A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  One of the men looked up and came toward them.

  “Taylor, this is Kelly; she is my wife’s maid, and she wishes to go ashore to purchase fabric. Please escort her in all that she needs, today.”

  “Yes, sir.” Taylor saluted, looked expectantly at Moll, and then the two of them made their way up the companion-ladder at a much faster clip than Georgiana and Matthew did, as they returned to the great cabin. Inside, they found Hawke, who was Matthew’s valet by land and steward by sea, surrounded by several crates, with more being carried in by Bowden and another seaman.

  “It all just arrived, sir, from Pemberley,” Hawke said. “I’ve no idea where we’re to put it all, with your stores and what the lady has ordered.”

  The crates were opened, to reveal fresh pine-apples, cheeses, hams of pork and mutton, a great many jars of preserves, and sacks of dried apricots and currants.

  “Well, we surely shall not starve on our way to Gibraltar,” Matthew said. “Did you ask your brother to send all of this down?”

  “No, I did not. It was very generous of him,” Georgiana said, and she could not help but think guiltily over how generous he had been, given how she had disappointed Fitzwilliam just before leaving Pemberley, by telling him that she and Matthew intended to settle eventually in Hampshire rather than Derbyshire. It had taken her some time to raise the courage to do so, and she still felt the sting of having disappointed her brother, despite her promises that she would still visit whenever she could. It was very good of Fitzwilliam to set aside his disappointment and send these things to her – unless, perhaps, his aim had been to send her off with a taste of Derbyshire, so as to change her mind.

  “You ordered additional grocery as well?” Matthew asked.

  “I did – some things Mrs. Russell recommended. Should I not have?” Georgiana realised she was unsure of her role here; if they had let a house, the management of the meals would have been her responsibility, but in the short time she had lived on the ship before, Hawke had planned the meals under Matthew’s direction.

  “Do not worry yourself on that account – you should always feel welcome to order whatever you think might aid in your comfort,” he said. “I suppose we should have spoken of this sooner – do you wish to manage the meals and entertainments here in the cabin?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” Georgiana said. “I would like to have some responsibilities – although perhaps at first we might manage them together. I do not know the dishes that can be done here, versus those Cook does at Pemberley, and I would wish to ensure we maintain the pace of invitations your officers have become accustomed to.”

  “That sounds very good,” Matthew said. “Hawke, for now, if it does not all fit in my pantry, you may store the items that will not keep in the day cabin.”

  Hawke and Bowden began to do just that, and as Matthew seated himself at the cabin’s table and made to look over a great stack of papers there, Georgiana decided to find her writing desk and write to Fitzwilliam, thanking him for his generosity. She was thus occupied when there came a knock at the door, and Matthew bade whomever it was to enter.

  It was his second lieutenant, Holmes, and Georgiana looked at him curiously. He had never been a favourite of hers; the first lieutenant, Rigby, was far more amiable, and the third lieutenant, Egerton, was quiet but good-natured. The latter two men had served under her husband for many years, and she had gathered from Matthew’s letters from the Baltic that they were far more competent than Holmes, who had been assigned by the Admiralty for the Caroline’s latest commission. It had been during Lieutenant Holmes’s watch that the Caroline had struck ice, and although Matthew had not come out and blamed him directly for the incident, Georgiana suspected Holmes had been at fault. Certainly, his face looked even harder than it had been when last Georgiana had seen him, although he saluted Matthew and said, “Sir, Daniel McClare wishes to speak with you, if you have a moment.”

  Matthew said he did, and a young seaman came in quietly and gave his own salute, saying, “Captain-Sir, while the barky was under her repairs, I sent for me sweetheart, and we was married last week.”

  “My congratulations to you, McClare.”

  “Thank ye, sir. Only I wish to know if she can come wi’ me.”

  Matthew asked McClare if he had his marriage licence, McClare replied that he did, and the licence was given over to Matthew for inspection.

