and gave them each a wicker basket with a small snack. An indifferent business-like air surrounded her, which gave way to a sunlit laugh as she joked with one of the children.
Astonishment at this wholehearted tone softened his features for the length of a single blink before his heart was once again full of shadows. Sidney managed to turn away, the memory of Tom's children again weighing heavily on his chest, wondering how they were coping with all this grief.
Only slowly could Sidney rid himself of the sadness again. Nevertheless, he now stood in the dark silhouette of the shelter, there he felt the chill of the wind creep transitionally all the way under his skin. The warmth that the sight of this pretty farm girl had left unnoticed was instantly forgotten.
One of the men jostled Sidney as he scurried past him into one of the huts apparently reserved for the single men. By now he had learned to ignore it when the men bumped into him on purpose, deliberately knocking over his cup of wine or dropping one of his freshly laundered shirts off the clothesline into the dirt. It was their way of showing him that he was not one of them. That they did not accept him and were reluctant to share their bread and accommodation with him.
Some were uneducated, could not even read their name or put their signature under a document so that the scrawl could be identified as their name. His help in explaining to them the contracts they so thoughtlessly signed, they disliked, were downright offended. Even after he had convicted the overseer of fraud at their last workplace, a farm where they had worked during the spring harvest, most of them continued to exclude him. The good words of the boss of their crew had not helped, nor had the recalculated higher salary.
They were only too happy to see him fail, the fine gentleman. After all, they thought they all knew the truth. About the affair with Tom. Just because they had heard the story, whose debt Sidney had to pay off, they thought they could judge who he was as well. A despicable gentleman. Even though he got just as dirty, his hands equally calloused, his back just as aching.
Sidney still remembered the evening when the men had passed the time with little boxing matches and had all bet against him. How they had laughed in satisfaction and called him the worst names when he had received an unexpected blow from his opponent. How they had fallen angrily silent when he won every one of his fights afterwards.
Although by now most of his colleagues bet their hard-earned money on him when they got to a pub for a little competition, they avoided openly congratulating him for his victory or thanking him for filling their pockets. The whole thing produced only a weary smile on his lips. Sidney had accepted it.
He simply didn't belong. Nowhere. He was just never enough.
In the past, it was high society that didn't want him because he didn't fit the general ideal of beauty. To a certain lady he had not been born rich enough, to the poor he was now not born poor enough, to his brother Tom never glamorous enough. Not funny, not charming, not important enough. Not entertaining enough for his spoilt friends, too dutiful for his ward.
Even as a black sheep among more black sheeps, they would find a difference and always use it against him. He always had to pretend to fit the circumstances and despite his best efforts, it usually wasn't enough for anyone.
Except for the rare specimens of humans who just seemed to love him, even if he often wondered why. But these creatures were the dearest to him. Tom's children. Mary, his sister-in-law, the only woman he trusted. Next to his sister Diana, who, though exhausting, was genuinely concerned about everyone. Arthur, the new man of the house, who had accepted his task without complication and seemed to grow with it.
The earth crunched under the soles of his boots as he walked the few steps to the wooden veranda where the huts were built. Intelligent, he thought, the solution to protect the houses from soil moisture and predators. So this time they probably wouldn't have to sleep on damp hay bags or share their food scraps with foxes.
As usual, he tapped his boots on the bottom step, climbed the short flight of stairs and concentrated on the clacking of his heels on the wooden floorboards. He braced himself. A bed in the middle of the room, where everyone had to pass by or next to the place where one did one's necessary needs, was usually what his colleagues had in store for him. But he had also got used to that.
Before he stepped over the threshold, he reluctantly turned around, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. But the maid had disappeared. He wondered who she was.
One step and unexpected warmth greeted him. The smell of freshly processed wood. And the intensely aromatic scent of lavender. He watched his companions, some of whom sat speechless on their flatbeds, suspiciously eyeing small linen bags in their hands that clearly contained the lavender. An involuntary smile stole onto Sidney's face as he went to the only free bed opposite the door. While not the most comfortable place, it was still the best he had occupied for the last few months. And a much more pleasant smell.
Some of the men tossed the bags carelessly under the bed and Sidney shook his head in annoyance. After all, someone had gone to the trouble of sewing and filling these little bags to make the workers feel a little more at home. But even such a small gesture of kindness was not appreciated by some. As he lifted his own sachet and smelt on it, thoughts flooded his mind of the last bags of lavender that had lain on a bed.
At the hotel in Sanditon.
Where he had preferred to stay to keep his friends happy and drink with them instead of staying at Tom's house. He wanted to avoid the eternal talk about his big plans. Although Mary tried to persuade him to stay longer after his friends had left, he only stayed for one more night. Perhaps she had wanted him to stay longer so he could talk to Tom. Sidney was sure that Mary had had suspicions about her husband's financial situation, her family's situation, at the time, but had been unable to resist Tom and his appeasements.
