The Emperor (41 page)

Some answer was necessary. 'I enjoy your conversation,
Lieutenant Weston,' she said with a brave attempt to restore
the balance. He reached across, took her hand and lifted it
to his lips.

‘
Of course you do,' he said with a long, slow smile which
made her feel as though all her bones had been removed,
‘but won't you call me James when we are alone like this?'

‘I - ' She gazed at him, almost mesmerized. Had it been
any other name, she might have yielded then; but there were
two other Jameses in her life - her husband, and her
brother, whose recent actions had been the cause of much
delightedly scandalous talk in the fashionable world. Sanity
tapped her shoulder, and though she had not the strength to withdraw her hand, she did at least manage to say, ‘I can't -1- I mustn't.’

Weston held her gaze a moment longer, and then,
seemingly satisfied, restored her hand to her. 'Of course,' he
said smoothly. ‘Forgive me, ma'am. Shall you be at the Haymarket this evening? Captain Brummell says that the
new opera is very good, and-his judgement is usually sound
on such matters.'

‘
Yes, I go with the Chelmsfords and a party. I am to dine
with them first,' Lucy said, and was so grateful that the crisis
had passed she added impulsively, ‘I wish you might be with
us, for it will be dull without you.’

His smile now was gentle. ‘I shall do myself the honour of
visiting you in your box, if you will permit it.' She nodded,
and he continued in a cheerful, lively manner, 'But have you
heard Captain Macnamara is to meet his man tomorrow?'

‘No! Again? But this is the second time, is it not?' Lucy said, diverted.

‘
He is as proud and poisonous as a scorpion,' Weston
said. 'He'll fight anyone, on any pretext, and put it all down to "the feelings of a gentleman", as he says. Well, he has
chosen his equal this time - he is to meet Skeering on
Primrose Hill at dawn, and if their tempers do not heat the
air to a pleasant temperature I shall be surprised. I dine with
Skeering at Fladong's before the opera, so I shall be able to tell you all tomorrow - if he survives!’

Lucy laughed, quite her old self again. ‘You always have
the best gossip, Weston! I should be lost without you.’

 
The stern cabin of the
Africa
was the most spacious room in the ship, and though when she first came on board, Mrs
Haworth had not thought that was saying much, a six-
months' trial of naval conditions had taught her to think it
quite luxurious. It benefited from having been newly painted
at the beginning of the commission, and though the Dock
yard's choice of colours was limited, the grey picked out
with yellow and black was quite subtly pleasing, once Mary
had added her own touches.

She had discovered that the Purser had some yellow silk amongst his bales of cloth — for lining waistcoats, he said,
although it did not take long for Mary to learn that the
Purser had an extraordinary variety of things amongst his stores that there was no accounting for. As the ship was a
kind of floating city, the Purser was all the shops of that city
put together. Pursers, she was told, varied in their efficiency,
honesty, and general character just as shopkeepers on shore
did, but in Mr Harding they were fortunate: he was not
more than ordinarily rapacious, and he placed his pride in being omniprovident.

At all events, she had fashioned some very pretty yellow
curtains trimmed with black rick-rack braid for the stern cabin, and had made some cushions for the long window-seat from fine grey canvas, stuffed with oakum, trimmed
with the same braid, which made the colour-scheme appear to have been chosen deliberately.

‘1 learnt very early in life,' she told her husband, 'that the
best way to carry off an unsuccessful outfit was to be sure to
look as though you
meant
to look like that.'

‘I can't believe you ever wore an unsuccessful outfit, my love,' said her husband. 'I firmly believe you were born fully-clothed in the height of fashion.'

‘Ah, what would the
ton
think if they could see me now?' she sighed. Life on shipboard had not been without its diffi
culties. Like all sailors, she missed the fresh food, especially
fresh fruit and vegetables, and she had not expected to miss fresh flowers so much as she did. The sea-air made her hair frizzy, and washing in salt water left her skin feeling sticky and dirty. Washing her hair in salt-water was even worse, and she made arrangements with her husband's servant,
Dipton, to keep back a little of her drinking-water day by
day so that when she washed it, she could at least rinse it in fresh water, but it made little difference.

Clothes were difficult, too. The light, pretty muslins and
silks she had grown accustomed to on shore would not do
on ship-board, and could not have been kept clean and
mended in any case. It was many weeks before she could stop feeling like a fright. Only the fact that there were no
other gentlewomen with whom to compare herself
comforted her. There were other females on board, but they
rarely came above-decks, and the only one she had met was
the carpenter's wife, who was helping in the sick-bay when
she went down there during the battle of Camperdown to
see if she could do anything.

It was fortunate, she reflected, that the battle had not happened until she had been ten weeks on board, and had had time to grow used to conditions. She had been very
frightened, and nothing had saved her from her terror
except the need to ensure that her husband had no cause to
regret having brought her to sea with him. She controlled
her panic, stitched an unconcerned smile on her face, and
invoking the spirit of her younger sister, went below to offer
her help to the surgeon.

The
Africa
was lucky in him, too, for he was a young
man, well-trained, intelligent, and sober. All the same, Mary
wondered afterwards how she had survived the hell of the cockpit during that battle, and even more how Lucy had
survived her weeks of service and still at the end of it
wanted more. Her respect for her sister increased enor
mously as she helped to bandage the horrible splinter-
wounds.

