The Victory (35 page)

‘
You are very thin,' Lucy commented as he tore into a
piece of bread with more appreciation than elegance. 'I hope
Bates looks after you properly.'

‘
He tries to, but I make his life difficult for him, I'm afraid.
There are so often more important things to do than eat. You
haven't asked what the news is, yet.'

‘
I assumed you'd tell me. It must be important, to warrant
all this haste.'

‘
It is. Missiessy's back in Rochefort! He slipped in with his
five ships two days ago, while everybody thought he was still
in the West Indies. I was with Calder's squadron when we
spotted them off Finisterre, and he sent me to trail them and
then report to the Admiralty.'

‘
Then it looks as though Collingwood was right,' Lucy said.
'He believed that the expedition to the West Indies was a ruse
to draw us off, and that Missiessy and Villeneuve would be back as soon as possible.'

‘
He's a smart man, our Colly,' said Weston through a
mouthful of cold beef. 'If that's the case, it would account for
all the activity that's been going on in Brest. We've been
expecting a sortie every day for months, but Ganteaume
keeps getting as far as Bertheaume Bay, at the mouth of the
road, and then putting back again.' He grinned. 'Some fisher
men we've got friendly with along the coast have a nice little
song they sing about him.

There was an Admiral Ganteaume,

 
Who when the wind was in the east

 
Sailed out from Brest to Bertheaume;

 
And when the wind was in the west,

 
Turned round and sailed back home to Brest.'

What were you doing with Calder's squadron?' Lucy
asked.

‘
Reporting on Ganteaume's movements, of course. That's
the joy of commanding a fast frigate — you get released from
blockade every
now and then. I must say, I didn't expect to be seeing you while I was here, though. I thought I might be able
to find time to scribble you a letter and have it sent round to
Upper Grosvenor Street, but no more than that. How long
have you been in Plymouth?'

‘A month.'

‘
There's dedication for you! And how are things with you?’

 
‘
Very well, on the whole,' she said, and told him about
Chetwyn's improved state of mind.

‘
And the child?' he asked eagerly. 'How is he? Has he
grown?'

‘
Héloïse sends me letters from time to time, about teeth and
colics and so on. I think she said in the last one that he was
walking well and talking a little — or was it the other way
round?’

Weston looked at her, perplexed. 'You haven't been to see
him?'

‘
No,' she said, and gave him a helpless look. 'Weston, I
can't help it. He's just a baby. I don't find babies very inter
esting. He's being well looked after, you know.’

He turned his face away from her and stared out of the
window unseeingly, and she watched him, gripping her hands
together in her lap against a new and unfamiliar hurt. In a
moment he spoke, his head still turned away.

‘
I think about him so often. I imagine holding him, playing
with him. I think what it would be like to be able to watch
him grow up, with you beside me. I'm sorry.' He looked at her
now, and she hated the sadness in his face, because it made
her feel so useless. 'I shouldn't say things like that. You can't
help your nature, any more than I can help mine. And I've
always loved you as you are.'

‘
You don't understand,' she said with difficulty. 'I've
thought, too, about —' She frowned, seeking words for things
she was not used to expressing. 'Do you remember the
summer we spent at Great Wakering? I've imagined what it
would be like to live there with you, like ordinary people. We
were happy there. But we aren't ordinary people.’

He took her hand and stroked it warmly. 'No, I suppose not.'
They travelled in silence for a while, and when she looked at him again, she saw he had fallen asleep from sheer exhaus
tion, his head tilted back against the dusty squab. He was
worn out, she thought, by months of unending tension. He
was pale under his tan, and there were deep grooves beside his
mouth which had not been there before, and his cheekbones
were too prominent. His eyelashes trembled as he slept un
easily, and she had a sudden, foolish urge to kiss his eyelids,
and his sleeping mouth, and to cradle his head against her
breast, as if he were a child.

The sensation surprised her. She had never felt protective
towards him before, nor towards anyone; but now she wanted
to be everything to him, not just lover and friend, but
mother, and wife. She had a brief mental picture of her and
Weston walking along the overgrown path beside the creek at
Great Wakering, with a small child between them, each of
them holding a hand as its uncertain feet stumbled on the
uneven turf. Did such things ever happen, even to other
people? Would they be pleasurable? Far back in her mind,
behind the picture, she had a dimly perceived apprehension that pleasure of that sort was only bought at the price of an
equal pain.

