The rumbling of the carriage thudded dully in his skull. But Sidney considered hisself lucky that his stomach no longer wanted to carry his breakfast back up at the slightest bump. That bitter chewing tobacco that Mr Heywood had wordlessly handed him when they had met outside the house early that morning, worked wonders.
At first Sidney had thought his outrageous, dishonourable behaviour towards Miss Heywood had caused her father to be taciturn and stiff. But as soon as they were on the path that led to the core of the village, he realised the real reason. Mr Heywood was struggling with his stomach and a headache himself, and in no way wanted to back down from the disapproving looks of his wife who was watching them from the front door. He walked with quick steps, stiff as if he had swallowed a stick, until he stopped at a curve in the road.
"Now she can't see any more." He grumbled, yet he looked around once more as if he feared she would come up behind him armed with a gun.
"She found me at my desk." he began slowly, "Thank you for shoving this pillow under my head." He smiled weakly over at him before propping himself up on his knees and taking a deep breath. Sidney did the same.
"My young friend...," Mr Heywood slowly straightened up and reached for Sidney's arm, "I'll give you some good advice: never, and I mean never, show your wife that you're unwell if you've had too much to drink the night before."
He looked at Sidney so penetratingly that Sidney could only nod mutely and stifle an amused smile.
"She will make you suffer even more otherwise! They know no mercy." Mr Heywood seemed as serious as if he were talking about an invading army. "She did bring me a cup of tea, but then ripped open the curtains, moved furniture and allowed the children to be extra noisy! Exactly today she must then also be tossing pots around or whatnot!"
Mr Heywood took a few deep breaths through his mouth. Glancing off into the distance, he remarked more to himself than to Sidney, "Right arrogant she is then." He smiled and now didn't seem annoyed at all, more enraptured. "And cheeky... yes, really downright cheeky."
Sidney felt that little twinge of envy. He realised that he wanted the same thing. A wife who stood by you in good times and bad. A woman who stood by you in good times and bad. Who reads you the riot act and can still enchant you with it. A certain image formed in his mind, he was sure that a certain person could also become quite cheecky if he did something she disliked. When he really became aware of what he was thinking, he closed his eyes in disbelief.
When he opened them again, Mr Heywood gave him a friendly smile and then marched on, albeit a little slower. The relief that had flooded Sidney at that moment was so refreshing that he could almost have been cheerful. If his physical condition hadn't prevented him from doing so. Or, the condition of his soul.
Apparently Charlotte had not told her parents about the unseemly encounter in the kitchen that night. He was glad of that, but Sidney also wondered how he could ever face her again. What he had said, or the part he could remember, had been so impertinent that he honestly wondered why she had protected him and not given him a sharp slap. He would have deserved it. Even if every single word that had passed his alcohol-deaf lips was true.
When he closed his eyes, he still saw her in front of him. With that look that expressed concern and confusion and warmed him inside like a cosy fire. He still saw her eyes widen as he had almost touched her cheek. Astonishment, but not aversion, was in them. And that had so amazed him, even frightened him, that he had preferred to clench his fist and pull back.
Would she really have let him? Was he allowed to touch her? Was he even allowed to think about doing it? But most of all he wondered if her cheek would burn under his touch.
To keep his mind off Charlotte during their bumpy ride, Sidney had forced himself to keep his eyes open, even if he had to shield them with his hand to block out the brightness. And the landscape that swept past them, reminding his stomach of a ship in a heavy storm. The throbbing behind his eyeballs had subsided to a tolerable level by now, but the throbbing in his heart when he thought of Miss Heywood had not.
Under normal circumstances Sidney would have preferred to suffer alone in this condition, but in Mr Heywood he had found an equal ally. He too was a tough fellow, suffered silently and the most pleasant thing was that he did not lack self-mockery. With an amused look, he commented not only on his own condition, but also on Sidney's. Especially with what devotion they had drunk Heywood's own cherry wine before Mr Heywood had had the great idea of tasting all the wines, liqueurs and home-distilled alcohol of the whole neighbourhood. Not infrequently they had to laugh at themselves, even if it always ended in a pain-distorted groan.
After they had a second breakfast at a rest stop and changed to another stagecoach, which they finally had all to themselves, Mr Heywood began to go over the details they wanted to discuss with the liquor manufacturer. Everything was discussed so far and they both sank into an amicable silence. After they had travelled another mile, Mr Heywood spoke up once more.
"Now, Sidney, please be absolutely honest..." he waited until Sidney looked at him, "what do you think of Charlotte?"
Gone was the lightness. Panic washed over Sidney, much worse than that of the morning, because by now he was sober again. Still, it turned his stomach slightly, at the same time his heart rattled against his ribs. He felt hot and cold. Had Mr Heywood seen through him? All the words he wanted to form burst open and rose into the sky like shadowy grey smoke.
"Her ideas aren't so far-fetched, right?"
