The Victory (12 page)

‘We could defy him,' Weston said.

Lucy put down her fork and looked at him sadly. 'Oh
Weston, you don't begin to understand. I'm his wife, I am
completely in his power. He would break you, and ruin you.
And he could lock me up and keep me as a prisoner, if he
wanted.'

‘I would come and rescue you,' he said stubbornly.

‘
And what use would that be, if you were a proscribed man,
a debtor, a beggar?'

‘
We could go abroad. He couldn't touch us there.’

 
‘
Where abroad? We'll be at war any day now.'

‘
The war won't last for ever. Or we could go to America.' She shook her head. 'And live on what? I don't want to be a
beggar in a foreign country. How could we be happy, always
wondering where our next meal was to come from? No, we are
better off as we are. He has not said we must not see each
other.'

‘
And how long will that last?' Weston said bitterly. 'We live
by the whim of his charity.’

Lucy stared at him helplessly. 'It's the best we can do,' she said at last, gently for her. 'Please, Weston, try not to mind it
so much.’

He made an effort, for her sake, and after a moment
resumed carving the lamb. 'Where will you go to have the
baby? Have you decided yet?'

‘
I shall stay here for now,' she said. 'There's no need to
hide myself until my condition starts to show. Later ... I
don't know.'

‘
I wish you could go back to Yorkshire. I should like to
think of you being with friends while I'm at sea.'

‘
If I stay at Morland Place, everyone in Yorkshire will
know I'm increasing,' she said with a faint smile. He laid the
slices of lamb on her plate, and she lifted her glass to him and
said, 'Let's be happy while we can. We have a few days yet.'

‘
A week, at least. I have to man her and complete the stores
and set up the rigging. I'll be busy every day, but we can dine
together and sleep together until I get my orders.'

‘
I'll find plenty to amuse me during the daytime, I promise
you,' Lucy said.

‘
Including Farleigh tomorrow morning,' Weston reminded her with a teasing smile. 'If she does leave the children with
you, you'll have your time well occupied.’

Weston wronged the elderly lady's maid, however. She
brought the little girls to visit Lucy the next day, but though
she looked thin and drawn and tired, she said at once that she
would stay with her charges until Captain Haworth finally
sailed and Hippolyta was safely at Wolvercote.

‘
And I shall not cease to try to persuade him to let me take
both
girls there,' she said firmly.

The sisters were as different as they could be. Hippolyta
was almost nine, a dainty child, pretty as a porcelain figurine,
with delicate features, and alabaster skin, wide blue eyes, and
smooth dark ringlets. Though not in the least shy, she was
grave and self-possessed in a way that had always seemed
unnatural to Lucy in a child. She sat exactly where she had
been placed, with her hands in her lap, and replied to ques
tions with well-schooled politeness.

Africa resembled her sister very little. Where Hippolyta
was very like her mother in looks, Africa favoured her father,
having his rounder face and irregular features. Her skin was
sun-browned and her cheeks were red, her hair an unruly
mass of curls,, and only dark brown where Hippolyta's was almost black. She did not sit quietly where she was placed,
but fidgeted and walked around the room looking at things
and peering out of the windows. Her expression was alert, her
eyes sharp, and when addressed, she answered in a much
bolder way than her sister — not impolite, but freer than was
usually considered proper in a small child.

Lucy could see that Farleigh was in agonies about her,
fearing that Africa's strangeness would reflect on her. Africa
did not remember her aunt, but Lucy engaged her in a
conversation about ships which quickly won her the little
girl's respect. When it emerged that Lucy had once served as
a King's officer Africa's eyes grew wide with admiration, and
she demanded the whole story from beginning to end, with
details.

‘
I can't tell it now; it would take too long,' Lucy laughed,
'but I promise you shall hear it all one day. But you will soon
have much more to tell me than I can tell you. You can't
think how much I envy you.’

Farleigh coughed warningly at this unnecessary encourage
ment, but Africa nodded in approval. 'I'm to sail with Papa when my ship is ready. She's my ship because I was named
after her,' she added in a burst of confidentiality, 'but Papa's
the captain. I always lived there until we came ashore. I don't
like living ashore. It doesn't smell nice.’

