The Victory (56 page)

On inclement days she stayed in her father's cabin, and did
her best to comfort Jeffrey, who wandered restlessly about the
unfamiliar spaces, yowling in a lost sort of way, or slept deter
minedly on the lap of anyone who would sit still for him.

The winds were unfavourable, and the journey home was
slow.
Cetus
carried sail tenderly on her jury masts, and
Haworth hove to when necessary, for there was no hurry. The
battle off Cape Trafalgar seemed a hundred years ago, and
any joy or pride there might have been in it seemed
outweighed by the death of Lord Nelson, and the more
personal, sorrowing loss of Weston. There would be glory and
congratulation, and prize-money, and perhaps promotion,
and the jacks looked forward eagerly to the delights of
paying-off in Portsmouth. But Haworth, in his off-duty
hours, as he absently nursed Jeffrey on his lap, could only
keep thinking of how he was going to tell Lucy.

*

On 7 November, Lucy was eating her usual hearty breakfast,
having come back from her early ride in the Park, when the door opened and to her surprise, Chetwyn came in, wearing
his Chinese silk dressing-gown.

‘
What on earth are you doing up so early?' she enquired
mildly. 'Do you want some breakfast? I'll ring the bell —'

‘
No, no, just some coffee,' Chetwyn said, taking a seat
opposite her and yawning. 'How you can eat at this time of
day, I don't know.'

‘
I've worked up an appetite,' she said succinctly. 'What
are
you doing out of bed?'

‘
Robert will be arriving soon. There's a special sale on at Tattersall's and there's a team of match-greys we don't want
to miss.'

‘
Galbraith's?' Lucy said with interest. 'Yes, I've seen 'em.
Good action. Nice mouths, too. Are you after them?'

‘
I might be. You see, when Robert comes of age next year,
he's going to set up his establishment in London, and then
he'll need some decent horses.'

‘Oh, so it's Robert wants to buy them, is it?'

‘
I thought they might make a suitable coming-of-age
present,' Chetwyn said diffidently. Lucy raised an eyebrow,
but refrained from comment. What Chetwyn did with his
own money was his affair, and he had never been less than
generous towards her.

‘
They won't go cheaply,' was all she said, and poured him a
cup of coffee. 'How long is Robert staying this time?’

Chetwyn gave her an engaging smile. 'I don't know. Does
he get in your way? Shall I send him off to an hotel?'

‘
Of course not. I just wondered why he bothers to keep up
the pretence that he's up at Oxford. The nearest he ever gets to his college is Wolvercote Park. Perhaps you ought to pay
him a salary as Roland's tutor, and be done with it.'

‘
How acerbic you are this morning, Lucy,' Chetwyn said
mildly, reaching for the newspaper. 'You see, rising early isn't
good for your temper. Is this today's? What news is there of
the Austrians?'

‘
Nothing more since yesterday. They always were a lily-livered nation, but that surrender on the Danube is beyond
anything. Why couldn't they wait for the Russians? Then
they'd have beaten Boney easily:'

‘
I must say in their defence that if I were facing Boney's
crack troop, armed to the teeth and thirsting for blood, I
wouldn't be inclined to wait for the Russians.'

‘
Thank God we don't have to depend on such allies at sea,
is all I can say,' said Lucy, dabbing mustard on the last of her
mutton cutlet, and Chetwyn looked at her with sympathy.

‘There'll be some news soon, don't worry,' he said.

‘
I'm not worried,' Lucy said, standing up. 'I must go and
get dressed. Good luck with the greys.'

‘
Thanks,' Chetwyn began, and then paused at the sound of
excited voices down below. 'What's going on?' he said, getting
up and going to the door. Hicks was coming up the stairs, with Parslow close on his heels, while a group of servants
lingered in the hall, whispering amongst themselves.

‘
My lady, my lord, there is news at last! A great sea-battle
has been fought off the coast of Spain,' Hicks began, and in
spite of her claim not to be worried, her eyes flew to
Parslow's, to receive the reassurance of a minute shake of the
head. 'Our fleet has met the Combined and defeated them,
my lady, defeated them completely. Twenty ships taken, so
they are saying. A most complete victory.'

‘
How do you know this?' Lucy asked sharply. Hicks
gestured Parslow forward.

‘
It was when I was exercising the chestnuts, my lady,' he
said. 'I always make a point of coming back round by the
Admiralty in case there is any news, and this morning one of
the porters, who knows me, came out when he saw me, to say
that Lieutenant Laponotière of the schooner
Pickle
arrived
from Falmouth in the early hours of this morning, my lady,
with despatches from Admiral Collingwood.'

‘From Collingwood?'

‘Yes, my lady. Admiral Nelson is dead.'