At these words Mr Heywood had given him a curious look, which Sidney did not notice. The latter would have preferred to groan loudly with relief. Her father was not interested in his personal opinion of her, but in his opinion about Charlotte's notes, which Mr Heywood had shown him the previous evening. Sidney could just about suppress the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow, but not the laughter. He tried to cover it with a cough.
"Absolutely."
Mr Heywood was clearly proud that Sidney, a man of the world who was in the import and export business and had a good nose in deals involving luxury items, thought his daughter's idea good enough to discuss it again in a sober state. Sidney was not just trying to be polite. He simply recognised that Charlotte's idea had potential.
"As I discovered yesterday," Sidney began with a grin, "some of the drinks are very tasty. Your daughter is right, if all the farmers can make their own oils, wines and liqueurs in small numbers, you could also make large ones if you combine your resources."
Mr Heywood recounted the thoughts Charlotte had written down in her notes and refined over the years.
Sidney's pride, which he felt for her, spread through his chest and drowned out the irritating wild beating of his heart. He could handle admiration for her actions. It also distracted him from that inner voice that wanted to make him believe he was on the best way to fall in love with her. That was so absurd that he was better off concentrating on her determination to make a difference.
It was not a spontaneous idea, but something this young lady had been thinking about for some time. How could something that everyone was already doing for themselves and on a small scale be made bigger and more profitable for the benefit of all? And more safe too. Under one point, Miss Heywood had written down all the accidents that had happened so far.
"We'd have to talk to everyone first, I don't think they'd all go for it right away." Replied Mr Heywood. "A lot of people always hold on to old things instead of moving with the times."
Sidney felt uncomfortably addressed. Although he had always considered himself progressive, he still held on to the past. Which, however, no longer existed as it once was. Perhaps it really was time to slowly look forward. To think of a future, whatever it might look like.
"You have to negotiate contracts with those who participate, so that no one leaves you hanging," Sidney interjected. "and also to cover the risk if the harvest is not so good."
He fervently hoped that Mr Heywood would ask for his help, because that would also mean that he could stay in Willingden longer than after the cabbage harvest.
"You have to register a business, there are requirements to be fulfilled." He was thinking of fire safety and Mr Stringer's lost leg because the construction site was not secured properly.
"Yes, clearly Charlotte has too little knowledge in that regard, although she knows far more than my sons. We can't suddenly open an oil and liquor factory in our barn," Mr Heywood laughed, "we need someone to find us the right location for it."
"An investor with connections..." murmured Sidney, thinking of his friend Lord Babington, who was always willing to invest in promising small businesses. He had not been hit as hard as others by the financial loss of his investment in Sanditon. But until he could propose the concept to him, all other questions should be clarified.
"I have funds that could be invested." Mr Heywood did not seem offended, more eager that Sidney give it a realistic chance. "I would be an equal partner."
Sidney nodded. "That's good." Then he added in a businesslike manner "You must never neglect insurance. It must always be paid on time."
Mr Heywood nodded sympathetically. He would have liked to give the younger man a hug. Just like the night before, when Sidney had told him in an alcohol-heavy voice about his brother's failings and the disaster that followed. Mr Heywood had heard these things from the foreman and had also read about it in the newspaper at the time back then. To hear the extent of the catastrophe from one of the people involved was something quite different.
The fact that this promising young man had to spend his life as a harvest labourer was simply painful to him. He had known from the first moment that there was more to Sidney Parker. That he simply had to offer him a better job because of his background was just as obvious as his good manners and hard work. Then, as he gradually learned what business Mr Parker had been in and all the people he had dealt with in London, he had decided to ask Sidney for some business advice. His daughter's curious questions had also contributed to this, Mr Heywood had to admit.
After that, the idea formed in his mind almost by itself. Combining Charlotte's idea with Mr Parker's knowledge. But it was important to him that his daughter also got her chance. To become a part of the whole. If it would then take concrete forms. As a man of his generation, Mr Heywood found it difficult to accept letting his daughter go her own way. As a loving father, he wanted to protect her from a marriage without love. He could come to terms with giving her the opportunity to work, as far as she was able to do so as a woman.
The best way for Mr Heywood to live might be, very likely, a combination of both. Which led to his latest observations, which he found extremely interesting and promising. He was looking forward to discuss it with his wife.
"I definitely need a suitable man by my side to do all the paperwork, someone I trust one hundred percent." Mr Heywood reflected, looking thoughtfully at Sidney.
"You have that," Sidney returned gravely, "even if she's not a man."
He would not be able to get the word 'girl' past his lips even if he wanted to. When he thought of Miss Heywood, he remembered all too clearly her outstretched chin and straight posture as she reminded her father that she was already a woman. Since he found it uncomfortable to think of Miss Heywood, a really remarkable beauty, while her father was facing him, he looked down at his hands in his lap. Therefore, he did not see the look in Mr Heywood's eyes.
It was pride. Pride, that this young man recognised what he had known for a long time himself. His daughter was not a simple girl who would dutifully do the typical female things. She had always been more like a son in that respect. She had no problem getting her hands dirty, lend a helping hand, even when she loved to dance and wear a pretty dress. He knew that if they were really going to marry her off, it should be to a man who was open-minded and who would help her realise her dreams. Within the confines of social conventions, of course.
