Sanditon: A Sisterhood Forms

27

Charlotte had been alone in the drawing room at Weston Place for nearly an hour. Susan's copy of Cecelia remained open in her lap, the same page catching the breeze from the window above her. She had found the fire suddenly far too warm that afternoon, and her longing for fresh air had grown to such a degree that she began to long for a walk.

Snapping the book closed, she stood, deciding that perhaps some time outdoors might lift her spirits, even though Green Park was rather busy at this time of day. Book in hand, she stepped out into the grand entrance of Weston Place, and proceeded to the staircase. The doorbell sounded as her foot landed upon the first step, and Bradford, in his usual fashion, appeared out of nowhere to attend to the door.

"Apologies, Ma'am, but Her Ladyship is not at home," she heard Bradford say as she hesitated upon the stairs, her curiosity getting the better of her, then rotated around to see if she could make the visitor out, stepping back down toward the entrance.

"Well then, perhaps you might tell me if Charlotte is in? She is a dear friend."

Bradford hesitated, knowing well enough that Charlotte was only feet away, and she became rooted where she stood, catching sight of a flash of feathers, a blue silk pelisse - wanting nothing more than to run away, and yet, her feet would not move beneath her.

"Is that not Charlotte upon the stairs, just behind you?" said the voice, and Charlotte came to, blushing from head to toe at being discovered so easily, at already having been bested by her.

She breathed in, meeting Bradford's gaze as he looked helplessly back at her, and nodded.

"Indeed, Ma'am," he said, "allow me to escort you to the drawing room."

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"What is this?" Sidney uttered, his body tensed, ready to react.

A man stepped forward from the shadows, white hair swept back, his large eyes fixed upon Sidney. "You are here for an appointment, are you not?" the man said in a gruff, gravelly voice. "Charles Bicknell, at your service, Sir."

"And would you mind telling me why you have locked the bloody door?" he asked, attempting to catch his breath.

"If you haven't noticed, this is not usually where I meet clients, Mr Parker - that is, except for a select few. As for the lock, I can assure you that it is not meant to keep you in - it is to keep others out."

"And why would you go to such lengths for a meeting with a man such as myself? I am not the Prince Regent."

"No," Mr Bicknell said, eyebrows raising in amusement. "No, you most certainly are not. Come, come," he motioned for Sidney to follow. "You will see soon enough. We have much to discuss, Mr Parker, and rather regrettably, I do not have a moment to spare...thanks, in part, to the very man you speak of."

Sidney took one last glance at the man by the door, silently weighing his options, and hat in hand, he turned to follow Mr Bicknell.

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"Mrs Campion...h-how are you?" Charlotte winced at the quiver in her voice.

She simpered smugly in response as Charlotte sat upon the very edge of the sofa across from her. "I am an engaged woman, Miss Heywood. Of course, I am well. Tell me, do you know where your host is this afternoon?"

"She went out," Charlotte said, "A dress fitting."

"Ah, I see," said Eliza, her eyes wandering about the room. "Well, no matter. As it happens, you were the person I had intended to see all along."

"You wished to see me?" said Charlotte, sceptically, the sense of unease growing rapidly within her.

"Yes, and believe me, I plan to make this visit very brief." She looked directly at Charlotte, her expression turning in an instant. "You see, Miss Heywood, I saw you the other evening, at Mrs Tinsley's rout."