Summerview was, of course, a fine place to be, but there was a definite lack of things to keep an ever-active Sidney occupied. There were no business dealings to be navigated, no social events to make new acquaintances – or at least the type of event he and not Lady Whistledown preferred – and certainly no races to place bets on. So he found himself as he usually did, at the stables with his trusty steed Sampson. Giving the black horse a good brush before saddling up, he rolled his sleeves back and pushed his hair out of his face. Good lord it was hot. Perhaps a ride to the river was in order. It would not be fair to make Sampson ride across the property in this heat. Climbing atop the horse he gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “Off we go,” and they left the stables at a quick clip toward the water.
He had not been wrong, it was warm out, but early enough that they had a few hours before midday, and as they rode he and Sampson both welcomed the early breeze. Closing his eyes for a moment he allowed himself to focus only on the sound of the grass as it fwip, flip, fwipped alongside them, a sea of gold. It was the only way he could really clear his mind these days. While it was easy to be distracted back home, Summerview posed an entirely new set of challenges, most chiefly the complete absence of all problems. All except the reason he was here. Marriage. Love. And a certain brunette.
Arriving at the water he heard it before he saw it and the temperature dropped significantly. A very satisfactory smile crept across his lips as he pulled Sampson to a stop and hopped down. “Good boy, Sampson,” he grabbed an apple out of his saddlebag and tied his lead around one of the trees in the shade. That would keep him quite pleased for a while and as Sidney began his walk down the river path he noticed a couple of boats along the bank. Curious. He hadn’t rowed since the regatta, and that had been disastrous, so the competitive bit of him decided a bit of practice was in order.
Climbing in he began to take stock of the oars, the small tackle box under one of the benches, and extra rope. Focused on his preparations he almost didn’t hear someone approaching, but at the snap of a twig his eyes shot up to see none other than Charlotte making her own way down the river path. Looking back down at his hands he felt his heartbeat quicken and he closed his eyes for a moment. Deep breath. “Miss Heywood. Good. You’re here. I need another person to balance the boat,” he finished up what he was doing and with one foot in the boat and the other on the bank he held out a hand to her expectantly.
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It was the last edges of summer, and Charlotte wanted to enjoy every bit of it she could, before winter overtook Summerview. (Granted, winter already had taken Summerview, albeit briefly, a fortnight prior. It was obvious that Lady Whistledown had never needed to time any activities by growing seasons.) To that end, she'd gathered a book and a basket with some bread and fruit and set out to find a calm, quiet place to read.
The breeze had been just enough to keep her cool, in addition to the shade of an old, gnarled oak tree. When the breeze stopped, however, Charlotte paused in her reading, and reconsidered the afternoon's plan. No one else was around, surely, so what could be the harm if she just…
Slipping off her boots and hose, Charlotte tucked these items safely back against the roots of the tree, her basket right along with them. Walking barefoot outside was something she didn't often get to indulge in, anymore, though when she was younger there had certainly been many summer afternoons wading and splashing with her younger siblings in the shallow edges of the local river. Her feet were not so calloused as they might have once been, but the easy gait and light of her steps was still evident as she made her way down to the water.
A twig snapped beneath her, and Charlotte gave a little jump. A momentary gust of wind kicked up around her, billowing up the light cotton of her dress higher than where she'd already been holding it just above her ankles. All of this, of course, right in time to meet the gaze of Sidney Parker.
He almost seemed to be expecting her- or, at the very least, was not upset by the happenstance. That alone felt like a marked change from previous encounters, and Charlotte couldn't help but smile- setting aside the momentary worry of her unpreparedness. "So long as such tasks do not require shoes," she offered, playfully, as she stepped closer. Her dress fell back down as she reached a hand for his.
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Heat crept up his neck and across his cheeks, though not from the summer sun above them, and his usual tanned skin turned rosy. Clearing his throat he realized he’d looked a moment too long and averted his gaze as the wind picked up and carried the soft cotton of her dress in a playful dance. Charlotte, much like himself, did not have the pale alabaster skin like most ladies should, but it was a mark of hard work. Determination. Of being unafraid of getting your hands dirty. And she proved that to him time and time again. It was quite possibly the thing he loved most about her. Her unabashed approach to life and everything. The will to take it all head on.
As he moved his eyes from her legs and down to the floor of the boat, he attempted to collect himself. To put his thoughts back in their proper place – away. But then the lilt of her laughter met his ears and he felt his heart melt, his gathered thoughts scattered in the very same breeze that had carried her softly down the riverbank.
