A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

“Oh, we came in two days ago, but I did not want to impose. I could see the ship was taking on her victuals.”

  “I am sure it will not be an imposition at all,” said Georgiana, firmly. “I am sure Commodore Stanton would be very disappointed to learn you had been so close, and not come to see him.”

  “Ma’am, Lady Stanton, I – I – ”

  “Come, unless you have something pressing you must attend to, please do come with me,” Georgiana said, thinking he was too scrupulous by half to avoid doing so simply because he did not wish to disrupt a world he knew well enough to mitigate such disruption.

  His countenance gave in, and he gave her a thin little smile. “Very well, you have convinced me.”

  The reluctance seemed to leave him as they walked back toward the ship; he acknowledged Bowden, asking how the man had been getting on since his injury, and then proceeded to ask about other old shipmates. Some, Georgiana did not know, but most were still serving on the Caroline, and she promised he should see them when they reached the ship.

  Matthew was standing on the quarterdeck when they stepped from the quay onto the ship, and came over to them with a look of open happiness upon his face, a look, Georgiana realised, that she had not seen on him in some time. “Campbell, good God, I never should have expected to see you here! Come down with my wife and I, and take some refreshment in the cabin.” He then waved toward Lieutenants Rigby and Egerton, saying, “Come down with us – our old friend is here. Grant, will you be so good as to see to things?”

  Lieutenant Grant nodded, greeting Campbell himself, and Matthew explained how Grant’s promotion had come about as they all went down. The men of the embassy were to return that evening, but for now, the small party had the run of the great cabin. Georgiana went to speak with Hawke about refreshments, was informed that he would have something fit by way of food on the table in a quarter-hour, and that he had been saving the last few bottles of Sillery for a special occasion, and, as he said, “old shipmates is the best occasion there is, milady.”

  By the time she returned and seated herself beside Matthew, the men of the Caroline were well into the story of their journey here so far. Food, Sillery, and tea came out as Hawke had promised, and after they had, Matthew said, “We have spoken far too much about ourselves, Campbell. How came you to be here, in Bombay?”

  Campbell’s countenance regained that reluctant look. “Well – I – took a command of a Company ship, the Maitland. Not many opportunities for a commander, during the peace, and I’m hoping to wed next year, and to do so I’m to save up a little more.”

  Georgiana had noticed he was wearing civilian clothing, but Matthew sometimes did so when they went ashore, and so she had not seen any oddity in it. She did not see why there should be a stigma to commanding a ship of the East India Company rather than a naval ship, but could only presume this had been the cause of his reluctance to see his old shipmates.

  They took the news kindly, however, Matthew saying, “I am glad you were able to find such a command – we have all been exceedingly lucky, with the Caroline, but I know how many have been turned on shore. I am sure you will do a naval sloop much honour, though, if war does break out again.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Campbell, looking a little relieved.

  “And now,” said Matthew, “you must tell us about these plans to marry.”

  This caused Campbell a happier sort of embarrassment, and he told them of a local squire with many daughters, one of whom he had fallen in love with. She returned his affections, but her father was hesitant to let her go to a mere naval commander; with so many daughters, her fortune was small, and while Campbell had saved up much of his prize money and still had his half-pay, they would be fortunate to see more than four hundred pounds a year. Thus, Campbell had promised to take command of the Maitland, see a voyage or two completed in her, and save up more money. If, after a year of this, the couple were still committed, the squire would gladly give her hand over to him in marriage.

  Georgiana listened to his tale with sympathy, although finding it strange. She knew, of course, that there were many in the world who must take pecuniary matters seriously when contemplating marriage, but she had always gone forth in the world with the knowledge that her fortune alone would provide 1,500 pounds a year. Even if Matthew had not won his own fortune, they would have lived quite comfortably.

