TITLE: The Women Who Wait

AUTHOR: Simon

RATING: G

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters; I make no money from them.

SUMMARY: Mavis and Horatio are seperated

ARCHIVE: surely, if you'd like

FEEDBACK: Of course, that's half the fun…! Women Who Wait

"Let me take Neddy, Mavis, he's fallen asleep. He'll be more comfortable laying down, anyway."

"Thank you, Mama. He is getting heavy." Sophie picked up the sleeping child from his mother's lap, and placed him on the soft pillows lain there for just this purpose on the floor beside them. The boy often liked to nap here at his grandmother's, laying on the floor behind the chairs and pretending that he was on a cot aboard a ship.

"Are you feeling all right, darling? You seem a bit blue this afternoon."

"I'm fine really. I guess that I just miss Horatio. When the baby starts kicking I wish that he were here to feel it, he missed that with Neddy, too."

"Why don't you write to him? I know that always makes me feel closer to your father when I wish that I could talk with him." Mavis just shrugged.

"I wrote him already today, and twice yesterday. I've not had a letter from him in over two months, Mama. I worry so much that something has happened to him or that Hotspur has run into trouble. When he had that trouble with Renown I didn't hear anything for months and then when we found out what they had been through. Oh, Mama, I'm so afraid that there's something just as terrible happening this time."

Sophie had been hearing this same thread repeated endlessly over the last few months. Mavis was terrified that Horatio would either not return or come back with a new horror story to tell them. Not that he would actually tell them whatever really happened, of course. One way or another, the women always found out, though.

"Darling, you know that if anything had happened we would have been informed. If the Admiralty didn't tell us, then Edward would. Now you know that. He could well be on his way home right now, for all we know."

"Or on his way to China."

"Mavis, that's enough of that. You know as well as I do that he's likely just away from the dispatch vessels for some reason. He's always careful, he's known for that and he'll be back. Now, no more of this. You'll bring the baby on early if you're not careful."

"It's not due for another month. That's when Jacob told me it would be born. Mama, could we ask him to come here to help with the delivery like he did for Neddy? Please?"

"Darling, he's a busy man with his own practice. He can't just drop his patients to deliver a baby. You know that there were no complications last time and there's no reason to think that there will be any with this one. You're in perfect health and the baby is growing normally."

Mavis continued with her tatting, making a muddle of it, as always. No matter how she tried, she simply wasn't good at the domestic side of things. Give her a book to read or a kite to fly or a game of chess to play and she was more than fine, but sewing and cooking and all that sort of thing just didn't come to her easily. The only area where she could manage and not feel a proper fool was when she was dealing with Neddy. With him she was confident and sure of herself, delighting in his smiles and the sound of his laughter. With new baby she somehow felt detached this time. When she had been carrying Neddy, she had been excited and sure that all would go well. Though she was worried about Horatio and the trouble onboard Renown, somehow she had known that all would turn out well, and indeed it had.

This time she found herself nervous, unsure of herself, weepy and frightened easily. She had begun to have nightmares where she either lost the baby or received news that something terrible had befallen Horatio. She was, simply, unnerve red, and Sophie was coming to a loss as to how to handle her any longer.

"Dearest, would you like to stay the night here? I would love to have the company, if you'd be willing and you know that Neddy always seems to enjoy being at Granny's. I do so love to have him come running into my room in the morning. He's so like you when you were that age."

"Except that he's the spitting image of his father." Seemingly uninterested, but equally unwilling to argue with her mother, Mavis gave in easily. "Yes, Mama, that would be lovely, thank you. That house is so lonely when Horatio is away. Do you realize that I've been there for almost three months now and he's never even seen it? At least not when it was finished."

"Yes, I know, darling, but he'll see it when he comes back and I'm sure that he'll love everything about it, especially the fact that you're in it and you two can finally have the privacy you deserve. Lovely. I'll tell Preston hat you'll be here, then."

She rose from her chair to find the butler. Although she could have simply rung for the man, she was looking for an excuse to get away from Mavis for a few minutes to attempt to recoup her own flagging spirits. In fact she was also worried about Horatio, though not in the ways that concerned her daughter. She had received a letter from Jacob; Horatio's father shortly after he and Mavis had been to Kent to visit the old man and to introduce Mavis to his childhood friends. The visit had been a mixed success at best. From what she had been told by Jacob and the few things that Mavis had let slip, the couple had several rows while they were there and there had been jealousy on Mavis' part regarding an old sweetheart of Horatio's they had dined with. The young woman had become convinced that her husband thought that she was too young for the responsibilities of being married and that their marriage had been a mistake. She was both distraught and inconsolable at the belief.

When asked directly, she had admitted that Horatio had never said such a thing, but Mavis insisted that he believed it nevertheless. He had become exasperated with her and the arguments had begun.

Sophie would not write of such a thing to Horatio, believing that would be interfering in the privacy of a husband and wife. Beyond that, she would never give him more to worry about when he had the responsibility of a naval ship during wartime on his shoulders.