Her bare feet stepped into the boat with his guidance and he could not help the hand that lifted then to her waist so that she landed without so much as a wobble, and perhaps let it linger a bit longer than he should have. His eyes met hers for a brief moment and it were as though all of the sound in the world was sucked from existence. “I–” he started, stopped, could not remember what he had wanted to say, her figure so very close to his. Then, “–here, please, sit. Just behind you.” Reluctantly letting go of her he sat down on his own bench, gesturing to the one opposite him. “Does having no shoes give one an advantage?” he asked, offering her a smile as the flush of his cheeks began to fade as he put some distance between them.
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She had seen the rise of rosiness in his cheeks, and idly admired it, even in its unfortunate brevity. Sidney Parker cut an extremely handsome figure, of course, but surely everyone knew that- including himself. The rosy cheeks were new.
Though she'd gone rowing once before, with him, there was still an unfamiliarity with the way of things. His hand found her waist, however, steadying her before any misfortune might have a chance. Their eyes met, and then it was her turn for pinked cheeks.
But she sat back on the bench as directed, not looking away just yet. "For rowing, we shall have to find out. I had only intended to go wading, to cool off a bit. Meeting you was… a fortuitous happenstance." Charlotte paused a moment, then added, "Though if we are to find out the… efficacy of barefoot rowing, I believe investigative rules would see you do the same as I, Mr Parker."
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Tilting his head in curiosity he bit back the grin that was fighting its way across his lips as she implied he should also remove his shoes. A piss poor attempt at seriousness was made, but his face broke as a laugh escaped him and he glanced away off down the river, the water rhythmically lapping at the edge of the boat. Clearing his throat he looked back at her, grin softened, but still lingering and leant over without breaking eye contact. “For proper investigation,” he said, slipping off one shoe then the other, socks following suit. He had to admit, it was rather freeing.
Repositioning himself so that he was sat properly on his bench, he took the oars in his hands and began to row them away from shore. “Now then, Miss Heywood, if this meets your standards…” he pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled them through the water, long branches casting shadows over them as they went.
The lack of minute conversation and forced laughter of Summerview made Sidney relax and he found himself letting out a small sigh of relief. They had reached a calmer bit of the river and he slowed, taking the oars and pushing them toward Charlotte. “If you like?” he asked, waiting to see if she wished to try.
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It had been a playful suggestion, or perhaps a sort of dare, but Charlotte couldn't hide her delight as Sidney joined her in that shoeless state. His laugh was one that she hadn't heard often enough- and perhaps never really directed at her... but her heart swelled with the sound. "I believe we have made both scientists and our gods of mischief pleased, so do carry on, Mr Parker."
They pulled away from the shore, and she watched as he fell into what seemed like the easy, almost meditative act of rowing. It was difficult not to watch him, really, especially the tense of muscles in his arms with each new push and pull of the oars. Charlotte idly wished she could have known she was meeting him this way, so perhaps she could have brought her basket with bread and grapes to share.
A light smile tugged at her features when he eased the oars in her direction, and Charlotte leaned forward to take them in hand. Her fingers brushed over his, just briefly, before finding the grip he'd shown her once before. "I was taught once before," she reminded him, "by a very fine teacher. We shall see if his lessons took."
Forward and back, guiding the oars to dip just below the water, and then raising them up just enough to skim the surface. Neither too deep nor too far above, a balance and a rhythm found again with surprising ease.
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With a nod Sidney’s smile softened then, but remained as he watched Charlotte look away and off to the scenery that swam slowly by. Any other time he would’ve been keenly aware of the fact that he was staring, but right then in that small perfect moment he felt himself memorizing every little detail. The way the breeze swept her hair over her shoulders, the constellations of freckles that dotted their way across her cheeks, how easy she made happiness look – and when she smiled back at him, his returned anew. At her compliment, he finally looked away.
Charlotte’s fingers softly tracing across his own felt electric against his skin and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Glancing down at where she’d taken the oars he gently readjusted her hands to a proper spacing and then moved in time with her push and pull for a few strokes. “Hmm, good students make for good teachers,” he said, reluctantly lifting his hands away as she continued on her own, eyes flicking up to look at her. It was humid on that hot summer day, but the air was made quite thick for only a few seconds as they looked at one another.
