Author's note: If, like me, you have wondered what made Sidney Parker soften towards Charlotte between his fury at finding her alone in London and apologizing for underestimating her a day or so later, this story is an attempt to fill in the blanks. It is mostly Sidney's POV, as he is the more enigmatic of the two. Our Charlotte is much more likely to just say what she is thinking.

Neither of these characters belong to me. They are Jane Austen's and Andrew Davies'.

Sidney Parker found himself longing for a rowdy pub or a crowded London gathering. Not as much for the imbibing- though a drink would be welcome right about now- but for the noise and distraction either would provide from his thoughts. The rumble of the carriage wheels was too monotonous, and the dark outside his window provided no sights to draw his mind away from his unanticipated, unwanted traveling companion or the tumult of his mind. It had been well over an hour since she had spoken, nay, closer to two is more likely. Certainly much longer a period than he had believed Miss Heywood could last without sharing another one of her unflattering or misguided opinions masquerading as 'truth'.

He resisted the urge to glance at her. They had stopped briefly to change horses and eat a hasty cold meal before getting back on the road to Gretna Green. Sidney had expected some type of complaint or protest from Miss Heywood, or some offer of an idea she deemed better than his, but she had said nothing more than a murmured 'thank you' when he helped her down from the carriage to stretch her legs and use the inn's facilities. The silence should have been welcome, but instead it was strangely unsettling. Sidney found himself ruminating over Miss Heywood's earlier accusations, and was no longer as certain that they could be easily dismissed as the fanciful notions of a naïve girl.

'At every turn, you have abdicated responsibility. If you truly cared for her welfare, you would have watched over her yourself!'

'How can anyone know your mind? You take pains to be unknowable.'

Sidney did not need to look at Miss Heywood now to remember the look in her eyes as she spat out her disdain for him. He had not realized that her opinion of him was so low, nor that he valued her opinion at all. Nay, that was not wholly true. He had felt a curiosity about her opinions long before this night, and had even begun to seek both her opinions and her company in Sanditon before coming across Mr. Molyneux and Georgiana at the London coach. If he were going to be honest with himself, he had willingly given as much of his responsibilities for Georgiana to anyone who would take them. Mrs. Griffiths, even Miss Heywood herself, had been tasked with looking after his wayward ward, so that he could give his attention to other matters. Aye, he had other responsibilities, but he shouldered those with far less complaint than the responsibility of a young ward alone in England with no one to care for her. It was not well done of him, and he would have been appalled had his own sister Diana ever been treated with so little care and feeling. He did care about Georgiana's welfare, truly he did, but had he done all he could for her? Perhaps Miss Heywood was not entirely wrong, even if she was not entirely right. 'Insensible of feeling.' Hardly how Sidney would think of himself. To the contrary, he thought and felt too much. Certainly more than Miss Heywood could possibly know.

'You take pains to be unknowable.'

Yet how could she know? Sidney knew his reasons for warning Georgiana off Mr. Molyneux had been sound, yet upon reflection he had given Miss Heywood none of them. He had asked her to watch over Georgiana, to keep her out of mischief, without providing the slightest indication of the type of mischief he feared. He had lost his temper with her in public, berating her that he owed her no explanation and that Georgiana's relationship with Mr. Molyneux was none of her concern, yet had he not made it her concern by the very favour he had asked of her? The truth, which Sidney could no longer avoid, was uncomfortable and undeniable. His anger at Miss Heywood that day had started the moment he overheard her impression of him in the Sanditon streets. He had been looking forward to seeing her again with a lightness of spirit he had not felt in years, only to find that she was mocking him to Georgiana. His sense of betrayal did not match his actual degree of acquaintance with Miss Heywood, and he had indeed taken pains to avoid any further advance towards intimacy. Not once had he tried to defend himself against her accusations of prejudice or make any attempt to change her opinion of him.

It occurred to Sidney now, for the first time, that Georgiana and Mr. Molyneux had likely not been so reticent as he himself had been. In the hours they had spent together that day, his ward and her suitor would hardly have restrained themselves from abusing Sidney to Miss Heywood and blasting his character. As infuriating as Miss Heywood's frankness might be at times, Sidney could not deny that she was unfailingly honest and likely expected those around her to be the same. Detection would not have been in her power, and suspicion of duplicity not in her nature. Her accusations of prejudice were unfounded, but likely based on what she had been told. Yet he had done nothing to give her different information, beyond embarrass her in public and avoid her at every later opportunity.