  Once he had confessed his current command, and been teased a little over the squire’s daughter, Campbell relaxed in the company of his friends, and readily agreed to stay to dine with them. He was sent off, finally, with best wishes for his marriage and good cheer all around, and shortly after this, the men of the embassy came on board and began to settle themselves into their places.

  Georgiana and Matthew retired early to the sleeping cabin, where now hung his wooden cot and the wide, canvas-sided one Bowden had sewn for Georgiana. Wordlessly, Matthew picked his wife up and set her down in the cot – for even in this one, that had become a struggle. Once she was settled, however, he said, “I am very glad you found Campbell today.”

  “So am I,” said she. “I cannot believe he would avoid coming to see you – I can only presume because of his present command.”

  “I think he feared I would look down on it, but of course I do not. I do think it is a shame that a man of his skill should not have a naval command, but sloops have always been rare, and he does not have the interest that would put one in his way during peacetime. It is unfortunate, but I do not think he will ever make post-captain.”

  Georgiana could not truly want Campbell to make post-captain, when such an event could only come with the resumption of war – which she most certainly did not want – and so she was silent.

  “I am glad to have seen him, and to understand his situation, though,” said Matthew, looking very serious. “It makes me realise that the course I have been contemplating over the last few days is the right one. The simple truth of things, Georgiana, is that I have been selfish. You know how I longed for an achievement such as the Polonais, but once I had it, once peace had come, I did not stop. I did not have to seek this command, but I did, rather than letting it go to some man who truly needed it, either for the pay, or the distinction. It would not have helped Campbell, but somewhere there is a post-captain on shore who has suffered because I took this command. And no one has suffered more than you, for my selfishness.”

  “I – Matthew, you cannot – ”

  “You are going to try to defend me, but I wish you would not, Georgiana. You would not have thought those things you accused me of in the carriage, without I had been so selfish. I said I loved you so much I would rather you have married someone else who could have provided you a better, a safer life, but I was wrong. What I ought to have done is provided that life for you myself. There was nothing to prevent it – unlike Campbell and his betrothed, we have fortune enough that I could have retired. But as I said, I was selfish.”

  By now, tears were streaming down Georgiana’s face, but she did not attempt to defend him, both because he had told her thus, but also because she recognised there was truth in what he said. She understood she had felt the truth of it, deep down, for some time, and it was what had prompted such horrible thoughts in the carriage, even if those had not been precisely true.

  He took up her hand, and did kiss it this time. “I am deeply sorry, Georgiana, that it took me this long to realise all of this, and that I had to bring you halfway around the world and put you in such a situation before I did so. I have made a commitment both to the Admiralty and to my men, and so I will finish out this command – so long as it does not endanger you any further – but while there is peace, I will not seek another. We shall retire to the country together, as we should have from the beginning, and I will endeavour every day to be a better husband – and a father, I hope – than I have been.”

  “I never wanted to ask you to sacrifice your career,” she said, shakily. “That was never my intention. I thought I was prepared to b
e a naval wife.”

  “I think neither of us was fully prepared, for any sort of marriage,” said he, smiling vaguely. “We married because we were in love. I do not regret that, but I do regret not making better plans.”

  “Perhaps we could have,” said Georgiana, “but please do not think I regret having come with you. The thought of taking up a life in the country is appealing to me, but I am glad to have seen so much of the world before we should do so. Someday, I hope, we shall tell our children about this journey we took together.”

  “I hope so, too,” he said, laying his hand on her belly, and gently kissing her.

  Chapter 30

  March in Derbyshire showed a little promise that the weather might be better than the previous year, although a return to complete normalcy did not seem likely. It was still colder and wetter than past winters, but Darcy saw enough signs of improvement to order the stones cleared from some of the watercress beds, although he promised Elizabeth that whenever all of the fields were finally cleared, some should be planted for household use in an offshoot of the stream that crossed Pemberley’s grounds.

