A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  She had been playing for some time when she finished a song and realised she had gained an audience: “Matthew!” He was dressed already, and although she had not planned it, Georgiana liked that the gilt in her dress should match the epaulettes on his shoulders. It seemed his solicitousness was to continue, for he came to the pianoforte to give her a hand in rising from the bench. Then he stepped back and surveyed her dress.

  “That suits you much better, than the silk.”

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed. “I did not feel myself in those dresses. I felt like a – a – ”

  “Like a ripe strawberry?” he asked, with some amusement.

  Georgiana had been thinking to say harlot, but his description made her blush still more than that would have.

  “Now you look like an English rose – just as my uncle described you. I did not think it at the time, but he had the right of it. English roses belong in muslin, I think,” he said, and then looked a little wistful. “I can still recall you, that first night we were together at Lady Tonbridge’s, going up to the pianoforte in a white muslin gown. There was such an innocence about you, and yet some measure of strength, beneath it.”

  “I would not have thought you observed me so closely. At the time, I was rather overwhelmed by how handsome you were, but I could not hope you saw anything so special in me.”

  “Oh, I was intrigued by you from our first meeting, and now that I think back, I believe you had claimed the first piece of my heart by the time you finished your song,” he said, and took up her hand. For a moment, it seemed as though he intended to kiss it, but then he sighed, and said, “And now I have gotten that dear, innocent girl with child, and carried her halfway around the world to have it in some inhospitable place.”

  “Do not say that – you sound just like that detestable Dr. Hornby.”

  “Is that what he said, to get you so incensed? Did he say I had not been a good husband, for putting you in such a position?”

  “Not in those words, but that is the sense of it,” she said, recalling her previous ire, and feeling much of it again.

  “He is right,” Matthew said, in a tone of some emotion. “Lord knows I have not been a good husband to you, Georgiana. While I was in the Baltic, I left you for months, to suffer what you suffered without me, and now this. I think you would have been better off had I died after the battle with the Polonais.”

  “Do not say that! Do not say that!” she cried. “You do not know how I suffered, when I thought you might – you might die.”

  “I understand, but in time you might have healed and married some man with a landed estate, and raised your family there with him in, I am sure, much happiness.”

  “Have I given you any sense that I am unhappy?”

  “You were rather pleased by sleeping in a proper bed.”

  “I would not have been so pleased with it, if you were not with me. I cannot say that I do not miss some of the comforts of land, but – I have seen so much of the world, Matthew. It is a small price to pay. Music, perhaps, I would have found difficult to give up, but you have provided for me in that,” she said, glancing at the pianoforte. It had suffered a bit, both from the sea air and from its frequent trips down to the hold, but somehow this endeared it, and him, to her still more. “And I assure you I am far happier now than I was when you were in the Baltic, or I would have been to lose you before we could have begun a life together, and then be expected to marry someone else. Whom should I have married – Lord Alfred Mallory, who was in love with someone else and wanted me for my dowry? Would you have preferred that life for me?”

  Georgiana had spoken in ire, but this, the mentioning of the other suitor for her hand from those days they had been recalling, was more effective than she could have realised. She had known herself to be of a jealous nature, and he had claimed the same for himself, but only now could she see a flash of it in his countenance; she recalled certain behaviours of his, from their early acquaintance, and found she understood him better. Yet still she would further make her point, for she must make it as thoroughly as she could.

  “No, I would not have preferred that,” said he, sharply.

  “Perhaps – perhaps,” Georgiana said, summoning the strength for this argument, “perhaps you would have preferred I be lured into George Wickham’s clutches before I even met you, to be secreted away into private misery, for the rest of my life! Perhaps you would rather I never have met a man I knew loved me only for me, and not for my fortune.”

  Georgiana descended into sobs, and everything about him softened; he seemed almost to collapse upon himself. “Oh, Georgiana, no – no – I would never have wished for that. I had not intended to quarrel with you. But more often than not, now, when I look at you, I feel guilt.”

  “I wish you would stop, then. I do not know how we have come to be quarrelling over whether you have been a good husband, but I feel my opinion should matter most in this, as your wife,” she said, endeavouring to stifle a sob, and not succeeding.

  “Dearest, I am sorry, for the last thing I ought to have done was upset you over my misgivings in how I have treated you,” he said, and drew her into what embrace they could manage, given her current figure.

  “Well,” she muttered stubbornly, “you ought to know that I will not bear anyone saying anything against you, including you.”

  +++

  Despite such a beginning to the evening, the Stantons managed to recover their marital harmony by the time they arrived in Parel, and Georgiana thoroughly enjoyed the dinner at Government House. She found it even more lavish than Harold Stanton’s house, and she found in the decor of the vast banqueting hall a reminder of England, of home.

  Her strongest reminder, however, was yet to come, at Moll’s wedding. The exterior of St. Thomas Church made clear that it bore the shape of an Anglican house of worship, but the facade was much more provincial, unlike the town hall, which would not have looked out of place in London. Inside the church, however, as Matthew walked Moll down the aisle, Georgiana found the familiarity of the place both soothed her and caused some strong pangs of homesickness.