  “She will be welcome on board, but you know she must share your space.”

  “Yessir.”

  “And I would appreciate it very much if you will allow my wife’s maid, Kelly, to mess with you and Mrs. McClare.”

  “Oh, Mrs. McClare’ll be right glad of the company, I’m sure of it, sir.”

  When McClare had left, Matthew said, “Well, that solves the last of my problems, with regards to your maid’s accommodations. I did not like the thought of her messing at a table full of men, but nor did I think she would like to eat alone in her cabin every night, with the wardroom officers dining so near.”

  “No, I do not think she would have liked that at all,” Georgiana said. “Do you always allow women on your ships?”

  “I do, but they must be family – wives or sisters,” he said. “The men are nearly always allowed shore leave, and they may do what they choose there, but I will not run a floating brothel.”

  Georgiana had spent enough time in Portsmouth and Chatham to know what he spoke of – the boats full of miserable, ill-dressed girls that tied up alongside many of the other warships. She tried not to imagine what the scene must have been like, on the decks of those ships where there could be no privacy at all, but it was difficult to banish from her mind.

  “Why would any captain allow such a thing?”

  “To allow shore leave without much of a ship’s crew deserting, the ship must be a happy one, so the crew have a desire to return after they have drunk their fill and poxed themselves sufficiently,” he said. “Unfortunately, there are a great many ships in the navy which are not such. But to be in port without the men having opportunity to – well, do what many men most wish to do when they have been apart from female company for so long – most captains find it preferable to mutiny.”

  “It seems to me that it would be easier simply to have a happy ship,” Georgiana said, “but then I suppose not every captain is so good at his role as you.”

  +++

  Over the course of the next two days, the Caroline completed her preparations for sea. Water was pumped down into the tanks in the hold, and the great casks filled with salted pork and beef were hoisted up and lowered down carefully into that space, along with countless smaller casks, sails, spars, and cordage. Added to these were the purpose for their journey, the little strongboxes of coin which were carried on board by the marines. Georgiana watched what of this she could from the windows of the great cabin; as it was often raining, and chilly even when it was not, she only went on deck for a little while each day and preferred to remain inside, where a coal brazier kept the cabin tolerably warm.

  The cabin was a reasonably comfortable space, although Georgiana thought it could be made more comfortable with a female touch. She had sent Moll back out for more fabric, and planned to embroider cushions for the sofa as her first project. Matthew had, however, already seen to the alteration most necessary for her comfort by having the carpenter, Mr. Randle, cut loose one panel on the side of each of their cots and instal hinges upon those panels, so the sides could be let down and the two cots lashed together to form one bed when the seas were calm.

  Georgiana did not have the luxury of waking beside her husband on this morning, but this was only because he had left their joined cots very early, for this was the day they were to sail. The carpenter had also fitted a small bell within Moll’s cabin and run a line up through the deck to the sleeping cabin, and so Georgiana could now ring for her maid as she would have in a house. She dressed with Moll’s assistance, ate what little she could, and then, with Bowden minding her ascent, made her way
on deck into a steady breeze.

  The men were heaving away on the bars of the capstan, as they had so many times over the past few days to bring aboard the supplies, but this time they were bringing up the anchor. Georgiana assumed Matthew would be too busy for her company, but she saw Mrs. Travis standing by the rail and went over to greet her. Mrs. Travis was much older than Georgiana, but in their short acquaintance Georgiana had found her to be pleasant company, and as she had also sailed with her husband for many years, Mrs. Travis was able to give a thorough description of all that was happening as the anchors were brought in and the sails sheeted home.

  She wondered where Moll had gone to, for Georgiana thought surely the young woman would enjoy this as well, but then she saw her standing in the forecastle with Rebecca McClare, both of them eagerly watching all that happened. Then came that most beautiful moment, when the combination of tide and wind acted upon the ship, so that it made its first ghostly movement forward, and then began with purpose to glide down the Medway. There was something so very stately and elegant about the ship, with her sails dropping into place, gliding through the water like a swan, something that felt the very opposite of the paddle steamer. Matthew came past, then, and smiled to her, and Georgiana thought he was thinking the same thing as she, although he did not have time to stop and tell her so.

