Trying Patience
"One never knows with pretty women, so I was cautious at first..."
"And of course men can never be trusted around pretty women..." he said with a knowing nod. "Me especially."
"Well," said Mrs. Porter reflectively. "Yes, you especially."
"Now, Betsy, I was speaking sarcastically. Pretty women are pleasant to look at, but that is all and you know it." He could usually see them for what they were.
She smiled. "Then how come you ended up with a pretty woman who cannot have bewitched you with her sparkling conversation?"
"You do not think her conversation sparkling?" That was what Julia had feared, was it not? Although Betsy did smile, so it might not be disastrous. "Well, she may be a little shy and reserved in the beginning."
"Not one to climb onto a table and break into a song, I agree, but I wondered about that. It might be a helpless act, you see, to appeal to your protective instincts -- which even you must have."
"Well, yes," said the admiral, thinking of ladies who jumped into ponds. "But in this case my instincts tend more towards getting her to speak than speaking in her stead. You have no idea how wise I am."
"If you were so wise, you would have known before that not all women were bad," Mrs. Porter shot back. "I thought you needed more time to be convinced, not a week or two. Also, in my experience shy people need as much time as cynical ones."
"They do," he agreed. "In ordinary circumstances, but as it happened I heard a compliment pass my lips when I saw her. Her nephew had mentioned his aunt to me, but I did not know what she looked like and then when I saw her, she looked much more like his sister and I said so. She gave me the most amazed look I ever saw. I thought it was an enormous pity that she thought she was old. I did my best to provoke her into more youthful behaviour."
Mrs. Porter snorted.
"Our courtship did not take place over a cup of tea, Betsy," he said mischievously. "Although it did start over a glass of lemonade. Or perhaps even over her granddaughter jumping out of a boat. There is, I found, a clear relationship between setting and intensity and time."
"Granddaughter?" Mrs. Porter glanced at Julia.
"Er..." The admiral frowned. He hoped he could be more discreet with other people, although other people would not dare to quiz him like Mrs. Porter. "Perhaps you did not hear me say that. I forgot about the complications. Think of her as Julia's nephew's daughter."
"Very well. I did not think she was old enough anyway."
"She still feels grandmotherly."
Mrs. Porter laughed. "So instead of a pretty and vivacious young widow, you actually fell for a middle-aged grandmother who prefers to stay at home?"
"If that is how you want to put it."
"It really is a pity that I cannot mention the grandmother bit. It would have been so amusing to relate," Mrs. Porter said with regret. "How old is the girl?"
"Forty-three," he answered promptly.
"Not your girl, John!" she chuckled. "The little one."
"Little Julia is two, I think. Perhaps three. She can sort of talk. But really, do you not agree with me?"
She was a little puzzled. "Er ... on what?"
"My choice."
"Obviously you succeeded in coaxing her into more youthful behaviour, although considering that you were provocative I shall not ask you how. Where did all of this take place?" she asked curiously. "I assume this was in someone else's house."
"At the estate of the Duke of Muncester." He wondered if she knew the name.
"He was frequently seen in our neighbourhood," Mrs. Porter mused. "With a young lady who lived in your street in one of his houses. Quietly, mind you, but still we all knew. What were you doing at his estate and how is your wife related?"
"The current duke used to be Captain Lenton and the cousin of the previous duke, who had the young lady. Lenton is an excellent young man and I called on him and his lovely wife on my way to ... er ... someone I will not see again. I called again on my way back because he also has a lovely aunt."
"Rumours have it that your excellent acquaintance disposed of his cousin's mistress by packing her off to the countryside so she would not create a scandal," Mrs. Porter said with a shrewd look.
He did not want to be drawn into making any comments on that, although if she had any knowledge she could surely guess. "And then I packed off his aunt to town so she would not create a scandal either."
"And to sea."
"If she likes."
Upon their return home, an express from Muncester was just being delivered. The admiral intercepted it on the steps and handed it to Julia, although his name was on it. He supposed it was really for her if it came from Muncester and it was only addressed to him because it was his house to which it was sent.
Julia read it in the hall while her coat was being taken off.
Dear Aunt and Uncle,
That at least boded well and she read it again, to derive enough courage from the line to read the rest. Addressing them as aunt and uncle must imply approval.
We have the highest respect for the mature and responsible decisions of older people, but we do not think much of their perceptiveness. If you had not had so much interest in each other, you might have noticed that we are neither blind nor deaf.
The following conversation transpired when Julian quizzed Julia.
-- Julia, did you give the admiral anything?
-- A kiss. He is my friend.
-- Did he take anything from you?
-- Noooo.
-- But did you not give him a doll to sleep with?
-- No.
-- Does he not have a doll?
-- Ammiral has Gramma.
"Well!" Julia lowered the letter, nonplussed. They seemed to have known and they had never breathed a word of it!
"What does it say?" her husband asked. He was intrigued by that blush. The express must have formidable contents. He expected they had something to do with their elopement, although if it elicited only a blush it could not be anything troublesome.
"No, you cannot read it." She held it away from him.
"It was addressed to me." He stretched out his hand, but she ran away. "Fine. If that is how you want it, here I come."
Julia shrieked and dashed into a room, looking over her shoulder. He caught her, but he seemed less interested in the letter than in tickling her. The letter floated to the floor when it slipped out of her hand.
"Big kissy!" a voice cried.
They parted in shock. Julian and little Julia were watching them from the sofa, looking very interested. "I am sorry," said Julian. "I should have told her not to interrupt."
