Sanditon: A Sisterhood Forms

42

"Come on, then," she said, "let's get that coat off." Sidney had climbed three flights of stairs to reach the last available room on the uppermost floor of the inn, and to her great annoyance, had refused Charlotte's help even after he was visibly winded. He swayed into her, almost drunkenly, as she lifted him from the bed.

"How many times must I tell you that I am perfectly fine," he growled at her.

"And how many times must I tell you that if you are as perfectly fine as you claim, which I highly doubt, there should be no harm in my checking on you."

"Miss Heywood..." Sidney looked as if he were about to break into a nervous sweat, "Linton will be on his way here at any moment and I'm not certain it would be wise to-"

"Miss?" the landlady had entered through the open door and was now giving them both an undeniable look of suspicion, a tray with a large tureen of hot water and a basket of fresh cloth in her hands. Charlotte froze, balancing Sidney's added weight as he leaned on her briefly, his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, but did he just call you-"

"An old habit," she smiled in the landlady's direction as she pushed Sidney into an upright position, then turned to give him a murderous look, tugging on a sleeve rather more harshly than required. "We have only been married three weeks, you see," she said in a cheery voice, and Sidney gulped, his mind coming to as he registered the far-from-cheery expression she was directing at him. "He often forgets to call me Mrs. Don't you, dear." Sidney sucked in a breath as she pulled the other sleeve off in one go, the fabric grazing the cuts across his right hand.

"Oh! Newlyweds..." the landlady said, clearly relieved, "We get a lot of your sort here. I won't be a moment." She placed the supplies upon the nightstand, "You know-" she said, the newly emptied tray under her arm, "I think you will find our upper floor lodgings to be very suitable, after all. A young couple like you might enjoy the extra privacy," and with a wink in their direction, she left the room.

They continued smiling like the happy newlyweds they apparently were until the door clicked into place - at which point, Charlotte's expression returned to its previous state. "Don't move," she said before darting out into the corridor, his overcoat still draped over her arm. He could hear the muffled voices of the two women, and stepped forward, feeling an urgent need to know just what they were discussing, then stopped as he remembered her livid expression from just a moment ago. Whatever the mysterious subject might be, it certainly wasn't worth revisiting that.

"Have you lost your mind?" she burst in seconds later and closed the door behind her. He blinked in response, "all this talk of my reputation and you nearly get us caught on the first stop."

"I have-" he searched her eyes, hovering above her as he tried to retrieve the right words, "no idea what came over me. The fight...I just...blanked."

"Yes, believe me, I noticed," she said, aggravated, "and I can only imagine that you deemed it an entirely justifiable reaction after they dishonoured your wife." He flushed immediately.

"I felt...in the moment...that it would be more effective were I to-"

"More effective? So that was a productive use of our time, was it? You getting cut up head to toe in order to protect the honour of your imaginary wife." She threw his overcoat angrily on the bed, and he shook his head, not knowing quite what to do, and made to sit down, "Oh, no you don't," she pulled him back, "Your tailcoat as well, Mr Parker."

"What? Why?" He felt more like a cornered animal by the second. "Charlotte, surely we cannot-"

"Your coat," she replied through her teeth, "You spent all of five minutes rolling around on broken glass. I can only guess at the state of you."