A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  He returned her kiss for some time, his hands began to roam in the places where a man’s hands will want to roam when he has been deprived of marital relations for some time, but then he said, “Georgiana, we shouldn’t. We should wait.”

  “Just this once,” she whispered, kissing him again, and letting her own hands roam.

  “Just this once.” He stated this sternly – or at least as sternly as he had ever spoken to his wife, which was not particularly stern at all. Then he shifted on top of her, kissed her again, and began to fumble with the layers of bedclothes between them. “Oh, Georgiana, I have missed you – in this way – so very much.”

  “I have missed you too, Matthew,” she whispered.

  The next morning, Commodore Stanton separated the cots again.

  +++

  Several mornings later, Georgiana awoke early – she had a sense that Matthew had just left the cabin, and his stirrings had been what roused her, but could not be certain of it – and could not return to sleep. She decided to rise early, knocked on the door to the great cabin, and found Moll was there, staring out the stern windows and worrying at some item in her hand with her thumb.

  “I think I shall rise early today,” Georgiana said.

  Moll started, and said, “Oh, milady, I’m so sorry. Let me just put this away, and I’ll be with ye right quick.”

  As Moll spoke, Georgiana caught a better glimpse of the item in her hand, which appeared to be something carved of wood, and she drew closer, curious. She did not ask what it was, but Moll, sensing her curiosity, held it up so Georgiana could see it was a little carved sheep, very finely worked and worn a little shiny.

  “That is very nicely done, Moll.”

  “Taylor carved it for me, milady,” Moll said, and Georgiana thought she detected a hint of a blush. “For to remind me of home and take me cares off me worries.”

  “That was very kind of him,” Georgiana said, blandly. “Do you miss your home?”

  “Sometimes, but I could’na stayed. My parents tried to arrange a marriage for me, with Mr. O’Brien, and he weren’t no better than Lieutenant Holmes – maybe even worse, from what the girls in the village said. I tried to tell ‘em, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  “There are some very cruel men in this world,” Georgiana said, “but there are also some very good ones.”

  “Aye, but I’ve delayed your dress much too long, milady,” Moll said, most certainly blushing now. She pulled open the stern locker where she kept her possessions, placed the little sheep inside, and said, “I was thinkin’ o’ the sprigged muslin, for today?”

  +++

  Moll might have sought to avoid talking of John Taylor, but he was required to come to everyone’s attention soon enough, for old Randle had taken ill in the cold weather. Despite the best efforts of the surgeons, he finally expired not long after the Caroline made her turn north.

  He was laid to rest in a service by Mr. Griffith, thankfully not attended by any sharks, and with a degree of sadness on the countenances of much of the crew through the course of the day. Mr. Randle had held his commission in the Caroline since before very nearly all of them had joined the ship, and if he had been a bit doddering in his old age, requiring the strong young arms of men like Taylor to assist in tasks requiring any degree of strength, he had kept the ship in excellent repair for long enough to make a great many fortunes, and had therefore been looked upon with fondness by all of them.

  Georgiana passed the funeral in the sleeping cabin, listening to the service and then taking up her needlework when it was complete. She was joined soon enough by Matthew; they had only two chairs in this little space, and he seated himself in the second, saying: “Now Taylor shall go from nearly court-martialled, to acting carpenter.”

  “You have made him thus?”

  “Not yet. I will do so tomorrow – today should be for the mourning of poor Randle.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Taylor seems quite skilled. He carved Moll a very nice little animal figurine.”

  “Ah,” Matthew said, giving her a look of some understanding. “He is a bit of a polymath, for the common man. He was my captain of the foretop for many years, but after the action against the Polonais, he was indispensable in repairing both that ship and the Jupiter. His father was a carpenter, and he picked up much of the trade before he went to sea.”

  “I believe you esteem him? I know that I do, for his intervention in the incident with Lieutenant Holmes.”

  “I do esteem him,” he said, “but tell me, Georgiana, do you wish to marry off your lady’s maid? For I seem to recall Kelly was the only candidate willing to serve on board a ship.”

  “I fear I am too sentimental to ignore a developing romance. And I suppose I do hope that if Kelly marries a man in your service, she may continue on as my maid.”

  Chapter 19

  It was June, and the fires were still burning every night at Pemberley. Elizabeth retired to her husband’s bedchamber to find the coals bright in the grate, and him reading a book on crop management instead of the poetry and histories he usually favoured. He had been scouring Pemberley’s library for the past few weeks, seeking a solution for all that plagued his estate, hoping to read of some panacea from a past year that could be applied to this one. They had already done all they could to improve the state of the fields with manual labour: first the simple enlarging of the ditches, and then the work under the tutelage of Sergeant Barnes, who had come north after doing all he could for Longbourn.

  Darcy and Richardson thought Barnes’s assistance had saved some of the winter wheat fields, but some of them had been required to be ploughed under and completely re-sowed with barley, and still others planted with barley in the patches where the wheat looked to be poor. It would be a mixed crop of corn, from those fields, but better, Darcy said, than no corn at all.

