The Victory (11 page)

‘
Surely even your eldest lad must be rather young to be
going to sea?' Chetwyn frowned. 'I don't recall dates very
well, but I remember your wedding, and I can't believe it was
more than nine or ten years ago.'

‘
He's eight this year,' Anstey told him, 'and I think it's too
young, but Louisa insists he can't begin too early. She says
now is the best time to get patronage, before the rush starts.
She says that as soon as war is declared, the great naval clans
like the Parkers and the Cochranes will start manoeuvring,
and all the places will be taken.’

- 'She may very well be right, but I don't quite see what I
can do for you,' Chetwyn said. 'My influence is limited to
Carlton House, and the Prince of Wales, you know, is not at
all interested in the navy.'

‘
Well, when I said the Aylesbury influence, I suppose I was
really thinking of Lucy,' Anstey said. 'She's such a favourite
of Admiral Collingwood, and it would be easy enough for him
to find little John a place.’

Chetwyn's face was immobile. 'I'm afraid you are out of
luck. She's not in Town.'

‘
Oh, what a pity — I wanted to see her,' Anstey said. 'Has
she gone down to Wolvercote?'

‘
No, to Portsmouth, I believe,' Chetwyn said. Out of the
corner of his eye he saw Edward frown, then open his mouth
to ask an awkward question, and he went on hastily, 'but with
Ned beside you, you can have no scruples about using the
name, if you think you need it.’

He turned to Edward and firmly changed the subject. 'Are
you making any sort of stay, now you're here? Because if you
are, you must come with me to my tailor and let him make
you a coat. I've seen you in that brown thing any time these
five years, and it was always hideous, you know. And I've a
new barber, too, who dresses hair to perfection. He could
make a new man of you, Ned, my dear.'

‘
I'm content with the old one, even if you aren't,' Edward
said with a smile, 'but I admit I could do with a new coat.’

Chetwyn eyed him up and down. 'You had much better
wait until you have it, before you go jobbing. Where are you
staying?'

‘
Grillons, I suppose,' Ned answered doubtfully. 'Of course,
we both thought we'd be staying in Upper Grosvenor Street,
but —'

‘
No reason why you shouldn't. The staff are always there
in readiness. I'll write a note for Hicks, and Thorn shall take
it round this morning. No, don't mention it, Anstey. They
might as well be working for their pay. And now, if you'll
excuse me for half an hour while I get dressed, I'll bear you
company across the park.’

*

Lucy's arrival in the courtyard of the Golden Lion in
Portsmouth, driving herself and Weston in her curricle, caused
the sort of mild sensation that she had come rather to enjoy
since she became a countess. Two grooms ran up to the horses'
heads, two manservants came out from the inn to help her
down, and before her feet had touched the cobbles, the land
lord himself appeared with his lady bobbing behind him,
smoothing her apron with one hand and tweaking at his with
the other.

‘
Welcome, welcome, your ladyship! Welcome, sir. We've a
suite of rooms all ready for you, your ladyship, and a cold
collation prepared, should you be in need of sustenance. And may I say, your ladyship, what an honour and a pleasure it is
to see your ladyship here again?'

‘
Thank you, Tully,' Lucy said. 'Have my maid and the
captain's man arrived?'

‘
Oh yes, your ladyship, this morning by the mail. They've
everything arranged as you like it, and your sheets aired and
on the beds.'

‘
Good. My groom will be arriving later with my horses. He's bringing them on from Kingston, where we made the first change. You'll see they're accommodated, won't you?
And have this team taken back to the Green Dragon at
Havant.'

‘
Certainly, your ladyship. At what hour will you be requir
ing dinner, your ladyship?’

Lucy and Weston exchanged a swift glance, and Weston
answered for both. 'We're going straight down to the dock
yard, and we'll dine when we return. It won't be before four
o'clock.'

‘
We'll take a nuncheon before we go,' Lucy said. 'Oh, and
Tully — send word round to Captain Haworth's lodgings that
we are arrived, will you?’

Lucy was no less eager to see Weston's new ship than he
was himself, and they paused only for Weston to change into
his uniform, to eat some cake and fruit, and to attempt to
placate Jeffrey, who was sulking horribly after his long
confinement in a basket, before leaving for the dockyard.

A hackney swept them through the great gates, between
the tall gateposts surmounted by their golden balls, and the
gatekeeper saluted the uniform, and then, peering closer,
called out to the driver where they would find the
Nemesis.
As
they rattled on over the cobbles, Lucy pressed Weston's hand
and said, 'Isn't it wonderful: he not only recognised you, he
knew what your new command is, too. Your reputation must
be much higher than you thought.'