Julia looked as if she was about to faint. The admiral guided her to the sofa so she would at least fall softly if she did. Little Julia jumped on both of them, so there was no immediate need to ask what Julian had come to do.
"Has ... er ... Julia's doll arrived?" the admiral asked, not knowing what else to start with. Perhaps Julian had come to get it back. "I sent one."
"No, not yet. We came to see what you were doing with your own doll. Are you taking proper care of my aunt, Admiral?" Julian seemed to enjoy asking the question. He was almost smirking.
"Are you practising for when the little one gets into trouble?" There was no doubt that she would eventually -- she had her arms wrapped around his neck and he had only married into the family.
Julian laughed. "Perhaps. But if you had read the express, you would have known that we knew and that I could have approached you days ago if I had had any inclination."
"How did you know?"
"How could I not? Well, Clementine first told me something was happening, but after that I thought it was plain to see. Are you not proud of me, Auntie Julia?"
"Where is she?" Julia asked. She was too afraid to ask if Clementine had known precisely what was happening.
"She does not want to come to town, but she did not mind my taking Julia. We were here earlier, but you had just gone out. We came back in the hope of catching you, because we shall return home tomorrow and I had promised Julia she would see you."
"We are married," said the admiral. He was very good at making random comments, he felt. "But she can still laugh."
"Naturally," Julia said with a strained smile. They had come home reasonably early and now they were stalled by unexpected visitors. She did not want to be impatient or unkind, but she could not help but wish they had come tomorrow morning instead of now. She gave the admiral some covert glances. "But I am so tired, yet I would like to speak to you. Are you staying here, Julian?"
"No, at your house."
"Could you call tomorrow morning? Or would you think that a really uncivil request?" Again she gave her husband a glance, but she could not see his face.
"No, it is indeed too late for good conversation of that kind," said Julian. He smiled. "But you know we had to come now because there was no dissuading her. There is no dissuading a Julia."
Julia did not know what he meant, so she gave little Julia a kiss. "Good night. Go with Papa. Come and play with me in the morning."
"He knew what you wanted," said the admiral with a smirk. "That was why he was so kind as to leave instantly when you ordered."
Julia blushed. "How could he know? I never mentioned the words. And how do you know?"
"Our entrance? No, perhaps because I began to grin when you said you were tired." He feared he had given it away. "And you forget that we spoke about this earlier. If you are really tired, will you go to bed?"
Perhaps she might. "What will you do if I do?"
"Whatever you tell me to do. You had no problems getting rid of your nephew. You should have no problems placing me where you want me. I am at your service."
"Escort me upstairs," Julia decided. "And then I do not care what you do, but I must like it."
"And how will I know what you like? I cannot guess and Julia is not here to wriggle that out of you, but I'm sure you realise that it will be in your best interest to tell me, because from now on I shall not be able to guess these things."
"Evil man."
"That is not how you speak to a man you want to do your bidding. Last exception," he announced as he lifted her up. "You want to be carried."
"That was most enlightening," Admiral Henson commented as he went down to breakfast. His spouse only gave him a giggle in response and it amused him. Perhaps that summed it up just as well. "Yes, quite."
"Will you repeat the effort someday?" Julia asked rather demurely.
"Which effort?" he answered with an innocent smile.
She was certain that he knew. "Such as if I go to sea with you?"
He felt unexpected joy. Her words had been spoken with hesitation, but he doubted that she was merely saying that to test him. It sounded as if she wanted to come. Something had to be said first, however. "Even if you do not."
"But then it would be a bit difficult, would it not, being apart?"
"For a while. I would come back."
"But I want to go with you. I am not sure it will suit me, but I do want to try. In case you do not come back." Her eyes had suddenly become serious and looked at him anxiously. She would not deserve such unhappiness and she could not let go of her current good fortune.
"I have always come back," he said to reassure her. This time would be no different. "But I am really not going to dissuade you. If you feel any doubt you will have to dissuade yourself alone, because there are no advantages for me if you stay behind and you know it. And you must really not think it was an effort. It can most certainly be repeated. You must not think I need even more in return." He winced as he thought of words that were too eloquent. "And thank you for contributing to my enlightenment."
"My pleasure," Julia murmured.
"Good morning! We gave you enough warning, I hope," said Julian when he interrupted their breakfast.
"I am hungry," little Julia declared.
"No, you are not!" He allowed her to greet his aunt and sat down himself. "We have already eaten. Of course I was eager to talk to you, but I did not feel I needed to witness all the particulars."
"Indeed. I have just fed her strawberries. You will be glad to have missed that," the admiral spoke.
"Admiral!" Julia said with a heightened colour. He had done no such thing. There were no strawberries on the table and there had not been any either.
"Duchess? It was the reverse, was it?" Now that he thought of it, it might be the wrong season for strawberries in these parts of the world. He did not know anything about plants. He merely ate whatever was put in front of him, forgetting when and where.
"There is no need to be like that," said Julian, getting up to remove little Julia's hand from the jam bowl since he suspected she would not wash it before she continued on to greet her new grandfather. "Admiral, Duchess -- someone told me how you address each other when you are in a normal mood."
"Really?" the admiral raised his eyebrows. "I would like to know, since I am not privy to that information. Why is being formal not a normal mood? You forget we belong to a different generation. Addressing me as Admiral is usually a sign of respect."
"I do not think Aunt Julia restricts herself to formal respect when she calls you Admiral. I find it very unsettling."
