Then one morning, as they had been walking in the pump-room, Andrew stopped abruptly and waved to an acquaintance across the room, leading Catherine over to that acquaintance.
“Elliott, how do you do?” Andrew asked, shaking his hand energetically, and even before he had introduced Elliott as Captain Elliott, with whom he had served as a mid on HMS Centaur, Catherine had already come to expect the man was a naval acquaintance.
Captain Elliott was of the same sort of good humour that Andrew was, and never short of amusing anecdotes of the sorts of trouble the two young boys had got up to together as midshipmen. Yet his greatest quality in Catherine’s eyes was that he had married an outgoing, amiable young lady, Louisa Elliott. As Catherine was also of an outgoing temperament, the two young ladies had made overtures of friendship even before the two couples had agreed to dine together that evening.
How very different Bath was, with female companionship! Louisa – the young ladies had rapidly come to address each other by their Christian names – enjoyed shopping every bit as much as Catherine, and they spent their mornings after the obligatory turn about the pump-room in this pursuit. As Catherine had married more quickly than anyone had expected she would – her father had been ill, and she and Andrew had been the best choices to assist her family at Longbourn, but could only travel together if married – she had acquired very little in the way of a wedding trousseau, but had been promised by both her mother and her husband that she should have one, even if it was belated. She and Louisa, therefore, had a true purpose to their outings, and if Captain Elliott complained his wife was accumulating a second trousseau, in finding things she simply could not live without while accompanying Catherine, the amused look of his countenance indicated he was not too serious in his complaints.
Other acquaintances followed: more men of the navy and their wives, although Catherine thought Louisa should always remain her particular friend, and even some who were introduced to them through the Masters of Ceremonies, Mr. King and Mr. Heaviside. While the Ramseys were not of a standing as to move in the top echelon of Bath society, they came to be known as connected by marriage to the Cheshire Stantons and the Derbyshire Darcys, and beyond that, they were said to be lively, pleasant company, so that within a month of being at Bath, they had gathered a substantial acquaintance.
They were, of course, still a married couple on their honeymoon, one that very much enjoyed marital relations, and one morning when they had finished their most recent instance of such, Andrew kissed his wife and said, “How do you like Bath now, my pretty Cat?”
“I like it very much.”
“I am glad of it. I believe it was a near-run thing when we first came here. I do not think you liked it so much, then.”
“I cannot say that I did, but I am in a fair way to loving it now,” Catherine replied.
Chapter 7
Georgiana had lived on board the Caroline on a Sunday once before, but as the ship had been at anchor in Portsmouth harbour, they had taken a boat to shore and attended services there. This first Sunday of the ship’s being under sail for Gibraltar, therefore, was her first experience with the rigging of church and all the other rituals that took place on the Sabbath while the ship was at sea.
She had slept late, but found Matthew had either waited for her in the cabin, or – more likely – returned after some time on deck, to sit with her as she did what little breaking of her fast she could.
“There is no rain at present,” he said, “but we have rigged an awning for church in chance we sail into it.”
“Thank you, that is very considerate of you.”
“We will have divisions, first. You need not come up for that if you do not wish to.”
That particular ritual, of all the men lining up for inspection by their captain, Georgiana had seen and did not feel the need to see again, so she told Matthew she would remain in the cabin for that portion of the morning.
“I will send Bowden down for you, when we are ready for the articles and church,” Matthew said. “Is Kelly a Papist?”
“I – I do not know. Her sister did always attend services at Lambton when we went, but she did not have any other options in our neighbourhood, for spiritual nourishment. I will ask her.”
“Very well. We have a small group of men on the ship who are not Church of England – a few are not even Christians at all – and they stay on the fo’c’sle in prayer or whatever their own form of worship is, during church. Moll is welcome either to attend services or sit with them, whatever her preference.”
When Georgiana applied to Moll, the maid confirmed her Catholicism but said, “Sarah told me I must keep me mind open, an’ that the differences ai – aren’t so very big, if ye come with an open mind. I will listen to yer Protestant service, at least this once or twice.”
Thus when the time came, all four of the ladies took their seats together beneath the awning, after Bowden came down to fetch Georgiana and help her up the companion-ladder. The seamen all stood behind the ladies, the officers beside them, and Matthew stood before everyone, waiting until a certain stillness indicated all had settled, and then began,
“Article 1: All commanders, captains, and officers, in or belonging to any of His Majesty’s ships or vessels of war, shall cause the public worship of Almighty God, according to the liturgy of the Church of England established by law, to be solemnly, orderly and reverently performed in their respective ships; and shall take care that prayers and preaching, by the chaplains in holy orders of the respective ships, be performed diligently; and that the Lord’s day be observed according to law.”
