“I know. But you would have no objection. And,” Rebecca added daringly, “you would agree to be in to welcome them with me?”
Charity slid her chair back from the table and stood up. “Yes, dearest sister, I would.”
The invitation for the Musgroves to visit the following day was therefore written and accepted. Charity found that she was looking forward to seeing Captain Musgrove again; Nan she was pleased to see on any occasion. There was just one small point, which grew bigger with every moment that passed. She had determined that she must tell the Captain about her brother-in-law’s associations with slavery. Whether this would be an unforgivable thing from his perspective, she had yet to find out. But she recalled Nan’s reaction when the news had first been discovered, and she could not feel comfortable about it. If Captain Musgrove’s reaction was equally strong, how would Nan feel? Captain Musgrove was her brother; Charity was merely a friend. Would Nan still care to spend time with her if her brother’s disapproval was very clearly stated? Charity was not sure.
The problem would be telling Captain Musgrove the information without Rebecca overhearing her. Someday—someday soon, Charity promised herself—she would tell Rebecca the whole story, but not now, not yet. One thing at least she felt sure of, however: no matter how disgusted the Captain might be by his discovery about Mr Fotheringay’s slaves, he would not betray the truth of the matter to Rebecca, once he understood the depth of her ignorance. No brother of Nan’s could possibly consider doing such a thing.
Surprisingly, it was Rebecca who seemed more on edge about the appointment the next day. Although she had met Nan at various events—including the Abolitionist meeting she had attended—Nan had never visited the Fotheringays’ house. Charity, who had seen Rebecca welcome all sorts of guests from all sorts of backgrounds, was disconcerted at first and then saddened when she discovered the two-pronged reason for her sister’s agitation. Rebecca had known that Isobelle, no matter how polite, had not really warmed to her. As Isobelle was the only member of the Sisterhood who had come to the house, excepting just to pick Charity up for a function, Rebecca feared that Nan would feel likewise about her. No matter the amount of reassurance Charity gave, nor the reminders she added about Rebecca’s liking for Nan on other occasions, her sister still looked anxious and unconvinced. The second reason, Charity had to guess at, but she strongly suspected that Rebecca’s particular determination to do everything right for the Musgroves had to do with the idea that Charity and Captain Musgrove might make a match of it. Her one consolation was that the captain, knowing what he knew, would certainly not have any such impossible thoughts in his head—though, Charity thought ruefully, there were any number of gentlemen who had managed to avoid being bowled over by her charms without that particular knowledge!
When the unmistakeable sounds of guests arriving carried to the upstairs sitting room, however, Charity saw that Rebecca had gone quite white.
“Don’t be daft, Becca!” she reproved her sister. “Anyone would think that a Royal Duke was arriving, not just some good friends.” She caught Rebecca’s hopeful look and shook her head. “No, dear, not that sort of good friend.”
“You’re sure?” Rebecca asked wistfully.
“Quite sure. Anyway,” Charity added quickly, hearing the sound of footsteps on the stairs, “let us not speak of it quite now.”
The footman announced the Musgroves, and Rebecca and Charity stood to make their curtseys. Rebecca might be shy, but she could never be anything but polite.
“It is so good of you both to come,” she said, smiling. “Will you not come in and be seated? I’m sure the maid will be in shortly with the tea.” Her eyes met the footman’s questioningly, and he bowed slightly, taking his cue.
“It is very good of you to have us, so soon after…” Nan’s gaze travelled the room, as if expecting the twins to appear by magic.
“She’s glad of the company,” Charity said briskly. “She has had to put up only with my company for much of the past few weeks!”
“Any face, in fact,” Nan said, laughing, “would be better than none.”
“No indeed. Goodness, you must think me so rude,” exclaimed Rebecca, in genuine anxiety. “And Mr—Captain Musgrove too. We are delighted to see you both. Please take no notice of Charity!”
“I expect they know quite how much attention to pay to me,” Charity said.