He was quite correct about his aunt, but it was amusing that it was unsettling. "Is that because we are old?" Julia, he saw, thought something unsettling as well, for she was hiding her face.
"I had expected something more sedate," Julian confessed.
"I tried that, but she wanted none of it," said the admiral. "Thank goodness."
"Admiral, do you recall what you said to me about newly-married gentlemen?" Julian asked.
"I do." There were never any stupider men, or some such comment. He could see why he was being asked.
"Oh, what was that?" Julia inquired.
"They exhibit a particular characteristic," said Julian. "Or so he thinks."
"Perhaps it is those who are not married who do." He was generous enough to say he had adjusted his opinion. "I do not think it applies to me at the moment, does it?"
"But what is it?" Julia pressed. "Are they overly affectionate?"
"Overly?" The admiral raised his eyebrows. "I thought you liked it," he said sadly.
Although she knew he was putting on an act, she could not give him a response in the same vein. She had to be serious. "I do!"
He was amused at her seriousness. "Perhaps it is newly-married ladies then, Lenton."
"Overly affectionate?" Julia looked anxious. She did not think she was overly affectionate. She had had enough problems with showing her affection in the first place.
"No, I like that." He left his chair to stand behind her. He should not tease the poor girl too much and he caressed her. She did not shrink from his touch, so that was good. She was leaning back.
"Admiral!" Julian spoke. He felt rather embarrassed and seemed fearful of what else they could do. "Other people are present."
"Curiosity is a dangerous trait. Who knows what you get yourself into if you give in to it? Would you prefer to speak to each of us in private, Lenton? It can be arranged as well. Pirate, come with me. We have a brief call to pay." He would take her to Mrs. Sheppard to prove she really existed and if there was time they might go for a walk.
Julia was left alone with Julian now, but she waited a while before she spoke. "If I had not been thinking of going to sea with him, I could have spoken to you last night, but I felt the time was too short for that. I want to go, in case he does not come back -- but if he does not, I may not either and so I felt I required more time to speak to you."
"You are going with him," he mused. "Are you aware of what it entails?"
Julia frowned. "What do you mean?"
"There will be nowhere to go if you do not like it."
"But..." She tried to sort her thoughts. She would have everywhere to go if she stayed, but no one to keep her company. "I will have him."
"Too much of him, perhaps."
"No," she said confidently, unable to imagine that she could ever want him gone. "Could you have too much of Clementine?"
"No, but we are not all the same. I am used to having limited space and now I have to become used to everything being scattered all over the house, including myself. You are used to having all those rooms to hide in, but there you will have a but a few places to go and consequently nowhere to hide. Believe me, it is not as trifling as it may sound."
"I do not want to hide from him." Those few places would have to suffice.
"Even if he keeps up that behaviour?"
"He will not. That is only to vex you, Julian." It did not vex her very much, not anymore.
"I am glad to hear it, because it would drive me insane in less than an hour."
"He is good to me. He cares so much more for me than your uncle did. He does not care much about himself at all. You think he only cares for teasing." Her eyes began to shine with fervour.
"No, but --"
Julia ignored his alarmed look. "But he has been really good to me. Would you not want me to be good to him in return?" She had to go with him, because he would like that. It was his life.
"Yes, of course, but --"
"Julian, you have no idea of the difference. To have someone do something with my best interests at heart for once. After all those years that I was either neglected or expected to be compliant!" This was the first time she told him so much and although she had fled the estate because she had wanted to avoid it, the extra few days had given her more courage.
"Unless you derive some satisfaction from being embarrassed, you are still expected to be compliant, although I admit you are certainly not neglected."
"I am perfectly capable of influencing his behaviour. He listens to me, you see," she said smugly.
"Mrs. Sheppard?" the admiral said, peeking into the kitchen. "You must have heard who is here."
She joined him at the door. "Indeed I have, Admiral. Mr. Sheppard told me."
He indicated the young lady by his side. "This is my little friend Julia."
"Ammiral is my friend," little Julia agreed. "Who are you?"
"That is Mrs. Sheppard. Say good morning, Mrs. Sheppard."
"Good morning, Mrs. --" Julia decided the rest was too difficult for her and she giggled sweetly. She hid behind the admiral and pushed his legs apart so she could look through.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Mrs. Sheppard, bemusedly addressing her employer's knees because sometimes a face appeared between them and sometimes not. "Would you like something to eat?"
Julia's face appeared completely. "I want strawberries." She had heard that word before.
"There are no strawberries this month," the housekeeper answered. "And not for a very long time either."
"Ammiral ate them," said Julia, implying it was a lie that there were none at all. She would not be taken for a fool.
"Ammiral lied," he confessed.
"Oh!" she gasped, reaching up behind him and hitting his posterior. "Bad man!"
"But come with me. I have more people for you to meet and your father says you have already eaten anyway."
"You have a surprising variety of new lady friends, John," said Admiral Porter, looking at the girl. "And the name of this one is..."
"Julia."
"Another Julia!" he exclaimed. "How could that be? Do you pick them for their names?"
Julia looked at him from the admiral's arm, on which she had been placed when they were going upstairs. "Ammiral is my friend. Who are you?"
"He is Admiral Porter, Julia."
Julia looked confused. "He is not Ammiral. You are Ammiral."
He gave explaining the matter a try. She knew people could be kissy little minxes beside their proper name as well. "Ammiral is not a name, even though you think so. You are Julia. I am John. And that is Mrs. Porter. She also has a friend called Ammiral."
"Him!" Julia pointed knowingly.