His eyes flickered open, and he looked at her unrecognis
ingly for an instant, blank from the deadness of sleep. She felt
a surge of fear that made her clutch his hand, waking him
properly, so that he shrugged himself upright, and apologised.

‘
I didn't mean to go to sleep. I'm sorry. Lucy, what is it?
You look quite pale.’

She shook her head, still holding his hand tightly, unable to
tell him that she had seen the image of a world without him, and it had terrified her. 'I missed you when you were away,'
she said at last.

From her, he knew, it was a great deal.

*

While he was in the Admiralty she went with the chaise to the
nearest post-house and changed the horses, and was waiting
for him when he came out. He noted the change of team, and
nodded to her as he climbed up beside her.

‘
Yes, I have to go straight back. They never have enough
frigates, and can't spare mine even for a day.’

Lucy gave the order to the post-boys, and sat back. 'We'll
take our dinner at Kingston. Even sea-officers have to eat.'

‘
One good piece of news,' he said. 'I'm to join Colling
wood's squadron, off Cadiz. Barham thinks that if Villeneuve
does come back from the Caribbean, he'll probably head for
Cadiz, to try to pick up more Spanish ships. The old boy
didn't say anything, but I think he's desperately worried. One of the secretaries said that the shortage of men and ships was
so bad that Barham's afraid we might have to give up the
blockade by the end of the year.’

The journey back to Plymouth was accomplished almost as
fast as the journey to London. They slept on the road, as
before, stopping only for meals, and arrived at the George
very weary in the late afternoon.

Parslow came out to meet them in the yard, with the latest
information about wind and tide. 'I thought you'd need to
know, sir, so I made sure I kept myself apprised of the situ
ation. And the harbour master says that the
Nemesis
was
revictualled and watered in accordance with your instruc
tions, and she's all ready to sail at an hour's notice.'

‘You're a remarkable man, Parslow.'

‘
Thank you, sir. I took the liberty, sir, of making some
purchases of cabin stores on your behalf, and having them
sent aboard. And there's a fire in your chamber, my lady, and
I can have a bite of food brought up within the hour.’

Lucy looked enquiringly at Weston, and he nodded
towards the stairs. 'I can spare an hour. If high tide's not until
seven, provided I'm back on board by six, we can sail on the
ebb.’

In the privacy of her chamber, Lucy turned towards
Weston, and he took her in his arms with a weary sigh.

‘
When this crisis is over, my Lucy, I am going to give up
the sea, and find myself some occupation on shore, and
dedicate all my waking hours to you. This piecemeal business
is very bad for love.’

She leaned against him, trying to make herself feel to the
full the joy of being with him, but all she could think was that
he was going away again in such a very short time. Behind
him she could hear the crackling of the fire, and the relentless
ticking of the clock eating away at their only, precious hour.

‘Weston,' she said urgently, tilting her head back.

His eyes had been shut again, but he opened them and
smiled down at her with a sleepy, 'Hmm?'

‘
I don't want to waste any of the time we've got left,' she
said.

His smile became a grin. 'Quite right. Whatever was I
thinking of? Shall we lock the door, or have you warned the
servants not to disturb us?’

Her cheeks grew a little pink. 'I wasn't thinking of that,'
she said.

He cupped his hands over her breasts and bent his head to
kiss her on the lips. 'Ah, but you are now.’

*

Despite everyone's doubts, James's new stables at Twelvetrees
were finished at the end of July, in good time for a grand opening ceremony to coincide with the beginning of race-week. Roberta was coming up to Shawes, and had offered
James the ballroom and her services as hostess for a cele
bration ball in honour of the occasion.

‘So it won't matter if Mary Ann doesn't come back in time,' he said to Edward.

‘
I'm sure she will,' Edward said. 'She knows how important
the stables are to you.'

‘
I'm sure she won't. Not even for a fountain that really
works, and music, and fireworks after dark. It really doesn't
matter. She evidently enjoys her visits to Manchester, and
I've no wish to deprive her of that pleasure.'

‘
Chetwyn's coming, at any rate,' Edward said with deep
pleasure. 'I don't know how it is, but I don't seem to have
seen him for an age.'