A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  “Say ma again, little James,” coaxed Elizabeth. “Say mama.”

  “Mama,” said a soft little voice, from the cradle beside James’s. “Mama.”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth turned to see George, standing precariously on his bedding and holding out a hand to her. “Oh, come here, my little George,” she said, plucking him up and holding him against her chest, which appeared to be what he had wished for in asking after his mama. It ultimately proved that he wished to nurse, and Elizabeth took him behind the dressing-screen, gained Sarah’s assistance with her stays, and then sat there with her son, thoroughly enjoying a moment that no longer occurred with any frequency, now that her boys had grown so.

  +++

  Darcy did not wish to have anything communicated to Sarah regarding her family’s farm until he had had a chance to ride the boundaries himself, and this he did the day after the family had returned to Pemberley, going out on Kestrel, the best horse in his stables and a favoured mount, which seemed to leave him in a happier frame of mind on his return to the house.

  He pronounced himself pleased with the farm, and therefore the next morning, Elizabeth asked her maid to present herself in Mr. Darcy’s study at ten o’clock. She had said nothing to Sarah of the plans to make a farm available for the Kelly family, save to casually ask how large the family’s present farm was (less than one hundred acres, which had made Elizabeth blush over the rash foolishness of proposing they could take over Smith’s farm entire), although she had been thinking pleasantly of this thing she and her husband were about to do ever since he had promised it should be done. She was not, therefore, prepared for the summons to cause Sarah to look entirely petrified, but this was indeed what happened. Elizabeth realised the unprecedented nature of the request, and said such things as should soothe Sarah and let her understand it was for naught but good. Sarah still appeared to be trembling when she presented herself in the study, however. Darcy was seated behind his desk, the worn map of Pemberley’s grounds laid out upon it, but he rose, welcomed Sarah, and encouraged her to take the seat beside the one his wife sat in, on the opposite side of the desk. Sarah sat gingerly on the very edge of the chair and looked nervously between both of the Darcys.

  Darcy, who had been admonished in advance by his wife not to appear tall and intimidating, seated himself quickly but with less formality than his wife’s maid, and said, “Thank you for coming here this morning, Kelly. Mrs. Darcy informs me that you have been concerned for those of your family who remain in Ireland, and that the weather there has been even poorer than it is here.”

  “Y – yes, sir.”

  “I am not sure if you are aware, but the departure of Mr. Smith has created much reshuffling of Pemberley’s lands. Some of the acreage will be divided amongst the other farmers, and the remainder will be divided between Smith’s bailiff, who intends to take over the lease of five hundred acres, and a new, smaller farm of two hundred acres. The larger farm shall have Smith’s former house as its residence, and the smaller the bailiff’s old cottage. I have also ordered construction of a new barn, for the smaller farm.”

  Sarah was trembling again, now in emotional anticipation, and Elizabeth thought her maid finally understood why she had been summoned to Darcy’s study.

  “I would like to offer your family the lease of the smaller farm. I realise taking on more land may be difficult for them after such a year, and I promise I shall be lenient in the first few years with the terms. I will also undertake the cost of their passage here.”

  Upon hearing this, Sarah bowed her head and burst into tears, suffering a violent bout of weeping that for a time seemed as though it would never end. It did wane, however, and then she coughed out, “‘Tis too much, sir, too much indeed.”

  “You have served my family faithfully for many years, most especially my wife,” Darcy said, “and to this you added bringing both of my sons into the world. I find it is not too much at all.”

  For a moment, Sarah seemed as though she would continue her protests, but then she must have realised that to do so was to contradict her most respected employer. “Oh, thank you, sir, thank you so very much,” she said, and returned to weeping. Elizabeth reached over and patted her hand comfortingly, then looked up to her husband and saw his countenance reflected her feelings: it felt very good, to do right by someone so good as Sarah.