  March did not show an improvement for many around Lambton and Kympton, however. The lines for soup were as long as they ever had been, and Hodgson continued to report that birds were being poached from Pemberley’s grounds. Darcy still intended to do nothing to pursue those who had done the poaching, although he did give his gamekeeper permission to set a watch. The watch was not allowed to do more than fire their guns in the air, to scare off those who came on the grounds for such purposes, yet this seemed sufficiently effective.

  Elsewhere, March proved that the world had become a harsher, more frightening place. As near as Manchester, a meeting of Lancashire weavers affected by industrialisation was forcibly broken up by dragoons. The Darcys had news of this only after it occurred; in addition to several of the London papers, Mr. Darcy also subscribed to the Manchester Mercury and Derby Mercury, and it was in the former that he read of the event, sharing it with his wife in a shocked tone.

  “I suppose we cannot judge the dragoon commanders for their actions – they must have felt it necessary to protect the peace – but I feel for the poor weavers,” said Elizabeth. “To lose one’s livelihood to the manufactories, and at such a time, I fear must turn men as desperate as the poachers.”

  “I agree,” said Darcy, “and yet I fear these men might have represented far more danger for Pemberley than a few poachers. They were intending to march to London, and their route there would surely have taken them through Derbyshire.”

  Elizabeth shuddered a little at the thought, recalling those violent days in London as the Corn Bill had neared passage. “I have feared rioting outside my home once before – I do not wish to go through it again.”

  “That day may come, I fear, even if it will not be this time,” said Darcy. “There is too much upheaval in this country, too much poverty even among those who toil honestly for their living, and unfortunately too many with means who do not do their part for the poor.”

  Elizabeth said nothing, grieved at what he spoke of. They had done much in the previous year, and would no doubt do more this year, both for their own dependents and others within the parishes that bordered Pemberley, but to hear him speak it seemed as though their part of Derbyshire was an oddity, compared to the rest of the country. An oddity just as vulnerable as anywhere else, if the unrest of elsewhere ever reached it.

  Seemingly thinking as she did, Darcy said, “If unrest ever comes near our lands, Mrs. Reynolds is to take the female servants up to their quarters and lock the doors. And you must take the children to the library, to the secret room there.”

  “And what will you be doing, during this time?”

  “Taking up defence of the house, with the male servants.”

  “While I hide.”

  “While you prevent me from doing something reckless over worry for you, and see to the safety of our sons,” he said, firmly.

  Seeing how troubled she still looked, he reached over and clasped her hand. “It is likely we will never have to put such a plan in motion, but I am glad to have discussed it all the same.”

  “I suppose I am as well, but yes, I pray we never need such a plan.”

  +++

  Despite the difficulties around her, and the lingering concerns that could not but follow such a troubling conversation, Elizabeth in time returned to the contentedness that comprised her life at present. Both visits to Jane and letters from her elder sister showed her spirits continuing to improve, and Amelia growing into a delightful little cherub of a child. Sarah was eagerly corresponding with her brother, planning for the Kelly family’s passage, and her cheerful hopefulness transferred easily to her mistress.

  James and George were now both walking steadily, watched after by Mrs. Nichols and the new undernurse, Miss Sawyer, as well as the maid Martha, who had most convincingly made her case to be promoted into the position of nursery-maid. A lesser young woman might not have been able to handle the demands of aiding in the care of such children, then spending her leisure hours helping around the cottage occupied by her mother and Mrs. Reed. However, Martha’s capacity for hard work and her relief at how well the two widows got on meant she always retained a cheerful demeanour. The twins were slow to expand their vocabularies, but by now they both had a steady command of “mama” and “papa,” the two words that most delighted their parents. They still did not progress evenly, but George’s development in walking had thoroughly convinced Elizabeth that she should have no such expectations. Instead, she should consider herself blessed with sons who were healthy and would each do things at their own pace.

