May 26th, 1891 — Sanditon Resort

"Did you bring a bathing suit?" Alfred asked with a wide smile as Charity's governess departed back through the floo at the main resort. He expected the answer would be yes, since the whole point of the afternoon was to teach her to swim, but one never could be sure. Evander certainly wasn't very comfortable on beaches, so perhaps he would have overlooked it in planning for the afternoon. Perhaps he would have even overlooked it intentionally in order to sabotage the outing, since he hadn't ever seemed particularly enthused about Charity learning to sail or to swim, but probably not.

"Let's go back to my house so you can change," Alfred suggested. "I live here now, in case Evander didn't tell you." He was obviously pleased with the announcement; things were finally back on track and going rather swimmingly (no pun intended). He was eager to show off the little terrace house to someone, even if that someone was only a child. Everything had been moved in and unpacked by this point, so it was starting to look like a proper house instead of just a holiday rental. He hoped she liked it. Not that it would make a great deal of difference if she didn't, but Alfred enjoyed his niece's company and he wouldn't mind having her come to visit on occasion, now that he had a proper place to live instead of a shared flat in a not-excellent area of wizarding London. After things had gotten settled with Zelda, of course.

---

The seaside was very different from Uncle Evander's Irvingly home. Different, not better—today she was enjoying the sunshine and the fresh air, but she could only imagine how much she'd miss the ambience of Irvingly if she left village life in favor for a life at the Sanditon. Lots of people were living at the Terrace now, and she wasn't sure how they could live in such close contact to each other and to the bustling of the popular resort. It was different from her secluded life in Uncle Evander's comfortable home, which had its own gardens an own fence and with it a feeling of solitary that nobody could possibly have here.

"I did," she said brightly, smiling up at her uncle with a toothy (or rather, toothless—one of her front teeth had recently fallen out, while one of her canines was beginning to grow back in but still made her look and feel a little off) smile. "And he did. It seems like your sort of place." And it would be her kind of place, too, on some days. Like today. Today she was enjoying the feeling of the breeze every few minutes when they turned a corner. She was enjoying the smell of the ocean, the sound of sand and rock under foot as they walked through certain areas of the resort. She enjoyed the sun, too, even if it made her eyes all squinty. It felt like freedom—even if it was a little overwhelming at times.

"Miss Clearwater picked out my bathing suit," she explained, "It's dark blue and has some stripes. I've never had a bathing suit before."

---

Alfred offered her a lopsided grin at the assessment that this seemed like his sort of place. He'd always been fond of the Sanditon, but until lately he wouldn't have thought of it as a real home. The only place that had really felt like a home since he'd returned to England was the Voyager, and he felt most at home on her when he was out to sea. Now that he'd gotten everything settled into the house on the terrace, though, he was starting to come around to the idea of calling this home, at least for part of the year. The work wasn't bad, and being close to the sea was a nice benefit. The house was cozy, and soon enough he'd have Zelda sharing it with him, which would make it all worth it.

"Dark blue with stripes is the best color for bathing suits," he said very seriously. "The blue makes it harder for sea creatures to see you, so they won't try to eat you. But the stripes make you stand out enough that the fish won't run into you."

He was kidding, obviously, for all that his tone was serious. Hopefully she'd catch on to that and not be scared off the idea of swimming entirely.

---

Her grinned widened through his seriousness. Whether he was teasing her or not, the prospect was as amusing as it was intriguing. "That's a shame. I think the fish would be friendly, and I don't think I am tasty enough to tempt a sea creature," she commented, reaching out to take his hand as they approached a group of people who were crowding, making it difficult to continue their walk along the path without trying to navigate through them. She craned her head, trying to see what they were all waiting for, and was delighted to find the sign: Ice Cream Parlour with a smaller sign that said something about "exotic flavours". Charity thought she ought to pressure Uncle Alfred into getting some later—perhaps they would have a salmon-flavored treat she could dare him into trying.

"I am no good at swimming—you will teach me, right?" he asked, knowing he would but wanting to hear how he would wittily answer her question.

---

"I'm sure you're plenty tasty," Alfred countered easily, though after the words left his mouth he had to stop and think how ridiculous it was to imagine this would be worth arguing about. It wasn't exactly a source of pride, was it, how one might taste for a sea monster? But nevermind: on to swimming, which was a more pleasant subject than being devoured by anything. Alfred smiled and gave her hand a slight squeeze. "That's exactly what we're doing today, isn't it? I'll expect you to be an expert by the time we're through. And by August I'll have you teaching your new cousins. I've heard they don't swim yet, either."

---

Charity tried to hide her laughter, but only managed to snort, which caused her to dissolve into a fit of muffled giggles. She squeezed Uncle Alfred's hand back, knowing that only he would say something like that—Uncle Evander would tell her she would never have to worry about being eaten, and that she should push all thoughts of that from her mind. As if being trapped in a sea monster's belly wouldn't be a good adventure to write a mental book about before inevitably perishing!

The subject of swimming was a more concrete one—definitely more goal-oriented than being eaten by a sea creature. She'd hoped she'd be able to master swimming today, and the thought of having to wait until August to be at a level where she could teach... "Huh?" she said suddenly, finally processing Uncle Alfred's wonders. Cousins, he's said and—she didn't have any cousins, did she? Not any new ones, unless... Did Miss Delaney have any existing children that she didn't know about it? Oh Merlin, and here she thought the extent of her Cinderella nightmare would be having a surrogate stepmother she didn't like! She didn't want wicked surrogate step-siblings!

