Sanditon revisited

14: What is it that you want from me?

Author's note: A heartfelt thank you to all who read my scribbles and so kindly encourage me to continue.

I am curious to know what you think of my version of Sidney's thoughts underlying his actions in this one.

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In which Sidney behaves very badly indeed and Charlotte is hurt

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She could almost not hear anything above the sound of her own blood gushing, hear heart resounding inside of her like a drum. How could he? The day had just turned from confounding into unbearable.

-o-

Earlier this afternoon Mr. Parker had surprised her, joining her by the river. He appeared to be all by himself and Charlotte wondered where Mrs. Campion was. Initially she felt a bit shy as a consequence of his reserved behaviour during the sand castle competition and perhaps also because she found him more dashing than ever. He seemed quite relaxed now though, as he wriggled off his top coat before picking up an oar and sauntered towards the boats. How she liked him like this, when he was not so formal. Clad in white shirt, waistcoat and breeches he looked stylish but more approachable, younger, less contained than in hat, top coat and cane. More like someone she could have run into in the fields of Willingden, but then again no. She had never met anyone like Sidney Parker anywhere.

She felt a new kind of nervous insecurity in his company and this made her do as he asked when he smilingly commanded her to enter the boat, instead of stubbornly refuse like she would have in the past if he spoke to her like that. It was so strange; she felt completely safe with him, simultaneously intimidated and exposed. Like when he held her to stabilise her in the jump, captured her hand and squeezed it reassuringly after she had landed in the boat. It defeated the purpose because it made her week at the knees, so she hastily had to sit down as soon as he let go. The butterflies in her stomach stayed.

Even if he seemed to sincerely wish for her to join him, she was a bit out of her comfort zone to begin with, guarded because she feared her feelings for him might shine through. She wanted to be here, with him, so very much but could not figure out why he was here. He had come to practise for the race, not to see her, but he had asked her to join him. Insisted upon it even. Was it really only to balance the boat? She could see that something bothered him, but it could hardly be the same thoughts that troubled her. The events that came to pass next, she comprehended even less.

They had floated peacefully along the river, but her insides were in a turmoil during and after. She secretly enjoyed watching him manage the oars. She knew all too well from the encounter by the coves, that his upper body was disturbingly well-built and his arms very muscular, and now he moved without effort. Many gentlemen were weak or chubby because they did not use their bodies for manual labour, but not Sidney Parker and Georgiana had gossiped he stayed fit by participating in boxing matches, probably illegal ones. Charlotte found that both appalling and thrilling. It was not difficult to imagine even if he was sitting here so peacefully now, because there was a strong agility to him, and she had seen him fight when they were on the rescue mission for Georgiana; furiously knocking down the driver of the kidnapper's carriage and rescuing herself from being assaulted using his bare fists. She had not been grateful at the time but looking back her feelings were changed.

She was distracted admiring his long fingers grasping around the oars, so she was slightly taken aback when he unexpectedly opened up to her, sharing his predicament. He started the conversation so grave but after a while, smiled wider and more genuinely than ever before, so it warmed her through and through. He made her feel like he in truth wanted to be with her and nowhere else. It did not even bother her when he asked for advice about happiness and marriage realising his mind must be set on Mrs. Campion, because it still felt like they shared a moment of trust.