The Suspicion at Sanditon (Or, the Disappearance of Lady Denham) Page 32

  A little while later, Percy Granville and Lady Denham reentered the portrait room. Though they did not seem especially friendly, there appeared to be peace between them. They parted in the doorway, Mr. Granville with a respectful bow.

  Lady Denham next summoned Josiah Hollis. As Josiah took his leave of them and walked toward the dowager, Darcy’s gaze followed him.

  “Last night I thought Josiah Hollis a bitter, self-seeking rat,” Darcy said. “Today he seems a decent, honorable human being. Did we misjudge him initially, or has he transformed overnight?”

  “Both, I think,” Elizabeth replied. “For decades, he has been carrying the secrets of Archibald and Ivy’s liaison, Victor Hollis’s treachery, and the disposition of Archibald’s estate—and secrets have a way of rotting one from the inside.” As she watched Josiah leave the room with Lady Denham, she noted no sign of lumbago or any other misery. In fact, his steps seemed lighter. “Now that he has finally released those secrets—even if only to us—he must feel a great sense of relief.”

  * * *

  The discussion between Lady Denham and Josiah Hollis was of a different character than her conferences with the others. Apologies did not come easily to her ladyship, nor the self-awareness required to recognize when one has given injury. But she had hosted the dinner party in the first place out of a need to get her house in order—both literally and figuratively—and had invited him to get a sense of who she was dealing with, now that they both had aged, to ensure that events of the distant past would not cause surprises in the future. She had discovered that the past was not so distant after all, and that its repercussions could and would be felt despite her efforts to contain them.

  By the time their conference ended, they had reached a state of truce.

  * * *

  Mr. Granville approached the sofa where Sidney was in conversation with Charlotte and Miss Brereton. Charlotte detected hesitation in his step, as if he were unsure of the reception he would meet from his friend.

  Sidney greeted him cordially, if a bit more stiffly than was his usual style with Mr. Granville. “You look none the worse for your meeting. Is all now straight between you and Lady Denham?”

  “I believe so. In exchange for my silence about my relationship to Archibald Hollis for the remainder of her lifetime, Lady Denham will not seek legal redress for my having stolen her away to the hermitage.”

  “That sounds like a fair arrangement,” Sidney said. Gesturing toward an empty chair beside the sofa he shared with Charlotte, he invited Mr. Granville to sit with them.

  “More than fair.” Mr. Granville gratefully accepted the seat, and the implicit olive branch proffered along with it. “It took three generations of prudent marriages and hard work for my family to accrue fortune enough to educate and raise me as a gentleman. Were I to stand trial for kidnapping, our fledgling claim to gentility would be destroyed, and I will have undone in one night what took several lifetimes to build.” He shook his head, his countenance filled with incredulity, as if he spoke of someone else rather than himself. “It was a rash act, a transgression I regretted even while I was committing it, and I still do not quite understand myself how events reached that point. I can, however, say with certainty that such a thing will never happen again. I apologized to Lady Denham, but I also apologize to you all. I served you a poor return on your friendship and trust.”

  “Lady Denham was also guilty of deception last night,” Sidney said, “and I was party to it. So we are none of us innocent.” He looked at Charlotte and Miss Brereton. “These two ladies excepted, of course.” He met Charlotte’s gaze, and his countenance began to take on its usual liveliness. “Unless, Miss Heywood, you are about to astonish us with a confession?”

  “Not this morning.” If Charlotte had a confession to make, it was that the same night that brought so much anxiety to them all, had also occasioned feelings of a very different nature, which she was just beginning to comprehend, and which required more time to explore—preferably in the company of Sidney. So, as in the end no real harm was done, she could not unequivocally say that she wished the whole evening had never happened, for even her own, absurd, abduction had led to something good.

  “I am glad to hear it, for I believe we have all enjoyed enough surprises for one day.” Sidney held her gaze a moment longer, and Charlotte was just wishing Mr. Granville and Miss Brereton would be possessed by a sudden impulse to leap up and take a stroll about the room when he turned back to his friend. “So, Granville, had Lady Denham anything else to say?”

  “I am also permitted—commanded, more accurately—to call at Sanditon House regularly. She has assigned me a project: the renovation of the hermitage into a proper cottage. She claims the end purpose is to lease it out to visiting families, but I believe the process of overseeing it is a test of my merit.” He seemed about to reveal more, but apparently decided to hold his own counsel for now on the remainder.

  “A test you will easily pass, I wager. What do you think, Miss Brereton? Can Granville redeem himself in Lady Denham’s eyes? In yours?”

  Mr. Granville waited in hopeful anticipation as Miss Brereton assessed him.

  “I think so,” she said at last. And offered a smile.

  Forty

  My readers … will see in the tell-tale compression of the pages before them, that we are all hastening together to perfect felicity.