  +++

  Catherine felt the departure of the Darcys keenly. With Mary either resting or tending to little Marianne most of the time, Catherine had relied on Elizabeth for reasonable female companionship. Now she was left to her mother’s company, and as Mrs. Bennet had somehow managed to learn all the gossip of a neighbourhood she was merely visiting, Catherine was left to listen to a great many uninteresting little scandals about people she did not know.

  Happily, Catherine had realised that Lady Winterley could be called upon, and that she could carry on with Mary’s efforts to assist the village poor, so she filled her time with these things when it was not her turn to watch the baby. They provided a pleasing distraction, for watching the baby was somewhat painful. Catherine would do so and allow herself to drift into the fantasy that she and Andrew would soon have a child of their own, that the baby she held was her own child, but reality would always impinge upon her, with a clutch of fear that it would never happen.

  Andrew went with her during her expeditions in the village, but otherwise spent much of his time in the library with Mr. Bennet and David. Thus, he did not notice his wife’s gradually diminishing mood as quickly as he might have, if he could have borne more time in the parlour, but notice it he eventually did. Stroking his wife’s cheek one night after a rather staid round of marital relations, he asked, “What is the matter, pretty Cat? You haven’t seemed in spirits lately.”

  It was a solicitude so well-timed, so unexpected that Catherine could not avoid its prompting tears, and those tears requiring explanation. She told him therefore of her concerns that they would never have children, and how seeing her sisters’ children only increased her wish to have a baby of her own – of their own.

  “Oh Cat, I had been wondering about that myself. I don’t say we should give up hope, though, for it may still happen. If it doesn’t, I fear it is my fault. After all, your sisters have all had children.”

  “Lydia hasn’t,” she reminded him.

  “True, but I hope that is intentional. You know how little their income is,” he said. “Maybe it is time for both of us to return to Bath and take the waters, in chance that will help.”

  “I would like to return to Bath,” Catherine said. “But if we do, I want for us to establish our household. I know we will have stronger ties to Longbourn, now, but I want for us to have a home of our own before it becomes such. And in Bath there are more diversions, so I think it will be easier to live there – I shall think about a child less there.”

  “Then let us go to Bath,” he said, “and pray we are soon blessed as your sisters have been.”

  Catherine nodded, and nestled up against him. She felt comforted, in having spoken of this with him, and she felt hopeful, again. After all, if a little sea-bathing and the waters of Matlock had done such wonders for Anne de Bourgh, all Bath had to offer in its virtues as a spa town might very well cause the outcome Catherine deeply wished for.

  Chapter 27

  As the Caroline neared Bombay, it had become a topic of frequent conversation between the Stantons that Matthew’s uncle, The Honourable Harold Stanton, lived there. They felt he ought to be called upon, but Matthew had nothing more than the direction used for the very occasional letters he sent to the man. He had seen his uncle during a few months’ stay there as a midshipman, but a house visited some fifteen years ago must necessarily be faded in his memory.

  Thus, with the intention of seeking out Harold Stanton but no firm notions of how to go about finding him in an unknown port, they arrived in Bombay. It was hardly two hours after the Caroline was docked at the Yard and her despatches run ashore, however, that
word came that the governor intended to visit the ship, and hardly an hour following this before Sir Evan Nepean and several other men were announced and received in state. Among those men was The Honourable Harold Stanton.

  All were invited below for refreshment, but the governor and the other men would depart after giving a general invitation for dinner at Government House in four days’ time. Lord Amherst, his son, and some of his other men left with them, to enjoy what was to be at least a fortnight spent sleeping on land while the Caroline was repaired and victualled. This, perhaps by design, left only Harold Stanton to go below with his nephew and niece, and the door to the great cabin was hardly closed behind them before he said,

  “Well, I daresay I haven’t had a surprise like this in nigh on ten years! Maybe not since I saw you when you was a lad, Matthew. There I am in my study this morning, and such a shock as I got, to have a messenger from Sir Evan come by and say the embassy from China was arrived on HMS Caroline, with Lord Amherst leading the embassy and Commodore Sir Matthew Stanton as the senior naval officer. Damn near spit out my ale, to hear such a thing! How do you do, Matthew? And I heard right that the lady is Lady Stanton?”

