The Victory (5 page)

‘
The chapel choir is practising the anthem for Sunday,'
said Mary Ann briefly.

‘
It sounds familiar,' Lady Fussell pursued. She was used to
having to try hard with Mrs James Morland. 'Can I have
heard it before?'

‘
It was written by William Morland, who I believe was an
ancestor of my husband,' Mary Ann said unwillingly.

‘Oh yes, of course! Everyone in York has heard of William
Morland. He is quite famous, I assure you,' Lady Fussell
smiled.

‘
It has been arranged for the boys by Father Aislaby,' said
Mary Ann.

‘
How lucky you are in your chaplain,' Lady Fussell
changed tack. ‘So talented as he is, in so many ways.' She was
about to add, and so handsome, but stopped herself in time.
‘He will make a fine tutor for your son in a few years' time.'

‘
Indeed,' was all that Mary Ann said, but she almost
smiled. She was aware that Sir Arthur Fussell was both stupid
and profligate, and was frequently unkind to his wife. Mary
Ann felt very sorry for Lady Fussell, and almost welcomed
her visits.

‘
You have heard the news from London, I suppose?' Lady
Fussell went on. She was sure that no-one else troubled to tell
poor Mrs James Morland anything, and that without her own
visits she would have gone on in ignorance, since she was too
proud to ask for news. 'Buonaparte is given an ultimatum,
and Crosby Shawe believes we shall have war within the
month. He dined with Sir Arthur yesterday.' Crosby Shawe
was her brother-in-law, married to Sir Arthur Fussell's sister
Valentina. The men are all very excited about it. Valentina
says she does not know who could have arranged the Peace,
since every man in the country now claims to have been
against it from the first.'

‘
My brother Edward mentioned it at breakfast,' Mary Ann
admitted. 'He seems to think war will be a good thing for us.'

‘
Oh, certainly! And an excellent thing for your father,
ma'am, I believe,' Lady Fussell added. 'The demand for cloth
of all sorts is bound to increase.’

Mary Ann only bowed, and Lady Fussell passed on to a
more interesting subject. suppose you must have heard that
Lady Anstey's child was born yesterday?’

Mary Ann had not, and said nothing.

‘
A
girl this time,'
Lady Fussell went on obligingly, 'and
they are to call her Mary. And Valentina has announced that
she is increasing again. All the world seems to be burgeoning,'
she added with a smile and a little sigh. Her only pregnancy
had ended in a stillborn child three years ago. 'Your children
must be such a comfort to you, Mrs Morland. I do envy you them.’

A certain light in Lady Fussell's eye suggested to Mary Ann
that some unwelcome communication about Fanny was about
to be introduced, and it was necessary to say something to
ward it off. She hastily broke in: 'Lady Anstey is quite well, I
hope? She has a large family. How many are there now?'

‘
The new baby is the sixth surviving. It is fortunate that
John — Lord Anstey — is so well-to-do, with such a brood to
provide for! His eldest, little John, can think of nothing but
the navy, and longs so to go to sea, you can't imagine. He is so
excited about the war, it quite made me laugh to hear him
talking.'

‘
He is very young to be thinking about such things,' Mary
Ann said.

‘
Indeed,' Lady Fussell said, 'but Lord Anstey said yester
day, when I called, that if the boy was still of the same mind
next year, he would try whether he could get him aboard
some ship or other. If he wants a naval career, he must start it
as early as possible, so Lady Anstey says.'

‘I should think Lady Anstey would be against it,' Mary Ann remarked.

‘
You mean, because her brother was killed in a naval
battle? Oh no, you mistake. She is very proud of her brother, and would like nothing better than for little John to follow in
his footsteps. She resolves to ask your sister Lady Aylesbury's
advice about a suitable patron.’

Mary Ann eyed her visitor cautiously. Lucy had a large and
perfectly respectable acquaintance amongst the navy, apart
from her disreputable connection with Captain Weston, so it was hard to know whether or not to be offended by the refer
ence. 'I believe Admiral Collingwood thought highly of Lady
Anstey's brother,' she said at last.

‘
Quite so,' said Lady Fussell quickly, 'and he is so very fond
of Lady Aylesbury that the connection must be useful to the
Ansteys.’

Mary Ann did not in the least want to talk about her sister-
in-law Lucy, and she was quite sure that Lady Fussell was
bursting with some information about Fanny's whereabouts
that she did not want to hear either. In desperation she stood
up and said, 'You spoke so appreciatively about the music just
now. Perhaps you would like to step into the chapel for a few
minutes, to hear it better?’

Lady Fussell could only accept. 'Thank you, I should like it extremely,' she said.

The rules of social intercourse had their advantages some
times, Mary Ann reflected, leading the way out.

