Castaway

Chapter 6: The second coming (1823)

Mary Parker plumped up the cushions on the settle in the drawing room and looked out of the window of Trafalgar House at the crowds of holidaymakers passing by. Sanditon was now one of the most popular resorts on the South coast, perhaps still not quite in the league of Brighton, but much acclaimed nonetheless. Invalids, seeking the beneficial properties of the salt water and the ministrations of Dr Fuchs and his team of physicians, flocked to the town all year round, as did families with young children and reliable, staid, middle-aged couples. Every so often, the fashionable London set would descend and grace one of Sanditon's infrequent balls with its presence, but Tom had striven to keep the more insalubrious elements of his acquaintance (such as Francis Crowe and his ilk) far away from his enterprise. If they wanted wine and women, they were more than welcome to join the ageing King in Brighton or, better still, stay in London.

King George IV (formerly known as Prinny) had not once set foot in the town, but then again, the old boy was too fat to move much at all these days. No, Sanditon was known as the safe place to sojourn, a little staid and dull perhaps (like Worthing) but a regular source of reliable income for all involved in the enterprise. And it was all down to one man. Her husband. At least, that is what Tom Parker frequently repeated, conveniently forgetting the part that his late brother's wife and her fortune had played in saving him from the poorhouse and ensuring his family's prosperity for generations to come. The lady of the town, Lady Denham, had passed away quietly in 1820 and her estate had been neatly divided between her sole heir, Esther Babington, the town of Sanditon and her beloved asses.

This had been a source of great joy to Tom Parker. The legacy of course, not the old lady's death. Nothing and nobody could now prevent his reputation from being firmly established. Mary was pleased that Tom was finally solvent and content (even though he was still constantly dreaming up new schemes to attract visitors), but at times she felt lonely, as if something was lacking from her life. She missed Sidney acutely; he had always had time for her and the children, more than her husband it might be said, and she missed seeing his genuine smile, knowing that she was one of the few people he bestowed it on, and feeling the warmth of his embrace when he greeted her. She had cried for months following the news of his death, bitterly regretting any part she might have played in denying him a chance at earthly happiness and only wished that his soul might at last be at peace.

She also missed her sister-in-law, Diana and her brother-in-law, Arthur. Since that fateful summer, six years ago, much had changed. Poor Diana, who had always suffered so badly with her nerves, had entered a sanatorium in Bath, where she remained to this day. Arthur dutifully visited his elder sister, but he rarely came to Sanditon anymore. Having finally freed himself from Diana's clutches, he had set himself up in a smart townhouse in London, where he wined, dined and entertained nightly. A bon viveur, he mixed with the Bohemian, intellectual set, where his indiscretions were tolerated – if not welcomed – and had even taken to writing for the theatre.

Lord and Lady Babington, meanwhile, had retired to their country estate to raise their family and, upon the death of Lady Denham, had rented out Sanditon House to a retired Admiral and his wife. Nothing more had ever been heard of Edward Denham or Clara Brereton –subsumed into the dark recesses of London most likely, whether together or separately, no one knew. Poor James Stringer had met an untimely end, like his father, and the other masons and workers had all moved on to other jobs once the construction of the town was finally complete. Reverend Hankins had indeed made an honest woman of Augusta Griffiths, but two years after their marriage he suddenly expired, in the midst of plucking his dear wife, some scurrilous tongues said. She had now left the town to care for an elderly relative in the countryside, having had quite enough of attending to obstreperous young ladies. Little was heard of Miss Georgiana Lambe these days, although she and Arthur sometimes mixed in the same London circles and he reported that, having succeeded to her fortune and sold off her plantation in Antigua, she was now an independent, wealthy young lady, with a score of admirers of both sexes.