As Sidney sat in his room after dinner reading, he looked up at the clock as it tick, tick, ticked on the mantle. It was a Ball day, and usually Whistledown would have had them all sign up for dance cards and perhaps even choose a theme, but Sidney had heard none of that. Was she giving them a small reprieve from decorum? Brow furrowing, he cleared his throat and closed his book for a moment, finger saving his place. If there had been a ball, of course he knew who he would have sought out. Of course he knew who he wished to spend those few, close moments with.
Charlotte.
Was there any other? Letting out a sigh he sat back in his chair and put a hand to his forehead. After the duel he had hoped to put things right, hoped to tell her how much he wrestled with these feelings swelling in his chest. But the right moment never came and instead he had pushed them away, like he always did. For the most part he was able to hold them at arm’s length, but in quiet moments, moments like this, they would rise to the surface and his heart would slowly constrict as though being squeezed in a vice. A pain he had never experienced before in his life. Pain rooted firmly in the absence of another.
And as he felt his heart tighten then, he also felt an odd tingling sensation with it. Looking down at his hands he heard a loud POP, and when he looked back up he was in the ballroom. Not dressed for the occasion, but in his riding trousers and a simple white shirt and vest, and who else but she was standing in front of him looking just as confused as he was. Tsk, “Miss Heywood,” was all he could manage at first considering the circumstances. Then, as he realized this had to be the doing of Whistledown, he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose this is our ball for the week,” he said, looking down at her, head bowed just slightly so that his hazel eyes could meet her own dark and beautiful brown ones.
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It had been over a month now since the duel, that miserable June afternoon when she'd watched Sidney fall to his knees in defeat before Mr Stringer - a flash of red - and then… nothing. Nothing, save for the instant buzz of emotion flooding her mind, the sharp bite of her own fingernails in half-moon shapes on her palm, pressed hard in an attempt to center herself.
Voices had followed her, then, but they blurred in her ears, her own vision hazy with unshed tears. She had stepped back, not answering their persistent inquiries, not giving any of them the satisfaction of knowing her heart.
And in the weeks since? Nothing. Charlotte herself felt a bit in a daze. The manor had transported itself to a seaside town much reminiscent of Sanditon itself, and she hadn't been able to enjoy a moment of it- for each breath full of salty air only brought back that vision of him. Prone, wounded, gone. Parents had visited Summerview, but after hearing that her own wouldn't also be in attendance- there was too much work to be done on the farm, this time of year- Charlotte hadn't felt at all eager to meet anyone else new. Even the arrival of her beloved sister Alison had only been met with lukewarm delight.
But it was the latter, finally, who had seen fit to insist- without room for refusal- that Charlotte would accompany her to the Sweethearts Ball. Alison had attended one such event without her, and didn't seem keen to repeat the evening, even if neither one of them had the titular sweetheart.
So she had dressed in silver and teal, Alison had helped her with her hair, and off they had gone. As they approached the ballroom, and others came into view, Charlotte even felt the smallest hint of hope in it.
No sooner had she allowed herself that feeling, however, than did Mr Sidney Parker appear- no doubt by Lady Whistledown's magic- directly in front of her. "Miss Heywood. I suppose this is our ball for the week." Charlotte lifted her own hand to check her previously blank dance card, only to now see…
Dropping her hand back to her side, and steeling her shoulders back just slightly, Charlotte met his gaze and offered one curt nod. "I believe it is, Mr Parker."
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Her tone was short, though he could not blame her, and he pulled his lower lip in, in a brief moment of reflection. Neither of them had been able to broach the subject, only speaking to one another briefly during meals or passing in the corridors, and it had been miserable. At least for Sidney. And as he stood before her now, Charlotte giving him that look, he cleared his throat and stood a bit straighter. What was it she’d said to him in Sanditon?
Can we not rewrite our history, if we find it disagreeable?
“It has been quite an adjustment going from seeing you round every corner to scarcely there at the dinner table,” he admitted, perhaps too vulnerably, but something in him urged him to voice how he was feeling, to embrace it. The singing of violin strings interrupted him then as the first dance began and he bowed deeply, extending his hand to her. For once Sidney was laid bare, dressed as he was, the shield of appearance and society all but gone.
Gently he placed his other hand on Charlotte’s waist and began to guide her around the ballroom as the music carried them across the floor. His gaze dropped to their feet for a moment before flicking back up to look at her. She deserved an apology. At least and then some. And for once in his life Sidney Parker swallowed his pride.
“Miss Heywood, I–” he paused for a moment, mulling over the words, “–I deeply regret what transpired between Mister Stringer and myself.” Swallowing he wanted very much to look away, but maintained, “And I am sorry. For putting that on you.” He tried a smile, but it fell short, his eyes echoing his apology as he awaited her reply. Hoping that it was enough. Or maybe at least a start.
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Charlotte barely concealed her surprise at Sidney's mention of- or, perhaps, at least, allusion to- missing her in some way. Wasn't this Sidney am I never to get away from you Parker?