  Chapter 5

  Elizabeth had gone out twice more on Buttercup, on those few days when the weather held, but she believed Darcy when he said that anyone who was able to get old Buttercup up to a gallop was more than ready to try Spartan, and so she had. A few rides on the cob in the safe but muddy confines of the paddock had further built her confidence, and so today, so long as the weather remained clear, she and her husband were going to go out for a ride. She was surprised to see he had a different horse saddled for him, rather than his usual mount, Kestrel, and she inquired as to the change in horses after he helped her up onto Spartan.

  “Ah, I am sorry – you and old King have not been introduced,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. “This is Kingfisher – the oldest of my hunters. I believe he is nearly of a pace with Spartan, now, and he is much calmer than Kestrel. Buttercup cares not about Kestrel’s antics, but Spartan is a bit more temperamental, so I thought it best if we start him out alongside King.”

  Darcy was given a leg up, and Elizabeth was appreciative of his thinking, for while no-one would have called Kingfisher placid, he was a great deal calmer than Kestrel, and when they moved into a trot, she found Darcy was correct that the horses could keep pace with each other. Spartan covered decidedly more ground at a trot than Buttercup had, although what Elizabeth most appreciated about him was the smoothness of his gait; no longer was she bounced around, as she had been with Buttercup’s jittery little trot.

  They slowed to a walk after some time, and then Darcy asked her if she would like to canter, and she said she would. This gait, too, was smoother than it had been on Buttercup, and they made their way along for some time before Elizabeth began to grow concerned. She reined Spartan to a walk and said, “I think we should turn back. After last time, I am afraid of being too far away from shelter.”

  “There is something I want to show you,” he said, “but do not worry – we may shelter there if the weather turns.”

  Elizabeth would have feared he wished to show her some defect in the fields, due to the hailstorm or the snow, sleet, and rain that had preceded and followed it for much of the winter, but that his countenance seemed too light for such a thing. So instead she set aside her curiosity and urged Spartan into a trot. Eventually, they came up over a hill, and visible at the top of the next hill was the house at Barrowmere Park.

  “You wished to show me Barrowmere Park?” Elizabeth asked. “I have seen it many times already, Darcy.”

  “No, I wished to show you Pemberley’s dower house,” he said. “The purchase is complete. We now own Barrowmere Park and what remains of the rest of its lands.”

  Darcy was clearly pleased by his statement, and Elizabeth smiled at him, but in truth the thought of owning Barrowmere Park left her a little unsettled. Her husband, and his father before him, had slowly purchased lands from the failing estate, and the completion of this last transaction meant Pemberley had swallowed up another estate entirely. The thought that gave her most pause, however, was the notion that the house was to become a dower house, the wings in lesser repair torn down and the main house repaired so that it was habitable once again.

  While she loved her husband for thinking to provide for her in such a way, if she did survive him, Elizabeth did not like the thought of surviving him for long, if at all. She wished for them to grow old together, and to never be parted from him long enough to have need of this house. Still, she knew she must say something in praise of the purchase being complete, and so, attempting to keep her voice from thickening, she said, “It is terribly considerate of you, to have done all of this.”

  “Someone needed to do so,” he said. “My great-grandfather finished building the present house at Pemberley, while my grandfather completed the interior and the grounds, and my father focused on improving and expanding the farms. This shall be my legacy, for future generations.”

  “And a fine legacy it will be,” she said.

