Free The Victory by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles Page A

not see each other.'
    ‘ And how long will that last?' Weston said bitterly. 'We live by the whim of his charity.’
    Lucy stared at him helplessly. 'It's the best we can do,' she said at last, gently for her. 'Please, Weston, try not to mind it so much.’
    He made an effort, for her sake, and after a moment resumed carving the lamb. 'Where will you go to have the baby? Have you decided yet?'
    ‘ I shall stay here for now,' she said. 'There's no need to hide myself until my condition starts to show. Later ... I don't know.'
    ‘ I wish you could go back to Yorkshire. I should like to think of you being with friends while I'm at sea.'
    ‘ If I stay at Morland Place, everyone in Yorkshire will know I'm increasing,' she said with a faint smile. He laid the slices of lamb on her plate, and she lifted her glass to him and said, 'Let's be happy while we can. We have a few days yet.'
    ‘ A week, at least. I have to man her and complete the stores and set up the rigging. I'll be busy every day, but we can dine together and sleep together until I get my orders.'
    ‘ I'll find plenty to amuse me during the daytime, I promise you,' Lucy said.
    ‘ Including Farleigh tomorrow morning,' Weston reminded her with a teasing smile. 'If she does leave the children with you, you'll have your time well occupied.’
    Weston wronged the elderly lady's maid, however. She brought the little girls to visit Lucy the next day, but though she looked thin and drawn and tired, she said at once that she would stay with her charges until Captain Haworth finally sailed and Hippolyta was safely at Wolvercote.
    ‘ And I shall not cease to try to persuade him to let me take both girls there,' she said firmly.
    The sisters were as different as they could be. Hippolyta was almost nine, a dainty child, pretty as a porcelain figurine, with delicate features, and alabaster skin, wide blue eyes, and smooth dark ringlets. Though not in the least shy, she was grave and self-possessed in a way that had always seemed unnatural to Lucy in a child. She sat exactly where she had been placed, with her hands in her lap, and replied to ques tions with well-schooled politeness.
    Africa resembled her sister very little. Where Hippolyta was very like her mother in looks, Africa favoured her father, having his rounder face and irregular features. Her skin was sun-browned and her cheeks were red, her hair an unruly mass of curls,, and only dark brown where Hippolyta's was almost black. She did not sit quietly where she was placed, but fidgeted and walked around the room looking at things and peering out of the windows. Her expression was alert, her eyes sharp, and when addressed, she answered in a much bolder way than her sister — not impolite, but freer than was usually considered proper in a small child.
    Lucy could see that Farleigh was in agonies about her, fearing that Africa's strangeness would reflect on her. Africa did not remember her aunt, but Lucy engaged her in a conversation about ships which quickly won her the little girl's respect. When it emerged that Lucy had once served as a King's officer Africa's eyes grew wide with admiration, and she demanded the whole story from beginning to end, with details.
    ‘ I can't tell it now; it would take too long,' Lucy laughed, 'but I promise you shall hear it all one day. But you will soon have much more to tell me than I can tell you. You can't think how much I envy you.’
    Farleigh coughed warningly at this unnecessary encourage ment, but Africa nodded in approval. 'I'm to sail with Papa when my ship is ready. She's my ship because I was named after her,' she added in a burst of confidentiality, 'but Papa's the captain. I always lived there until we came ashore. I don't like living ashore. It doesn't smell nice.’

    *
    The French continued their game of diplomacy, and Lord Whitworth did not leave Paris until 12 May. Weston had received his orders a few days before that, and had sailed to join two other frigates off