  Still, he was concerned. Some fields remained waterlogged, despite all the digging that had been done. Even for those fields that were draining well, the continued damp was not the only problem – the seemingly perpetual rain, clouds, and cold meant there was simply not enough sun and warmth for the crops to grow as they should.

  Elizabeth climbed into bed without commenting on her husband’s choice of reading, and when she had settled, he said, “I am thinking of making a trip to Rosings.”

  “I know things cannot be doing well there, but I do not think you should feel compelled to assist,” Elizabeth said. “Lady Catherine cut the Fitzwilliams of her own choice. If she had not, Edward or Andrew could easily have gone down from Stradbroke to look in on the estate. You have your own estate to look after.”

  “I agree with you, my dear. It is not specifically to look in on Rosings that prompts me to go, although I shall, and I am hopeful Barnes will come with me,” he said. “Do you recall the soup Mr. Hurst served, at Caroline’s wedding breakfast?”

  “I cannot say that I do,” Elizabeth said, utterly confused by this turn in the conversation.

  “It had a vegetable called water-cress in it; I have seen it served at a few dinners, usually as a sallad, but the French do a rather fine soup with it.”

  “Is this water-cress why you wish to go to Rosings?”

  “Yes. Richardson and the steward there have always corresponded with some regularity, but even more so now, and there is a man in Kent who has been cultivating it along the Ebbsfleet for some years. It grows in water, you see, and I think it might be our best hope for those fields that will not drain. I would like to have a look at it myself, in its native element, and although I have little sympathy for Lady Catherine, someone should look in on Rosings. It is Anne’s birthright, really, and she should not suffer for the actions of her mother.”

  “How long would you be gone?”

  “A fortnight, at least, I believe. It does not need to be a leisurely visit, but I should remain long enough to lend my assistance at Rosings. And I thought perhaps to time it so I might stop at Stradbroke for Edward’s wedding, in which case
I believe I would be gone nearer three weeks.”

  “Now you are making me entirely jealous. You shall have a chance to call on Charlotte Collins – you will, will you not? – and to meet Marguerite Durand, while I remain here. Not to mention how very much I shall miss you.”

  “Of course I shall call on Mrs. Collins, but you could go with me, if you think Mrs. Nichols able to feed both of the twins herself.”

  “We could begin them on pap and lessen her burden in that manner, but I do not like the thought of leaving them, particularly as it would mean the end of my being able to nourish them. And I would miss them too much.”

  “More than you would miss me?”

  “Oh, do not ask that question of a mother! It seems they change, day by day, now, and at least you can write to me, while they cannot. But Darcy, could they not come with us? They are nearly six months old now, and very well-behaved, excepting George when he finds himself on his belly, which he loathes, the poor little dear. I think they would be good travellers.”

  “I cannot say I am against your idea, but I am hesitant, to travel so far with children of that age.”

  “What if – Jane and Charles are going to Hilcote, and then on to town, so Jane can attend Caroline during her lying-in,” Elizabeth said, sympathetic to poor Jane, that she had married into a family where this had become one of her sisterly duties. “We shall have to go to Hilcote eventually, and I would rather we had a shorter visit than a longer, so what if we stayed over there for a few nights? We may do our duty in praising Caroline’s situation, and then if the boys are travelling well, we can go on together, and if not, I shall return here with them. Warwickshire is near enough, we would not even need to stay overnight at an inn.”

  “My little trip to Rosings is turning into a tour of Britain,” he said. “Shall we add Scotland to our itinerary? Or perhaps Cornwall?”

  Elizabeth was glad he was teasing her, for it meant he was providing his last, slight protest to her plan, a protest that was very nearly already overcome. Considering whether she should attempt this travel had made her realise how much she would remain trapped in Derbyshire, if her family grew as large as she wanted it to, and the youngest of her children could never leave the nursery. She loved Pemberley – she would much rather be there, than town – but she did not wish to remain there constantly for much of her childbearing years.

  +++

  Darcy had teased over their going on a tour of Britain, but once he had agreed to Elizabeth’s plan, there was a goodly deal of correspondence and planning they needed to attend to. Jane, upon the scheme being put to her, reacted with an excess of enthusiasm, and Elizabeth realised with a sinking feeling in her stomach that if her boys were not good travellers, she was likely to be encouraged to stay at Hilcote until the party left for town, and that she likely would, for poor Jane’s sake.

  The Fitzwilliams, whose nursery had been inhabited for some years, could easily accommodate more children so long as they came with their own nurse, and Lady Ellen replied to Elizabeth’s query with the hopes that the entire Darcy family might make the journey to Stradbroke, so she could meet her young nephews. Lady Catherine’s response indicated she was insulted at the notion that the Rosings nursery was not ready to receive children, for regardless of what her Fitzwilliam relations thought, Anne could undoubtedly bear a child, and that space was ready for when she married and did so.

  This response was received sceptically – Elizabeth wondered what sort of panicked scrubbing the poor maids of Rosings had been set upon. But still, it meant that all the houses they had proposed staying in would be ready to receive her sons, and so long as the weather was not any worse than it had been over the past few months, the twins should only be required to spend one night at a coaching inn. She began, therefore, to prepare in earnest for her family to travel.

