A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  “He will not be court-martialled, however much I wish it.”

  “But what he did – ”

  “I see you wish for it as much as I do, but unfortunately there is a third in this incident, to whom I must give consideration.”

  “Yes, Taylor – why did you order him put in the bilboes?”

  “At first, to allow some cooling-off of all that had happened. He remains in the bilboes for the same reason I shall not bring Holmes to court-martial. Holmes threatened if I did, he would bring charges against Taylor, for striking him. You and I and any reasonable man would see that Taylor did so in defence of Kelly, at least at first, and that if he carried on with it far longer than was necessary, it was only out of anger at seeing a woman treated thus. But it remains that he struck an officer, repeatedly, and it is not always reasonable men who sit in judgment of such matters. Taylor has been with me since my first command, and I will not gamble with his life – I would never forgive myself, to see him swing from the yard-arm. He will be punished here, on the ship, so Holmes cannot say later that Taylor’s striking of him was overlooked.”

  “Punished – will he be flogged?” Such an event had only happened once since Georgiana had been on the Caroline – a case of extreme drunkenness – although she had of course been sent below so she would not witness it. She knew it was the most common form of naval punishment, and only rare on the Caroline because most of the ship’s crew were veteran sailors. Matthew, already a popular captain, had enjoyed his choice of men given the peace.

  “Not if I can help it, but it will be a delicate matter.”

  “And Holmes is to go free, after what he has done?”

  “He will go free, eventually, but he will not remain on this ship. After some negotiation, we agreed that I will not bring charges against him, so long as he misses the Blue Peter when we are at Cape Town. There, he will determine he has no way of catching up with the ship, and will return to England.”

  “It feels so wrong, that he should not be punished for what he attempted to do.”

  “It was only an attempt, then? He said it was, but I was not sure whether to believe him. Not that this lessens his guilt, for that was surely his intent, but I hoped for her sake he was telling the truth.”

  “It was only an attempt because of Taylor. I suppose if Holmes must go free to protect Taylor, it is the best thing that can be done in such a situation.”

  “I am glad you agree with me, dearest. I will admit there is a part of me that wishes to trumpet to all the service that Holmes is neither a gentleman, nor an officer, nor even a seaman, and that he is instead the worst of men. Yet even if it were not for Taylor, I think after some reflection I would have been hesitant to have this incident made public.”

  “Why?”

  “This sort of scandal always seems to attach itself better to the woman involved rather than the man who commits the crime. I would have wished to ensure her anonymity for Kelly’s sake, but if anonymity had been successful and it got out that a woman travelling on the Caroline had been violated – well, there are only four women travelling on this ship, and you are one of them.”

  “I do not know that I want a man of Holmes’s proclivities to go free, merely for care of my own reputation.”

  “Well, perhaps fortunately, perhaps not, that is not the choice at hand. It is Taylor’s life at stake, not Kelly’s or your reputation.”

  +++

  Moll seemed a little better in the morning, but still of such a subdued demeanour that she reminded Georgiana more of her elder sister than herself. Such a thing might have been a positive development, for Sarah Kelly had impeccable manners, but for what had clearly precipitated the change.

  The day being fine, Georgiana spent the requisite time breaking her fast in the great cabin with some of the men of the embassy, then went on deck. There was no sign of Matthew, whom she vaguely recalled having left their cabin very early in the morning, before she had gone back to sleep. Georgiana spent some time at the railing, gazing out at the endless expanse of blue before her, before Bowden approached her, did his awkward combination of forelock tug and salute, and said, “Milady, the captain called for defaulters at six bells, and if’n ye don’t wish to witness pun’shment I’ll take ye down when it’s time.”

  “Thank you, Bowden, I think I will stay on deck, but near enough to the companion-ladder that you may escort me down if anything is called for that a lady should not witness.”

  “Very good, milady,” said Bowden, looking a little relieved. Taylor was his messmate, and Georgiana’s indication that it was possible there should be no punishment she could not witness must have buoyed his hopes that his friend would not be flogged, or worse.

  Six bells, and the ship’s company assembling on deck. Moll came up and went to stand by Mrs. McClare, who seemed to have been informed of at least something of the incident, for she put her arm around her friend’s shoulders as they stood there, watching the seamen line up in their divisions. Whether Lieutenant Holmes was still under marine guard or simply did not wish to appear could not be told, but he did not make an appearance on deck.

  Matthew did, however, looking harried as he watched the marines bring up Taylor, walking stiffly from having spent the night in the bilboes and presenting two well-scraped sets of knuckles. Matthew, when all had assembled, and the bell had rung – pom-pom, pom-pom, pom-pom – opened up the Articles of War, and commenced a full reading of them, with even more than his usual gravity.

  When he had done, he paused for a moment, then said, “We have one defaulter this morning. John Taylor has been witnessed striking a superior officer. Have any of his officers anything to say on his behalf?”

  “I do,” said Rigby. “Taylor served in my division, when I was a mid on the old Victor, and I knew him then and ever since as a good, reliable man. I understand there was a severe provocation leading to his actions, which few good men could have failed to respond to.”