"She is not shy, is she?" Mrs. Porter remarked. "A very well-spoken and perceptive young lady."
"Indeed she is. I came to introduce her, although you will probably not meet her again until she is much taller. The other Julia will accompany me when I go to sea." He smiled. "She said so."
"How could she not?" she said, observing his smile.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Julia had hesitantly agreed to accompanying her husband on his voyage. It would be a cruise, he said, and she could easily come. She was not at all certain about the comfort on board, let alone about having to share a ship with so many men, but she wanted to stay with him.
It was all right when they lay still. The cabins benefited from the sunlight and they seemed almost cheerful; the sailors were all clean and quiet. It was difficult to imagine any hardships.
But the waves made her ill. She felt it instantly, as soon as they left the calm port. The further they went, the more nauseous she felt. Although she was too proud to say so, she hated being at sea if she could barely stand or walk. The admiral and everybody else seemed to be in their element, but she had the urge to crawl over the deck on all fours.
It was impossible to tell her husband. He gazed upon the sea -- which was not even bright blue, but some cold and dirty colour -- with extreme fondness and he began to say strange things. Julia witnessed this in consternation. She could not even follow him as he moved about, because she would fall over if she let go of her support. It was all very fine for him to beckon her from ten paces away, but there was no way she could walk towards him in the dignified manner expected from an admiral's wife. How frustrating life must be for babies, not being able to walk!
She tried a step and promptly fell into the arms of the nearest sailor. She had no idea who or what he was, except that he was very young and very surprised. "I want..." She pointed at her husband. "...him."
The young sailor very kindly escorted her and then she could be held upright by her husband. He was silent, but she was unsure whether it was the sea or her presence that made him so. There was no sense in competing for his attention -- there was so much more water compared to her.
She did not love water. It frightened her that it was everywhere. Seeing the shore grow more and more distant was no help. Trying to be rational, she thought that a ship would hardly postpone its sinking until the land was out of sight and that nothing bad could happen then.
But it did. There were higher waves out here and Julia was feeling sicker and sicker. She was too proud to speak up and she did not think the admiral noticed. He would think she was silent because she was as enraptured as he was.
He had to stop thinking that when she vomited in the wrong direction. The wind was not kind, but Julia had no experience in minding the wind and the admiral ended up rather soiled. Although Julia had thought she was being considerate by vomiting over the side of the ship, he grabbed her and held her half upside down above the deck when she did not look to be finished.
She felt miserable and humiliated. The rough grip he had on her was actually painful, but if he released her she would fall straight into that mess and she would rather have a bruise. He could only be very disappointed in her for not having a stomach for the sea. Her eyes began to burn as much as her throat.
Her unshed tears prevented her from seeing much as she was pulled up straight. There was a blur she assumed to be a group of men, but she was thankful she could not see what they thought of her. Wordlessly she was transferred to another pair of hands and she could tell someone was beginning to clean the deck.
Her new escort walked her to the other side of the ship. No mean feat, since she was very unsteady and he seemed reluctant to hold her properly. On the other side he presented her with a flask. "Rinse your mouth. Spitting on this side is safe."
It was disgusting and strong; she supposed it was rum. After she had handed the flask back, she fumbled for a handkerchief. Then she could finally see. This man was the captain, if she remembered correctly. She could not tell the difference between their uniforms and she had not seen their faces often enough. "Where is the admiral?" Why had he left her?
"You spit over him like a baby, Your Ladyship. He went to clean himself."
She wondered why nobody had spoken. Everything had happened without a sound. "He is already regretting that he brought me, is he not?"
The captain shrugged gallantly. "The sea is particularly rough today. There will be a storm later."
"Oh God, a storm. Did the admiral say -- no, I did not hear him say anything." He had not said whether he would be back to collect her. She could not be weak. She would recover a little and go to him on her own. "Thank you for your efforts, Captain. I shall be fine. You can leave me now."
"As you wish, My Lady," he said after a moment.
Julia gripped the railing and made the mistake of looking down. It was a high drop and she felt dizzy. After another while of staring persistently at the horizon, she felt a little better and she took one hand off the railing. That felt dangerously unsteady and she grabbed it again. She turned and looked for the nearest means of support. It was but a few steps away and if she pushed herself away from the railing and leant forward, she would very nearly fall against it. From there she could pick out a new object to grab.
It was difficult to fall into the wind. She needed to walk as well, but due to the movement of the ship she did not end up quite where she had wanted and she had to shuffle back towards that spot. Making it to the stairs that went down to the deck the admiral was on was going to be complicated. There were not many objects in between and she was still nauseous. Still, Julia was determined to make it across without the help of any officers.
She did not know that her expression indicated all too well that she did not want any assistance. Even though she crawled on hands and knees and must look humiliating, nobody came near. When she came upon a pair of shoes and trousers, she crawled around their owner without giving him the benefit of seeing who it was. She only gave his leg a vicious little slap with the back of her hand for being in the way. An admiral's wife would surely be allowed.
Arriving at her destination, She pulled herself up to a standing position, closing her eyes briefly to recover from the effort. Then she looked around to see who had been watching her performance. It made sense that the only man not moving aside for the admiral's wife was the admiral himself.
He was watching her with a bemused look that indicated he had probably expected her to pull herself up by grabbing his legs. But really, if she had done so she would probably only have managed to unclothe him. In spite of her sickness, she began to grin at that image. He did not seem to be angry with her.
