Sanditon: A Sisterhood Forms

31

Sidney Parker had never felt more conflicted in his life as Eliza pulled him along through the crowd, pausing to speak with each of her acquaintances, introducing him to whomever miraculously hadn't heard that they were engaged as if he were a prize she wished to flaunt.

He listened to the opening bars of the waltz, glancing up to scan the room for Charlotte, and felt as if he had been thrown from his horse all over again when he found her. She was radiant, and he was not the man to make her so.

He counted the seconds in his head as Eliza spoke animatedly with their group, her hand still wound around his arm to keep him within reach, and waited silently for the music to slow - for after the final bars of the waltz had been played, Lord Townshend would have to lead Charlotte from the floor for the evening and seek out a new partner. At last, the dancers stilled and the crowd applauded, and Sidney looked up from the spot he had been staring at on the floor. He watched as Lord Townshend took her hand and whispered into her ear, entirely too close in proximity for an event such as this - and as they took their places on the floor once again, his breath caught in his throat, a jolt of panic coursing through his body when he realised that they were not to leave.

"Who is Lord Townshend's companion this evening?" he heard a voice across from him ask, and he looked up to see Mrs Campion's friend, Mrs Neville, sidle up to them.

"Oh, that is Miss Heywood," said Eliza, shortly, dismissively.

"My, they must be very serious, indeed. They make a fine pairing, do they not?" she remarked.

"Alice, dear," Mrs Campion scoffed, releasing Sidney's arm to take that of her friend's. "She is little more than a farmer's daughter. Certainly not one to fit in with our London set, and certainly not a proper enough match for the likes of Lord Townshend."

"Oh, my," she erupted in derisive laughter, "so more of a mistress than a wife, perhaps. Eliza, you do keep me informed."

Eliza glanced up at Sidney, who felt as if he were about to erupt at any moment, and she clearly received the message as she led Alice away toward the refreshments, leaving him behind to watch the greater torture before him.

His eyes did not leave her as she spun about the floor, Lord Townshend touching her hands and waist with a fervour that made him clench his jaw, his own hands balling into fists behind his back as he tracked them both. And then she saw him in the crowd, her smile faltering as he held her eyes with his own before she turned away again.

She blinked rapidly, looking away from Lord Townshend, breaking their connection as he spun her one final time before the music stopped - and then she left him, walking away as quickly as she could to the edge of the ballroom floor, then breaking into a run.

A polite smile was all that he could manage as he backed away from the group he had remained standing among, moving as slowly as he dared at first, checking over his shoulder for signs of Eliza as he walked. Then he put all else from his mind, speeding in the direction she had gone, noticing a distant door to the courtyard open and close discreetly.

The rain had subsided temporarily, and he looked above him at the full moon hovering through a fine mist, shedding light upon the cobblestones and mature gardens that surrounded the house.

He darted toward the tall line of hedges, seeking her out, the stillness in the air finally lending him a clue as to her whereabouts and turned a corner to find her backed into a hedge, her face streaked with tears as she inhaled sharply, hand resting on her stomach to control her breathing.

"Charlotte, what have you done?" he scolded, his own voice breaking, the undercurrent of anger and disappointment undeniable. She jumped at his presence, and her expression closed off almost immediately.