Then clearing his throat he pulled his gaze away and turned round on his bench, fingers deftly moving to undo the buttons on his vest. “This is good,” he said decidedly as the boat slowed and they reached the widest point in the river, the waters still and crystalline down to the bed. He couldn’t explain it, but she made him feel things, things he hadn’t felt since he was a young boy, like he could just be. Which was why he was now standing. Sidney pulled his vest off and turned back to her with a look in his eye. “I’ll report back,” and with that he dove headlong into the river, shirt, pants, bare feet and all.
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He moved her hands into a better position, and Charlotte nodded to the coaching, trying to commit this new feeling to memory. But, like most things that involved Sidney Parker, this rowing lesson- indeed the day altogether- would not soon leave her mind.
Finally slowing the pace of rowing as the river widened and slowed, Charlotte knocked the oars into place so they wouldn't be displaced before their use was once more required. It might have been a serene moment for conversation, perhaps, but before anything else could be offered, Sidney had turned his back to her, occupying himself with… what, she couldn't be certain, even with an attempted peek over his shoulder.
Then he stood, and the boat rocked just enough to settle her back down roughly on her own bench, grabbing the sides of the boat in a poor attempt to balance herself- hadn't that been why she was brought on board, and now he'd-
Charlotte gasped as Sidney dove into the water. His form was elegant, to be sure, but the sheer surprise of the moment surpassed any other appreciation of it.
(That her mind also helpfully surprised the other time she'd seen him swimming, well…)
Grabbing up the oars again- and then readjusting her grip, as he'd shown her- Charlotte hastily took one, two, three long pulls to ease the boat further from him… but then stopped, releasing the oars with a bright burst of laughter. What had been, for a moment, an impulse to leave him stranded (and shoeless) there in the river was reversed in that moment, and Charlotte instead stood up and… rather clumsily, if deliberately, stepped off the side of the boat.
She hit the water with an inelegant splash, but kicked her legs and her head rose easily above the surface, a hand wiping her sodden hair back away from her face. "Two can play at your games, Mr Parker."
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All sound was extinguished as he sank down, the cool water a welcome reprieve from the hot August afternoon. Turning over and looking up, the light from the sun, broken and refracting in the current, made it look as though he were floating in a dream. Gently his feet met the bottom and with a smile he kicked off for air.
But as he surfaced he saw Miss Heywood beginning to row away and his smile faltered, what on earth was she doing? Did he have it all wrong? Had he misinterpreted? His heart sank for a moment and then she was standing in the boat. His eyes widened as it wobbled under her shifting weight, “Miss Heywood!” Moving quickly he began to swim to her aid as she disappeared beneath the surface.
“Miss Heywood?” he called as he reached where she’d gone under, panic beginning to swell in his chest as the surface of the water remained still. Nothing. But then with a splash she reappeared, teasing him all the while and his worry melted away. She very obviously knew how to swim. Of course she knew how to swim. He shot her a grin and shook his head, feet treading water. “Right,” he volleyed and cut the water with his hand, splashing her playfully.
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She couldn't have teased him forever, of course- she did need to breathe- but staying under the water for a moment longer than was expected… well, it was worth it when she saw his face again, there at the surface. Charlotte was grinning, without a single care for whether or not she ought to be doing any of this. She was happy, and what could matter more than that?
Charlotte caught Sidney's grin, but she hadn't expected the splash to follow. A shriek of surprise, a hand up in a weak attempt to block the oncoming attack. It doused her well enough, but as soon as she wiped her eyes clear, Charlotte returned the very same in his direction. Her action was a little less elegant, of course, but the result was the same- all the while accompanied by her cheerful laughter.
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This face, though he was not surprised to discover it, might have been Sidney’s most favorite of Charlotte’s despite it being at his expense. Grinning and laughing and just being. He knew society and decorum certainly dictated that this sort of thing was frowned upon at least and simply out of the question at worst. He could only imagine what sort of things would be written about in the Whistledown Papers or what would be said had anyone in London witnessed what was currently transpiring. But rather simply, Sidney had not felt this optimistic – or perhaps unburdened was a better word for it – in a very long time and he needed it. To his very core.
A shout came from him then between laughs as she retaliated with her own well-aimed attack and he shook the water from his hair and face. Breathing quite heavily as he kept afloat, he held a hand up in peace. “Truce?” he offered, grin still in place, but it softened as he noticed how she managed to look effortlessly beautiful no matter what state she was in – dry or spontaneously in a river. The sun on her face, her auburn waves as they floated mermaid-like in the water, the soft fabric of her dress as it clung to her figure.