The admiral -- not in a clean coat, although it was wiped -- was intrigued. "You hit me," he said, coming closer. He walked as steadily as he would ashore, as if there were no waves and no wind.
"Why..." Julia suppressed a nauseous shudder by briefly closing her eyes. "...did you stand in my way?"
"I thought you wanted help, but then you did not."
"I should have pulled your trousers off if I had used you."
"You prefer me with my trousers on?"
Julia was a little confused. "I thought you were disappointed in me now, but you seem to want to -- and you still have to change?" Was he going to keep the coat on? There was nothing on his trousers, yet he spoke as if he was going to remove them.
"The surgeon said you should lie down with a potion."
"So I can watch you change?"
"Come," he said and led her below. This was an odd conversation and she looked very unwell. "Beckett," he said when he saw his man. "My other coat."
Julia dropped onto the bed. Lying down was much better. She enjoyed the improvement and paid only vague attention to her husband's discussion with his valet about his plans. It was not until he forced her to sit up to drink a little that she noticed they were alone and he had no coat on. She swallowed the potion with a shiver. It was disgusting. "I might prefer to remain sick, really. Can I watch you change now?"
"What, change to leave you?"
"I thought the surgeon said I should lie down with a potion, not an admiral," Julia said, biting her lip. He looked very pretty in white. One thing that was better than changing was remaining in shirt sleeves.
"I am more potent than a potion."
"Sweeter, certainly. It was quite bitter and foul. You are not bitter and foul because I feel sick? Or because I spit on you?"
"Such things happen," he said philosophically. "But I am glad you spit on me for everyone to see. That justifies my being down here. Taking ladies to cabins is otherwise suspect."
"But you were so rough with me that they might think you are angry with me," she whispered.
"Rough? Some quick action was needed." He had not even stopped to think about it. "I have never been rough."
"But that was my life and this is yours. You might be disappointed in me because my body does not instantly take to it."
"I would rather have you spit on me than not have you at all." He took a book and sat down beside her on the bed. She was looking so very fearful. "Let the potion do its work. You look very desirable even if you are green, but..."
"True love," Julia murmured. She did not feel desirable at all. "To desire me when I am green and do nothing."
"If you fade to yellow, I shall act. How is that?" He was not certain he would, however. She might turn green again instantly and vomit again.
She tried to smile. "That almost works. But do you love me alone? Perhaps I am green with jealousy. You hardly marked my presence when you looked at the sea and it was not even pretty."
"Not even pretty!" he exclaimed. "It was -- it made you jealous?"
The fact that Julia was ill made it a little easier for the admiral to do what he was supposed to do on a ship. He hoped she would not be afraid if they got into any action, but he did not think the chance of action was very large. It was more likely to be tedious. They sent the older fellows down to proper action, but this time he was not sorry.
He wondered if Julia had looked through the portholes and seen that sometimes there was land on the horizon. She was ill for longer than the surgeon had predicted and his potions were useless as well. The admiral did not want to be the first to mention the shore. She would think he wanted to be rid of her.
He did not. She felt well enough if she lay down and there was plenty to do then. The range of activities was a little more varied than what the crew supposed, for he had also borrowed books that he could read to her. Although he had tried to educate some of the young officers -- some of whom were even the owners of the books -- not all of them understood there was time for reading.
The admiral took Julia for walks when she was at her best. She felt as though those moments were rare. Usually she lay in their cabin feeling miserable and she had no appetite at any time of the day. Whenever she did and took advantage of it, she invariably had to run to the side of the ship. She could now tell where the wind came from.
"You must despise me," Julia said to her husband one day.
"Whatever for?"
"Let me go ashore, John. Please?" she begged with tears in her eyes. She had been feeling miserable for weeks now and it was not becoming any better. It began to be tedious in bed. "I have not asked before because I knew we could hardly change our course for my sake, but I have been feeling so very ill."
"I know." He admired her for having borne it so long with so few complaints. She did not have to explain how ill she had been feeling -- he had been able to see that. That she occasionally felt better did not alter the fact that for the greater part of the day she felt very sick indeed.
"I have tried." She had seen land earlier and she had fought her desire then. Now she admitted defeat.
"I know."
"But I cannot do it anymore." Her tears fell. "I am not doing you much good in this state. That thought makes it worse."
"I know. But do not think that."
"You will start to hate me if I stay." She could not do anything. She could only lie here and although she made the best of that, it began to be boring and she began to feel tired and weak. Going onto deck had become an effort, which he must certainly have noticed.
"No." He touched her face. She had lost weight. She might lose even more weight if she stayed, unable as she was to keep any food down. It was beginning to wear her out, as was her fear that she was useless. "I shall arrange for you to go home. You need to be able to eat properly. You must be fine and healthy when I come back."
"Yes," she smiled through her tears. Yes, she wanted to be fine and healthy. "I would rather stay with you, but..."
"I know. I will be back," he said, embracing her tightly. He wished she could stay, that she would somehow miraculously recover.
"Will you be able to do without me?" she asked. She did not want to hear she would not be missed at all.
He was silent for a while. He did not know what she wanted to hear. "I am an admiral." They could not dab at their eyes with their handkerchief all day, sniffling at their loss. It would not do. His marital devotion had raised many an eyebrow already and he had spent some time explaining himself, but probably to no avail. He supposed they could see that his wife was very worthy of any devotion.
"Does that mean you can?" Julia asked.
"It means I must. But it is different now. I shall know what I am doing without. Your company. I am so used to you now." She was in his cabins now every time he came below and there was always appreciative company. He was never lonely. "And I would have been alone if you had not been brave enough to give it a try."