‘
I rather think it was you he recognised, my love,' Weston said, laughing, but he was pleased all the same, as he craned
out of the window for the first glimpse of his ship. 'There she
is!' he cried at last. 'Isn't she a beauty?'

‘
She has got lovely lines,' Lucy agreed. 'She looks fast, too.’

 
‘
Well, everyone knows the French are good ship-designers.
Of course, our ships are built very sturdily, to withstand long service and foul weather, but there's no doubt French frigates
are more graceful to look at.'

‘I didn't know she was French built,' Lucy said.

‘
She was a prize of the Revolutionary War. She was taken
in '98 off the coast of Sardinia. Come on, I can't wait to get
aboard!’

When they got back to the Golden Lion for a late dinner,
Weston's servant Bates told them that the messenger had
come back from Haworth's lodgings to say that the captain
was at sea, but that the two young ladies were there in the
charge of their nurse, Mrs Farleigh, who would do herself the
honour of calling on her ladyship the following day.

‘
Both
girls?' Lucy said to Weston when they were alone. 'I
thought he meant to take Africa to sea with him.'

‘
I dare say he thought it too dangerous, since the purpose
of the trials is to see whether his ship will stay afloat,' Weston
said, helping himself from a dish of peas with mushrooms. 'I suppose he wants to keep them both in Portsmouth until
he is given his proper orders, in case he has time to come
ashore,' Lucy said. 'It's lucky for him old Farleigh was willing
to stay with them. This duckling is very good, Weston. What a
pity you can't keep ducks in a ship.'

‘
If I'm sent on the Brest blockade, I'll be lucky to be able to
keep chickens. They don't take kindly to storms and rough
seas.’

The moment he said it, he wished he hadn't, for there was
no sense in reminding Lucy before time of the dangers of the
Brest blockade. They were as well known to her as to anyone.

The northern part of the Bay of Biscay was notorious for foul
weather and thick fogs; there were hidden rocks everywhere,
some far out from land; the currents and tidal streams were
strong, and all set towards the rocks of Ushant; and the
prevailing south-westerly winds made Brest, with all its
hazards, a lee-shore.

A ship of the line might lie off a little and preserve some sea-
room, but the frigates, to fulfil their purpose of watching the
enemy closely, had to creep in amongst the shoals and the
spiked teeth of hidden rocks, with the knowledge that retreat
ing from danger meant clawing their way out against the
wind. Only during a settled westerly gale, when the French
could not possibly get to sea, could the blockade relax and, if
necessary, run for shelter to a home port.

He sought to distract her by saying, 'I wouldn't take it for
granted, however, that Farleigh's willing to stay on. What do
you think she wants to see you about tomorrow? I'll give you odds she's going to say how wonderful it is that you've come,
so that she can leave the children with you. She'll probably arrive with all their bags packed, drop them on your hearth
and disappear!'

‘
Oh nonsense!' Lucy said robustly, 'Though I quite long to
see Africa again. I wonder how she has liked living ashore?'

‘
You'd have loved to have had her chances when you were
her age, wouldn't you.' Weston said.

‘
Well, I would. Will you carve me some of that lamb,
please? Of course, there'll come a point when he'll have to
send her ashore. It's all right while she's so little, but she can't live amongst sailors for ever, and then I suppose he'll send her
down to Wolvercote to join the rest of the brood.’

Weston thought suddenly and painfully of Roland, and his
hand faltered in the dissection of the roast leg of lamb, and he
looked so utterly stricken that Lucy had no doubt as to what
he was thinking.

‘Oh Weston, don't!' she said in distress.

‘
How can I help it?' he said. 'My son — my only son,
perhaps — and I can never be a father to him. He is to grow
up with another man's name, and not know me.'

‘
But he isn't any different now from what he was before
you knew, and you never cared about him before.'

‘
Oh Lucy, how can you say that?' he said despairingly, ‘You should be proud that he will be an earl one day, and a
very rich one at that. What does it matter what name he
bears?’

He only shook his head, knowing that he could not make
her see it as he saw it. 'And now there's this new child,' he
said in a low voice. 'I can't bear to think that it will be lost to
both of us — discarded like something useless. Our child,
Lucy! It mustn't be!’

Lucy bit her lip. 'I must say I don't care for the idea very
much myself,' she said. 'It is such a trouble carrying them and
bearing them, and it seems hard to be obliged to do it all for nothing.' He could almost have laughed at the inadequacy of
her language. 'But there is nothing to be done about it,' she
went on. ‘Chetwyn won't change his mind.'