an hour later when the bell rang for dinner to find her tears had soaked the writing paper and blurred the ink.
24th April 1854
Plymouth Dockyard was teeming with people bustling between precarious stacks of luggage. Tall-masted ships stretched as far as the eye could see. The noise of ships’ horns sounding, street traders crying their wares, and the anxious chatter of bystanders was overwhelming. Lucy worried that they would never find their way but when Charlie hailed a porter and asked him to take them to the Shooting Star, the man seemed confident about finding it. He loaded a trolley with their steamer trunk, all their bags stuffed to bursting, and their large tin bath, and set off. Charlie clutched Lucy’s arm tightly and hurried them through the throng in pursuit of their luggage.
Before long, he spotted some comrades in royal blue and gold Hussars uniform and hailed them, pulling Lucy forwards to introduce her. She shook hands with several gentlemen and was pleased to note their appreciative glances. She had dressed with care in a wide-skirted soft wool gown with cascading ruffles in the skirt, and a warm fitted jacket, both of a deep blue very similar to that of the Hussars’ colours. A prettily trimmed bonnet framed her face.
‘I think you have new admirers,’ Charlie winked, squeezing her hand.
As they approached the ship, she noticed several women sobbing, with young children clinging to their skirts, and asked Charlie what ailed them.
‘These are the soldiers’ wives who can’t come along,’ he told her. ‘There was a ballot and only a few won a place. You’re lucky to be the wife of an officer, as we can all bring our wives, if our commanders agree.’
‘What will become of them while their husbands are away?’ She felt alarmed for their plight. She had no idea what would have happened to her if she hadn’t been allowed to accompany Charlie because his wages were not sufficient, after stoppages for uniform and so forth, for him to have supported her in lodgings like the boarding house where they had been living in Warwick for the last three months. She suspected from the haste with which he insisted they leave that he owed money to the landlady there. If a captain couldn’t manage, how could the soldiers, who earned so much less?
‘I expect their families will look after them,’ Charlie said, as if the question hadn’t occurred to him.
Some called out – ‘Miss, can you help us?’ ‘Need a lady’s maid, Miss?’ – and Lucy cast her eyes down, feeling guilty that she had a place while they did not.
They walked up the gangway onto the ship and followed their porter down to the officers’ deck, where Charlie located their cabin. Lucy swallowed her surprise at how small it was, barely six paces wide and ten long, with a bunk so narrow they would be crushed tight together. There was hardly any hanging space for her gowns, and only one tiny mirror above the washbowl.
‘This is one of the better cabins I’ve seen on a military ship,’ Charlie remarked cheerfully. ‘It’s very well appointed.’
Lucy kept her thoughts to herself. ‘I’ll just unpack a few things, dearest, to make it a little more homely.’
‘In that case, I’ll go and check on the horses on the deck below.’ He kissed her full on the lips and grasped one of her breasts with a wink before he left.
Lucy felt her cheeks flush and she hummed as she arranged their possessions. She liked having someone to look after, loved the intimacy of sharing a bed and eating meals with Charlie. ‘You see, Dorothea?’ she thought. ‘You were wrong!’
Before long, she heard women’s voices in the corridor and popped her head out. The first woman she saw introduced herself as Mrs Fanny Duberly, wife of the 8th Hussars’ Quartermaster. She seemed rather superior in attitude, and moved off after only the briefest ‘hallo’ but not before Lucy had noted that her gown was plain grey worsted and not remotely fashionable. The other woman, Adelaide Cresswell, had a kind face and shook Lucy’s hand warmly.
‘Charlie is a good friend of my husband Bill, so you and I must also be friends, my dear.’
‘Yes, please,’ Lucy cried. ‘I would love that. We women must stick together. I need your advice on how I can support my husband. We are so recently wed I don’t yet know what is expected of an officer’s wife.’
Adelaide smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘I was overjoyed to hear about your marriage. Charlie is a very lucky man. Look how pretty you are! Such lovely china blue eyes.’ She glanced past Lucy into their cabin. ‘Goodness, you’ve brought rather a lot of luggage.’
Lucy looked at the pile. ‘In truth, it was hard knowing what to bring. I’ve had to leave many of my possessions in store,’ she explained. ‘Charlie told me I would need summer clothes, but I also tried to think of items we might need if we have to sleep in a tent.’ She couldn’t contemplate quite how she would manage to change her gowns and perform her toilette in such a cramped space but she was prepared to give it a try if that’s what being an army wife entailed. As well as the tin bath, she had brought some soft feather pillows and a pale gold silk bedspread that used to be her mother’s, so they would have some home comforts.
‘Of course you did – and I’m sure they’ll come in very useful. It’s just that we may have to carry our own luggage at times and your trunk looks rather heavy …’ Seeing Lucy’s alarmed expression, Adelaide added quickly: ‘I expect Charlie will find someone to help you. Now, I was on my way below deck to introduce myself to the women travelling with Bill’s company, the 11th Hussars. Perhaps you would like to come and meet the wives of Charlie’s men? There’s plenty of time as the ship won’t leave harbour till after dinner.’
Lucy’s eyes widened. ‘I’d love to!’ It hadn’t occurred to her that Charlie had men beneath him, men who obeyed his commands, but she supposed as a captain that he must. She was anxious to give the right impression and decided she would follow Adelaide’s lead.
Two decks below their own, there was a strong smell of rotting vegetation, which Adelaide told her came from the bilge. The soldiers’ wives were in a shared dormitory and Adelaide greeted them, explaining who she and Lucy were, and saying that they would be happy to offer assistance if any was required. The women looked doubtfully at Lucy, who was by far the youngest of the thirteen wives accompanying the 8th Hussars. Most were rough, sturdy women, with ruddy faces and cheap gowns; none looked a day under thirty.
‘What an exquisite shawl,’ Lucy commented to one woman, who was wearing a gaudy, paisley-patterned garment round her shoulders. ‘Are your beds comfortable? Ours is so narrow I think my husband will knock me to the floor if he turns in his sleep.’
‘Make sure you sleep by the wall so he’s the one that falls out,’ one suggested, and Lucy agreed that would be the sensible course. She asked about children left behind, about where the women normally lived, about their husbands’ names and duties, and she felt by the time she and Adelaide left that she had made a good first impression.
‘We will all be good friends after this adventure. I am sure of it,’ she called back.
That evening she and Charlie shared a table in the officers’