"I shall die without you."
"Do not be dramatic, Julia, or I shall live in fear every day of not finding you when I come back. Be strong. It is very flattering, but it would not benefit either of us." She should regain her strength ashore, not sink away in despair.
"What about your next trip? Oh, why did I have to marry a sailor?" she lamented.
"Do not think about future trips. There may not be any and then you will have worried for nothing. Next year you may ask yourself why you married a sailor, because he is always home and in the way."
He accompanied Julia ashore, but he could not stay long. He was fortunate that he could arrange it at all, although he suspected Julia would never have spoken up if she had known it was impossible.
After arranging her passage to the estate, a trip of several days, he embraced her. "Are you feeling any better?" He was not certain. She was still looking very queasy, despite having nothing in her stomach anymore; she had emptied it on the quay.
"I am trying. I so much want the sickness to go away so I can go back with you directly. I am sure it will all be gone the second you have left and then it will be too late." Her lip quivered.
"Julia, I love you. I want you to feel better. I should not see much of you either if we got into any action at sea. Ashore you are at least safe from that. When I come back I shall be home for a very long time. Enjoy the freedom you will still have," he said in an attempt to lift her spirits. "After that I will be around every day to bother you."
"Make it soon," she begged.
He kissed her. "Now, get into the carriage and leave. Do not look. Do not cry."
"You know I will."
"Do not look. It will not do you any good." He handed her into the carriage and gave her a last kiss. "The coachman knows you suffer from sickness. I told him your nephew will pay him extra money if he stops whenever you wish."
"Aunt Julia!" Julian said in amazement when a visitor was shown into his study. "What are you doing here?
"I had to go ashore. I was so seasick." Julia felt as if she was admitting a failure. She had married, but she could not even stay with her husband. Was this what she had run off for? What would people say behind her back if they heard she had returned, alone? This was the punishment for her recklessness. She was a failure as a wife. Still, she kept her voice calm, because one did not admit such a thing willingly.
Julian looked at her cheeks: hollow, but not pale. "Seasick? You look tired and thin, but not ill."
"I felt very ill!" she exclaimed, afraid he did not believe her. "My condition has improved steadily since going ashore, but that was several days ago. I still feel the waves inside me, but they no longer make me so ill."
"Where did you come ashore?"
"Oh goodness, Julian, as if I cared where I was! It was not where I wanted to be, so I paid no attention. Where is everybody?"
He walked towards her. "Clementine is out with Julia. They will be thrilled to see you."
"I am not as thrilled to be here," she said in a soft voice. "I would much rather --"
Julian seemed to realise something or someone was missing. "Where is my new uncle?"
"He is still at sea." She burst into tears. She thought she had spent all her tears on the journey, but apparently there were plenty more to shed. Her husband was not dead; thoughts of him really should not bring on fresh floods of tears, but she could not help it.
During the journey she had imagined her arrival and she had contemplated both weak and strong behaviour to see which would be best, but now that she was here there proved to be no choice. She could not calmly tell Julian she had left. Someone desperately needed to say comforting words to her. They had not been her family for long, but surely they might care just a little?
"I cannot believe he let you go."
That was the last thing she wanted to hear. He spoke as if her husband did not care for her at all, as if he had callously had her lifted into one of those little boats to be deposited ashore. It had not been like that at all. He had carried and assisted her himself when she had been deadly afraid of falling into the sea. "Oh, Julian!"
Julian put his arms around her. "I am sorry. I did not mean to imply that he does not love you, because I am sure he does."
Julia sobbed. Of course he did. He had said so. Although he had once said he could not cry she was not sure of that now. When he had said goodbye he had blinked. "He had to do this. I could eat so very little and he knew it. I was fast losing my strength. He could see all my ribs."
That gave her nephew pause. "He must have looked after you very closely indeed."
"Yes, of course. He is very attentive. He said I should be fine and healthy when he comes back." She tried to give herself courage.
He patted her back. "See, he loves you very much. Your health is important to him. We shall feed you. Turn you into a comfortably-sized auntie."
"No! He would not like that," she protested, thinking of some heavy women in the neighbourhood. He would not recognise her if that happened.
"I am not talking the size of Lady Pritchard -- or worse, because she is not so bad -- but I am talking the size of Clementine," Julian said patiently. Clementine was not a frail puppet, but a healthy young woman.
"He must still be able to carry me," Julia stipulated. If the admiral had laid her on a table because he would hurt his back if he did not, if he had carried her only to the foot of the stairs and let her ascend herself, then which man could possibly carry Clementine for any significant distance? Although she would forbid her husband to carry her upstairs even if he could, for fear of having them both tumble down the stairs, she had enjoyed being carried down the hall.
That puzzled Julian. "Are you planning to become an invalid?"
"Julian!"
"Oh, dear! I go out for an hour and my husband starts embracing other women?" Clementine interrupted them. She did not sound too distressed, since she could see who it was.
"Only his aunt, my dear," he said, releasing Julia so Clementine could take a good look.
"Aunt Julia! You look so different!" Clementine exclaimed. "The sea air was good for you."
Julia stared, completely amazed upon hearing that, yet the remark was evidently made in all honesty. "I was seasick all the time, I am thinner than a skeleton, I am temporarily without a husband and you say the sea air was good for me?" No, she could not believe that.
"Well ... seasick?"