  —Northanger Abbey

  Lady Denham thwarted the expectations of all her would-be heirs by living to the age of ninety. When she did pass away, she left the majority of her personal estate to Clara, who by then had long since put aside the name Brereton—in exchange for the name Granville. A courtship that began during Percy’s visits to oversee the hermitage renovations, and that continued after the project was complete, flourished under Lady Denham’s approbation. The new couple made their residence at Sanditon House, and by the time Percy came into his inheritance, a bequest that permanently established their family there seemed so natural that nobody thought to wonder why the former estate of Archibald Hollis passed to him.

  Her ladyship’s sole bequest to Sir Edward comprised the return of Sir Harry’s portrait to Denham Park and Sir Harry’s watch to the present baronet—with stern instructions to value the timepiece more than he had upon first receipt. As luck would have it, Sir Edward did not need a monetary remembrance from Lady Denham to ensure the continued welfare of the baronetcy, for while in the West Indies he indeed found a young heiress whose parents Sir Edward seduced with his title. Providentially for all concerned, she brought to the marriage not only enough money, but also enough sense, for them both.

  The dowager’s provision for Miss Denham was more generous, and settled upon her while Lady Denham yet lived. The exact amount of the gift is immaterial, for no matter what its size, in the eyes of its recipient it was less than she deserved, and in the eyes of potential suitors it was insufficient recompense for spending a lifetime as her husband. However, when supplemented with funds from Sir Edward’s new wife after a year spent living in the same house as Miss Denham, Esther’s dowry proved enough to entice a junior diplomat who spent much of his time abroad.

  Susan, Diana, and Arthur Parker returned to their home in Hampshire, where Arthur eventually met and married a gentle, patient young woman who was not only an excellent cook but understood the dangers of Damp and the comfort to be had in a good fire—in the right season. In mitigating his sisters’ influence, she brought out what was best in him, and he became a less indolent, more active gentleman. Upon their brother’s marriage, Susan and Diana left the house to the newlyweds and permanently moved back to Sanditon, where they lived in a state of blissful infirmity and frantic activity until they died of old age.

  Finally free of the burden of carrying others’ secrets, Josiah Hollis became a less acerbic man. He made peace not only with Lady Denham, but with the past, and in doing so realized a happier future than the one to which he had resigned himself. Like his uncle before him, he married
a younger woman late in life. She appreciated what was good in him, forgave his faults, and bore him an heir who carried on the Hollis name.

  As for Sanditon itself, the resort never achieved the size and renown of Eastbourne or Brighton, and therefore attracted no French visitors at all, which suited Lady Denham quite well. It did, however, become such a well-reputed bathing-place among genteel families that its popularity justified the building of Waterloo Crescent and all but shut down the competing town of Brinshore, which delighted Thomas Parker. And once its reputation was established, the village went on to enjoy many years of prosperity, which pleased its third major investor, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  * * *

  Although Mr. Granville departed Sanditon the day following the Great Misadventure, Sidney Parker remained, and accepted Thomas and Mary Parker’s repeated invitation to remove from the hotel to Trafalgar House. That he extended his visit to Sanditon longer than originally planned, and did not name his departure date until Miss Heywood had determined hers, was a coincidence not lost upon any who knew him.

  Though guests in the same house, the two were well supervised; indeed, there is no safer place for a young lady than the company of a captivated gentleman … who has an adoring niece and three nephews under the age of seven, who follow their uncle everywhere. Little Mary even accompanied them on the daylight walks Sidney had promised Charlotte, ambling between them or skipping ahead as they strolled along the Terrace or down to the shore.

  They did occasionally find opportunities to engage in private conversations, and their attachment increased with each one, until suddenly it was the day of Charlotte’s departure. Encountering each other in the morning room while Charlotte waited for the Darcys to collect her, they unexpectedly found themselves quite alone.

  “Mr. Parker,” she said in surprise as he entered. Setting aside the needlework that had been mindlessly occupying her, she rose and started toward him, but stopped after only a few steps.

  “Miss Heywood.” His gaze swept the room at knee height, seeking small chaperones in hiding. When no giggles issued from behind the furniture, he came forward until they stood but two feet apart. Each felt there was still so much to be said that neither knew where or how to begin. They regarded each other in silence for a moment, then laughed at the unnecessary awkwardness between them.

  “I was hoping for an opportunity to wish you a private good-bye,” he said. “Are you ready to leave Sanditon? Has four weeks in the company of Parkers proved long enough?”

  “I am ready to be with my family again,” she replied. “But I will miss the friends I have made here.” She would most especially miss Sidney, and wondered when and how she might next see him. “And you—are you traveling directly home when you leave here, or will your journey take you elsewhere first?”

  “There is one stop I plan to make.” His light tone belied the seriousness of his expression. “I hear there is a village named Willingden not too far distant, which might be worth visiting.”

  “Indeed?” Her heartbeat accelerated, as it did whenever he was very near, but she endeavored to maintain her composure. “There are two Willingdens in Sussex. Take care you do not confuse them—especially if you are seeking the one with a surgeon.”

  “Actually, I want the one without a surgeon, for I hear that should I happen to sprain my ankle while passing through, there is a family who might extend me hospitality for a fortnight or so while I recover.” He moved another step toward her.

  “That seems a rather hazardous way of securing an invitation.”