  The only thing, in truth, that threatened her contentedness was her husband. Yes, he had made his promised return to optimism, and the ongoing work with Richardson to reshuffle Pemberley’s farms continued to keep him occupied. But he had also quietly observed to her that Georgiana had now been gone for more than a year, and he wondered when they would receive more letters from her. Elizabeth had quietly soothed that letters sent from halfway around the world must necessarily take longer to reach them, and thus the further Georgiana travelled, the longer her letters must be delayed. Still, she could not entirely assuage his worries, and she thought they would expand, slightly, every day they went without another thick packet forwarded from town.

  Chapter 31

  Georgiana had been right, that she would feel better after leaving Bombay. She had held firm in her choice, and whether it had been the right one or not, she could now focus entirely around preparations for giving birth according to that choice.

  Taylor had produced a finely worked cradle for her, one with rings allowing it to be hung like a cot, but also a rounded bottom, so that if the seas were not rough it could be placed upon the deck and rocked. After her failure to recruit a nurse in Bombay, Georgiana had turned to Rebecca McClare, who, like Moll, had experience in caring for younger siblings, and thus Georgiana had hired on the young woman to give her assistance. Moll, as well, said she would do everything she could, and Mrs. Travis had also promised to lend her time, so that Georgiana at least had no fears of being overwhelmed in the care of her first child.

  It was Moll, though, who proved most helpful in those lengthy days as they sailed south toward the Cape. She took up the bolt of diaper calico and set herself to making tailclouts, while Georgiana sewed little frocks from the finer muslin, feeling these acts of preparing the baby’s layette somehow made what approached more real.

  The realness should have come in the ever-expanding state of her belly. Yet by the time the Caroline had once again crossed the equator, it had become clear that this was to continue beyond the proportions Georgiana had seen in any of the other pregnant women of her acquaintance. Every morning, Moll made some sort of comment indicating she was “about to go,” and yet by the time evening came, Georgiana had not yet gone. She was glad, at least, for the comfort of her new muslin dresses, but generally every day brought new and
increasing discomfitures for her to suffer under: swelling feet and ancles, fatigue beyond even what she had known before, and a need to relieve herself so frequently she had asked Taylor to make her a stool that could go below her cot, so she could get in and out of it several times during the night without disrupting Matthew.

  Dinners with the officers and the embassy now seemed interminable, although Matthew had made good on what had seemed a teaze and hired on a local cook from Bombay. This man, Rahul, seemed to exist in a constant state of conflict with the captain’s existing cook, which Hawke thankfully mediated, allowing Rahul to turn out a steady stream of Indian dishes. These were eaten with zeal by those who had come to favour them during their time in Bombay, although Lady Stanton experienced some measure of good-natured teasing for fearlessly braving any measure of spice, and often pronouncing things to be quite good which would make those men brave enough to try them sweat profusely.

  Lady Stanton found herself sweating profusely regardless of what she ate at dinner, for while the Caroline’s movements would enable the ship to avoid another summer, it was still warm enough to make a woman in her state quite uncomfortable. It was after the latest dinner, which Matthew, sensing how wearying they were for her, had promised should be the last, that Georgiana was lying in her cot, wondering how long it would be before her fresh nightgown became miserably damp. The men of the forecastle were dancing a raucous hornpipe, and although this typically amused her, tonight she could have no patience for it, and shifted in her cot, attempting to get comfortable. There was no comfort to be had, however, and she felt irritation welling up within her. Matthew was still in the great cabin with what remained of the dinner guests, and she was irritated at him for lingering there, irritated with the seamen dancing on the deck above her, irritated at Bowden for not sewing a more comfortable cot.

  By the time Matthew came in, saw her lying there scowling, and asked, “are you still awake, dearest?” she had worked herself into such a state that she could not but respond to him in a snappish manner. To his credit, he took such abuses as she heaped upon him and responded by attempting to soothe her, but none of his endeavours were successful, even his command to Lieutenant Egerton that the merriment of the seamen could continue, but it must do so with less singing and cheering, and most particularly less pounding of feet upon the deck.