  “Will be is correct. There is still much work to be done before I would even be willing to let it. I am glad Georgiana did not take it – to attempt such repairs while setting up her first household, and with Matthew from home, would have been a formidable task. Although I suppose if she had taken it, she might not have been on the East stairs when she was, and – ”

  “Darcy, you cannot think like that.” Elizabeth spoke carefully, for their sister had been a particularly sensitive subject for him, of late. “What has happened has happened, and there is nothing we can do to change it. Trying to rewrite the past will only bring you pain.”

  “I know, but I cannot help but think that Georgiana now avoids her childhood home because it brings her unpleasant memories – now, it is the place where she lost her child. I cannot see why she would want to settle in Hampshire, otherwise. Before, she had intended to settle in Derbyshire.”

  “Before, she had only her own conjectures on what it would be like to be a naval captain’s wife. Now she knows, and she wishes to settle in Hampshire to be nearer Portsmouth,” Elizabeth said. “Would there ever be a time she is not welcome at Pemberley?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And do you not think she knows this?”

  “I see the direction of your questions, Elizabeth.”

  “I am glad you do,” she said. “I will not say it is easier for you – not when you had to begin managing this estate at the age you did – but it is different for you, as it will be for James. The rest of us, we ladies and younger sons, grow up knowing we must leave our homes. Georgiana’s situation is unique, that she has such a range of choice in the location of her household, but there is a great deal of sense in the choice she has made. If you and I were to be parted for months, and you might live somewhere you could see me a few days sooner than you might have otherwise, would you not choose to live there?”

  “I would if I could see you even a few hours sooner, so I could sooner have your counsel when I am not thinking clearly, my clever, lovely Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears at this, and she blinked them away, hoping that as they were nearing the drive to the house, he would be distracted and not notice. He did, however, and reined his horse to a halt, saying, “What is it, Elizabeth?”

  “You see this house as your legacy, and it is a good and honourable one, so I do not wish to take away from that,” she said, halting Spartan as well. “But to me this house means leaving my home again, and in the most painful circumstances.”

  Elizabeth was glad he was riding Kingfisher, for she did not think Kestrel would have stood for what Darcy did then, which was to sidestep his mount closer to hers, and pull her into a one-armed embrace, his other hand still on King
fisher’s reins.

  “You once told me we must live our lives in hope, and not in fear,” he said. “Whatever happens will happen, but I think it is no better for you to attempt to write the future, than it is for me to rewrite the past. I will stop referring to it as the dower house, though, if it helps you avoid thinking of it. It may remain Barrowmere Park, when we speak of it.”

  “I cannot say Barrowmere Park has entirely positive associations, either,” Elizabeth said, for the previous two families to live in the house had been quite vexing, each in their own way. “I think we should give it a new name entirely.”

  “What would you suggest?”

  “I did not make the proposal with a suggestion in mind. Let us think on it.”

  “We shall think on it, then. Would you like to turn back?”

  “Yes, I believe we have gone far enough today.”

  Chapter 6

  Catherine Ramsey had not liked Bath at first. When she and her husband first entered the city, it had been after a fortnight spent with his family in Salisbury, who, although they might not be quite so well-mannered as the company Catherine had become accustomed to, were every bit as jovial as her husband and enjoyable to be around, particularly after one had become used to them.

  Compared to those happy homes in Salisbury, Bath had seemed a cold, unfriendly place to her, the facades of all its fine buildings dripping with rain more often than not. They had entered town having made that nearly insurmountable error of society: coming into a place in which they had no acquaintances and were not of such standing that people immediately wished to become acquainted with them.

  The theatre had been fine enough, in their first week there, but Catherine had hated going to the upper and lower rooms and dancing only with her husband, or the pump-room, where they would drink a glass each of hot, foul water and then stroll around, recognising and being recognised by no-one. She had begun to wonder how long they should have to stay before she could suggest they go somewhere – anywhere – else, although she thought Andrew was beginning to sense her dissatisfaction with the place and might suggest it himself. Such thoughts saddened her, because Bath had always been his plan as a place for them to settle after marrying. When he had put it to her, it had sounded like a good one, but it was approaching the point of failure.