  “Perhaps it is,” he conceded. “But I want very much to become acquainted with them.”

  She very much wanted her parents to become acquainted with him—and to like him as much as she did. “Have you any connection to the family?”

  “I know one member. It is a new friendship, but one I believe of mutual regard.” His gaze held such warmth that she could feel it. “And that I dare hope will endure indefinitely.”

  “Well, that sounds promising. Perhaps, then, you should simply present yourself.”

  He took her hands in his, and closed the final step. “Would I be welcome if I did?”

  “To at least that member. And by the time you arrive, she might have said a word or two on your behalf to ensure a favorable reception from the rest.”

  “Then I shall proceed there with all acceptable haste upon quitting Sanditon tomorrow.”

  The authoress leaves it to the reader to decide whether Sidney Parker then kissed Charlotte Heywood, and whether the young lady was at all averse. And if he did kiss her, whether the kiss confirmed Sidney’s hopeful perception that in the final moments of their unexpected embrace behind the drapery panel, she had begun to kiss him back. And whether this second kiss might have lasted just a tiny bit longer than either of them intended going into it.

  And upon parting, which of them marked more impatiently the time between Charlotte’s arrival home and the hour at which Sidney could reasonably appear.

  Epilogue

  “It is settled between us already that we are to be the happiest couple in the world.”

  —Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice

  Elizabeth took pleasure in watching the attachment between Sidney Parker and Charlotte Heywood blossom. It brought back memories of her own courtship with Darcy. Though the circumstances had been very different, the early-days feelings of joy and discovery were not.

  For this reason, she and Darcy deferred their impulse to end their Sanditon adventure prematurely. Though both felt they had experienced quite enough of the village, Elizabeth wanted to allow Charlotte more time with Sidney before they took her home. The fact that Lady Catherine awaited them at Brierwood had nothing to do with their staying the full fortnight they had originally planned. (Well, perhaps it did. But only a little.)

  On their last day in the village, Lady Denham invited Elizabeth and Darcy to tea, which was served with an apology for all the trouble her staged disappearance had cost them. As they took their leave, the dowager invited them to stroll through Sanditon Park as much as they wished before leaving the grounds. Elizabeth asked Darcy to show her the grotto.

  They walked out to it. Elizabeth drew aside a section of the overgrown ivy hanging before the entrance and stepped within. Darcy followed.

  Despite—or perhaps because of—its untamed state, the atmosphere inside felt peaceful. Though it was dim, enough late afternoon sunlight penetrated the ivy to illuminate the fountain statue. Elizabeth quietly regarded the form of Ivy Woodcock captured in the hope and promise of youth.

  From behind, Darcy put his arms around her.

  “You said they never stood a chance.” Elizabeth leaned against him, feeling his solid strength at her back. “And in their youth, perhaps they did not. But I wonder, had Archibald not just married Philadelphia Brereton when Ivy returned, whether they might have spent their final years together?”

  “No one will ever know.” Darcy turned her in his arms so that he could see her face as he held her close. “But I do know that I look forward to spending mine with you—and an eternity thereafter.”

  * * *

  Sometimes, on warm summer nights, the breeze blowing through Sanditon Park parts the cascading ivy at the grotto’s entrance just enough to form an opening in the verdant curtain.

  If one listens carefully, above the distant crash of waves might be heard a sound resembling laughter.

  And if the moon is full, and at precisely the proper angle in the sky, one might almost see two misty figures appear, join hands, and enter.

  Author’s Note

  How much unexhausted talent perished with her, how largely she might yet have contributed to the entertainment of her readers, if her life had been prolonged, cannot be known; but it is certain that the mine at which she had so long laboured was not worked out, and that she was still diligently employed in collecting fresh materials from it.

  —James Edward Austen-Leigh, nephew of Jane Austen A Memoir of Ja
ne Austen, 1871

  Dear Readers,

  When I finished writing the sixth Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery, The Deception at Lyme (Or, the Perils of Persuasion), readers immediately began asking me, “Now that you have written one mystery for each of Jane Austen’s novels, where will the Darcys go next?”

  While I considered several possibilities, one stood out as feeling the most natural—for the characters, the series, and my own development as a writer.

  We would go where Austen herself went.

  After she finished writing Persuasion, her last completed novel, Austen began a new untitled book set in the fictional seaside village of Sanditon. From dates written in her own hand on the first and last pages of the manuscript, it appears that she worked on the novel from 27 January through 18 March 1817 before setting it aside. Her health failing, she never returned to the story and died at age forty-one in July of that year, leaving behind eleven and a half chapters (approximately 24,800 words) of a first draft.

  Although unfinished, the draft—which eventually came to be known by the title Sanditon—is as rich as Austen’s other works. In those few chapters she sets her stage, populates it with memorable characters, and infuses the whole with humor reminiscent of her earlier writings. Then, just as Sidney Parker arrives in town and heroine Charlotte Heywood calls upon Lady Denham at Sanditon House for the first time, the fragment ends. The story Austen planned for Charlotte, the Parker siblings, the Denhams, and Sanditon’s other residents will forever remain a mystery.