Return to Sanditon - A Novella

~ Six ~

Somerset House, Grosvenor Square, London – Lady Worcester's residence

As the carriage rumbled through the outskirts of London, Charlotte couldn't help but compare this journey with her last. No crowded, odiferous mail coach – this time they rode in comfort and style. Each stop had been made at quality coaching inns, and they were treated with the utmost servitude, thanks to Lady Susan's commanding presence and rank.

The sights and sounds beyond the carriage windows spoke of industry and life, poverty and deprivation. A loud guffawing laugh carried through the streets and Charlotte marvelled over the resilience of the human spirit in such a hard and unforgiving place. As the carriage continued on, she became aware of the wider roads and relative tranquillity of the environs. A park came into sight, and she glimpsed riders on fine mounts, high perched phaetons and brougham carriages and gentlemen and ladies promenading wearing fashionable attire. It's another world, thought Charlotte.

"Oh, Charlotte, look!" cried Alison, "How splendid it all is. Please say we may promenade, Lady Susan. I would love it above all things," she gushed.

Lady Susan laughed and agreed that, as soon as they had visited her modiste and were properly attired, they would indeed join the grand strut. Her eyes danced with amusement at the look of unabashed joy radiating from Alison.

The carriage drew to a halt outside an impressive white stone-clad townhouse. 'Mansion' was more accurate, thought Charlotte. On her last trip to the capital, Charlotte had stayed in the Parkers townhouse on Bedford Place. It was beautiful and smart but far from the ornately designed building before her.

"Come, my dears," Lady Susan preceded them from the carriage. "Let us get settled and refreshed. Good day, Harris, may I make known to you Miss Charlotte Heywood and Miss Alison Heywood, they will be staying as my guests."

Turning, she motioned for Charlotte and Alison, "Girls, this is Harris, my major-domo and all-round saviour. He will ensure your stay here is without incident."

Harris, a man of indeterminate years, with white hair neatly trimmed above intelligent, grey eyes and kindly face, bowed reverently in acknowledgement of his mistress's words and escorted the party within.

The following day, Charlotte made her way down the ornate staircase and stopped abruptly upon hearing a visitor in the entrance hall speak.

"But my dear Lady Worcester, his Royal Highness has expressly asked for your attendance this evening. A Shakespearean play no less and Keane in the leading role. You simply must attend!"

The animated guest, pleading most ardently, awaited Lady Susan's response, however, at that moment, Susan noticed Charlotte hovering on the stairs.

Bestowing her most dazzling smile, she asked, "So, Charlotte, what say you? Are you too fatigued to attend the theatre? Shall we send His Highness our apologies?"

The dandified gentleman looked aghast at her comment, swaying unsteadily, he spluttered and gesticulated until Susan laughingly surrendered and accepted the invitation.

After some little debate, and allowing for nerves and emergency dress fittings, Charlotte agreed to accompany Lady Susan to a theatrical performance that evening on Drury Lane. Alison, in awe, and indeed some terror, at the prospect of rubbing shoulders with royalty, had declined the invitation to join them, in favour of a quiet night and a good book.

Charlotte, primped and preened and attired in a gown of simple yet elegant rose silk adorned with tiny seed pearls, viewed her image in the cheval mirror. She looked like a sophisticated lady about to attend her first event of the season, but inside she still felt like an interloper. However, this evening was the first step in their renewed campaign to save Sanditon. If the Prince Regent could be convinced of the merits of the seaside resort, that would go a long way towards encouraging potential investors.

The carriage rolled along the streets of Mayfair and Charlotte allowed herself a single moment's thought of Sidney. How much she missed him. She wouldn't admit to another living soul how much his decision had hurt her. She understood, truly, she did. Except, buried under her outward acceptance was a kernel of selfishness that wished he would have chosen her.

Susan, dressed in a magnificent sapphire blue satin gown, interrupted her melancholy thoughts.

"Charlotte, are you well?" she asked gently, "You were thinking of him, were you not? You must remember, we have lost the battle, but the war is not over until the bells chime at St. George's." Resolutely she added, "We will find a way."

Charlotte's first impression of the theatre was of grandeur and opulence; a spectacle of wealth and fortune. Her second impression was of congestion. Never had she seen so many people in one place at the same time. People bustled and moved in a seemingly everlasting wave of bodies in search of cultural fulfilment - or were they here purely to be seen? Charlotte suspected the latter.

As they approached the grand staircase leading up to the private boxes, Charlotte was filled with apprehension. Her forthright manner and curiosity had seen her in trouble before. How on earth was she to charm and impress the Prince Regent? Don't muck this up, she told herself, or we will never succeed in our endeavour.

As it turned out, Charlotte was pleasantly surprised by the friendly and welcoming manner in which the prince greeted her. A corpulent but jovial figure who appeared to live solely for the pursuit of pleasure. An entertaining companion much pandered to by cloying sycophants, who nonetheless, exhibited a genuine interest in Sanditon and its vision.

"My dear Lady Worcester, I must thank you for bringing Miss Heywood up from the shires. She is a delight and a refreshing change from the usual crowd," The Regent was heard to remark, at once making Charlotte the centre of much attention and fawning.

"Oh, Miss Heywood, such fine eyes you have, one does not see such fine eyes often upon the ton."

Charlotte giggled, "No, I suppose brown eyes are scarce indeed away from the countryfying air."

"Oh, Miss Heywood, how unusual and becoming your hair is. What shade shall we call it?"

Charlotte, smiled as politely as she could manage "My hair is brown, sir. Like my eyes."

Susan rolled her eyes and shared a discreet smile with Charlotte as the spectacle before her moved from comedic to absurd.

By the time the curtains fell at intermission, Charlotte was feeling exhausted. Susan had explained that the theatre, like most of society events, was an opportunity for the beau monde to see and be seen. Who knew being the toast of the ton would be so tiring? She picked up her theatre glasses from the small ledge before her and took the opportunity to view the theatre and its inhabitants.

Frescoes depicting cherubim charmed observers overhead, and ornately adorned balustrades ran the entire circumference of the hall. Gilded theatre boxes, although none so elaborate as the Regents, like row upon row of golden baskets filled with a kaleidoscope of jewelled confections. Ladies in flamboyant gowns with plunging necks and flying plumes advertised the faster set whilst the men, in startling contrast, their formal black and white, in sharp relief - severe in their uniformity.

Charlotte's eye was caught by a set of theatre glasses trained upon her from a box opposite, although a tier below. The intensity of the perusal made the hairs on Charlotte's neck prickle with discomfort. She continued to hold the gaze of the voyeur until said lady lowered her glass.

Charlotte experienced a moment of trepidation as she swiftly sought out the lady's companions. He was not there. Relief, mixed with disappointment, rolled through her. As if she knew for whom Charlotte's gaze had searched, Eliza Campion smiled.

Charlotte's attention was regained by her companions, and she was never more grateful to be distracted from that malevolent, gloating smile. Susan had clearly noticed Charlotte's discomfort and had now taken up the mantle of observation. After a while, Susan too wore a smile, but of mischief and triumph. Charlotte thought better of questioning her champion for fear of discovering some diabolical scheme was about to be executed. She would find out soon enough, she supposed.