"I didn't know I had any cousins. Papa had no siblings, and you and Uncle Evander..." She trailed off, her brows knitted together with concern as she looked up at him. "I don't want any cousins. Ever." She wasn't thinking about Uncle Alfred, though, because she couldn't imagine him a married man; instead her thoughts were on Uncle Evander and all the children he could have with Miss Delaney that he would love far more than he'd ever love her.

---

Alfred's eyebrows lowered in confusion at her immediate and definitive refusal of the idea. Was she opposed to the idea of having other children around? He imagined she would be excited by the prospect. Didn't all children like to have people to play with and interact with? Some adults liked to be around other people more than others, but he'd always assumed that when people were young they were universally happy to be social. If Charity had any decidedly anti-social tendencies, at least Alfred had never seen them... but then, he didn't spend a good deal of time around Charity while also in the company of others. Most of the things Alfred and Charity liked to do together would have given Evander an attack of nerves, so their outings tended to be just the pair of them.

"Cousins are great fun," he argued. "I had loads of cousins when I was your age. It's probably well past time you started catching up, actually."

---

It wasn't cousins she was opposed to, and she wanted to say so, but then he'd probably want her to explain why she'd said it to begin with. If Papa was still around, it would be easy to have cousins. She could go to their homes for the holidays, play games, and then go home for the day. But having cousins with Uncle Evander would be like having siblings, only she would never be one of them. She would be an other, and she didn't like otherness. "I'm not sure where I'm going to find cousins my age. You don't just come into cousins. They have to be born first, and I'll be off to Hogwarts or governess school before they'll be any fun."

---

"You do just come into cousins," he said with half a smile. He was a bit surprised that she hadn't already considered this, given that Evander and Miss Caroline were set to be married so soon. Surely she'd met the Delaney family, at least the ones who were in England? Caroline's extended family may not have been as large as the extended Darrow family (at least the English transplant branch wasn't) but she was hardly an orphan. Again, he'd thought Charity would have been excited by the prospect, but maybe she hadn't considered all of the new family connections that Evander's marriage would bring her. "Or — well, I suppose they're not exactly the same, but I don't know any better word for them. If they're nieces and nephews for Evander and I then the only thing to call them is cousins for you, I think."

---

Ohhhhh. She was beginning to see his point.

But still.

"I don't want any Delaney cousins." I don't even want Miss Delaney, she nearly added, but stopped herself, because she had to remember that Uncle Alfred would probably tell Uncle Evander anything she said. She'd already hurt his feelings the previous month while speaking about her, and she didn't want to make him upset again. "I'm very good at being alone, you know. Probably the best in the world at it. They ought to give me a prize." Her tone was hardly convincing. A frown had formed on her face, and she let her hand slip from Uncle Alfred's.

---

Alfred chuckled at that. "I don't think that's the sort of things they give out prizes for, but if I find one I'll recommend you," he teased. Maybe he was taking this too lightly, though. Maybe she was antisocial, and this was her cluing him in that she wasn't actually going to enjoy playing with other children, Fisks or Rosses or otherwise. Best to avoid having her interact with any of the Fisks until after the wedding, he decided. At least then if she offended someone, it wasn't as though Brannon Fisk would be able to withdraw his consent for Alfred to marry his daughter.

"But anyway," he continued. "I don't think there's any Delaney cousins your age. At least not on this side of the pond. So nothing to worry about there." He paused slightly and shot her a look, wondering whether she still hadn't figured out what he'd been talking about. He didn't think he'd been particularly evasive about it. "Why don't you want any Delaney cousins?" he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

---

Well—there went being able to avoid explaining anything. She could lie, she supposed, and just say American accents were scary, or maybe that she didn't know how she could relate to any of them. Or maybe if she hadn't specified, if she'd just reiterated that she didn't want any cousins period, then maybe he wouldn't have asked, but she'd said Delaney cousins.

She paused for a moment, both in her speech and in her walking, bringing them to a halt on the path. She stared off into space, trying to decide how to phrase it delicately. Then, abruptly, she looked up at Uncle Alfred.

"I don't want a Delaney aunt," she answered. The truth was the best, right? But then—oh, that had sounded bad, hadn't it? Too blunt, too mean. She hadn't meant to sound mean. She tore her gaze from Uncle Alfred's and clasped her hands together in front of her lap. "I only mean... Oh, there's no point," she said resignedly, her lips slipping into a pout.

---

Alfred frowned, both at her words and at the physical signs of distress she'd started to exhibit. Well, this was certainly a problem... but it seemed like the sort of thing he ought to leave for Evander, wasn't it? The three of them would be living together, and maybe Alfred should mind his own business on how well they all got along... but then, Evander had never been very intuitive about these sorts of things. Did Evander even know that Charity was so upset about all of this?

"Are you afraid she won't like you?" he asked, shifting his weight. He found it hard to believe that she disliked Caroline personally, because Alfred thought she was grand — a little too interesting for Evander, probably, but grand all the same.

---

"I don't care if she doesn't like me," she said, a little too rushed, a little too insistent. It did not at all match her expression, which was still stuck in a pout. "I don't like her, so we'll only be equal if she doesn't like me. Probably better that way." She still wouldn't meet her uncle's eye.

---

Alfred mused over this while he watched her pout, considering what to say next. He thought she was lying, but it wouldn't do much good to say so. She'd only dig her heels in further if she thought her answer was making her look foolish or weak.

"Evander likes her a good deal," he pointed out instead.

---

Charity felt as though she was one sentence away from being lectured. She could handle it from Miss Clearwater, and even Uncle Evander, but she didn't think she could take being lectured by Uncle Alfred. She felt small suddenly; her arms slid up and she crossed them over her stomach protectively.

"I know he does," she responded, deciding it was the safest option. "I didn't say he wasn't allowed to."

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