Sanditon: A Sisterhood Forms

15

Having missed out on the brandy earlier in the evening, Sidney was delighted to discover the refreshments only moments after leaving Babington, Crowe and Esther behind, and as he turned away from the table, two glasses in hand, he found himself, once again, surveying the crowded ballroom before him.

"Ah, thanks, Parker," Babington said, approaching him as if out of thin air, reaching for the glass that Sidney held out for him.

"Did you shake off the rest of the party, already, Babbers?"

"Crowe is settled in the card room at present, although he didn't quite make it to an actual table, and Esther went out to do her usual circuit - said she had some ladies she'd like to see and honestly, I didn't ask her to elaborate any further," he said, watching as Sidney reached for his second glass of port, downing half of it in seconds.

"Slow down, Parker. We have all night," Babington said. "And the last thing I need is to put you in the card room alongside Crowe. As it is, I doubt there is enough space left on the sofa where I left him."

The musicians launched into the first bars of a quadrille to start off the evening and the guests around them began to disperse as they attempted to find a better view of the dancers. Sidney and Babington turned with the crowd, moving closer to scan the room.

It was he who saw her first, moving about the dance floor in her own unique fashion. Sidney stopped abruptly, the nearly empty glass of port in his hand threatened to slip from his grasp, his attention wholly fixed as he stared across the room. He would have known her anywhere, recognising her movements as much as he would her countenance.

He felt a stirring in his chest, then an unfamiliar feeling as his heart began to beat, the blood thrummed up to his ears, amplifying the sound of life and will and want, and his heart answered, beating more intensely as his eyes followed her, never wavering.

The music lessened in volume, the sounds of his surroundings had tapered off to nothingness, and he focused only on her, breathing to stay alive, breathing to feel his heart within his chest - anything to keep it from going still, from going silent. He had lived too long in that silence.

He had forgotten how the intoxication felt when he was near her, how it spread through his body, amplified his senses until he could feel every cell. It flooded back to him now, elation clouding his mind into a haze.

She spun away from her dance partner, her skirts moving away from her body as she twirled, laughing in her innocent way. Sidney reacted, emitting a sound that was equal parts euphoria and misery, his breath hitching in his throat, tears of disbelief welling, blurring his view of her.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder, tapping briefly, then again. He turned abruptly, angrily at whomever had deigned to interrupt until his eyes landed on Babington.

"Parker, are you alright?" he asked, nothing short of concerned. "Look at me. Do you need some air?" He leaned in to make eye contact with Sidney as he came back to the present. "Parker...Lord, what has happened? Is it your-"

Sidney merely looked back across the room, and Babington followed his gaze, realisation dawning upon his face. "Well, that explains it." he said cautiously to Sidney, who very nearly glowed beside him, and Babington allowed a smile to escape. Though his heart filled with sadness for his dear friend, who was looking upon someone he was not at present entitled to have, the spark of gaiety was plain for all to see, cementing the thought that he could not bear to see it snuffed out.

"Stay here, old friend," He had just caught a glimpse of Esther across the room. "I have an idea."

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Charlotte sought out Susan as she walked to the edge of the stifling ballroom. Where had she gone? She glanced down at her dance card. Lord Eliot had asked to dance the cotillion.

"Good evening, Miss Heywood. Looking even lovelier in the candlelight, I see."

She turned to see the very gentleman bowing in greeting, as he extended his arm to her. She placed her hand upon his with a polite smile and he led her onto the floor. Finally, she locked eyes with Susan as they went, who did little more than wink conspiratorially at her. Charlotte narrowed her eyes knowingly in response. What had she been up to?

Lord Eliot, though a seemingly kind man, was at least twenty years her senior - and, in her mind, among the very last of men she would consider in that way. He released her hand, readying himself for the dance, and Charlotte, distracted, attempted to communicate wordlessly with Susan as the music started, but her attempts were in vain. In a flash, they were off, her feet moving of their own accord as her mind raced, very suddenly afraid to look at the dancers that surrounded her - fearful of what she might find if she did.

Within a breath, before she had time to entertain the possibilities, his hand was upon hers, his touch instantly recognisable - familiar even though months had passed without it.

He released her as quickly as he had appeared, and Charlotte found that she could no longer prevent herself from lifting her gaze, searching until she found him, unable to breathe until she knew with certainty.

She sought him out as she circled her new dance partner, noticing a flash of tailcoat, a familiar gold vest emerging from the crowd of dancers, and the unmistakable feel of his arms entwined with her own, her muscle and bone fusing to his, fitting together as though they belonged. She looked up at the face she had committed to memory, his penetrating gaze evoking sorrow, hunger, lips parting to finally release the breath he had been holding.

He curled his fingers around hers, holding her longer than he should have, willing her to stay, and yet she broke apart from him, moving away to someone else, her face turning to look back as they moved to the next dance partner and the next before coming together again.

His hand reached for her waist this time - warmth radiating through the fabric, leaving its mark as he pulled her closer.

She could smell his scent, nearly as familiar as her own, instantly aware that this was what she had missed most of all - standing close enough to breathe him in.

She twirled away from him, and he spun her back, gripping her waist, holding her too closely, challenging her not to go on. He gazed at her intently as he held onto her, his eyes showing the possessiveness that he felt so clearly that she turned resolute in her response to him.

He was making a spectacle. She could hear murmurings in the crowd as his head dipped toward hers, drawn into her. Anger welled within her, resolve strengthening as she removed herself from his grasp, his hands following her as she turned away from him, grazing back and arm until she was out of reach - her body betrayed her with every step as she returned to her original partner.

Lord Eliot led her to the edge of the ballroom, bowing before he released her hand, and as he turned away, Charlotte inhaled sharply, her eyes brimming, threatening to overflow as she forced her way through the crowd, desperately seeking an alcove, an exit, a place to be alone, a place to mourn what she had lost.