When the tea had arrived and been poured, the group separated into two parts, with Charity and Captain Musgrove talking politely about the ball a couple of nights ago, whilst Nan encouraged Rebecca to talk about herself. Charity could not help keeping one ear out for the conversation between the two ladies, a fact Captain Musgrove noticed and commented upon.
“What is the matter, Miss Bellingham? Are you concerned that Nan is going to insult your sister in some way?”
Charity looked at him indignantly. “Honestly, in some ways you are just like your sister! You were not supposed to think that I was doing anything but listening to you.”
“I may be arrogant,” he said dryly, “but I am not that arrogant!”
Charity had taken a sip of tea and almost choked at his response. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I was just making sure Rebecca was all right. She was terribly worried about whether she would find the right things to say.”
“Does Nan really have a reputation for being that hard to please?” he asked. “Be assured, I will tease her about it later, if so!”
“Not at all. But Rebecca…she feels you are both so very much above us socially that she fears making a mistake, or saying the wrong thing. You must know Miss Greenaway?” The name still felt odd and difficult on Charity’s tongue, most particularly when she had to make so much effort to sound natural. He nodded. “I’m afraid she made Rebecca a little aware of her position, on one or two of her visits. Unintentionally, of course. She was trying to be kind, but Rebecca could see she was trying, if you understand what I mean?”
“I do indeed,” he said promptly. “Nothing serves so much to remind you that you don’t belong as someone else trying to cover that very fact up. I remember when I was first made acting captain after the actual captain of my ship was taken ill. The quartermaster was so keen not to seem as if he was disrespecting my temporary position that I could think of nothing but the temporariness of it!”
Charity laughed, liking him more with every second. She could understand why Nan was so fond of him: she too would have liked to have a brother like Captain Musgrove. “That is it precisely. However, Rebecca seems to be managing quite successfully. Hush a second, or pretend to be talking to me, so I can just listen.”
“Pretend to be talking to you!” Captain Musgrove shook his head. “The things you ladies ask a poor seafarer to do!”
But Charity was not listening. Both her ears were now set on overhearing the conversation between Nan and Rebecca.
“I’m afraid that I’m not clever like you and Charity, making things happen,” she heard Rebecca say apologetically. “I often prefer to sit by the window with my embroidery, watching the children wriggle about on the rug. I never realised they began to move so early.”
“I’m not sure you are doing so little, ma’am,” Nan said. “Perhaps by the way you are raising your children, you are doing much more than we are.”
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am’,” Rebecca begged. “You call Charity by her name…well,” she corrected herself, laughing, “you call her Harry. And I am her sister. Please, call me Rebecca.”
The two ladies settled comfortably in for a coze, and Charity thought, not for the first time, how good Nan was about making people feel confident, able to be themselves. She took a deep breath and looked back at the captain. Much as she had been enjoying their banter, she knew she must take this opportunity to speak privately to him about what was bothering her so much. Would she lose his friendship—and more importantly Nan’s? She had not realised how much she relied on Nan’s support and kindness until she ran the risk of losing it.
Carefully, she pulled Captain Musgrove to the window seat, as if she wanted to show him the view outside, and then looked around cautiously before beginning. She had so much she had to say, but the first imperative was that the conversation stayed private from Rebecca. Taking a deep breath, she began.
“Before we talk any further, Captain Musgrove, I think there is something I must say,” she said, determined to get the words out before she lost her courage. “I know your views on slavery from your sister, and believe me, I sympathise with them. However, what you do not yet know is that my brother-in-law, Rebecca’s husband, upon whom I am….” She tried not to grit her teeth as she said the final word. “…dependent…is the owner of a plantation on Tortola. In other words, a slave owner.”
Much to her disconcertion, Captain Musgrove did not look surprised. “I know,” he said. “My sister told me.”
“Oh?” Charity was hurt by the fact that Nan had not trusted her to make her own confession. She tried to keep her feelings out of her voice, but clearly did not succeed.