  “I do as well,” said Grant, whose best uniform still seemed a little ill-fitting on him. “Taylor served in my division, during the American war. It is my understanding that Taylor came upon the – the – officer in question in conduct quite – err – unbecoming of an officer – and any violence that occurred came as a result of wishing to stop the – err – conduct.”

  “He fought courageously during the battle with the Polonais, and then worked tirelessly to repair both the Jupiter and the Polonais, following the battle,” said Egerton. “He would not sleep until he was sure we would bring them both in with their bows above the waterline.”

  “Aye,” said old Randle, the carpenter. “He been a good mate for me, ne’er shirks ‘is duty, allus sober an’ reliable. Hard worker. Good man.”

  Others stepped forward. Travis, Ashton, and several other midshipmen all spoke, until it became clear to Georgiana that Matthew’s apparent exhaustion had come from being up and about early, to ensure that anyone who might have had anything good to say about Taylor would say it. His officers would not inform on Holmes, but neither would they see a good man punished for stopping his misconduct. When at last it seemed that no one else was to step forward – and perhaps there was truly no one left to step forward – Matthew said:

  “Well, this has been an exceedingly positive account of Taylor’s conduct, and given there were – extenuating circumstances – involved in this incident, I am inclined to be lenient. Taylor is to have his grog stopped for a week.”

  Georgiana exhaled in relief, and then smiled, that Matthew should have made this come as right as could be. She glanced over at Moll and saw her maid was too relieved to smile, and was instead threatening tears.

  Chapter 13

  Catherine returned to her lodgings on Gay Street, feeling she had perhaps consumed a bit too much marzipan at Molland’s with Louisa Elliott, but not entirely regretful that she had done so. She found Andrew was still out, having gone to the baths with several other captains, all of them finding the damp weather brought out traces
of old injuries and rheumatism; Andrew suffered from the former, several ribs that had been broken when he was a midshipman, and had been aching of late.

  There was a letter waiting for her, from her father, and Catherine opened it to find herself being addressed by him in a manner she never would have been before her marriage, as a mature young woman able to understand her father’s concerns, which were many. Snow, of all things – snow in April! – had all but destroyed the fields that had been ploughed for Longbourn’s spring planting, and her father already considered the winter wheat a near loss, to be replaced in that spring planting. His fields remained waterlogged, and through all of this, Mrs. Bennet continued in her plans to refurnish the drawing-room.

  Catherine read all of this and was not sure whether she should be pleased that Mr. Bennet considered her a worthy correspondent, to write of these topics to, or angered that it was only through the opportunities given to her by others – namely Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy – that Catherine had become someone who should have something intelligent to say about all that befell Longbourn.

  It should have been no concern of hers – she and Andrew had more than a thousand pounds a year, and such a fortune went far in Bath. Their fortune came from his prize money and half pay, and her dowry (a dowry provided largely by her brothers-in-law), and thus required no management beyond ensuring it was invested properly, which Andrew monitored, keeping most of it safely in the five per cents. And yet as Catherine read through the letter again, she could not help but feel that – as she had been when her father’s health was at risk – she was the only one of his daughters in a position to go to Longbourn and lend her assistance. Jane and Elizabeth were married to men with their own estates, Mary had married a clergyman tied to his church, and Lydia was in America, now, settled in the city of Philadelphia.

  And her father had been very apologetic to her, once he had been well enough to do so. He had indicated his regret in not seeing her merits earlier, as others had. Yet it was to those others, to Elizabeth and Jane and Charles and Mr. Darcy, and most particularly her husband, that she now held her strongest allegiance, and she refolded the letter in some turmoil over what she should do about it.

  “You see, papa, if I was such a silly, frivolous girl as you once thought I was, I would not have given your letter a second thought,” she murmured, slipping it into the little box where she held her correspondence.

  Andrew returned, and they dressed for that evening’s assembly, going thither in the great line of sedan chairs as they should, although Catherine could have walked such a distance easily. It was only after they had greeted their acquaintances and were dancing that Andrew spoke of his wife’s clearly distracted countenance.

  “What’s the matter, pretty Cat?” he asked.

  “I had a letter from my father today,” she said. “Much of the spring planting has been ruined by the snow, and the fields do not drain.”

  “It sounds as though your father needs a few marines,” he said, but before he could elaborate, they were separated by the dance.

  “What do you mean by my father’s needing a few marines?” she asked, when they had come back together.

  “In the few times when I have had need to camp ashore, there have been none so zealous as my marine lieutenants as to how the encampment should be established, and few things they cared more about in their zeal, than proper drainage.”

  It was only after they had finished their dance and he had gone to get her a very fine glass of punch à la romaine that they returned to the topic, when Catherine asked, “How do you think my father might be able to consult with someone of the marines, on draining his fields?”

  “Are things so bad that your father has need of such assistance?”

  “I believe they are.”

  “Then do you wish to go to Longbourn?”

  “No, what I wish to do is to stay here and spend my days shopping and having tea at Molland’s and going to assemblies and the theatre with our friends,” Catherine thought, but what she said was: “I think I shall feel guilty if I do not. At the very least, perhaps I can talk my mother out of refurnishing the drawing-room.”

