The Future of Sanditon

Christmas at Bedford Place

Lady Denham did not particularly like being away from home, especially in the winter. She despised Christmas, parties, and gift giving as unnecessary extravagances. The late Lord Denham would refuse to buy gifts for her on Christmas, preferring instead to lavish her with them every other day of the year. She missed him every hour of every day. Only the ocean air at Denham House allowed her to feel like some small part of him was with her in this world.

All the bustling, smiling people made the loss of her husband all the more acute, and yet she couldn't help admitting that she enjoyed her growing family. Esther and Babington were so happily married and in love that their happiness had begun to radiate outward and fill all those around them with feelings of affection and contentment as well. Lady Denham approved of this inwardly, while still putting on a face of disaffection, as was her habit. She was so pleased for her niece, knowing herself how rare and beautiful a flower was one born of true love within the marriage vows. Watching the holiday festivities on the streets of London, she held her heart aloft, drifting in memories and emotions she had thought long since put to bed. It was a warm feeling, full of comfort yet with a tang of loss and regret.

Drawing her mind from her reverie as she felt the carriage stop in front of Bedford Place, she wondered if her letter had ever reached Edward, wherever he now was. As much as she despised him, she felt that he had a right to know that he was soon to be a father. Bracing herself for the snow when the door opened, she disembarked and made her way into the holiday festivities.

Warm, spicey air touched with evergreen brushed her cheeks as she entered the foyer. She gave her luxurious fur cloak to a footman and retaining her silk shawl as she entered into the sitting room and greeted her hosts in her usual manner.

"Well Mr. Parker, I'm glad to see you up and about, especially today. I hope you enjoy your Yuletide gift from the Babingtons." as Sidney was opening his mouth yet before he could speak, she continued, "No need to thank me for the suggestion, I'm sure it will 'inspire' in some way." Smirking at him with her last remark she turned and took a seat by the fire.

Sidney continued to look at her, brows furrowed and jaw tight. Choosing to observe the room from under his thick eyelashes rather than to comment on Lady Denham's tone or lack of decorum since he was well acquainted with her barbed tongue. Shrugging his eyebrows he preferred to sip his wine in peace especially after the knowing looks tossed his way by all the adults in the room. The children brought him a gift that had been placed on a table near the Christmas tree. He untied the ribbon around the box and found a leather folder filled with lined paper. The top sheet had a note in what he immediately recognized as Charlotte's handwriting which read: Happy Christmas to you Mr. Sidney Parker! I hope that you find much use with this paper until you have no further need of its assistance. Thank you so much for inviting me to stay through the holidays with you and your family. Affectionately, -Charlotte Heywood.

The thoughtfulness of the gift held him speechless. Sidney Parker was never one to be ashamed of any apparent shortcomings, he saw them, rather, as opportunities in disguise. He felt keenly the depth of feelings that this small gesture stirred in him and was so lost in it that he had not heard the room go quiet around him. He looked up to see what had happened to find the entire room looking through the sitting room double doors across the foyer to the stair case. Or, to be more precise, to the woman on the stair case.

At first Sidney didn't realize who it was, he only saw the red evening gown sliding softly across the marble floors. He dragged his gaze upwards and saw how the deep ruby satin hugged the shapely thighs and generous, yet lithe hips of its bearer. Her hands were clasped in front of her in her white evening gloves, fingers clinching together slightly, yet modestly. The high waist of the gown was accentuated by an embroidered piece of silk, sparkling gently in the candle light. Sidney knew it was Charlotte when he saw her necklace. The same one she wore to Vauxhall Gardens the last time they had danced. A tendril of her chestnut hair lay across her chest and he followed its coiled slope up to the frame of her neck and the gentle curve of her chin. Cheeks rosy and lips moist he knew she was watching him, and he could feel the entire room watching them both but he didn't care.