"I've been busy," she replied, though her attempt to sound succinct likely instead just felt unfinished or untrue. After all, she had missed him, as well. But that wasn't…
Charlotte's eyes darted from his, down to the knot of his cravat, then… over to the strings, as they tuned up for the first song. He eased them onto the floor together, fingers entwined, bodies moving in long memorized steps. To say nothing else about the man, Charlotte would at least willingly admit that he was a very fine dancer.
Still, nothing about tonight- or anything in the month that had preceded it- would have led Charlotte to even guess that an apology would so easily fall from his lips. Though she met Sidney's gaze, emphatically plaintive as it was, Charlotte wavered. A step in the dance was delayed, though his hands kept her on track. "Mr Parker, I-"
The dance spun them apart, but then back together once more. "I admit I find myself rather at a loss for words. I may have desired an apology, but thought you too prideful to ever utter one."
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I’ve been busy. “Yes, of course,” he replied lamely, they’d both been busy avoiding each other. Moving his gaze off over her shoulder he looked to find the other pairs also dancing, though a bit happier than the two of them. After all, an entire evening of dancing with the same partner? Especially if one was taken with them would be a welcome surprise. Perhaps it should have been for them…
As they swept about the room, Sidney noticed her misstep, but did not acknowledge it and guided her back with a small push at her waist. As she began to reply he found himself hanging on her every word. They parted, but he could not keep his eyes off of her, and as she returned to him, he slipped her hand gently into his, eyes meeting hers for the rest of her response.
He should have expected her words, and as they landed he suppressed what would have been a rather large smile into a smaller grin. Tsk, “Is it possible then that perhaps we’ve had each other wrong?” his grin softened and faded away as quite earnestly asked his question. If there was anything he’d learned about Miss Heywood it was that she pushed him, oh how she pushed him, sometimes even into anger or frustration, but in her absence he found he did not like the man left behind.
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He tsk'ed her, as if one might scold a child or perhaps a misbehaving pet, but… Charlotte forced herself not to bristle at the sound. If anything, the words that followed certainly seemed to imply that he hadn't meant anything untoward with that simple gesture, and…
Is it possible then that perhaps we’ve had each other wrong?
Well, was it?
Charlotte's mind whirled- as her feet did, with a spin on the floor, guided by Sidney's strong and sure hold- and she could hardly begin to name all the assumptions she'd made about his character since meeting him, just a few months ago. In the end, she just gave a sighed exhale, and offered instead, "While I do believe it may be possible, Mr Parker- and, indeed, might even hope it to be true-"
why had she said that?!
"-if such things are the case, then I… fear I may not know you at all."
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It was her next reply then that truly cut him down, just as she so skillfully could, and he felt the ever-familiar vice tighten around his heart. He could not muster the words he wanted right away and instead found himself pouring all of his focus into the dance, the two of them captivating the room as they moved, a sight to behold. He finished the set with no missed steps and a perfect flourish, dropping to a knee so that Charlotte might be the focus of the moment as the piece came to a close. There was even a bit of applause as he stood, but he did not hear it.
Instead, Sidney bowed deeply and took a small step toward her as his hands laced together behind his back. Clearing his throat he looked down at his feet for a brief moment, then back up at her. “If you truly feel that way then I have sorely misjudged our shared interaction,” he stated, succumbing to his signature cold and even tone, jaw clenched as he attempted to seem expressionless. Beneath the surface it was anything but.
He could feel a few pairs of eyes on him as he stood before her, and the realization that they still had all evening together fell heavy on him. Surely he wouldn’t run away again, like he had before, but it was like a war waging inside him. Fighting against the urge to fly, trying to steady himself. To reckon with the consequences of his actions.
It took a mighty effort, but he came down then for a brief moment and Sidney let out a small sigh. “Might we talk somewhere more private?” he asked as a couple of the women nearest them had inclined their ears to catch any dropped words, “Please.”
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She knew that the flourish there, where he knelt before her, was just a show of gallantry… but Charlotte still felt her cheeks flush just a bit to see him there, head bowed.
But the moment passed quickly, and he stood to approach her once more, hands behind his back, spine rigid. The cool tone of his voice was almost palpable, a breath of it sent a shiver down her spine. Charlotte had the urge to step back, to pull away from that cold demeanor, but she forced her feet to plant where they were, defiant.
But with the request given, Charlotte nodded once. The please caught her ear, feeling somehow at once both urgent and unsure… but it was not a request that he'd done anything to earn denying. She held up her hand for him to take, now willing to follow where he might lead. At least for now.
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He took her hand then as she offered it and walked them away from the dance floor, away from the listening ears and watchful eyes. The two of them had been mentioned in the Whistledown Papers enough now that people seemed to have an expectation of them and it drove Sidney mad.