"Yes. I had to go ashore. I could not do it anymore." She cried again. "I felt so miserable. All I could do was lie in bed. And do not say anything about that!" she exclaimed vehemently in Julian's direction. She had come from a ship full of men who had all had thoughts about this.
Clementine embraced her as well. "Where is he?"
"I left him behind!" she said with a sob. "I am a bad wife. I should have been less selfish. Now he might die and never come back."
"Die?" Clementine sounded taken aback. "Why?"
"Those ships! They are horrid things! One cannot be safe on them! Where would he go if it sank?" She imagined it in despair. There would be no land. Where could he go?
"But he is like a very bad weed, the admiral," Julian offered after a moment. "Fevers and seas would not do the trick. A cannonball might, but he is not going to come across many, perhaps none."
That was what the admiral had said, about action, but Julia still did not trust it very much. "And I do not deserve him. I am weak." She noticed Julian left them, but he had run out of support he could offer anyway -- he had hugged her and called the admiral a bad weed. It was difficult to imagine he was able to improve on that.
"You are not weak," Clementine soothed. "It is not weak to be seasick. You tried. What did he say?"
"He will be back, he said. What if he will not?" Julia willed herself not to think of that.
"He will. You must believe in that. In the meantime we are very pleased to have you back. Julia did not understand where you had gone. She was angry when I said the admiral had taken you in a boat..."
"Of course." Little Julia would have liked to be taken herself and she would not have been seasick. It was a bitter realisation that was not entirely outweighed by knowing that they would indeed be pleased to have her back. None of it was little Julia's fault, however. "I am sure he could take her out for a day some day."
"Only a day?" Clementine inquired with a little smile.
Obviously. If she could have any say in it, she would not want him to leave for longer. There might be occasions in which she would not have any say at all. "I could not spare him for longer. Where is she?"
Little Julia was thrilled to have at least one friend back. She insisted on sleeping in her grandmother's bed for her nap and Julia did not mind the company. It was better than being all alone. They had a pleasant nap together.
It was only afterwards that little Julia remembered more. "Where is Ammiral?" she asked, plucking at her grandmother's nightgown.
Julia studied the small face. She wondered how much would be understood. Since little Julia had already been told about the boat, she could not lie. Little ones had great memories. "In a boat."
The girl stood beside the bed instantly. "I want to go."
"But he is not here. He is far away. He will be back when ... when it is very warm outside. It takes a long time. It is cold now." Of course it was cold. The season was so suitable for sadness. Julia lifted the girl back onto the bed. In little Julia's opinion, nobody had any private wishes or occupations. "He is your grandfather now and being a good grandfather, he has gone away to get you a good gift from far away. Now you must not be impatient and angry, or you will not get a gift."
Little Julia looked appreciative of the admiral's business. "Ammiral gave me a doll. You want to see?"
Although Julia had chosen it, she nodded as if she had never seen the doll before. They played with the doll for a while. "Shall I make other clothes for your doll, Julia? How would you like that?" Such a task would keep her occupied for weeks. She would make an extensive wardrobe to keep herself busy.
"Yes! Like me! With buttums!" Gramma had made her a cloak with a button, she remembered.
That was even better: matching outfits. "What is your doll's name?"
"John," little Julia answered promptly.
"But that is a name for boys! And the doll is a girl. Look!" Julia pulled at its pink dress. She supposed Julia simply took whatever name she had heard recently, nothing too creative. Her other dolls were Grace -- not infrequently mentioned in the house of a duke -- and Dolly, after all.
"But I like it." The girl studied the doll. "She is John."
"We need to read you a few books about girls, my dear. Or better yet, shall I make some boys' clothes?" She could turn it into a little admiral. The uniform did not have to be entirely accurate and she could use the buttons that might still be in that box in the drawing room. The corners of her mouth turned up. "A little admiral doll."
It was difficult at first to settle back into life at the estate. Julia missed her husband so much and she was so weak in general that she did not go out during her first days at all. She was still occasionally nauseous, although her legs were beginning to be less wobbly. Although she was still afraid the admiral would never come back, she could not help but feel she had done right. Her health had improved considerably.
After a few days she had grown a little stronger, having eaten a little more, and she could go out for a walk through the park. It was early December and not very warm, but the sun made it very pleasant nonetheless. She had taken to carrying a flask at all times to be able to rinse her mouth if she had vomited. Naturally it did not contain rum, like the captain's flask.
Taking swigs from the flask did give her a rather strange appearance, she discovered.
"I hope circumstances have not turned you into a drinker, Your Grace," said Mr. Newman as he greeted her. He appeared to be out walking with Thomas.
She gurgled with her mouth full, wondering if she could be so ill-mannered as to spit. She could not speak without doing so, though, and she turned to do it behind a tree. Then she faced Mr. Newman again. "No, sir. I rinsed my mouth. Pardon my unladylike spitting."
"Ah." He still looked mystified.
"I am still seasick on occasion," she informed him. "And the flask does not contain a spirited drink, but lemonade."
"Seasick?" He glanced at the park around him. There was no sea in sight.
She frowned in embarrassment. "It takes a while for my insides to settle. Did you think I had been seeking refuge in the bottle?"
"I had never heard of such a flask containing lemonade, Your Grace, so I was curious."
"Indeed, very disgustingly I suppose most men have rum in it, but admirals have their own supply of water and," she lowered her voice, "my admiral does not like rum, so I would not pick up such a bad habit from him."
"He did look rather better preserved than most," Mr. Newman agreed. "No red nose and wide girth."
"Awful!" Julia cried. "I cannot imagine having married him in that case!"
