Sanditon revisited

16: A cliff-top walk is much more to my taste

Author's note: Thank you for all reviews to the last chapter, I really appreciate them, and you are just the loveliest readers one can have. This chapter has been haunting me, because I never manage to finish it! It just grows longer, and I can't stop editing but here it is at last.

I hope you all feel energized by all the positivity after the US premiere of Sanditon, I'm still nurturing a hope there will be a second season. Don't miss Fabiola SPN's beautiful video 'Sanditon needs a second season' on YouTube and please tweet bomb @masterpiecepbs with requests for another season! Sorry for campaigning, now I will let you read in peace.

Chapter 16: A cliff-top walk is much more to my taste

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In which a thousand night-time questions are asked and finally receive an answer
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'That is all', Sidney had concluded, turned on his heels and left. She had remained frozen next to Tom's model of future Sanditon, stunned and bewildered by his unexpected words.

It was not all.

It was a turmoil of emotions, heart beating erratic and a sleepless night tossing and turning on crumpled sheets with those words resounding in her head, trying to figure out what he really meant.

'I decided against it.'

He had decided against joining Mrs. Campion to London. A wave of joy rolled through her, followed by confusion. Why? Did it mean he would not engage himself to her again?

'On reflection, I realised I would rather be here.'

Here? What exactly did he allude to by 'here'? In Sanditon? In Tom's studio? Or was it possible... with Charlotte?

All she had managed in her befuddled state was to stare at him, mutely willing him to explain. She was almost afraid to blink in case he would disappear, but he did not. He stayed exactly where he was, rooted to the wooden floor, in this moment no longer inclined to escape her. When he spoke again, his words were not rushed, but slow and deliberate, like he cared a great deal about what he was about to say and how she would receive it. He seemed to be treading carefully, not to repeat his previous mistake this day when words had come out so hurtful. This time he wanted to make sure to repair his wrongdoings, not cause further harm.

Silently she had observed him, trying to read him. She was so sad and angry with him still and if he had come here to mock her again she would not stand it. The candle light cast flitting shadows on his handsome features, but she saw him well enough to realise there was not the slightest hint of tease or condescension there.

He diverted his gaze before he continued, as if to summon his courage, then met her eyes anew with an earnest expression that almost seemed to leave his soul bare to her.

'I am a great deal less than perfect.'

Those words were truly unexpected, shocking even. With absolute candour he admitted to her that he thought himself flawed. She had indeed thought him imperfect before but now... He had treated her badly today, when he did not stand up for her and she abhorred that, but now he was here and trying to make amends and in this very moment he seemed quite perfect.

'You have made me all too aware of that.'

Now she shivered with embarrassment thinking of all the times she had spoken harshly to him, criticised or mocked him. No man in his right mind would want anything to do with a woman who talked to him like that. A man wanted to feel adored and admired, not diminished or ridiculed, but she seemed to have this constant urge to speak her mind even if it meant pointing out the faults in a man she had come to feel affection for. Why did she have to be so opinionated? Why could she not be more pleasing, when most other girls managed to hold their tongue? For a man to accept constantly being challenged by a woman, he must either be a fool who did not understand it, and such a man she could never love or admire, or a strong, open-minded man who was not put down by it. Such men seemed to be a rare kind.