*

The French continued their game of diplomacy, and Lord
Whitworth did not leave Paris until 12 May. Weston had
received his orders a few days before that, and had sailed to
join two other frigates off Brest, to keep an eye on the
invasion fleet which was being constructed there as in other
French ports. War on France was at last declared on the 18th,
and on the same day five ships of the line under Admiral
Cornwallis sailed for Brest to join the frigates and begin the
blockade.

Lucy remained at the Golden Lion; while Weston was only
just across the Channel, there was always the chance that she
might see him, if only for a few hours. She had Jeffrey for company, for Weston would not condemn him to the damp
chill of the Brest station, even in summer.

She was badly in need of distraction, and was happy to
take an interest in Haworth's girls, or more strictly in Africa,
who missed her father and was bored and restless. Farleigh
obviously found her more tiring to care for than Polly, and
was grateful when Lucy took her away and amused her. A
sort of friendship grew up between aunt and niece, each of
whom approved of the other as being far more sensible and
having more intelligible interests than the majority of the
female sex. Lucy drove Africa out in her curricle, and once or
twice, when the sea was calm, she hired a little boat to take
them out on the water.

It was not until the beginning of June that Captain
Haworth returned to Portsmouth, and called on Lucy with
the news that the
Africa
was being taken out of commission.

‘
She's being towed up to dry-dock this moment, poor
thing,' he told her. 'She's making water so fast even the Navy
Board can't go on pretending she's fit for active service. I
thought at one point they were going to make me go on sail
ing her round and round until she sank under me.’

Lucy commiserated with him. 'I remember when you first
got her, she was a new ship. I came down here with you to
look her over.'

‘
Yes, I remember. It was the new timbers that caused the
trouble, of course. Your old ships are often more reliable than new ones. There's hardly a decent ship in the service less than
thirty years old, and some of 'em are fifty and more.'

‘
And what will happen to the
Africa
now? Will she be
broken up?’

don't know for
_,
certain. I've heard a rumour that they'll
cut her down, and rebuild her using only the old timbers.
They might make a sixty-four of her. At all events, she and I
have parted company for good.'

‘
What a shame! Africa will be very upset. But what of you?
Will they give you another ship?'

‘
Yes, I'm lucky. There's a squadron due in from the West
Indies any day, and I'm to take over the
Cetus.
She's a
seventy-four, which is all I know about her. And you'll have
your brother William's company for a while. The port
admiral told me that the
Argus
is among them.'

‘
Oh, William! He's no company,' Lucy said disparagingly.
'Little Africa's got more conversation.’

Her expectations of pleasure from the arrival of the West
India squadron were abruptly increased when Mrs Tully
came toiling up to her rooms early one morning to say that the ships had been sighted entering Portsmouth Sound, and
that the
Nemesis
was with them. That afternoon at dinner
Lucy entertained not only her brother William and his wife,
and Captain Haworth, but Captain Weston, too.

‘
What were you doing with the squadron?' Haworth
wanted to know.

‘
The merest chance,' Weston said. 'I caught up with them just as they were rounding St Catherine's Point. I lost a spar
in that last blow we had, so I've been sent home with the
despatches. I suppose I'll be going back as soon as the repair's
finished. How did your trials go?’

Haworth told him about the
Africa,
and about his new
command.

‘
The
Cetus?'
Weston exclaimed at once. 'I served in her
back in '95. I went there from the dear old
Diamond as
third
lieutenant, and we had a terrible cruise to the Baltic. God,
how I hate northern waters! The cold and the damp were
dreadful. I shall never forget them.'

‘What a play-actor you are,' Haworth laughed.

‘
You don't believe me? But when I tell you that both the
first and second lieutenants died on that cruise, you'll see how
awful it must have been. My promotion to first over their
dead bodies is the only good thing I can remember about the
Cetus,
though I dare say she may be as good a ship as any in
warmer waters.'

‘
Where are you bound in her?' William asked Haworth
politely. 'Shall we have the pleasure of your company in the
islands?'

‘
No, thank God — though I mean that as no disparage
ment on you, sir,' Haworth added with a bow. 'But I've no
wish whatever to visit the West Indies! No, I'm for Toulon, to
help our Admiral Nelson guard the nice, warm, safe Mediter
ranean!'

‘
They gave Nelson the
Victory,
did you know that,
Haworth?' Lucy put in. 'They made poor Collingwood trans
fer his flag to old
Dreadnought,
and just when he'd got
himself comfortable, too.'

‘He wasn't best pleased, I imagine,' Haworth said.