"But what does that matter if he provides a good home?" the steward asked innocently.
"Oh, Mr. Newman!" She could not believe her ears. Why did he think women would like unattractive men as long as they were rich enough? Perhaps because he was a man and many of them seemed to think that. With some females they would succeed, though not with her.
"Or if he provides a good cabin."
"Such a thing is especially important in a cabin."
Mr. Newman nodded intelligently. "A wide-girthed man would take up so much space. I understand cabins are small."
"There is no getting away from a man in there, so he had best have a good figure," Julia shot back. "And the admiral provides both." As she spoke, she wondered if she was not provoked into too much indiscretion. Perhaps she had merely learnt to be what her husband had called strategically tactless, which really amounted to blunt indiscretion to people who would not talk.
"I am happy to hear that his cabin in no way lessened your opinion of him."
"Mr. Newman, I find you unchanged. You still speak nonsense for your own amusement. As for my husband, I can only hope he will return in the same condition as when I left him." She thought about it with some anxiety, but she could not see him start drinking to excess and growing round. He would miss her, but he would not drown his sorrows.
"And that he will find his lady in the same condition as when he let her go," he said with a wide smile, evidently amused by her assessment of him.
"He wants me in a better condition, Mr. Newman. I was so ill."
"I am sure you will recover speedily. By the way, if you wish to refill your flask with something innocent and wholesome, had you ever tried Anne's syrup?"
She sighed. "But that is still such a long walk and I am still recovering from weeks of seasickness. I ought not feel so weak, but it does truly feel far to me at the moment. I may arrive, but how would I get back?"
"Let me escort you there and we shall see. Why are you not out with a servant if you are not well, Your Grace?"
"It would not make me any less tired or less queasy to take a servant, Mr. Newman. I will go less far instead. If you must know -- and you must -- I never walk with servants," Julia said a little haughtily.
"Indeed, you like your solitude."
"Actually..." She looked at him reflectively to see whether she could tell him. "The duke's mother -- the duchess before me -- she forbade me to take a manservant on walks and as such I never did."
"How sensible of her."
"Not really. She did not trust me." It was agreeable to astonish Mr. Newman for once. "Perhaps she was sensible. I might not have run off with a footman, but she knew I tended to do as I was told and she did not think I was discerning enough to recognise the differences between our situations. I was very young."
"Well, clever," he commented. "But by walking alone you were in no danger of secretly developing an independent character?"
"Oh, but did I?" Julia did not know.
"She might be rolling in her grave at this moment." He offered her his arm.
"Your Grace!" Mrs. Newman exclaimed.
"It is Lady Julia now. I forgot to say. I am sorry for not correcting you, Mr. Newman. I had other things on my mind."
Mrs. Newman evidently wished her husband to tell her everything, rather than ask questions herself and say something wrong in the process. She looked at him expectantly.
"Her Grace, Lady Julia, came back to us because she was seasick on board," said Mr. Newman. "That bit of the gossip at least was true."
Julia sank down in a chair. "Oh no! Gossip?"
"One cannot run off with handsome admirals and expect people to let it pass. That is really asking too much of them. Since, you see, they had all seen it coming." He smirked.
"Oh no! I demand that you tell me what transpired. But first a bucket," she said hurriedly when she felt a sudden queasiness coming on. Mrs. Newman was quick to fetch one and Julia hung over it. Nothing happened. "I am sorry, but I cannot pretend that I am not ill. It is probably more embarrassing for you than for me. I can no longer feel very embarrassed about this habit I have developed. Hundreds of people have seen me in worse situations. The crew, for instance, knew not to stand downwind from me."
The Newmans stared.
Julia sat up straight again. "I did not know about the wind the first time."
Mr. Newman gulped as he imagined what might have occurred. "But what a way to find out!"
"Indeed." Julia shrugged. "I suppose I did not grow more delicate on board. But tell me about the gossip. What could I expect if I venture into the village? Or indeed if someone comes to visit me?"
"Well..." Mr. Newman rubbed his hands as if something good was to follow. "The admiral, when he first came, was so impressed with you that he got a special licence straight away. He may have said he was visiting his family, but that was a lie. There are several explanations in circulation as to the reason for his sudden infatuation."
"Oh no!" Julia said again. She kept the bucket at hand. Who knew what distressing information might do to her stomach?
"One of them was that he was not infatuated at all, but that you made him an offer. Another was that you had been his mistress in town and the duke had discovered this somehow, forcing him to do the honourable deed. Thirdly, he saw you and vowed to love you forever. That, by the way, is the current favourite among the better-situated females. Fourthly -- need I go on?"
"No, no. That was quite enough. How could I have been his mistress in town if I was hardly there -- and he was hardly there either?" Everyone would know she had been here for most of the year. One would not do so if one had a lover in town.
"Such practical problems are precisely why it is no longer the favourite in the village."
"Shall I receive many queries, do you think? And what will they make of my having returned alone?"
"Expert in manipulating gossip that I am, I advise you not to go into the village until your seasickness is completely over," said Mr. Newman. "They have heard of it already, naturally, but..."
"But if they saw no traces of it, would they not think I left for other reasons, such as a quarrel? Which we did not have. We could never."
"It would be nobody's business if you did have a quarrel. But yes, they might." Mr. Newman looked at his wife, who apparently knew more.
"Over the fact that you had to sleep in a hammock hung between two guns," Mrs. Newman offered hesitantly.
© 2005, 2006 Copyright held by the author.