 
The hour for morning visits was very different at Lady Ayles
bury's house in Upper Grosvenor Street, where the butler
Hicks had developed a very sinewy leg from the superfluity of
daily visitors to a tall, narrow house with many stairs. Despite
the scandal of her relationship with Captain Weston and
nominal separation from her husband — matters which Hicks
found very hard to bear, his heart being a great deal less
tough than the sinews of his legs — Lady Aylesbury was an
extremely popular hostess, had a large acquaintance in the
ton,
and an even larger acquaintance amongst sea-officers, whose obsessive sociability while on land was proverbial.

At whatever hour her ladyship had retired, she was always up early the next day to take her horses into the Park, for she liked to ride when there were none but grooms about, so that she could exercise properly without tripping over ‘fashionable
ladies dawdling on one-pace slugs', as she called them in what
Hicks thought of as her colourful way. Later in the day, at the afternoon hour of promenade, she would ride or drive again, attired to swooning-point in the very apogee of fashion, to see and be seen in the correct way like other ladies of the
ton;
but her mornings were her own, and precious to her.

Captain Weston had been again to the Admiralty that
morning, and on his return was told that her ladyship had
retired to her chamber to be dressed. At the Captain's
entrance, the maid Docwra withdrew without further instruction, and Weston walked across to kiss Lucy's upturned face tenderly, and to sit beside her at the dressing-table.

‘Well, what news?' Lucy asked.

‘
War is certain,' Weston said. 'It's only a matter of time.
Days, weeks at the most.'

‘
But what news of you? Have you got your ship?' Lucy
asked anxiously.

Weston shook his head. 'I'm afraid they must be giving out the commissions in alphabetical order,' he said, trying for
lightness. 'They've got as far as the aitches, at all events. I
saw your brother Haworth there, and he told me they've recommissioned the
Africa.'

‘
Oh, I am glad for him! I know it's of all ships the one he would most have wanted.'

‘
I think he'd have taken any ship offered, like the rest of
us,' Weston said wryly, 'but I daresay he is fond of her, for all that she's given the dockyard a great deal of trouble.'

‘
But how can that be?' Lucy asked with a frown. 'She was a
new ship in — what was it? — '96 or '97.'

‘
That's the heart of it, my love. She was built partly with
new timbers, not properly seasoned, and they have warped badly. But Haworth says they had her in dry-dock until last
week, and so he hopes they have solved the problem. He
intends to walk up and see you this morning, so you can ask him all the technical details yourself.’

She made a face, aware that she was being teased. 'I shall
also ask him what he means to do with his children,' she said.
‘They can hardly stay in that tiny house at Southsea with
only servants to look after them. He had probably better send them to me. They can perfectly well live down at Wolvercote with my three. They'll be in nobody's way there.’

Weston smiled and kissed her hand. 'I love the way you
collect children, so carelessly, as though they were snuffboxes or Sevres vases.’

To his surprise she looked a little upset and confused for a
moment, and when she did reply, it was with a forced laugh.
‘I should much prefer
Sèvres
vases, I assure you,' she said lightly. ‘Who else did you see this morning?’

He knew that it was of no use to press her; that if anything was wrong, she would tell him in her own time, or not at all. ‘Let me see, now,' he mused. 'Old Admiral Scorton was there, of course. He said he saw you in the Park this morning, on Mimosa, and waved to you.'

‘That's right. He hailed me as if I were at the foretop, and
told me there were more gales on the way! I love that old
man,' she added inconsequentially. 'Who else?'

‘
None of your particular friends. I heard some news,
however. Collingwood is in Town. I didn't see him — he was closeted with Lord St Vincent — but he's sure to call on you
later. Everyone says he's bound to be promoted to vice this
time, which will cheer a few northern hearts. Scorton thinks
he'll get
Victory.
She's lying at Portsmouth, newly refitted.'

‘She's a good ship, isn't she? And what command?'

‘Second in command to Cornwallis, Scorton thinks.'

‘Is Blue Billy to have the Channel Fleet again?'

‘
It seems likely. St Vincent likes him, and he thinks he did
well there before the Peace; and Pellew is to have the western approaches, almost certainly.'

‘And Nelson?’

Weston made a comical face. 'He and Lady Hamilton are
out of mourning for poor old Sir William, at all events. He's busy making himself unpopular by demanding a pension for
Lady Hamilton for her services to the country —'

‘What, as his mistress?' Lucy put in, in astonishment.

Weston roared. 'Oh Lucy, you are such a joy to me! No, no,
you simpleton, for her diplomatic services in Naples! He's also
put a petition before Addington for an increase to his own
pension, on the grounds that both St Vincent and Duncan get
more than he does, and that since he has a wife
and a
mistress
to support, he simply can't manage on two thousand a year.'

‘
I can't see even Addington acceeding to that,' Lucy smiled.
‘Has he his command yet?'