  “Then let us go down to Portsmouth, first, and see if we might rouse up a marine officer and some number of seamen, for if there is to be drainage, there must be digging. It should not be hard to find men seeking work, with the peace.”

  “Are you sure, Andrew? This was meant to be our time, and I feel badly that we should cut it short.”

  “You should never feel badly about wishing to help your family, Cat, and in truth I find myself a little out of sorts without some manner of occupation. If there is a thing to be done, I’d much rather do it, and so long as I can still share a bed with my Cat at Longbourn, I am happy to go there.”

  Chapter 14

  Elizabeth spent increasing amounts of time in the nursery. It was not just that the weather continued poor, although it did, but more because it seemed to her that her sons were transitioning from the soft, needy bundles of their infancy – although she had adored them then, as well – to actual little boys, their personalities beginning to form.

  Their laughing together had become a frequent thing, since that first time she and Darcy had observed it, but Elizabeth had never grown complacent about it. Every time she heard them, she found it completely delightful to her ears, and on the few occasions when no-one else was in the nursery with her, she joined them, delighted the boys were not shy about continuing to laugh with their mama.

  On this day, they were not alone – poor Mrs. Padgett sat beside Bess’s cradle, waiting for the time when her sleeping charge should wake and require nursing, or changing, or a good pounding upon the pianoforte with her little fists. So Elizabeth was pleased enough to sit between James’s and George’s cradles, and listen.

  She lost track of time, and was startled out of her listening by the entrance of her husband. He had been out riding and had since changed his clothes, but his hair still bore signs of dampness, and his countenance of worry. For the first time, Elizabeth had an impression of what he would look like when he was older, for in this moment he appeared well beyond his one and thirty years of age.

  He brought another chair over to where she was sitting and seemed for the time to simply want to sit quietly with his family. Elizabeth was glad to have introduced this – if not panacea – then at least some means of distraction from his worries. She learned, however, that his quietude was not caused wholly by these motivations, but by the desire for privacy, for when Bess awoke and was carried off crying out for her instrument by Mrs. Padgett, he finally said:

  “There is little use in trying to sow nearly half the fields. They would never hold seed in their present state. Some, with a week or so of dry weather – and let us pray we have it – may be brought to readiness, but there are others entirely under water, and likely to be so for some time.”

  “Oh, Darcy, I am so sorry. I had hoped things would have turned around by now.”

  “So had I.”

  “You know of the Ramseys’s plans for Longbourn with this Marine Sergeant, Barnes. Do you think a similar scheme might help here?”

  “I would try anything with even the slightest chance of helping, and if he is successful at Longbourn I should like to bring him out here when he is done, but I see no need to wait for him. Many of the ditches are overflowing, and we may dig them out deeper without any expertise, I think.”

  “That seems a good plan,” Elizabeth said. She did not know if it would be successful, but she had the sense that anything with the promise of some benefit, anything into which his focus could be directed productively, would be a good thing for her husband right now.

  The twins had drifted into sleep, and they left them quietly, querying a servant as to where the Bingleys were. They were informed that Mrs. Bingley was in the saloon and Mr. Bingley still out for the day. This was not a surprise: Charles, like Darcy, was dealing with the poor condition of his estate’s fields, with the added
disadvantage of not living on his estate, so that he was required to ride over every day. A few times, he had been so absorbed in his duties there that he had needed to dispatch a servant back to Pemberley, informing them that Mr. Bingley would be staying over at Clareborne for the night. This, however, was not something Charles did often; in addition to the needs of his pregnant wife at Pemberley, Clareborne Manor had only the minimum of staff available to see to their master’s comforts, and the house had never been a dry one – one of the primary reasons for its being replaced – so in this weather it must have been wet through and through.

  They joined Jane in the saloon, therefore, Elizabeth quietly asking Parker as they went in if a bottle of port particularly favoured by Mr. Darcy might be brought up from the cellar and the master brought a glass. This took some time, in a house so large as Pemberley, and they had been seated perhaps a quarter-hour before Henry came in and presented a glass to his master. Darcy thanked him and took it, gazing particularly at his wife, whom he must have suspected to be behind this little comfort.

  Elizabeth’s plan to soothe her husband seemed to be taking effect until Henry returned with a packet of letters, bundled up in oiled silk and then a sheet of address. Such a thing could only be from Georgiana, and it contained a missive each, for Elizabeth and Darcy. Elizabeth took hers up, but read slowly, half her attention on her own letter and half her attention on her husband’s reaction to what he read in his. Georgiana had surely formed some part of his worries – not so direct and visible as what was happening on his estate, but worries, nonetheless – and Elizabeth hoped his pages would soothe those worries. Her hopes were ended when he cried out: “Good God!”

  Elizabeth and Jane both worriedly asked what had prompted his concern, and Elizabeth skimmed her own letter to see if she could find the same news. He read on silently for a little while, then said, “Do you recall there was an embassy sent to China, under Lord Amherst?”