  Harold Stanton indicated Georgiana, and Matthew said that she was.

  “Ah, capital! Very pleased to meet you, Lady Stanton,” Mr. Stanton said, then turned to Matthew, “Married an English rose, did you? As you should have. A rose with her own little bud, if I’m not mistaken. And plainly a well-bred one, for I suspect she don’t like the way I’m talking now, but she won’t say anything. You must forgive me, Lady Stanton. I suspect a man loses a little of his manners every year he spends in an outpost such as this, and as your husband must have told you, I have been here a very long time.”

  Georgiana, mortified, stammered a response that it was nothing, and she was glad Hawke came in then with refreshments, by way of a distraction. They were seated, and Georgiana considered Harold Stanton more closely. He was of the same familial height as all the Stanton men, but seemed to tend more towards portliness than his elder or younger brother, and he was decidedly more loquacious than either of those men. His complexion was deeply tanned, although upon making such an observation, she looked at Matthew and realised her husband’s face was not significantly paler, after having spent so much time on the quarterdeck during the Caroline’s journey. The change in Matthew’s complexion, however, had come on slowly, so slowly she had hardly noticed it.

  “Ah, now this is a proper claret, Matthew. I haven’t had a wine so good in some years. You will have to try the pale ale here, though. Goes down better than anything on a hot day, I find. You’re still well short of the worst of the heat, though, which I’m glad of for your wife’s sake, particularly if this year is anything like last year. It gets hotter than the devil’s arse for months, until the monsoon comes, but last year there was no monsoon – strangest thing,” he said. “Englishwomen do manage the heat, in a delicate condition, but those who live here have time to grow used to it before they get with child. Is this your first?”

  “Yes – our first,” said Georgiana, venturing to add, “I wonder if you might be able to provide some guidance to us, while we are here. I would like to see an accoucheur and find a nurse. A wet-nurse, just in chance she is needed for such purpose.”

  “You would like to see a what?” Mr. Stanton asked.

  “An accoucheur,” said Georgiana, and seeing he still looked utterly perplexed, “A man-midwife physician.”

  “Hrmpfh. Never heard of such a thing. Sounds rather French. I daresay they’re popular in London, but we aren’t so civilised as to have a physician who specialises in nothing but midwifery. I thought we was doing well enough just to have physicians. I may get you an appointment with Dr. Hornby, however. He does attend most of the genteel births here.”

  “Thank you, I would very much appreciate that,” said Georgiana.

  “As for a nurse, it’s not likely you’ll find one available, but I shall make enquiries.” He rubbed his hands together and attacked another glass of claret. “Now what else should you need help with? I presume they are treating you well at the Yard, Matthew, but you let me know if things are a little sluggish and I shall speed them up for you, although I won’t like it for my own part, as I’m not likely to have family around for a very long time – if ever again – once the two of you depart. Lady Stanton will want muslins, of course, and that I do have expertise in.”

  He eyed Georgiana’s red silk gown, and she wondered whether he judged her for it. “I expect you’ll be wanting a mantua-maker, too. That we do have. Sprigged, spotted, striped, checked, painted, whitework, gilt – you shall have a dress of each. Two dresses, if you wish it.”

  Georgiana thanked him and indicated in an embarrassed tone the origins of her current gown, and how she had been looking forward to having more suitable and comfortable frocks made for her growing figure.

  “Well, then new frocks you shall have,” said Mr. Stanton. “I shall call on you tomorrow, say ten o’clock, and attend you to the warehouses and Mrs. Cartwright’s. And the two of you must dine with me tomorrow evening. I live in Parel, so if you may, Matthew, make plans to be away from your ship, and I’ll have an apartment prepared for you.”