He continued through thirty-five articles, his voice as solemn as Georgiana had ever heard from him, which, for someone as serious as Matthew was generally, was terribly solemn. They were a solemn set of regulations, however, dealing with spies, cowardice, desertion, mutiny, and a whole host of other terrible acts, for which the punishment was generally death. When he had finished, it seemed to Georgiana that church would be a light occasion by comparison, and she was surprised to see Hawke come up to her husband and exchange the papers he had been holding with a new set of papers and a prayer-book. Of course she had never been introduced to a chaplain, and if there was not a chaplain, who else but the captain should lead his men in spiritual matters, as he did all the rest?
Matthew was rather good at preaching, and as he led them through a prayer and two psalms, Georgiana felt a rush of indignation that his father had criticised him for not making the church his profession, and yet here he was, leading a group of men far larger than would be found in most parish churches in worship. She wondered if he would attempt a sermon, and when he came to that part of the service, he said, “Today’s sermon was first given by the Reverend David Stanton on February the 19th, 1815,” and then began reading from the papers in front of him. Georgiana smiled, and understood he must have arranged for David to send copies of his sermons for this particular use.
It was a very good sermon, and it was clear by the attentiveness of the men around her that Georgiana was not the only one to think so. She chanced a glance over at Moll, and saw the young woman was equally attentive, listening carefully, and likely critically. Matthew closed with the Lord’s Prayer, and Georgiana thought his father might not have been proud of him, but she most certainly was.
When the service was over, Matthew indicated it should be a “make and mend day,” then walked over to where his wife sat and offered his hand for her to rise, asking if she wished to take a turn about the quarterdeck while the weather held. Before they could begin walking, however, Moll was beside them, saying, “Sir, that was a right good sermon, there. I didn’a expect to like a service o’ your church near so much as I did that one. I won’t say I’m to convert or anything like, but I’ll attend yer services so long as I’m here.”
“Thank you, Kelly,” Matthew said. “The compliments for the sermon are due to my brother, and I shall pass them on in my next letter to him.”
When he a
nd Georgiana had reached the relative privacy of the quarterdeck, she said, “I was impressed by your giving of the service as well. I had no idea you did this.”
“It is not such a difficult thing, when I mostly read the words of others,” he said.
“Are there not enough chaplains in the navy?”
“What do you mean?”
“The first article in the Articles of War – you spoke of chaplains of holy orders, and yet obviously there is not one on this ship. I suppose I thought there must be a shortage of them, and perhaps the ships of the line take precedence in this as they do other things.”
“That is not actually the case,” he said. “You will soon find that some things are not quite so firm as they are laid out in the articles, while others are very firm. This is one that is not so firm – many captains do not carry a chaplain on board their ships, because the hands are superstitious and believe it brings bad luck. There are a few, your blue light captains and admirals, who always carry a clergyman and make religion a matter of great importance, but they are the exception rather than the rule. When I first received my own command, I chose to hold services, but do them myself. David gives his advice and sends me copies of his sermons, and because of his assistance, I do not fear my men suffering a shortage of spiritual nourishment.”
“Indeed, they do not,” Georgiana said. “Rather the opposite, I would say, although I wish you would give yourself some credit in the matter.”
They had been walking toward the stern of the ship, and when they turned to walk back the other way, Georgiana halted, gaping at the sight before her. Seamen were kneeling and sitting upon the deck, each of them plying scissors, needle and thread to the swaths of fabric the purser appeared to be doling out to each of them. Matthew had told her that men at sea learned how to sew, but never had Georgiana thought she should see so many of them engaged in that occupation.
“They – they all make their own clothes?”
Matthew chuckled, and drew her into motion again. “Yes, dearest, and what is more, they wash them as well.”
Georgiana giggled in spite of herself, and they made several more turns up and down the quarterdeck before going below and inviting Hawke in to speak about dinner, thus continuing Georgiana’s education on which dishes could be made at sea.
+++
The next morning, Georgiana found herself being awakened gently, but still unnaturally.
“Georgiana, Georgiana.” It was Matthew, saying her name and grasping her shoulder, but she had been sleeping deeply, and was too disoriented to understand much more beyond this at first.
“I am sorry to wake you,” Matthew said hoarsely, “but we need to ensure you are not hurt.”
“Hurt? Why should I be hurt?” she asked, and then, with a tremendous sinking in her stomach, she rose up in her cot just enough to see that her nightgown was soaked in blood, which prompted her to go into a panicked flailing, as though it would get her away from the blood, away from the truth of what must have happened, as she cried, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
When she next became aware of herself, she was kneeling on the floor of the cabin in Matthew’s arms, sobbing wretchedly. She heard Clerkwell asking if she was well, and Matthew saying she was well enough for now and to return later, which Clerkwell said he would, with a laudanum draught.
“How could this have happened?” she asked. “I was so careful – I do not know what else I could have – ”
“Georgiana, there was nothing you could have done. It happened while you were asleep. I woke to find you as you are,” Matthew said, weeping himself.
“Is there something wrong with me? What if something happened when I lost the first child?”