Pulling in his lips for a moment he let out a breath, mulling over the things that wanted to make their way out of his mouth, wondering if he meant them or if he was caught up in the moment. But then he remembered his promise, to show her who he really was, and that made his decision for him.
Turning and swimming just a ways from them, he grabbed one side of the boat and pulled it over to Charlotte. “Here,” Sidney said, a hand taking hers and the other gently holding round her waist as he lifted her just to the edge so she could climb back in. He then followed suit with great effort to heave himself over the side and landed quite unceremoniously on the other bench. He could hear the soft drip, drip, drip of their wet clothes on the wood below them as they settled and he offered her a small smile. “Miss Heywood, I–” he started, struggling with what it felt like to be honest, to put forth feelings openly, but pushed forward, “–I very much enjoy spending time with you.” He felt like he was back in the river treading water, heart pounding from the effort.
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For all that they'd been targeted by Whistledown in the past, she was far from Charlotte's mind right now. There was an effortless feeling in these new moments, when all she cared about was seeing that once elusive smile on Sidney's face. She did not consider herself particularly graceful, and certainly not as accomplished as most of the women back in the manor (or in Sanditon), but none of that seemed to matter right now.
"Truce," she nodded, holding a hand up in a similar gesture, "for now." This added only in mischief, not ire. The shift from weeks and months previous as refreshing as the water and cool breeze over it.
When she'd jumped into the river, Charlotte… admittedly hadn't really considered how they'd get back into the boat, short of dragging it back to shore. But there Sidney surprised her once again, helping to heave her back over the side as if she were weightless indeed, and then following suit, his own muscles straining under sodden fabric.
He started to speak, and Charlotte must have imagined a dozen different ways he might have finished the sentence, none of which were what occurred. The simplicity of the admission was striking, somehow, and for a moment she couldn't really process what to do next.
"We make quite the pair, Mr Parker," she started, finally, looking herself over- every soaking inch of fabric clinging to her skin, the puddles under her bare feet in the bottom of the boat- and then repeating this visual inventory for him as well. Slowly.
"You continue to surprise me. I only hope I can inspire the very same, on occasion." A little smile, then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth before finally offering, "I would like it if you called me Charlotte."
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Blowing a bit of water off his nose, he gave her what started as a smile and turned into a chuckle as he too looked at the state they were in. “I suppose if anyone asks, we fell in?” he suggested, realizing at some point they would have to return to the estate. Looking up he felt the warmth of the sun begin to spread across his back and glanced back at Charlotte. “Although…” he started, “The sun did a fine job of drying me when I was a young boy, I doubt much has changed since then.” Surely a few more moments lying in the grass and they’d be back as they were when they started?
Picking up the oars, Sidney began to pull them back to where they’d pushed off when she told him how much he surprised her. Looking down at his bare feet for a moment he knew he couldn’t even begin to convey how he was feeling. Smiling softly he looked back up at her, “You have.” And then she took on a bit of a worried expression and Sidney’s brow furrowed as he inclined his head to look at her better. He nearly asked if she was alright when she finally spoke.
I would like it if you called me Charlotte.
His heart beat began to pound in his chest and he felt what was now a familiar heat creeping up his neck. “Charlotte,” was all he could muster in that moment, a mixture of bewilderment and adoration upon his face. His arms were still pushing and pulling them through the surface of the water, but he couldn’t hear or see anything else and he felt himself leaning forward, body moving of its own volition until…thud. The boat bumped back to shore, skidding along the shallow, sandy riverbed.
Clearing his throat he shook his head and stood quickly from his bench, putting the oars back on shore and tying the boat to the post. Then taking her hand he helped her to stand and as they came face to face he gave her a small smile, “Please, call me Sidney.”
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"We fell in," she nodded, "they needn't know that it was intentional."
With her given name offered, Charlotte had waited a moment, unsure how it might yet be received. It might have been a step too far, too soon. But as she sat there, watching him row, the rhythmic push and pull of the oars… she hardly would have recognized the people they'd been to one another weeks and months ago. So much had changed. They had changed.
Sidney leaned in, closer perhaps than they'd ever been save for the dance floor. A drop of water beaded and fell off her nose. Charlotte blinked, her lashes heavy, but he remained there, close enough to…
Thud.
She rocked forward, unexpectedly, hands moving out to catch herself… only to instead land both palms on his thighs. Sidney stood just as quickly, dislodging her, and Charlotte tried to right herself and regain her bearings.
It was only when he extended a hand to her that she finally stood, again stepping… just a breath closer than before. She met his gaze. A smile. "Sidney."