Captain Musgrove smiled at her engagingly. “She said,” he went on, “that she knew you would tell me yourself, but that she would not speak to me again if I upset you with my reaction. Which I appear to have done. Miss Bellingham, please do not leave me to Nan’s wrath!”
“Oh,” Charity said again, but this time with very different emotions. Not only would she keep Nan’s friendship, but Nan had proven how much the friendship meant to her too. Charity’s heart began to sing again. “That was like her.”
“I will not tell her what you thought,” the captain said teasingly, “if you will not tell her that despite my best intentions, I still managed to make a mull of the occasion.”
“Captain Musgrove, you—oh!” Charity said a third time, laughing.
“That’s better,” he said, smiling back at her. “You have such a pretty laugh.”
“And you, sir, are trying to put me quite out of countenance,” she retorted, flicking a quick glance over at Nan, who was still chatting comfortably with Rebecca.
“Not at all! A mere statement of fact. Now, if I were to try and put you out of countenance, I could say…” He trailed off invitingly.
“You are quite impossible,” she said sternly. “I begin to believe all which is said about sailors.”
He sighed and pressed his hand to his heart. “Miss Bellingham, I am hurt to the core. Must I really be accused of destroying your faith in all seafarers? It is a hard load to carry!”
“And this,” Charity said, her heart lighter than it had been in some time, “is certainly not how I anticipated this conversation would transpire.” She hesitated. “Rebecca, my sister, she does not know any of this,” she said awkwardly. “She has been through a lot lately, and she deserves any happiness she can find. I know I must tell her, in the end, but I fear her reaction. Theirs has not been a…a happy marriage. I dread making it worse still by informing her that her husband is a slave owner.”
Captain Musgrove looked serious again. “In truth,” he said, “I feel less…hatred is perhaps too strong a word…less anger with slave owners than I do with those who deliberately enslave and sell others, simply for money. It is the traders whom I—well, yes, whom I hate and despise. If you had seen the conditions in which these poor people are kept during their time at sea…” He looked earnestly at Charity. Nan and Rebecca were still engrossed in their conversation. Nan had the happy knack of bringing out the best in Charity’s sister, and Charity loved to see the way Rebecca was blooming with Nan’s gentle encouragement. But right now, Charity turned her attention thoroughly to Captain Musgrove. She would have time aplenty with Nan, but Nan’s brother’s time in London was limited. Reassured that Rebecca certainly could not hear, she nodded.
“Tell me,” she said quietly. “At least, tell me what you can.”
“Ah, that is perceptive of you,” he said. “It is truth that there are some things of which I cannot speak. Not yet, at any rate. I know I seem a frivolous character, but sometimes that is the only way to get through the sights which I have seen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have no reason to be.” He took a deep breath. “Can you imagine a ship, with room down below in the hull? A hundred, perhaps more, people down there, unable to see light, barely able to move, manacled to the walls or to each other. The traders cast their bodies overboard without a second’s thought if they die; sometimes, too, if they are ill and it is feared that they might spread contagion throughout the ship. British men, some of them ex-Navy sailors, running such cruel operations. Not for noble reasons, just for the money they think it will bring them. Gold over the price of a man’s life—or a woman’s, or a child’s.
“They like to take children. They find them more malleable, easier to ‘tame’, as they put it. The children do not fight. They just lie there, eyes open and despairing, waiting for death or enslavement.” Charity, unintentionally, had recoiled, and the movement brought his attention away from his story and back to his audience. “Forgive me. I should not speak of such things in a lady’s pretty sitting room.”
“On the contrary,” Charity said. “It should be spoken of everywhere until this evil trade is stamped out.”
“And there, you see, is the rub.” Captain Musgrove looked at her, frustration clear in his face. “When we have boarded such ships, we have no power to do anything. No power to help the helpless, for by the laws of the British Empire the traders are doing no wrong.”