“I cannot believe there is anything permanently wrong with you, but perhaps we did not allow your womb time enough to heal after losing the first baby in such a violent manner. Or perhaps this is completely unrelated. Given your family history, we may need to expect this will happen again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Georgiana, there is ten years’ difference in age, between you and your brother. I must assume your parents were attempting to have children in all that time, or that they did have more children, and those children did not survive.”
Georgiana recognised the rightness of what he said, and was not sure whether she found it reassuring or more saddening. If she took after her mother, she might need to come to expect much more of this. The thought of it pained her terribly, and she buried her face in Matthew’s shoulder and returned to weeping.
At least he was here, she thought; at least they were together. After the pain of what she had experienced over the winter, of losing their child without his being there to comfort her and absolve her guilt over what had happened, his presence here was more soothing than anything else could have been.
“Someday, Georgiana,” he said, softly, “someday you and I will be watching our children, and I will remind you of this day, and it will seem like naught but a bad memory.”
“I hope so,” she said, and wished desperately that he was right.
Chapter 8
What precisely had occurred in the captain’s sleeping cabin, the day of Georgiana’s miscarriage, had not been made known to the ship’s crew. Yet although the exact details were not known, it was not long before what was known had spread through the ship: Mr. Clerkwell had been called early in the morning because the captain’s wife was ill, and returned several times throughout the day; the captain himself had not left the cabin except for a few brief conferences with Lieutenant Rigby to ensure all was well with the ship; and Kelly had quietly thrown a bloodstained lady’s nightgown overboard.
With these clues, the cleverest among the ship’s crew had likely guessed what had happened. The less clever knew only that since that day, Lady Stanton’s brief appearances on deck had shown her to be pale and gaunt, her countenance nearly expressionless, and that their captain had replaced his usual expression of kind seriousness with one of grim sadness, similar to the one he had worn in Copenhagen a few months previously. They knew as well that in the great cabin in the evenings, the sound of pianoforte and cello mingled together could no longer be heard, which was further indication that the captain’s wife was unwell. The Carolines, nearly to a man, had all served and fought alongside their captain for many years, they had cherished his baronetcy as a result of their greatest battle, to take a French seventy-four with the fifty-gun HMS Jupiter, and they in turn (incorrectly, for she had loved him before that event) esteemed his wife, seeing her marriage to their captain as a reward for that victory and baronetcy.
The Carolines, therefore, were most careful in their behaviour, seeking to avoid giving their captain anything else to worry over beyond the health of his wife, and as they were very nearly all able seamen, who knew what they would be commanded to do well before the command came, they were generally successful in this attempt. Unfortunately for them, there was one exception amongst the crew – one man who had not their competence when it came to seamanship: Lieutenant Holmes. Despite their attempts to spare him worry, their captain had returned fully to his duties, although perhaps with a shorter temper than he had possessed before, of which the Caroline’s second lieutenant bore the brunt. Minor errors in the ship’s sail trim, which might before have been overlooked, were now thoroughly criticised in the great cabin. These criticisms were legitimate, although not delivered so delicately as they might have been at another time, and they generally ended in unspoken frustration from both the captain and his second lieutenant.
These matters were set aside only because the ship suffered the effects of a violent storm, such that her captain was on deck nearly the entire time for three days, returning to his cabins only long enough to eat a little and see how his wife was faring, which was no better or worse than she had been before the storm. Lieutenant Holmes cannot be said to have acquitted himself any better during the storm than he had before it, but under her captain’s watchful eye, the ship c
ame through with little worse than a foot of water in her hold, two sails lost, and some minor damage to her rigging.
It was under Lieutenant Egerton’s watch that the ship sailed into Gibraltar, freely and elegantly, not pressed down by too much sail on her foremast, as was Lieutenant Holmes’s tendency. She picked up the harbour pilot, she came in as a crack frigate should, and gave her salute with the exact promptitude that should be expected from such a ship.
Georgiana, watching all of this from the quarterdeck, wished once again that she could shake the fog that had enveloped her since that horrid day. She had wanted to travel to new places and here she was, looking up at such an amazing mountain, towering over the town and sea before it, in a warmer climate than the cold, steady drizzle that had seemed to comprise so much of their journey here. Yet she could muster no enthusiasm for their landfall. She thought of Paris, where she had travelled with Matthew after they had been married, and how happy she had been then, to be newly married to the man she loved, experiencing the continent for the first time. She longed to be so happy again, and yet it seemed even her memories could not dwell on such happiness, for she thought back further, to Napoleon’s Hundred Days, to the times when Matthew’s life and love had been in doubt.
That time had been worse – so much worse – she realised. If he had died, or if he had not returned her affections, how very sad life should be for her now, even considering the children she had lost. They could try again for another child, but there was only one Matthew, and she was with him now and had his love. This, Georgiana thought, this must be the thing she should always remind herself of, when difficult times came – and if Matthew was right and she took after her mother when it came to bearing children, they might come with some frequency. Matthew was worried about her, terribly worried, she knew, and she needed to start trying to shake this fog, she needed to attempt to be happy for what she did have, for his sake and her own.
A Season Lost Page 5
