The Emperor (56 page)

Docwra moved into view behind her, and Lucy said, Put
out the blue crepe, and my silk shawl, will you?' It was a
dress which became her, though she had hardly thought
about it before. Her eyes met the reflection of her maid's,
and Docwra saw the changes too, and grew pale.

‘My lady – ' she began tremblingly.

‘
What happened yesterday?' Lucy forestalled her. 'Did
his lordship go to Chelmsford House?'

‘
Yes, my lady. Captain Wiske came back to say you had
got separated in the rain, but would be sheltering some
where on the other side of the park. His lordship went on, and left word you was to follow later. Oh my lady, where
have you been all night?'

‘Never mind that,' Lucy said. 'Just get me dressed and do
something with my hair, and don't chatter. I'm not in the
mood for it.’

Docwra bit her lip, and got on with her task, taking pains
with the curl of the hair, thinking she had better look her
best to meet her husband. When she had finished, Lucy got
up without a word and went downstairs, her face cam and
unconcerned, and to Docwra that was the worst of all. One
of her brothers had had that same sweet, almost holy look
the day he had gone out to burn a rick, and had been shot inthe act by the armed guard he had known was there.

Lucy sat in the drawing room and waited, having told the
butler to inform his lordship that she wished to see him as
soon as he returned. Just after noon she heard the sounds of
arrival, and a few moments later Chetwyn came in, closing the door behind him, and stood just inside it looking at her
with his most inscrutable expression.

Lucy stood up and they faced each other in silence for a
long moment. Then Chetwyn said, mildly interrogative,
‘Well, ma'am?'

‘You were quite right about the rain,' she said.

‘
Of course I was. Danby Wiske said you dashed off in the
other direction when the downpour started. Doubtless you
did the wise thing. The whole party was sadly drenched,
with no better cover than trees. I should not wonder if the
ladies caught their deaths of cold.’

His voice was one of the mildest social interest, but his
eyes were watchful. Yesterday, Lucy would have noticed neither. Today she stepped delicately amongst the thorny
words.

‘
Weston knew that we were not far from one of the
further gates, and that there was an inn there where we
could shelter,' she said.

‘
You expected the others to follow, but for some reason
they did not,' Chetwyn offered. He is saving me from lying,
she thought in surprise. She had not wanted to lie, had
hoped only not to have to tell everything.

‘
The landlady provided a chamber where I could take off
my clothes. They were soaked through,' she said. 'By the
time they were dry enough to put on, it was too late to ride
back before dark, so we thought we had better stay the
night.’

Out loud, the words sounded as bad as they could be.
Now was the time for him to ask the other questions, the
ones she could not lie to, to storm and rage at her as he had
every right to. She lifted her chin, standing very straight, like
a soldier waiting for the first volley, but Chetwyn turned his head away and walked over to the window, and leaned there
with his languid grace looking out into the sunny street.

‘I made your excuses to the Chelmsfords,' he said in a
perfectly normal voice. 'You were lucky to miss it – it was
monstrous dull, and a sad crush, despite so many people
being out of Town. I left as early as I decently could.' He
turned back to look at her, and with the sun behind him, she
could not properly see his expression. 'They are all going
into the country tomorrow. I was wondering what your
plans are for the summer? Should you like to go to Brighton
for a week or two? I shall have to go to Wolvercote in
August of course.' She said nothing, and he added, quite
kindly, 'Of course, there is no necessity for you to accom
pany me. You may wish to stay in Town for the summer.
Some people say that it is as quiet as the countryside once
all the families have gone.’

He doesn't care, Lucy thought in astonishment. He
knows everything, and he doesn't care, and he's giving me
permission to carry on. But if he was making it easy for her, why did it seem to her such a bitter thing? She was forced to
swallow once or twice before she could say in a neutral
voice, 'I don't think I want to leave Town at the moment.’

Did Chetwyn sigh? She could not tell, for the sun behind
him was making his shape a blackness to her eye. Then he thrust himself upright and walked back across the room to
the door. Lucy's eyes followed him, and he turned his head
as his hand reached the door-knob and said, 'You look
almost pretty this morning. I always liked that dress.’

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks in a mixture of
consternation, anger and pain, but she said nothing,
standing very straight with her hands lightly clasped before
her.

‘
Yes, there is something different about you this
morning, Luce,' Chetwyn said, and he smiled a small and
horrible smile, and went away.

BOOK THREE

Falcon Jessed

But though first love's impassioned blindness

Has pass'd away in colder light,

I still have thought of you with kindness,

And shall do, till our last goodnight.