  Chapter 20

  For the past few days, Georgiana had been engaged in calculations she was not particularly skilled to make. They were not, unfortunately, calculations for which she was presently inclined to seek assistance.

  They had been about two months between Gibraltar and the Cape, in what Matthew had called a remarkably fast passage. According to the charts she had been surreptitiously surveying in the sleeping cabin, it was rather farther from the Cape to China, even without stopping at Java, as was planned, which might add a fortnight, if not more. Then there was the amount of time required for the embassy to complete its business – a month? two? even three? – and the planned stop at Bombay before their return home.

  Even in her most optimistic and amateurish calculations, it would be more than ten months before they returned, which meant that if Georgiana was pregnant, as she suspected she was, the child was likely to be born in the midst of an ocean – if she carried it to birth. Her suspicions were, as yet, just suspicions, borne of having experienced early pregnancy twice already. Her bosom was fuller, she felt an occasional light-headedness, and she was presently a few days late in her courses.

  Now, only now, did Georgiana fully comprehend that Matthew’s desire to wait had not only been to allow her womb time to heal, but also to ensure they were far enough into their journey that she should not fear what she did, presently. Yet to fear bearing a child on board this ship was to fear what Georgiana’s mind wished to pessimistically dismiss – that she could bring this possible child to birth. If she could hide the more obvious physical symptoms when they came, she would have attempted to do so, for to worry Matthew over a child she was like as not to miscarry was not something she wished to do. So she kept her calculations to herself, and when she asked Matthew in an innocent tone when he thought they would touch at Java, he thought it due to general eagerness of seeing a new port, rather than his wife’s seeking a new number to add to her calculations.

  A few days following this, Matthew came into the great cabin, where Georgiana and some of the men of the embassy were passing the day, Georgiana in her pianoforte practise. He informed them all that they were recommended to take as much air upon the deck as they could, while they could, for the barometer was dropping, and they were likely to encounter a storm.

  This advice was taken by all, and well it was, for Matthew’s promised storm was a strong one, the waves around the ship forming tremendous peaks and valleys, and the wind shrieking, Moll said, like a banshee. There was novelty, from the genteel, in observing such phenomena, of going on deck and very nearly being blown over, but eventually the hatches were battened down and everyone who did not have some duty to perform kept to his or her quarters.

  During this storm, Lady Stanton was unexpectedly and most violently ill. No-one noticed the time of day in which she was first required to use a fire-bucket for this illness – it was early in the morning – but once she had, her illness continued throughout the course of each day. Sometimes in the evenings she was able to keep down a little ship’s biscuit, pounded into crumbs and soaked in portable soup, but generally she laid prostrate in her cot, only rising to make use of the fire-bucket.

  Commodore Stanton, as may be expected, worried over both the survival of his ship and the health of his wife. He was on deck through most of the storm, occasionally repairing below to check on Lady Stanton, or to turn in all-standing to his cot and catch a few hours of sleep in his sopping-wet clothes.

  On one of these occasions, he was rubbing his wife’s back as she laid groaning in her cot, and he said, “Dearest, I am so sorry. You have always been such a good sailor, but a storm such as this may make anyone seasick. If it is any consolation, I think we are very nearly through the worst of it.”

  “That is some consolation,” Georgiana said miserably, “but Matthew, I am not seasick. Or if I am, it is only the present strength of the waves making the inevitable worse. I am not seasick – I am pregnant.”

  “Oh, Georgiana,” he said, and no more. Although he might have wished to discuss the implications of his wife’s revelation – and apply some degree of expertise to the calculations she had been making –
this time, while she was lying there in misery, was not the time to do so.

  +++

  The storm passed, but it was a full day beyond this before Georgiana found herself once again able to eat proper food with every hope of keeping it down. It was well after noon when she did this, very nearly shaking with hunger as she (having gone a half-hour without losing the first egg Hawke had placed before her) proceeded to consume a large quantity of eggs and rashers of bacon, seated at the little table that was assembled in the sleeping cabin whenever it was needed as a dining space.

  Matthew came in, smiled gently, and seated himself across from her. “You are looking much better today. How are you feeling?”

  “Better – but very hungry.”

  He stayed with her while she ate, looking on with mild amusement as his wife, usually very cautious of being delicate at the table, continued to eat voraciously. Then her pace slowed, and she looked up at him, seeing his expression rapidly turn sober. Hers followed, and she gazed at him, waiting for him to speak.

  He exhaled, long and slow. “It is my fault. I knew of the possible consequences, but in that moment – in lust – I set them all aside.”

  “You cannot think that, Matthew. I knew of the consequences as well, and I encouraged the matter far more than you,” she said, feeling her face grow warm.

  “You understood it was too early in the journey?”

  “So it is, then,” she stated, and he nodded in confirmation. She continued: “I do not think I understood that consciously, but if I had thought on it at all, I certainly would have. Neither of us was thinking clearly on that night. I do not think it means either of us should be to blame. We laid together as man and wife – which we are – and we conceived a child. There is nothing wrong in that.”