This place had been nothing but a painful invasion of his privacy, of his past, dredging up old memories, old hurt. It made it impossible for Sidney to have even one moment’s peace and the only solace he’d found was riding, but even then it was more escapism than enjoyment. This moment would only prove to fuel Whistledown on further, but not if he could help it.
Moving them behind a soft, gossamer curtain, just opposite the food and drink, they found themselves somewhat alone in a small sitting area. Sidney let her hand drop, moving to look out the elegantly framed bank of windows at the inky black sky dotted in stars and it was quiet then. Quiet enough that the thoughts and anger swelling in his chest had receded and he allowed himself to take a breath as his eyes briefly closed.
There had only been one other time he found himself so affected by another and he’d been so terribly wrong and naive about it. Eliza had broken him down into nothing. Had made him believe he could not be loved, that he was not meant for marriage, and the wall he’d built to protect himself was strong and unwavering. But this was different. He knew it was. Charlotte had so effortlessly pulled down that wall and in turn offered up a kind of empathy and passion he had forgotten was possible. Both things he felt he did not deserve.
When he turned back around he closed the gap between them and boldly took her hand again. “I am far from perfect, I admit that most willingly, all I am asking is–” he paused, steadying himself, then pushed on, “–is to allow me a chance. A chance to show you – as you say – who I really am.” Sidney felt a kind of foreign adrenaline running through him that was a tangled mix of anxiety, anticipation, excitement and panic, but he maintained, “And after all of that, if you are still…disappointed, I will take my leave of this place.”
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Charlotte had moved to one of the benches there, though her eyes hadn't left Sidney the whole while. He had said that they'd gotten one another wrong, and she knew well enough how many times she'd assumed things about his motivations or intentions. He was a secretive man, at the core of it, and that… wasn't something Charlotte was accustomed to. In a family of fourteen children, secrets were hard to come by.
He was introspective, his words coming with thought and pauses, but Charlotte didn't provide her own suggestions, instead listening intently. Listening to hear him, truly, not to fill in her own assumptions.
"If I have found disappointment in the past, I… do recognize that such things must surely have come from holding you to measures you had no reason to know of, or indeed a way to reach. My lack of perfection is as… willingly admitted as your own, Mr Parker."
Though actually being able to leave was perhaps in question, Charlotte didn't say as much, if only to ensure she wouldn't hear a response that involved Eliza Campion.
She stood from her seat then, moving closer to Sidney, and- perhaps daringly- setting a hand just at his arm. "You may have the chance… with the hope that you grant me the same courtesy."
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He was not surprised to find her admitting faults of her own in response to his offering and the vice that had been tight round his heart lessened as he again was treated with empathy, as an equal. His gaze dropped to his feet to conceal the small smile that had crept across his lips and he shook his head, but he did not protest her. “Then I suppose we find ourselves on level ground, Miss Heywood,” he said, his tone softened and gentler than it had been.
Of course he knew of Whistledown’s rules, the inhabitants of Summerview stuck until they properly married, but he could not bear the thought of having to live what would certainly be a half-life alongside the shadow of what could have been – of what he hoped could be…
As she moved toward him he felt his heartbeat quicken, her deep brown eyes captivating him as they lit up in the candlelight. Her hand on his arm surprised him, but her acceptance of his request even more so. This time he couldn’t hide a smile, small as it was, and he nodded his head in agreement, “Yes, of course I will.”
And then, as he put a hand atop her own, he straightened his jacket and looked down at her. Beautiful as she was unafraid. A combination that brought him to his knees, but a necessity as he stood there in relief. Finally, progress over argument. Understanding over overreaction. No small feat considering his reputation, but all due to her patience.
The violins tuning up brought Sidney back to earth and he noted they’d missed a set. His heart sank a bit at the thought of dancing with anyone other than Charlotte, but then he remembered. The same partner. All night.
And giving her hand a gentle squeeze he glanced down at her, “Miss Heywood, will you dance with me?”
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His smiles had before been few indeed, yet now here were two within moments of one another. Charlotte would treasure them still, she was certain, no matter how often she was so indulged.
They were to dance with one another all evening, of course, so by all rights he hadn't needed to ask her. Lady Whistledown might have worked her dastardly magic to force them into… nearly anything else. But Charlotte understood, there, that Sidney was putting the choice to her, letting her have the opportunity to say yes.
She turned her hand over, under his, and gently grasped his fingers. "Mr Parker, I would be delighted."
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He had to work quite hard to bite back the smile then, the one that was saved for only when he was feeling truly happy, though Charlotte had seen it plenty when they played with his nieces and nephew back in Sanditon. Clearing his throat he inclined his head in acceptance and intertwined his fingers with her own as they moved easily together back onto the dance floor.
Trying as he might to fight against the warming of his heart, Sidney found himself slowly opening up to her. Though there was no hurt to be found here, only the difficulty that came with the mending of wounds, and if he could match her bravery he would make it through.
He lifted her arm and twirled her elegantly into the formation of pairs floating across the floor and as the song reached a crescendo, Sidney Parker decidedly enjoyed himself.