The surgeon was not at all anxious for her help, and
would not let her come near the operating table or the badly
wounded. Nursing wounded men was not an occupation for
 
gentlewomen, he insisted; but she was equally insistent that
she must do something, both to prove to her husband that
he had been right to bring her, and to take her mind off her own fear. Besides, she thought less nobly, how could she
face Lucy's scorn if she hid in the cabin throughout the
action? Fortunately the battle, though fiercely fought – for the Dutch were proud of their naval tradition, and a very different kind of enemy at sea from the French – produced little damage to the English ships and, she was assured, a very
moderate butcher's bill. Mary came through with distinc
tion, and for the first time in her life was able to pride
herself on what she had done, rather than what she was. Not
that she could ever boast about it: it would rather lower her
than raise her in the eyes of London Society if it were
spoken of when she was next on shore; but Captain
Haworth had been proud of her, and a new layer of homage
had been added to his tenderness when they made love.

Mary was helping Dipton to prepare the cabin for the captain's weekly dinner-party that January day, and feeling grateful for the pallid sunshine that was coming in through
the stern windows. It was still very cold, and the sea was still
rough – though fortunately Mary had suffered very little
from seasickness – but the sunshine was cheerful and made one think that spring was on its way.

‘I do wish we had some flowers,' she said suddenly, with a sigh, as she folded napkins. it would make such a difference.'

‘Yes, miss,' said Dipton. He and Mary had shaken down happily enough together, once he had understood that she
did not mean to usurp his duties or interfere with his
relationship with his captain. They were united by a love of
Captain Haworth, and a conviction that he did not take
enough care of himself. 'They say Captain Collingwood has
a long box full of earth under the stern windows, Miss, what
he grows flowers in. Daffodils and such-like.'

‘What a good idea,' Mary said, struck with it. 'Daffodils
would be the very thing for this cabin, wouldn't they?
They'd make it look so bright – and hyacinths would smell
lovely. How I wish I'd thought to bring some bulbs with me!
I must remember to do so next autumn.'

‘
Yes, miss. Here's the Cap'n, miss,' said Dipton. He
always knew when Captain Haworth was approaching – he
seemed to have developed a sixth sense for knowing exactly
where in the ship his master was. It was several seconds before Mary heard, amidst the unregarded background cacophony of ship-noises, the stamp and click of the sentry outside the door coming to attention.

‘Ah, my dear,' Haworth said as he came into the cabin,
and both his and his wife's faces lit in a way that Dipton
found very touching, as he often told the cook, his especial friend, when they were finishing off a bottle of something together down in the warmth of the galley. 'That all looks very oice.'

‘I was just saying to Dipton that I wish we had some
flowers for the table,' Mary said, coming forward to help
him unbutton his pea-jacket, not because he needed help,
but because she needed to touch him.

Haworth laughed. 'Flowers? I think we have more need of wishing for some fresh food. Still, at least we shall have
something better to drink to offer our guests today, since we
captured that coaster last week. Two dozen of real French
claret!' he gloated. 'Do you know what people on shore
back in England would give for that?'

‘Perhaps you ought to keep it back,' Mary smiled. 'You could sell it for a small fortune when we next put in.'

‘
Ah, but a captain must keep his table, you know, my
love. It would be a poor thing if the navy ever abandoned
that tradition; and if you keep a table, you must offer the
best you have.'

‘I know – I was only funning,' Mary said.

‘And who have we to dine today?' Haworth asked.

‘
Wilson, Doby, Cartwright, Webb, and young
Morpurgo,' Mary replied, rattling off the names before
Dipton could speak.

‘
Oh, has it got round to him again?' Haworth smiled at
the name of the youngest midshipman on board, a boy of whom he was very fond. 'You must be sure to suggest a round-game after dinner, my love. The young people will enjoy it more than whist.’

‘
So will the Anchovy,' Mary said, referring to the first
lieutenant, Angevin, who was always included in the dinner
rota, along with the master and the officer of the forenoon
watch. 'He really hates whist, you know, though he is at
pains to please you by playing.'

‘Darling, you really mustn't call him that,' Haworth said, leading her towards the night-cabin. 'We shall go and dress now, Dipton. I'll pass the word for you when I need you.'

‘Aye aye, sir.'

‘But he looks like a fish,' Mary continued the inconsequential argument.

‘
To be sure he does, but not like an anchovy. More like a
cod.'

‘Do you know what the young mids call you, my love? Haystack!'

‘Because of my baldness, I suppose?'

‘
Well, it can't be because your skin smells deliciously like
warm grass, for they can't know that, can they?'

‘Foolish!' Haworth laughed, opening the communicating door for his wife.

‘I shall be glad when the sea moderates and we can have some new guests at dinner from the other ships,' she said.

‘Pity the poor frigate-captains of the inshore squadron,'
Haworth replied, 'who never see another ship from month
to month. And they have fewer officers amongst whom to
ring the changes.' He closed the door behind them, threw
off his pea-jacket, and opened his arms for his wife. They
kissed long and tenderly, and then broke off with an
identical, satisfied sigh which made them both laugh.

‘
You know, this is the best time of the week for me, despite the dullness of so many of our guests,' he said,
sitting down on his cot and pulling off his boots. 'I love to
see you sitting at the foot of my table, and being the
gracious hostess, and making the young officers feel at
home. I like to imagine it a proper dining-table in a large
saloon in a grand house, and you entertaining in the manner
your birth and beauty entitle you to.’