She had never openly expressed her concerns, but Sidney had never asked either, although he had sensed it. It would probably have been his job to question things, to express interest. To pay attention. But instead he followed his friends had answered the call of pleasure. Fled from the responsibility for his family and his ward.
He often wondered how differently things would have turned out if he had stayed in Sanditon.
Sidney did not believe that Georgiana would have been less angry with him after that dreadful lunch with Lady Denham. She would have stolen from Mrs Griffith's care, despite his being in town, and stood by the cliffs to give in to her grief. His heart clenched painfully at the thought of what might have happened if Mr Stringer had not found her there on the cliff and saved her. He was eternally grateful to the young man. Sidney wondered what Mr Stringer was doing in the meantime. Whether he had regained his composure after the fateful blow.
What if the tragedy could have been prevented?
Meanwhile, Sidney believed that the old Mr Stringer's accident would not have happened if Tom had used money to secure the construction site according to regulations. Everything that followed was a chain of unfortunate circumstances, but they all had their origin in one thing.
Tom's gambling with luck.
Sidney still remembered the hastily written letter from Mary, which reached him in the moment as he was leaving for the cricket match back at Sanditon. Tom had lost some of his prestige and enthusiasm then. It was heavy on his mind that Mr Stringer Senior had lost his leg. But even more so that the workers had publicly embarrassed him and refused to compete against him as long as he owed them their wages.
Constantly, the same questions had tormented Sidney. What would have happened if he had not left? Could it have been prevented? Or at least saved Georgiana from public ruin if he had done his duty as her guardian? Could he have prevented her lover's secret visit? Had he acted too hastily in taking her to Babington's country estate, Regardless of Tom's problems? Could he have been able to avoid some of the great grief that had overwhelmed them all?
"The scent reminds me of Dorothea," mused Carl, one of the workers on the bed just an arm's length away from Sidney's. "She was beautiful like the sun and always smelled of lavender."
On Carl's always scowling clenched mouth, from which never a single kind word escaped, there was suddenly a slight smile. Sidney felt uncomfortable watching his colleague, older by at least ten years, reminisce intimately.
"I loved her so much." noted Carl in disbelief.
Sidney pursed his mouth sympathetically, knowing how grotesque such feelings were. He stood up and was about to turn away, but Carl's ever-so-lifeless gaze bored into Sidney's eyes.
"But I didn't go back," he pressed the lavender bag against his heart, "I was too gutless to tell her the truth."
Sidney nodded, indicating to the man that he understood without knowing the story in detail. Never before had this man exchanged a word with him, not even in the field or when stowing fruit and vegetables after harvest. Now he stood up, his face returned to the grumpy mask, gone was the expression of love that had softened his features for a moment. But he did not let Sidney go and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"If love ever comes your way, young man, don't be a fool and throw it away because your damned pride gets in the way."
Then he pushed past Sidney as if to escape not only the disagreeable colleague but also the memory of lost love. Only romantic love was doomed to harm.
Love, Sidney thought snidely and puffed out loud. Love was nothing but an illusion. At least love between adults. There was friendship, affection and respect. But love, no the mutual, unwavering love, existed only in books. Usually one loved the other more. Gave him everything and the other took, took, took. Love let one down. It was never enough to save the other. It made unhappy. When one loved, one became soft, in danger of losing oneself. To be exposed to social ruin.
How much can a loving heart endure before it breaks?
He himself had experienced it, but it had been a stupid, imaginary love, unrequited, cold and calculating. Mary and Tom had once loved each other from the bottom of their hearts. But how did it feel to be lied to, betrayed all the time and finally left alone? Alone with the gloating and the mockery, the savage insults and the grief. Oh yes, the inexpressible grief of having failed. Something much more precious than the loss of love.
Love existed only between parents and their children and vice versa. But even that often not even or only one-sided. Sidney didn't believe Tom loved his children as they deserved, that he missed them as they missed him. Though he doubted it was still an unwavering love. The girls, of all people, were old enough to understand.
He wondered what this would do to them? What kind of women will they grow up to be after what happened? Will they give their love away generously, keep it for themselves or smother others with it? Will they feel unloved like Georgiana and do stupid things? Believe a good liar? No, they still had Mary, their family, after all. Even if it was incomplete now. Oh, his heart bled at the thought of....
"Parker, are you coming?"
Only now did Sidney notice that he was the last one in the hut and instead of running him up as usual, Carl waited for him at the door with his head tilted. His look did not reveal what he was thinking.
"It'll get better eventually." Carl said with more understanding in his gaze than Sidney would ever have given him credit for. "after rain always comes sunshine."
And against his dull thoughts, his sadness and frustration, even against his will, these words touched Sidney. The confidence that lay in them welled up in him like the still silent lonely pearl of a creek coming to life.