  Almost all of the ship’s company had turned out for the ceremony, and there was something soothingly familiar about this as well. Matthew, his duty done, returned to sit beside her, and together they listened to the same words that had comprised their own wedding ceremony, at little St. Margaret’s in Lambton. Impulsively, Georgiana reached out and clasped his hand, her gesture immediately returned.

  Both bride and bridegroom seemed exceedingly happy, when finally they were pronounced man and wife, kissing to rather raucous reaction from most of those gathered within the church. When they all made their exit, most would go to an inn nearby, where the wedding breakfast was to be held. Georgiana, Matthew, and the Caroline’s officers, however, would skip such festivities – their presence would surely have a dampening effect on those attending – although the Stantons would later escort the newly married couple to Parel for their brief honeymoon.

  When the time for this escort came, the Taylors gained the barge in a manner showing that while they were not entirely foxed, they had been toasted a great deal. Of the two, Mr. Taylor seemed better able to hold his drink, for Mrs. Taylor held out her hand, plainly admiring the sparkle of her new wedding band in the waning sunlight. When Georgiana complimented her on it, for it was very pretty, the silver carved most intricately, Moll said:

  “Oh, thank ye! I never expected such as this – I thought all we could afford was brass. Taylor right shocked me with it. He treats me well, he does. I know he’s going to do it for the rest of his life. You was right about good men, milady.”

  Surreptitiously, Georgiana moved the hand that held her own wedding band, comprised of gold and emeralds, out of sight. Then she repeated her compliments, with a smile of genuine happiness for Moll.

  +++

  Moll returned to Georgiana’s service two days later, looking perhaps a little worldlier and speaking enthusiastically about the ni
ght she had spent in “The Honourable Harold Stanton’s palace,” but otherwise unchanged for being married. Her belongings were moved to Taylor’s cabin, but she was no less prompt in her duties for living there now, for Taylor had restrung the old bell to ring there. When not attending to her mistress, Moll spent her time in making adjustments to the perquisites Georgiana had given her to form a little trousseau, and sorting through the quantity of dresses that were arriving from Mrs. Cartwright’s to replace them within Georgiana’s trunks.

  These new dresses were put into immediate use, for another dinner at Government House and several more with Harold Stanton and Miss Alistair were included in the remainder of their time in Bombay. Although she still could not entirely approve of them, Georgiana had come to feel a great fondness for that couple during her time in Bombay, and was quite at home in the house at Parel. Such times must end, however, for the Caroline was due to sail in a few days, and Georgiana came down to her last breakfast in Parel feeling a little melancholy, to be leaving her hosts. It seemed, however, that her hosts had different plans, for as she was consuming her third mango with the appetite of a woman eating for herself and her unborn child, Mr. Stanton said,

  “Lady Stanton, we’ve something we want to put to you, to consider, with your being in the family way and all that. We was wondering if it would be better for you to stay here, through the birth. You’d have Dr. Hornby to attend you – ” at this, Georgiana scowled “ – and you could stay in the bedroom you’ve been using, nice and comfortable-like. We’d be pleased to host you, until you and the little one was ready to travel, and then I’d attend you back to England, so you’d not have to worry about travelling all that way unattended.”

  Harold Stanton was no longer an untrusted stranger, and yet as soon as he put this to Georgiana, she knew her answer must be no, just as she understood that a great deal of thought must have gone into what he now proposed to her.

  “I thank you very much, uncle. It is kind of you to offer this to me, but I fear I cannot accept. I would feel more comfortable staying with Matthew.”

  This might have been the end of the proposal, but Matthew himself then said, “Georgiana, perhaps you should take some time to consider this. My uncle is offering a more comfortable, and I believe a safer place to have the child, than on board the Caroline.”

  “I cannot agree that it is safer,” said Georgiana, feeling overwhelmed and outnumbered. That his uncle and Miss Alistair should attempt to convince her to stay did not surprise her – it was natural that a childless couple should wish to see their grand-niece, the only one they might ever have opportunity to know. But Matthew – traitorous Matthew! – how could he do such a thing? Left to her own defence, she continued, “I did not have a favourable impression of Dr. Hornby, and even he said this is not the best climate for having a child.”

  “There are other physicians, at the hospital,” offered Mr. Stanton.

  “Do they have any more experience than those whom I had planned to attend the birth?” asked Georgiana.

  She received no response. By their countenances, she felt sure that they all still agreed she should stay, but could see how firmly she was set upon going with Matthew. Her parting from Mr. Stanton and Miss Alistair was tearful – she promised to write to them but knew it likely she would never see them again – but she did not seek Matthew’s arm as they went to the carriage, instead claiming the assistance of Mr. Stanton’s footman to climb the steps. Perhaps this was Matthew’s first clue as to the wrath he was to face in the carriage, for as soon as the door was closed, Georgiana cried:

  “How could you? We were agreed, that I should stay with you!”

