Orphan Ch. 30-33

"So it is. And look, the initials in the corner, J J." Roxane laughed. "It would seem you are to marry not only a sailor, Molly, but an artist, too."

"As long as he is a good husband, I care not what he is," declared Molly.

"Only right and proper. Your letter now?"

"Oh! Please."

Molly passed the two sheets over to Roxane, who scanned them quickly. A clear hand, although with a few mis-spellings, she noticed. Not as fluid as Gilroy's hand, but she knew she would have no difficulties in reading the letter. She glanced across at Molly. "Ready?"

Molly nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes!"

"Very well."

John Jenkins' letter was plain, straightforward, a simple sailor's letter to the girl he'd left behind. He made it plain that he missed her, and looked forward to the day they could be together again. He finished by avowing his love, and, his only hint at any previous intimacy, by declaring that he looked forward to sharing her bed again.

Molly sighed when Roxane had finished, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. She looked up at Roxane, who smiled at her.

"Would you read it to me again, Miss Roxane?"

"Of course I will, Molly, and again whenever you wish. Shall I begin now?"

"Please."

"Very well. Stop me if you want anything read over again."

"I will," said Molly, but she waited until Roxane had finished, then sighed. "Miss Roxane?"

"Yes, Molly?"

"Is reading hard to learn?"

Roxane stared at the young maid for a moment or two. "In truth, Molly, I do not really know. My mother always read to me, from when I was but three or four years old, with me sitting in her lap and the book open in front of us as she traced the words she read, and when I came to try to read myself, my familiarity with the works she read to me was such that I began to recognise the words in other contexts. I think I was six or seven when I began to read alone on a regular basis. After that, well, I read! Everything that I could lay my hands upon." She laughed. "Including some works which a proper young lady ought never to read. Mama caught me reading such a book one day, but instead of scolding me, told me why such books were not considered suitable and warned me not to be caught by anyone else. But I have not answered your question, have I? I think a lot may depend on the individual, how much they want to learn."

"I want to learn!" said Molly.

Roxane smiled. "I have heard of people teaching themselves to read, but I think it easier if one has a teacher." She paused, studying Molly. "Is there any text with which you are already familiar?"

Molly gave her a wry smile. "Only the bible, and only certain parts of it. Oh, and hymns."

"Capital! The bible will do very nicely. I must have a word with my uncle, and with Mrs Trevelyan, but if we can arrange it around your free time then perhaps we shall see if I can teach you how to read."

Molly stared at her. "You, Miss Roxane? But haven't you more important things to do?"

"Until Captain Gilroy returns, I fear that I might have rather too much free time. Perhaps, if we work together on your reading, the time may seem to pass more quickly until our men return to us."

"Oh, yes! Yes, please, Miss Roxane."

"Do you have a bible of your own, Molly?"

The maid's face fell. "I fear not."

"Then you shall have the loan of my own. Is there any part of it that is a favourite?"

Molly smiled. "Several, but why not begin at the beginning? Genesis?"

Roxane laughed. "Why not, indeed? Tonight, will you bring the hot water for my toilet a little earlier? Then I shall loan to you my own bible, and mark the beginning of Genesis for you. We shall go over the first page or so together, and then you can take the bible away and see if you can associate the shape of the words with the sound of them. Do you have a slate? Of the sort that a child might use in school? And chalk, to write on it?"

"No, but Mrs Trevelyan has several that she uses to make lists of things we need. There are two or three of those not used, I think."

"Ask her if you might borrow one. Then, while you are trying to associate the sound of a word with how it looks on paper, copy any you do not understand onto the slate and we can discuss them later. While I am trying to teach you to read, I think it as well if I try to teach you to write as well."

To Roxane's alarm, Molly burst into tears, but it did not take long to establish that they were tears of joy. Calmed, Molly smiled at her.

"I just hope I am worthy of your efforts, Miss Roxane."

"Just do your best, Molly. That is all I ask of you. But for now, get yourself away. I shall have a word with my uncle when he has finished whatever task keeps him in his study, and I shall see if we can arrange a little time each day for your learning. Remember, when you bring the hot water for my toilet, later, we shall make a start."

"Thank you, Miss Roxane. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"No thanks are needed, Molly, for you have given us both something to fill in those empty hours until our men come home. For now, though, away with you, and I shall see you later."