Sophie decided that it was time to find out more, if she could. Mavis had to come to terms with whatever was happening in her marriage before the baby came or her intense nervousness and fears could easily lead to complications. Sitting at the desk in the study, she took out paper, ink and quill and began to write.

Six days later she was sitting alone in her bedroom when Preston brought the reply she had been hoping for to her on a tray.

Dear Sophie,

I fear that your concerns for Mavis might have some basis in fact. I confide to you, and know that you will not break this trust, that Horatio did, indeed express concerns about his marriage when they visited me several months ago.

I stress that he also went to some length to tell me that he loves Mavis and Neddy deeply.

His concerns are that Mavis may simply be too young for the responsibilities and the strains of being married to a Naval officer during wartime. He also expressed concerns regarding the differences in their ages—not so much as the simple numbers involved, but in their different levels of maturity and independence. He is worried that the separations and the strain of her fears for his safety could lead to serious complications that he would be unable to handle while he is away.

I tell you, in all candor, that he suggested that it might have been preferable for them to have waited several years before marrying.

I need not tell you the distress that conversation caused me. I have grown quite fond not only of Mavis, but also you and Sir Edward. And, of course, Neddy is a lifeline to me.

I know that this also causes Horatio much heartache as he would do nothing to intentionally hurt Mavis.

I pray that you will not tell Mavis any of what I tell you now. I would not have her hurt for the world and as she is within a month or so of her delivery, and with Horatio away, I would not wish to know her upset.

I will do whatever I can to help in anyway, you need only ask me.

I have had letters from Horatio in which I believe he uses me to attempt to set his thinking straight and clear his mind. Thank God he writes often, as I can know he is uninjured.

Madam, my son loves your daughter, this I promise you.

I suspect that, like many young marrieds, they must needs find their way.

With affection,

Jacob

So, he was writing to his father often, and not to either his wife or anyone in the Pellew family. Well, at least he was unharmed, but the cruelty of his silence was unacceptable.

The end of March was a cold one that year, the rain lashing the house and the town gray and dismal looking whenever one could bear to venture out. Sophie continued to worry about Mavis. The young woman attempted to maintain a cheerful façade whenever she saw her mother, but the mask would occasionally slip and her sadness would spill out with long sighs and tears. Neddy was her saving grace with his antics and constant demands for attention. It actually pained her that his favorite toy was a sturdy model sailing ship Edward had brought home for him at Christmas. He would not allow it out of his sight.

No letters arrived from Horatio. Sophie checked with the Port Admiral often, but there were no reports that Hotspur had suffered any damage or run into any particular trouble. The Admiralty received their dispatches and letters regularly as did family members of her crew.

The silence from Horatio, which had at first been simply annoying and thoughtless, was now becoming frightening. In some desperation, Sophie sent a message to Edward, asking for his intervention. Hotspur was under his command; he should at least be able to tell them why there was no word.

When she finally received his reply. It did little to comfort her.

Dearest Sophie,

I understand your concern for Mavis and I wish that I could send you better news than I have for you. Receiving you note, I sent for Horatio to come aboard Tonnant so that I might ask him directly what might be on his mind.

Fortunately Hotspur was with the fleet at that point, and he came aboard within the hour. When he presented himself in my cabin I suspect that he had guessed that I wished other than an official meeting with him. I had him in, sat him down and proceeded to ask him why he had not found the time to send even a single letter to his pregnant wife and son.

His answer was one that took me aback, I don't mind telling you. He simply said that, having no desire to hurt her feelings, he didn't know what to write to her.

I think that I was actually at a loss for words for one of the few times in my entire life. Didn't know what to write to her? For the love of God!

I'm afraid that his answer caught me unawares and I fear that I tore something of a strip off of him, but I do believe that he will put quill to paper as a result.

I do trust that you will inform me of any developments.

I am well, my dear, you are not to worry about me in the slightest. When one attains the lofty rank of your other half, they are quite cosseted. I think when I return you may even find me quite fat!

Your affectionate husband,

Edward

With relief, Sophie wrote her reply to Edward's letter. She assured him that they were well, that Mavis grew larger by the minute and that the receiving of a letter from Horatio was all that was needed to make life perfect again. She did not tell him of the tears and the hurt and the sleepless nights that both she and Mavis had endured because of Horatio's strange silence.

Finally, a week later, the letter they had been waiting for finally arrived attached to a package. Opening the letter first, Mavis quickly walked to the conservatory, wishing privacy.

Dearest Mavis,

I can only beg your forgiveness for the silence that has surrounded me since I left Portsmouth almost five months ago. I wish that I can give you a full explanation, but I fear that whatever I write to you will not satisfy the questions I know you have.

First and foremost, my dearest, know that I love you and Neddy. Never doubt this, I beg you. You are in my thoughts as I lie on my cot and when I stand on the deck. I see you when I wake and I dream of you each night.

Please, never doubt this; never doubt my love for you.

I have wanted to write you so very often. I have started dozens of letters to crumple them and throw them to the decking. I have so many questions in my own mind, you know this—you know me better then I know myself. I fear so much for you alone, that you will be without me again when the new baby comes. I know that you will be well, that your mother will be there and that the midwife is a good one, but I would give my arm to be with you as our child is born. I don't try to shock you, my darling, but I wish it were possible that I could somehow take away some of the pain for you.