Whether that would happen if she married a farmer boy of a long-established family in the neighbourhood, he doubted. Charlotte was like a bird about to fly to the south. Marrying the wrong man would put her in a cage. It had the last few weeks to make him realise that.
"Actually, I was thinking of you, Sidney."
Amazement and delight at the trust, alternated with uncertainty and a guilty conscience on Sidney's face. Mr Heywood was pleased to see that for a moment his counterpart was not as much in control as he always seemed to think.
"If I give the job to my daughter, though, I don't have to pay a salary." He laughed when he saw the crease between Sidney's eyebrows.
"You definitely have to pay her for her work!" Just barely, Sidney managed to keep the friendly tone as he saw the amused grin on Mr Heywood's face. Quite clearly, he had put him to the test.
"I'll do that Sidney, but there's a lot she doesn't know yet and I'd need someone to show her and teach her."
Sidney couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why did Mr Heywood trust him with his daughter? Why did he trust him to do this job faithfully, when his brother was in prison? How could he trust him when his family were outlawed in London? How could he want to work with him when his family had lost everything, especially their reputation?
"It would be worth considering if I decided to actually do it." Mr Heywood grinned before mirroring Sidney's serious look. "You're not your brother, Sidney."
Sidney felt caught, but it wasn't unpleasant. He remembered Charlotte's words in the hazel grove. 'It was neither your fault nor your failure.' And a faint smile made itself known with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Sidney, life is always going down, and then it goes up again."
Mr Heywood shrugged before he began to talk about how a few years ago all the harvest workers had fallen victim to a flu epidemic that left hardly anyone able to work.
"I couldn't do anything about it. But it wasn't my fault either. we could have just let most of the harvest go to waste, but we didn't."
"What did you do?"
"All of us local peasants had enough to do that we couldn't have helped each other. Our children did as much as they could," he laughed, "you should have seen them... they were like wild wolves, dirty and overtired."
At these words it became increasingly difficult for Sidney to focus his attention on the words and not think of Charlotte doing the hard work in the field. Sweaty and heated.
"We would not have made it, but the heir to the great landowner a parish away helped us. We had all called him a snob from town, who had no idea of a country estate, but he sent his servants." He laughed again, "all of whom were clueless, some of them too well educated for this kind of work and the women... they were so shocked when they saw Charlotte." He laughed again, "she was wearing trousers from her brother, that were far too short..."
Imagining Charlotte wearing her younger brother's trousers, which exposed her pretty ankles, gave Sidney the rest. He cleared his throat and skillfully interrupted the story.
"So you mean a snob helped you then, that's why you want to help a snob this time?"
Mr Heywood's laugh was so infectious that Sidney laughed hard as well. He hadn't felt this light and free in a long time, despite the dull throbbing in the back of his skull.
"Everyone deserves a second chance." Mr Heywood returned, amused, before turning serious.
"Sidney, you are not your brother. You are hardworking, diligent gentleman. That's what your foreman says, everyone I've spoken to and my own eyes tell also. There is more to you than being your brother's shadow or living up to his reputation, good or bad. Your restraint, your reasoning in this conversation, and above all the respect you show me, even though other men of your background look down on us Farmers..."
Here Sidney wanted to say something, but Mr Heywood continued unhindered.
"Even though we belong to the landed gentry, we are not as socially respectable as the nouveau riches who crowd the balls in town." Mr Heywood smiled, "how you would have conceded the job to my daughter without once thinking of claiming it yourself."
He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it. Then, amazed, he realised they had reached their destination. After getting out of the carriage, he slapped Sidney on the arm.
"Grab the hand that's held out to you. Take the chance that's given to you. Build a new life for yourself."
Touched and agitated, Sidney stood leaning against the carriage for a moment until he could control himself enough to accompany Mr Heywood into the liqueur factory. He should not think about what had been said. He should be concentrating on his present task, paying attention to all the details, watching everything closely and negotiating better terms.
But as he walked along beside Mr Heywood, he was already thinking about what would have to be done to give it all substance. An accurate cost breakdown and a timetable would have to be prepared. He would write to Babington and ask his advice, maybe even ask Tom for a rough draft of the labels when the time came. He would have to explore the surrounding area, the road conditions, the water supply.
If Mr Heywood really decided to do it, it would be a long-term project. Not a quick thing that was doomed to go wrong and bring disaster to everyone. Every decision would be followed by others.
It would all be incredibly exciting. A welcome change in his dull life. Creating something new would be fulfilling. As would the extra pounds he could send Mary to pay off the debts.
But even more than that, joy filled him at the thought of Miss Heywood.
The chance and the task she was given, would satisfy her. Working side by side with her might be interesting. Probably her constant closeness would push him to his breaking point, but he would learn to deal with that. The main thing was that he could accompany her a while on her way. Enjoy her a little. Although he was sure that a few ideas coming out of her beautiful head would drive him mad.
Sidney didn't know how right he was about that, and at that very moment.