  “I am sorry, Georgiana, but I had not considered this possibility when we made that decision, and I did think it a good one.”

  “That I should live apart from you for how long? A year, at least? That our infant should live here during the hot season, and the monsoon, if it comes? And then travel on a ship for months, where we could not be nearly so well-accommodated as we are on the Caroline?”

  He made no answer, and with a sudden, stabbing pain in her chest, Georgiana came to a very painful realisation. “Oh God,” she murmured, curling up on herself as she began to be wracked with heaving sobs, “Oh dear God, I have been such a fool.”

  This, at least, moved him, and he came to sit beside her on the seat, rubbing her back and telling her to breathe, that this could not be good for her or the baby, asking her what could possibly have troubled her so.

  Georgiana looked up at him with a wet face, and said, “When you spoke of how I would have been better off if you had died in the battle with the Polonais, that was not what you meant, was it? You meant that you would have been better off if you had never met me. No wife and child to burden you, to feel guilty over.” She gasped, desperately, for what air could be had in her pain and misery, then continued: “If I remain here, I become your uncle’s responsibility, and you can go back to focusing on your career.”

  “Georgiana, that is not at all what I meant,” he said, his own countenance deeply pained. “How could you ever think such a thing?”

  “How could I not? What you have said, what you wish me to do – how could I think otherwise?”

  “What you should think is that I love you so much, I am petrified of losing you. I love you so much that if you could have been happy with some other man who would have offered you a safer life, a better life, I would rather you have married him, even if it meant my own heartbreak.”

  Georgiana had begun to claim some control over her sobs, but these words from him brought them back at full force. When finally she could speak again, she said, “I am petrified, too. When you undermined my choice – what I had thought was our choice – in there, it shook my confidence that it was the right decision, and that only makes me more afraid. Both of us may have our doubts, but for my sake, please do not speak of them.”

  “I understand, Georgiana, and I am sorry, so sorry,” he said, and pulled her up, into his embrace.

  “I’m so afraid,” she confessed. “For myself, and for the baby.”

  “Oh, Georgiana, I promise I will not let my fears increase yours again,” he soothed. “You have very good reasons to wish to go with me. The climate we will see on the ship will surely not be so hot as it will be here, and while there may be storms, at least they would not be so continuous as the monsoon. And I will certainly do all I can to make the journey as comfortable as I can, for the both of you.”

  “None of those are the most important reasons, though,” said Georgiana. “I do not want to be parted from you. I love you, Matthew, and I want to spend every day with you that I possibly can. I am sorry I made such accusations against you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

  “You had your reasons for that, as well, and that is something I must think upon, for I do not ever want you to have reason to think such things again. I am grieved I gave you cause to do so at all.”

  Chapter 29

  They were loading the goats, onto the Caroline. The ship had always had a milch goat for the officers’ tea and coffee, but these goats were for a particular purpose. No nurse, wet or otherwise, had been found who was willing to undertake the journey back to England – Georgiana had hoped to find some displaced Englishwoman who wished to return home, but most of those in service here were local women, and those who were not were well-paid and loyal to their present families. And thus the goats were to feed her child, if Georgiana did not survive the birth.

  Matthew had informed her of this delicately, understanding she would wish to know that this possibility was planned for, but had no desire to dwell upon it. He had been treating her delicately ever since that morning at Parel, as though there was a fragility to both her physical and emotional state, and Georgiana could not deny there was some truth to this. She felt as though the box containing her fears had been opened that day, allowing them all to escape, and now, slowly, she was chasing each of them down and returning them there, so she might
close the box and return to savouring the time she had with Matthew, in those weeks she had left before the birth.

  It would be better, once the ship sailed – tomorrow, was the Caroline’s planned departure, so long as the wind enabled it. Once they departed Bombay there would be no going back, no little voice inside her questioning whether perhaps it would be better if she stayed. For now, Georgiana decided it would be better to claim one of her final opportunities to walk about on shore, and to seek distraction in all that could be found there.

  She summoned Bowden to attend her, and they set off, first meandering through the Yard. Georgiana absently observed all she saw about her here, the victuals and goods being loaded on board the ships, the workers on duty diligently going about it, the seamen who had been allowed shore leave cheerfully walking toward the town. Then she saw a face that was at once familiar, and yet so unexpected to be found here, she was not entirely certain it belonged to the man she thought it did. When she had seen him last, the wound on his face had been new, not the pale scar that now crossed his tanned countenance, yet surely this was Campbell, Matthew’s former first lieutenant. Promoted following the action against the Polonais, he had attended her wedding, but she had not seen him since.

  “Captain Campbell!” she called out, and when he looked at her with surprise and yet recognition on his own countenance, she could see she had been right.

  He approached her, shook her hand, and said, “Lady Stanton, I would not have expected to see you here. I saw the Caroline was in the Yard, and had heard Captain – I’m sorry, Commodore – Stanton was back in command of her, but I did not think you travelled with him. It is very good to see you.”

  “It is very good to see you, as well,” Georgiana said. “How long have you been here? I wonder you did not come and see us immediately.”