When we were at my father's we were both uncomfortable, though for different reasons. You because of the newness of the place and the people, of being on display and me because I felt that I somehow had to measure up to everyone's expectations of me—the young officer returning in triumph with his bride and child, newly promoted and destined (as everyone tells me until I could scream to the moon) for greatness.

Mavis, I am beside myself that we rowed as we did during that time. I knew that you were feeling unwell with the new pregnancy and did nothing to aid you. I'm only happy, looking back, that my father and Rosie were there to give you what I did not.

You have asked me if I have reservations about our marriage.

My dearest. Believe me when I tell you that you are the only woman who I love, that you are the woman I wish to have my children and the one who I want to greet me when I return from the sea.

I cannot not help but smile, as inappropriate as it may be, to remember how very much neither of us wished to wait in those days just before our marriage. I am still amazed that your parents allowed us the freedom they did, and I mentally thank them whenever those memories are in my mind's eye.

Reservations? I confess to you, and implore you not to be hurt by what I tell you. Know first that I adore you, and would never knowingly hurt you, but you ask me and as I can hide nothing from you, I must confess that I believe we might have waited several years before we wed.

Mavis, I see your face as you read these words and I know that I have hurt you—please, read my explanation.

You are my soul mate, I know this, but you are also still so young. I think sometimes that I have done you a great wrong by asking you to take on the burdens and responsibilities of marriage and motherhood when you did. You will bear our second child any time now, perhaps by the time you receive this, and the weight that you carry will become greater than it was before. I regret what I have asked you to do.

You would tell me that you took this on willingly, and I know that to be true, but it causes me grief to know that you are so encumbered. I cannot help but think that had we but waited, it would have been easier for you.

I know that our separations, many and long as they are, are a trial for us both. I must think that they are harder on you, though, as I have much to distract me whilst aboard a ship, while you have Neddy and the house to remind you that I am away. I know my own loneliness, but yours must be far greater. I cannot help be believe that had we waited to marry, you would likely have been out and about more than you can be now. I fear that in marrying me, you will cause yourself to miss much happiness and joy in your day-to-day existence.

Mavis, I do not say these things to you to hurt you. I love you.

I have not written to you before this because I was unsure of what to write, knowing that you would see through any lies or platitudes I sent you.

I will be back in England soon. I don't know exactly, but I am hopeful that within a few months we may return for resupply. You know that I will come to you the moment that I am able to do so.

Please, my dearest, don't stop writing. I sometimes feel that your letters are all I have between me and the abyss.

With all my affection,

Horatio

Post Script:

My darling,

You will have noticed the package to which this letter is attached. You will be as amazed as I to learn how I came by its contents.

The Commandant of El Ferrol was a kind man, and a gentleman. In a strange way, we became friends while I was incarcerated there. He has, evidently, been following my career and me.

Three weeks ago Hotspur was near to the Spanish coast, not all that far from the prison. A fishing boat came alongside under flag of truce and asked if we were Hotspur. When told that we were they said they had a present for the Captain from Don Masserado. I accepted it, with thanks. Upon opening it, I found a note from him explaining that he had developed a fondness for me and had learned from captured copies of the Naval Chronicle that we had a child and that you were again expecting. He has sent this shawl for you and the christening gown for the new baby as his gift. He says that they are from Madeira, that the embroidery is the finest he could obtain.

The ways of war are, indeed, strange.

H

She picked up the package; opening the cloth it was wrapped in. Inside were the two garments. The christening gown was exquisite, white lawn embroidered so finely with infinitesimal stitches as to appear almost spun by hands that couldn't possibly be human. Delicately tucked and pleated, flowers and—yes—-tiny ships lightly sailed around the sweeping, trailing hem. She had never seen it's equal. The shawl lay beneath it. It was a heavy, thick and lustrous silk satin, pale blue, fringed, with flowers and vines climbing as lightly as cobwebs up and around the large piece of fabric. It was magnificent.

There was one more thing in the bundle. It was a small sketch, done in charcoal, of Horatio. Whoever had been the artist was talented in the medium and had managed to capture him well—they had captured his spirit, in fact. The artist had managed to see the man behind the face. His intelligence was there and his sense of honor, but if you looked you could see the self-doubt beneath the surface.

There was a note attached to the back. "Dearest, One of the ratings surprised me with this a few weeks ago. He often sketches in his off hours and this day, he chose me as his study. It occurred to me that you might like to have it." H.

Sophie walked in as she was looking at the drawing.

"He's quite a handsome man, Sweeting, isn't he?"

"Yes, Mama, but he's more than that." She smiled at both her mother and the image of her husband.

"You're all right? The letter he sent you, it's not bad news, is it?"

"No, Mama, he says that he loves me." She chose to stop there. The problems that existed between her and Horatio wouldn't do to be aired. He would be angry if she were to speak about these things, even with her mother. Besides, they were no so large that they couldn't be resolved. In fact, he said that he would be back soon and then they could—

"Mama."

"Yes, darling?"

"My water just broke."

10/7/02

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