Return to Antigua

Chapter 1 - Mrs Campion's parlour, London, November 1819

Eliza had turned very pale; her features pinched and disapproving.

"How long did you say?"

Sidney placed his teacup on the saucer. "I didn't," he replied, somewhat curtly. "But I would wager at least six months, possibly a year..."

Eliza's fingers curled tightly around the folds of her gown. "But the wedding is due to take place in April!"

Sidney stroked his jaw, attempting to hide his lack of disappointment. "Then we have no choice but to postpone it. I'm sorry, Eliza. There's nothing I can do. See the letter, here."

He proffered her a somewhat battered letter that had taken six weeks to reach his address. She waved it away impatiently. "I don't need to see the details." She gave him a piercing glare. "You're taking that girl with you I hope?"

"That girl, yes. My ward. Georgiana. After all, it's her property, or will be in a year or so. She's especially keen to ensure that the estate is managed properly and fairly." Sidney's tone was neutral, but pointed.

"Well, that's one blessing, I suppose," laughed Eliza. To say that Eliza and Georgiana had not warmed to each other would be something of an understatement. Georgiana had made it very plain that she despised Eliza, and was adamant that Eliza would not have any influence or control over her future. She had insisted to Sidney that she would rather stay in Sanditon, locked up in her bedroom at Mrs Griffiths' establishment until the day of her 21st birthday, than move in with Eliza and Sidney once they were married.

She despised Eliza possibly only a little more than she despised Sidney. Despite the first tentative signs of warming to him after the realisation that he had saved Otis from a lifetime of debt, his actions towards Charlotte had now ensured her enmity forever. In her eyes, he had allowed Charlotte to fall in love with him and then cast her off when it suited him. Sidney had not been able to admit the truth to her, and had in fact admitted it to no one. Only his close family knew the real reason why he had engaged himself to Mrs Campion, and of them, only Mary seemed to have the slightest hint that it had been effected in spite of his better feelings. Mary was sympathetic, but what could she do? If he did not keep his side of the bargain, Tom would end up in prison and a lifetime of debt and poverty would await her and her children.

A few short days ago, he had received a letter, the letter he was now displaying to Eliza, from a neighbouring property owner in St Mary's, Antigua, concerning the late Mr Lambe's plantation. The estate manager Sidney had appointed just over a year ago had revealed himself to be lazy and untrustworthy, and his mismanagement was both haemorrhaging money from the estate and inciting the workers to rebel. Although all Mr Lambe's slaves had been freed before his death, most had continued working on the plantation, where they were ensured a better wage than anywhere else on the island, but sloth, drunkenness and cruelty had unfortunately returned to the plantation and the workers were now being treated no better than before their emancipation. They were leaving in their droves, preferring to take their chances elsewhere.

Georgiana had been horrified when he apprised her of this information and insisted on accompanying him to Antigua to oversee the estate and restore its fair treatment and its fortunes. After all, she would soon be in a position to inherit and perhaps even be able to manage it herself, or so she claimed. Sidney knew full well how difficult this would be for a lone woman in her position and they had argued at length until eventually, Sidney had given in to her demands and agreed that she could accompany him. After all, there was little for her to do in Sanditon, especially now Charlotte had gone, and she longed to be active. So keen was Sidney to escape London, escape Eliza and the imminent prospect of their wedding, that he was willing to endure six weeks on board a sailing ship with his unruly ward. He was also hoping against hope that he might be able to reconcile a little with her during the voyage, perhaps even explain a little of his circumstances.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he glanced over at Eliza, who was regarding him with slightly more compassion than before.

"So when do you set sail?"

"Friday next." Today was Sunday.

"So soon," sighed Eliza. "And we have had so little time to reacquaint ourselves with each other..."

Sidney nodded, although his thoughts tended in the opposite direction. That week he had spent in London before the regatta, reacquainting himself with Eliza, had been more than enough to confirm that she was no longer the woman he wanted by his side in life, that in fact he had spent far too many years yearning after a romanticised illusion. There was only one woman he wanted by his side, and that woman was lost to him forever. Lost on the clifftops, perhaps never to meet again.

Yet Eliza was now moving towards him, her skirts bustling. She came to sit beside him on the low chaise longue, placing her hand in his lap and squeezing his forearm.

"Sidney..." she began, flashing him her most charming of smiles, "After so many years, forced apart by circumstance, it seems cruel that we should be parted again, just as we have begun to resume our former intimacy. And that our long-expected joy should be so unjustly postponed in this way."

She placed her hand directly on his thigh, looking up at him with her wide, unblinking blue eyes. "I am well aware, Sidney, that you are no longer the green boy you once were, when I knew you all those years ago. And I, of course, am a widow. Although," she tittered, "Mr Campion's age precluded him somewhat from his conjugal duties. Of course, one makes one's own...arrangements." She smiled again. "I wonder if, before you depart, we could seal our union in such a way that..."

Sidney rose abruptly and walked towards the window, looking out into the busy London thoroughfare. He huffed angrily through his nose, but not so that she could observe him. He then turned and regarded her politely.

"Thank you, Eliza, but I would not dream of compromising your position in this way. When we are married, then I will do my duty by you. But not before. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to and shall return to Bedford Place."

So saying, he swiftly exited the room. Eliza, in shock, called after him, "Sidney, the ball tonight at Lady Marlborough's..." But he was gone.

************************

Sidney returned to Bedford Place, frustrated and somewhat disgusted. How would he ever be able to marry that woman when his heart, his body and his soul belonged to another? It had been a long time, far too long, since his last physical union with a woman, and that had only been a fleeting, drunken encounter, at Mrs Harries' establishment many, many months ago, but there was now only one woman he could ever imagine wanting to lie with. And that woman was not Eliza. Thank god for the feckless estate manager in Antigua. Thank god that the wedding would be postponed. At least this would give him some respite, some small chance to do whatever might be possible to escape matrimony to her. That was, if he even survived the voyage and made it back again. Eliza was undeniably attractive, in a superficial sense, but the thought of lying with her was anathema to him; he doubted he would even be able to perform. He would have to close his eyes and think of another, as he so often did these days. Late at night, his head on the pillow, his senses numbed by whisky, he would imagine her soft, warm body wrapped tightly around him, her honey-sweet lips, those lips that had only met his once. His cry of release was always accompanied by a cry of pain, a tear shed for her, for his Charlotte.

He often wondered where she was, what she was doing. Back in the bosom of her loving family, doubtless distracted by her many chores on the farm and her many siblings. He had long since been corrected of his foolhardy notion that she spent her days playing the piano and doing embroidery, waiting for someone to take her off her father's hands. He smiled wryly at the memory. No, she was more likely to be working on plans to improve the tenants' cottages or hunting for rabbits. She was not one for traditional female accomplishments; however, she loved to dance. Perhaps she was dancing at the village dance with one of the village boys, someone more her own age, someone better suited, someone with fewer woes, without such a disagreeable history, without such a burdensome family. She was young, she was clever, she was beautiful and vibrant, she would have no trouble finding herself a husband, she would soon forget all about him, Sidney Parker. She deserved better.