The ever-rolling, silent hours

Will bring a time we shall not know,

When our young days of gathering flowers

Will be an hundred years ago.

Thomas Love Peacock:
Love and Age

 
Dinner in the great stern cabin of the
Africa
on the after
noon of the first of August was a dreary affair, and Mrs
Haworth found the effort of sustaining conversation almost
too much for her. She was feeling the heat and her
condition, and all the officers were out of spirits after two
months of sailing around the Mediterranean looking for the
French. By the very nature of it, any news they might
receive was likely to come too late for action, which was a
depressing thought.

One by one the topics she set afloat foundered, and
eventually she too fell silent. She felt as though she were a
cushion which had been stuffed overfull with oakum; and
whoever had sewn up her seams had carelessly left their
needle inside, for she could feel it sticking her in the back
whenever she moved. The only point of triumph for her was
that she had managed to stay aboard and with her husband
all through her pregnancy, but just then she felt too uncom
fortable and weary to savour it.

Dipton came in to remove the cloth, and Haworth made
an effort to rouse himself from his thoughts. 'Well, gentle
men,' he began with a forced smile, but the sentence was not
be be completed. There was a sound of excited voices from
the quarter-deck which instantly froze everyone's attention.
Even Dipton stopped in the act of placing the decanter and
listened, and a moment later the door to the cabin was
opened and young Morpurgo darted in, his eyes as round as
bottle-stops, and squeaked, 'Mr. Cossey's compliments, sir,
and the flagship's signalling that the enemy's in sight!’

There was commotion in the cabin, through which
Morpurgo continued to shrill the rest of the news. 'The
whole fleet, sir, at anchor in Aboukir Bay, in line of battle,
sir!'

‘
I'll come,' said Haworth, springing to his feet with a
lightness that would have been astonishing five minutes ago.

‘
So we were right in the beginning! It was Egypt! My dear,'
to his wife, 'forgive me. Gentlemen, I'm afraid dinner will
have to be curtailed.’

Mary nodded in a rather preoccupied way. She was very
glad for them all that the French had been discovered at
last, but her internal sensations were rather more immedi
ately interesting to her. The cabin emptied as though by
magic, until only Dipton was left, mechanically clearing the table. Mary began to rise, caught her breath sharply, and sat down again. Dipton met her eyes with alarm. She bit her lip
and tried to smile.

‘
I don't know,' she answered his unspoken question. 'It
may he nothing. On the other hand – ' On the other hand, it
may be very bad timing indeed, she thought wryly.

‘I'll call your maid, miss, and tell the Cap'n,' Dipton said.

‘
No – call Farleigh, by all means, but say nothing to
Captain Haworth. This is not the time to be troubling him,
and it may yet he nothing. I don't want him to be distracted
from more important matters, Dipton.'

‘Yes, miss,' he said, and gave her a nod of approval.

Once again all captains were summoned aboard the flagship, and the situation was discussed. The bay was shallow
and sandy, its entrance made hazardous by shoals and
breakwaters, and one end of it was guarded by an island
mounting a battery. The French ships were anchored across
the bay in a crescent formation with the massive treasure-
ship, the 120-gun
L'Orient
at the centre. They were close in
to the shore, so that they had the shallows and sandbanks
behind them, and their starboard broadsides facing outward
towards the enemy.

Lookouts reported that although the French had obvi
ously seen the English ships, they appeared to be making no
preparations for battle. Since the English had no charts of
the bay, and it was already late in the day, the French were
evidently assuming that they would not be so mad as to
attempt a battle which would quickly become a night
engagement.

‘
It would be madness to risk those shoals,' Nelson said
thoughtfully, 'and the French do not expect it. Therefore it
is exactly what we must do. We must cut through their lines,
and attack them on their blind side, from the landward. We
will take them completely by surprise.'

‘
They're anchored close in to the shallow water, sir,' said
Berry, the Fleet Captain.

‘
They must have left themselves room to swing at anchor,
and where there's room enough for them to swing, there's
room enough for us. The risk is great, but so are the
rewards. If we destroy this fleet, including the treasure-ship,
we cut off their army, and their dream of taking India.
Gentlemen, these are your orders.’

Mary heard the bosuns' call announcing the return of her
husband to the ship, and got up from the bunk where she
had been lying to sit in a chair and try to look unconcerned
when he came in. She knew enough about the situation to
know that it meant battle, either immediately or the follow
ing morning, and she was determined not to let worry about
her distract him from his duty. She was almost sure now that
she was going into labour.