Sidney began to feel ashamed of himself. He had taunted and derided Miss Heywood for her inexperience with the world, yet her observations of his character were more accurate than his had been of her own. He had apologized once for dismissing her as frivolous, and had seen how truly steady and capable she was, but failed to consider that new knowledge of her the moment his feelings had been disappointed. Even now, with everything he had put her through, she thought only of helping her friend. Miss Heywood seemed to have no concern for herself, or her own reputation. Sidney had wanted to attribute that to her being reckless and foolish, rather than courageous and determined. She seemed to either be unaware or unconcerned that should they return to London without Georgiana, her own reputation will have been compromised beyond recall and that Sidney would most likely have to marry her. For his own part, Sidney was surprised to find that the idea of having to marry Miss Heywood was not an unappealing one.

He glanced at her, sitting opposite from him in the carriage, her face turned towards the window as it had been the past long while. Unaware that he was watching, she reached up a gloved hand and wiped hurriedly at her face before dropping her hand in her lap.

"Miss Heywood, you are not…what is the matter?" Startled by hearing Sidney's voice after so long a silence, Charlotte looked at him for a brief moment, revealing her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face. She quickly turned her face back towards the window.

"Nothing is the matter. I am fine," she said softly. "Shall we catch up with them soon, do you think?"

Sidney shifted so that he was directly across from her, and withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket. "You are not fine, Miss Heywood. Come, tell me what is upsetting you." He extended his hand with the handkerchief, but she did seem to notice. She continued to stare out the window at the darkness, and would not look at him.

"I find that I am unequal to another one of our sparring matches, Mr. Parker. I would prefer to keep my thoughts to myself," Charlotte replied, her voice barely audible over the rumble of the carriage wheels and pounding of the horses hooves. Sidney had never seen her so dispirited, and he found he did not like the notion of a Miss Heywood who was unwilling to share her thoughts after all.

Keeping his voice gentle, he reached out and unclenched one of her hands, placing his handkerchief in it instead. "You must think me the worst sort of cad, if you fear I will lecture or berate you now," he said. "You have my word that I will listen to anything you wish to say."

Charlotte looked down at the handkerchief in her hand with surprise, and then glanced at Sidney warily. His eyes seemed almost sad as he looked back at her. She dropped her gaze to her hands, though she turned her body to face him. "I should think that one might be entitled to a few tears," she began hesitantly, trying to keep her voice steady, "when left alone with thoughts of one's own folly for hours on end."

"What folly do you think you have committed?" Sidney asked, matching her soft tone in the hopes that she would say more. Miss Heywood seemed softer, more vulnerable than he had ever known her to be, and he found himself wishing to comfort her. In that moment, she seemed his to care for and protect, even if from her own emotion.

"What folly have I not committed?" she replied brokenly. "I have broken Mary's trust by doing exactly what she forbade. She must be frantic with worry by now. I have always prided myself on the steadiness of my principles and observations, but since coming away from home have only courted sentiment and misinformation and placed my friend in danger as a result. I can hardly even call myself Georgiana's friend, after my part in what has happened to her. And I have allowed myself to think and say…" she stopped herself abruptly, as though afraid to continue. She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. "I am ashamed of myself, Mr. Parker. So you see, you have no need to lecture me on my naivety, my recklessness, or any of my other faults. I am doing that well enough on my own."

"Miss Heywood, I…"

"Thank you for your handkerchief, Mr. Parker," Charlotte said, handing it back to him abruptly. "I believe I will try to sleep now. Please, wake me if we catch up to them." She turned towards the window once more, and closed her eyes. She clearly was unwilling to allow him to respond, and he did not persist. He did not even know what he wished to say, only that it hurt his heart to see her so low. He was coming to realize how much he liked her liveliness, and how proud a feeling it gave him to make her smile. Charlotte's soft breathing indicated that she had indeed fallen asleep. Sidney, on the other hand, found that sleep eluded him, as he was forced to contemplate his own follies where Miss Heywood was concerned. He had underestimated her. Sidney began to fear that he had lost the opportunity to repair their friendship, just as he began to understand how much he valued her.