‘Nelson, dead?' Chetwyn interposed. 'Are you sure?'

‘
It is true, my lord. The most tragic loss!' Hicks cried. 'Our
victory is dearly bought, indeed, if it costs us the life of the
Hero of the Nile.'

‘
That will do, Hicks,' Lucy said quickly. 'You may go and
tell the other servants the news. Parslow, I want more details.
Tell me everything you know.’

All day little pieces of news and rumour filtered into the
house, and there was a constant coming and going. Chetwyn
and Robert went out as soon as the latter arrived, but Lady
Aylesbury had more visitors than ever before, for the house in
Upper Grosvenor Street seemed the natural one to visit in the
circumstances. Everyone wanted to tell, ask, and exclaim
about the victory over the French, and the death of Nelson.
The two things were, of course, inseparable, and most of the
day's visitors seemed far more concerned with the latter than
the former.

‘
A glorious, dearly-bought victory,' proclaimed Lady
Tewkesbury, endorsing what seemed to be the popular
conclusion.

‘
What are twenty ships in exchange for Our Hero?' Mrs
Fauncett moaned. 'I declare, I fainted dead away when
Nesbitt told me this morning. I have not felt well ever since.'

‘My maid has been weeping like a baby all day,' said Mrs Edgecumbe.

‘
I feel almost as much envy as compassion,' said Lady
Bessborough. 'He could not have picked out a finer close to
such a life. I think I should like to die so.’

Lucy listened without comment. She remembered how
these same ladies had reviled Nelson earlier that year, when
Villeneuve escaped from Toulon.

Docwra brought her the earliest copy of
The Times
the
next morning.

‘
It's got Admiral Collingwood's despatch printed in it, my
lady,' she said, handing it over, her fingers lingering on one
edge of the page, 'and a list of the killed and wounded.’

Lucy looked up at her sharply, and then laughed, and said,
‘Were you worried, then, Docwra? You are a fool. Frigates don't take part in the battle. Their task is to bring the ships
together, and then withdraw out of range.'

‘
Yes, my lady,' Docwra said, content on this occasion to
receive the abuse. She hovered while Lucy read.

‘
He praises Blackwood's vigilance in watching the enemy,' she said after a moment. 'No mention of — but it is a prelimi
nary report, written in haste. He will give more details later.'

‘I'm sure of it, my lady.'

‘Good God, here's poor Duff of the
Mars
and Cooke of the
Bellerophon
killed!' she exclaimed a little later. "I have yet
heard of none others", says Collingwood.'

‘
Yes, my lady,' said Docwra, turning away with a small,
private smile. Lucy's tone of voice had told her a great deal.

*

There was nothing to do now but to wait for his letter. Lucy
felt like a small stillness at the heart of a whirlwind as the excitement over the Battle of Trafalgar swirled around her
and left her untouched. There were illuminations, representa
tions of every sort on every stage of the battle and Nelson's
last moments,
tableaux vivants,
musical impromptus; there were handbills and paintings and songs and terrible poems;
there were Nelson snuff-boxes and tankards, models of every
size and varying accuracy of the
Victory,
and every sort of
memorial china the ingenious imagination of commerce could
devise.

Honours were announced: Collingwood was awarded a
barony, and immediate confirmation as Commander-in-
Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet, Nelson's old command.
Captain Hardy was to have a baronetcy, and there was to be a
special Trafalgar medal for everyone who participated in the
battle. Nelson's brother was given an earldom, his sisters and
his wife large pensions, and there was to be a state funeral for
the Hero himself, as soon as his dead body could be brought
home. Of Lady Hamilton and the child there was no mention.
No-one wanted to remember at a time like this that his
private life had been irregularly conducted.

So the three weeks of November wore away, and December
came. Chetwyn grew tired of the noise of London and went
down to Wolvercote to ride with Robert; and Lucy remained
in Town to wait for news.

Then on the evening of the 3rd, when Lucy was upstairs
dressing to go to a ball, and Major Wiske, who was to escort her, was standing by the fire in the drawing-room and admir
ing the fit of his breeches in the looking-glass opposite, the
commotion of arrival was heard below.

Lucy was sitting in front of her own glass, while Docwra
adjusted her headdress — a fillet of gold ribbon supporting a
long plume, pinned with a diamond clip — when 011ett
tapped on the door.

‘
Captain Haworth has arrived from Portsmouth, my lady,
and is waiting below.'

‘
Haworth? How wonderful! Oh, what luck I had not
already left for this tedious ball,' Lucy cried, jumping up. 'Never mind that now, Docwra. I can't wait for gloves at a
moment like this!’

She scooped her train over her arm and ran out of the
room and down the stairs like a child, to where the murmur
of voices and the glow of light came through the open
drawing-room door.