  Despite his manners, which could be called erratic at best, Georgiana found his offer to dine and sleep overnight in what must be assumed to be a proper house with a proper bed most appealing, and she was glad when Matthew indicated his first lieutenant could be left in charge of the ship for the night. They then descended into a period of silence, which must be inevitable amongst people so connected but with so little knowledge of each other. Mr. Stanton eventually broke it by pouring himself another glass of claret and raising it to his nephew.

  “Almost forgot, that you must be toasted on your victory over that French ship, and your baronetcy, Matthew – to you, and your new title, and your pretty wife. I’ll want a full recounting of the battle over dinner, of course.” He drained the rest of his glass in one thirsty swig, rose, and clapped Matthew on the shoulder with such force that even a man of Matthew’s solidity must start a little. “Well done, boy.”

  He bowed and made his exit with the familiarity of a man who must have spent much time on Company ships. Georgiana stared at her husband following this, unsure of whether such manners were what he recalled, and Matthew merely shrugged, saying simply, “Well, that is my uncle Harold. I do not recall him being quite so – open in his manners – but I suppose he seemed very different to a boy of my age at the time.”

  “Yes, I suppose he must have,” said Georgiana blandly. Still, while she had been shocked – expecting someone very different based on her acquaintance with his brothers – she could not find it in herself to dislike Harold Stanton. There seemed a certain cheerfulness and generosity of spirit to him, and she found herself excusing his manners as provincial. Certainly, he seemed well-acquainted with everyone of importance in Bombay, and they had not shunned his society.

  She found such impressions did not change when he called on her promptly at ten o’clock the next morning to attend her in her dress shopping. Not quite ready to be going around a strange town escorted only by a man she had met the day before – even if he was family – Georgiana had arranged that both Moll and Bowden should go with them, which both servants were happy to do. They had been promised shore leave that evening and would be able to know the place better if they accompanied their mistress around at present.

  Georgiana made her first steps on land with the wobbling legs of a woman who had not walked there for some months and had seen her belly grow much larger during that time. She had, at least, seen her dizziness diminish since the quickening, but still, she took up Mr. Stanton’s arm gratefully as soon as it was offered. By now, Georgiana had grown used to landing in a foreign place and suddenly being exposed to such varied sights, sounds, smells, and people after the familiar confines of the Caroline. She was particularly struck here by the dress of the women, made up of bright bold fabric
draped and wrapped about them – Mr. Stanton called the dress a sari – and Georgiana found it strange that a place where women dressed in such a fashion should produce the pale muslins favoured by English society.

  They entered and crossed Bombay Green, which was not at all green, but instead a vast dusty space, which seemed primarily for the storage of large bales of cotton, and for men and women to mill about those bales, conversing and haggling. She had a sense that Mr. Stanton was seen with respect by those they passed, and when finally they had crossed the Green and entered a side street, he sighted an English couple and waved them over to be introduced to Georgiana, saying she was his niece with what seemed pride in his tone. The woman, Lady Shelton, was wearing a dress of spotted muslin, and while the cut itself was not so modish as would have been found in London – much less Paris – the fabric would have made her the envy of anyone in a town drawing-room. She wore a bonnet and carried a parasol, but even these efforts had not been enough to prevent a certain browning of her complexion, although Georgiana, looking at Lady Shelton and recalling her observations of Matthew’s tanness, wondered if her own skin had similarly suffered so gradually that she had not noticed it.

  They continued on to Mr. Stanton’s warehouse of choice, where he showed an impressive understanding of fabric and received an impressive degree of deference from those who assisted him and his niece. She felt herself overwhelmed by the selections on offer until Mr. Stanton quietly indicated the cost of each bolt of fabric she was considering, then she came to understand that rather than make a choice, she ought to purchase it all and bring some of it home for future use, and as gifts for her family. Then recalling that she must also make her baby’s layette, she added a bolt of the very softest muslin that could be found and was encouraged by Moll to add another of coarser diaper calico, for the fine stuff, Moll said, wouldn’t hold as a tailclout.