Sanditon: A Sisterhood Forms

11

Mary awoke suddenly that night, eyes fluttering open in an instant as she recalled the nightmare she had just been having. The very same dream had been recurring as of late.

Attempting to catch her breath, she sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the side as Tom snored obliviously beside her. She turned to look at him in the darkness, endeavouring to make him out, a familiar sense of bitter indignation welling within her as she stared at him. Lately, she found that she could not so much as meet his gaze without feeling something resembling disdain.

She stepped down from the bed, landing softly on the rug beneath her, though she doubted that he would be disturbed by much of anything - the unfeeling, senseless man.

Donning her dressing gown, she left the room, stepping carefully down the staircase at Trafalgar House. Perhaps she might be able to accomplish something now that the household was asleep.

She paused as she descended the stairs, noticing the light of a candle flame emerging from Tom's study, and her heart leapt into her throat as she softened her steps, silently cursing the sound of her dressing gown as it trailed along behind her. Stepping carefully across the corridor, she halted just outside and peered into the room. Sidney Parker stood over Tom's desk, shuffling through papers, turning pages in ledger books, and before she could control her reaction, before she even thought twice, she emitted a sigh of relief which caused him to jump in alarm, mid page-turn.

"Careful now," she said, having jumped a bit herself at his reaction, "I will not have you injuring yourself further."

"Good God, Mary," he said, bracing his hands upon the desk as he hunched over in pain. "I thought you were Tom."

"Fortunately for you, I am not," she said, amused. "But tell me, have you come to your senses at last?"

"In all honesty," he said, looking marginally guilty as he closed a ledger book and set it off to the side, "this is not my first foray into Tom's financial records."

"How long have you been working in the early hours of the morning, then?"

"Well, time is rather more difficult for me to track as of late, but nearly a week, if not longer," he smiled sheepishly, fixated on the next ledger book in the stack before him.

She walked toward her writing desk in the corner of the room, and paused, "Perhaps now would be a good time to admit to working on a bit of something, myself."

"Oh?" he asked, somewhat alarmed, "Please tell me you haven't written to her, Mary. I'm nowhere near ready for that."

"No, I haven't written to her. Trust me, we have remained silent on that front, as you wished," she answered. "Speaking of, how was your visit from Mrs Campion? I expected her to stay...longer."

"Yes, some mention of being far too busy with engagements to have the time to visit her severely injured fiancé, which should be all the evidence I need that she cares little for me."

"Ah, I see," said Mary, "And what has she planned in the coming months to fill her schedule to such a degree?"

"She is to set off for Paris within a fortnight. For how long, I do not know, but some weeks, I would imagine."

"Wedding preparations?"

"Yes, purchasing God knows what. She may not care for me, but she certainly has every wish to make an impression with the blasted Beau Monde."

"Excellent news," said Mary. "You will be even more recovered within a fortnight. Recovered enough to travel, certainly - although, perhaps by carriage this time."

"True. Why do you mention it?"

"Esther wrote of a rather important social event that she and Lord Babington will be attending in London. The very first since they were married. She expressed an interest in inviting you to join them, is all. I hope that you don't mind, but I felt as if I should update them both on your condition. They are very concerned about you."

"I thank you, Mary, but I have no time for such frivolity."

"Oh, I think that this particular engagement will be well worth an evening. You shall see, in time, but for now, gather what information you can. I will help you. We have much to look over before you go." She gestured at the piles of documents that had been building steadily since Charlotte had left, having since been subjected to Tom's tumultuous filing methods, or even worse, correspondence that had been ignored entirely in favour of frequent site visits.

He looked across the room at her, puzzled. "Mary...is there something I should know about?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

"To be honest, I couldn't even begin to describe it, but know that your best interests are at heart."