The Redemption of Sir Edward Denham - A Return to Sanditon Novella

Twenty-Four

"Blast and damn it all to hell!" Edward slammed the door to his new study. He made his way to the decanters and splashed a large measure of brandy into an empty glass. How had he read her so wrong? He had played his hand too soon. Clara didn't trust him any more than the next man, and he had foolishly believed that he could waltz back in and sweep her off her feet.

"Troubles, friend?" Carlisle spoke from one of the armchairs by the fire. In his frustration, Edward hadn't even checked to see if his sanctuary was already inhabited. Groaning, he turned to regard Carlisle with a scowl.

"Are no secrets safe form you?" Edward grumbled as he made his way across the room and sat heavily opposite the interloper.

"I know of only one thing that can put a man in such a foul mood. Clara, I presume?" Carlisle offered in a sympathetic tone. "What did you do?"

"That's the blasted problem. I'm not sure. One minute I was kissing her, and it was all going along swimmingly and then bam, she was running away." Edward took a sip of his drink and sighed.

"Ah. So you rushed your fences." Carlisle nodded in understanding. "You've been back in her life, what, ten days?" Edward nodded. "You need to give her time to get to know you again, man. From what I have observed, you are both trying to navigate a new path, and there are bound to be a few wrong turns and dead ends along the way."

Edward chuckled. "When did you become so wise, Carlisle? We could have done with a spot of that wisdom in London, you know."

Carlisle laughed. "It would seem that I have an unpredictable gift." Standing to refill his glass, he asked, "Do you love her?"

Edward considered the question but found he wasn't sure how to respond. "I thought I was in love many years ago," he began. "I found that what I felt was not love but an overwhelming need to belong to someone and to something. Back then, I was selfish and driven by my own agenda. I gave very little thought to how my actions affected others, including the person I was supposed to care for the most. Then Clara burst into my life like a hangover after a bellyful of brandy." He laughed sadly. "She was a tempest of energy and overt sensuality and was driven by the same forces as I. Like fire and Brimstone we collided, and sparks definitely flew." He sighed, "We both did things we are not proud of. Hurt people, we cared for. Had the fates been kinder we may have realised that we were not adversaries but two kindred spirits traversing the same path.

Our treachery was discovered, and we were both sent on our way in disgrace; deservedly so. Before that happened, though, we shared one perfect moment together where it all seemed to make sense. Differences aside, our hearts and minds were in unison. And then it was gone."

Sometime after, I was involved in a ridiculous scheme that saw me banished from these shores. Before I left, I ensured that Clara could contact me in the event of a child. I always intended to do the right thing by her if the need arose, yet when the news came, I was already in France. I could no more return to England than I could support a wife and child. So Clara made her own way in the world without me. Her path was a difficult one, and she was forced into a life I had never envisaged for her. She was pragmatic and content with her choices as they were a means to support our child when there was nothing and no one else. I have carried that guilt with me for years. I have also carried with me the picture of Clara in my mind, and in the words of a poem I kept close at hand that spoke more eloquently than I ever could of the regrets I hold for what might have been."

Coming home. Finding Clara here brought all of those emotions back to the fore, and if anything, they grow stronger day by day. I want nothing more than to share her life and be a father to our little girl, yet I don't know how to show her that I am sincere. I care not one whit about her past, nor do I judge her for acts she committed in the name of survival." Edward looked down at the glass in his hand and shrugged. "I'm not sure she knows that."

Carlisle regarded Edward in his dejected state. Had he been so desperate, So devoid of hope? Yes, indeed he had, in spades. He remembered well the pain and the desolation he had felt upon finding the one person in his life that should have loved him until his dying day was a deceitful and scheming bitch. How his wife had almost driven him so low that he thought of ending it all, so great was the pain. Then, the duplicitous creature dared to double that pain by dying, wrapped in the arms of his own brother. Oh, yes. He knew life without hope, and he knew how hard he had fought to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Denham's situation was in no way as hopeless as he believed, but what advice could he offer a man who was unsure of the question he wanted to ask? For it was plain as the nose on his face that what Edward was searching for was love. His own feelings were evident to anyone with eyes, yet he suspected that Clara was too blinded by caution to realise what was right in front of her.

"You, my friend, are a man in love. And more specifically, you love two females." Carlisle stated at last.

Edward looked up sharply; about to deny the statement, when he realised that Carlisle was referring to Clara and Violet. He slowly nodded.

"Well then. Anything worth having must be fought for. If you love them, you must prove it. If you want them to be a part of your life; then you must let them in. If you want Clara, you must assure her that your intentions are honourable. Accomplish all of that, and the rest will fall into place." Carlisle finished his drink and stood. "I am back to town tomorrow morning, so I must get some rest. Think about what I have said."