“Then the laws must change,” Charity said, chin up in defiance. “And until they do, we keep fighting. Perhaps, on the front line, you despise our silly meetings as the maunderings of ladies with nothing better to occupy our time. And how can I blame you? But we must do what we can do. No matter how hopeless,” she added sadly.
“We have to believe,” he said quietly, “all of us, that things can and will change. Each in our way, doing what we must to orchestrate that change. Do not think I take the women’s work lightly. Every person will play their part to rid this awful trade of its power.” He shook off the sombre mood. “But for now, we have said all we can. Come, let us…I was going to say ‘rejoin the ladies’, but I fear what your response to that might be!”
“Oh,” Charity said lightly, “but I am ‘Harry’, one of the boys. Do not let the skirts mislead you.”
They returned to Nan and Rebecca. The twins were brought down, and the rest of the conversation became child-related. Charity found it hard, looking at Captain Musgrove cooing over baby Mary, to believe that this was the same gentleman who not five minutes earlier had been telling her about the awful sights he had seen. He seemed to have put it all behind him and was once again the carefree sailor. But then, as he had said, perhaps it was all a façade—no, not that, but a coping technique. For how could one live, otherwise, with the horrors of this world?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You seemed to be getting on very well with Captain Musgrove.” Rebecca looked at Charity hopefully as they talked over the visit later that afternoon.
“He’s a good man.” But Charity knew what Rebecca was aiming at. “But no, I’m not interested in him that way, Becca.”
“It’s a shame,” Rebecca said wistfully.
“I know. But my tastes do not run that way, and he knows it.” Charity had almost wanted to love Captain Musgrove. She would have been Nan’s sister indeed that way and would have had every excuse to spend her time with her dear friend. But although she and the captain had made fast friends, there was and could never be more to it than that. Absent-mindedly, she picked the dead flowers out of an arrangement on a side table, rearranging those that were left to cover the gap.
“You told him…” Rebecca broke off.
Charity looked at the dead flowers in her hand, wondering what to do with them. “No, of course I did not. But he is Nan’s brother. He knows about her, and he knows about me.”
“About Nan?” Rebecca sounded shocked, and Charity realised, belatedly, that she h
ad never actually spelt out the nature of the Sisterhood into which she had been welcomed.
“Rebecca,” she said gently, unsure how to phrase the information, “do you not know what the Sisterhood is?”
Rebecca was silent, and Charity turned to check that she was all right. Her sister sat quietly, hands tightly clasped in her lap.
“You mean…you are all…?” Her words trailed off.
“Yes.”
“All? Even Lady Caroline?”
“I thought you knew.”
“I wondered once, but it did not seem possible. I thought I must be mistaken. So many, Charity!”
“Not really, if you think of the population of the ton in all,” Charity said.
“So,” Rebecca gave a half-hearted smile. “I cannot hope for wedding bells for you, then, dearest?”
Charity kissed her forehead. “No, dear. You can’t. I’m sorry.”
“I am sorry too. It is a shame. I would just like to see you safe, Charity.” Rebecca’s embroidery had fallen to the floor; she bent to recover it.
“Safe from the deviance of the Sisterhood?” Charity flung back, angrily.
“No, dear, not that. It’s just…we are women. We are dependent on our menfolk. If Mr Fotheringay insisted on you leaving the house, I could not prevent him. Mother cannot help. Even if she took you in, most of her money stops on her death. I just want you to have a settled home, to know you could never lose it.”
“Oh Becca!” Charity softened immediately, dropping the dead flowers by the side of the vase, to be taken away when she left the room—if she remembered. “I’m sorry. I should have more faith in you than that.”
“Well, you should, rather, you know,” Rebecca agreed, smiling up at her tall sister. “So I just thought…even if it were not a marriage for love—which so few of us, after all, get—it would be the chance of a safe home, somewhere you would always belong. Captain Musgrove seems nice, and his sister is delightful. It seemed so convenient.”
The Sisterhood Page 24