Chapter 32

Roxane enjoyed teaching Molly to read and write. The young maid was determined that she herself would be able to read John Jenkins' next letter to her. Not only that, but pen a reply to him as well. Her determination was infectious and Roxane found herself working equally hard at the tasks set her by Mrs Trevelyan in her own learning of household management, work that she was thoroughly enjoying, working as she was towards the household she expected to share with Alex Gilroy once they were married.

'Young maid,' mused Roxane with a smile as she waited for Molly one evening. Gracious, the girl was two years older than herself, but there was a naivety about Molly that made her think of her as younger. But older or younger, Molly was proving an apt student and in the six weeks or so that they had been working together, had made progress faster than Roxane had expected. She still brought a closely-written slate with her for each lesson, with words that she either did not understand, or found puzzling. Roxane smiled to herself again. 'Tis best I do not confuse her with such words as 'dough' or 'bough' or 'cough' then. Not for some time at least.

They had established a routine of sorts, spending the first part of each lesson on the word list that Molly brought, then having Molly read as best she could a passage which Roxane chose, pausing at each hesitation by Molly to discuss the problem she had found, then moving on, and finishing each lesson with Molly writing as best she could while Roxane dictated. Molly not yet being used to using a pen, they used either a slate and chalk, or else a pencil, with whatever paper they could find. Soon, Roxane decided, she would bring some ink and quill pens to the lessons, for Molly to try her hand. Not yet, though, perhaps in another week or two at the speed Molly was learning.

A tap at the door alerted her, and she put aside her partly-completed letter to Alex.

"Come in," she said, and Molly's smiling face appeared round the door.

"Good evening, Miss Roxane."

"Good evening, Molly. Goodness, three slates?"

Molly laughed. "I read for longer than I expected last night, so there were more words that were new to me. Although, I think that some are strangely familiar, yet spelled differently to what I'd expect from the sound of them."

Roxane nodded. "A common problem, I fear. In English, in French too for that matter, some words look most unlike the sound one would expect to hear on knowing the word. But such things resolve themselves with experience and as you have only been learning for scarcely a month it is quite normal for some words to look strange to you. Now, come sit by me, and let us address ourselves to your slates." She smiled at the maid. "At least you already know most of the words, even if you cannot read them yet. Think of the poor five-year-old learning to read, all those words to learn as well."

"Indeed so," said Molly, laughing. "'Tis bad enough for me." She held out the top slate to Roxane. "See that first word? The first part I recognise, and the last, 'tis the middle that puzzles me, for how does one pronounce that 'g' in the middle? Such words as 'gate' or 'girl' I recognise, but not that."

"I see your problem, Molly, for in a word such as this the 'g' is silent, not to be pronounced. Tell me, how would you attempt to say this, were the 'g' not there?"

Molly studied the slate for a moment, her lips moving as she tried the syllables, then turned to Roxane. "For-een-er?" she said, hesitantly, then looked again as Roxane said nothing. Molly smiled suddenly. "Foreigner?"

"Bravo, Molly. It is indeed 'foreigner', but whatever were you reading to find such a word?"

"Mrs Trevelyan gave me some old newspapers to use to practice my writing on, and I just had to try reading them." Molly shrugged. "I enjoyed it, for I was finding that I understood a lot of it, even if some words confused me." She indicated the slate they were examining, and the others nearby. "As you can see," she added ruefully.

"Molly, my dear, you are making progress far faster than I dared to hope, believe me. Very well, what is the next word? Show me."

And so it went. Molly pointing out the words that puzzled her, attempting to pronounce them, Roxane correcting her, and then the two of them discussing the use of the words. It was an enjoyable time for both of them and the enjoyment continued as Molly read, as best she could, the passage Roxane had selected for her and then Roxane dictated while Molly wrote, more fluidly now as she was becoming more familiar with writing, but still, to Roxane's eyes, showing obvious signs of being in her writing infancy.

As Molly finished writing, Roxane glanced at the clock. After ten! She turned to Molly. "I fear we must end there, Molly dear. I shall read this in the morning, and mark it as necessary, and we shall go over it first in our next lesson. For now, though, I shall bid you goodnight."

Molly nodded, beginning to gather up her materials, then paused, turning to Roxane. "Hot water for your toilet, Miss Roxane? Shall I put it in your room?"

"Please, Molly. I shall bid my uncle goodnight, and see you in the morning."

"Very well, Miss Roxane, and a goodnight to you too."

Silas Le Tessier was in his study, but reading, rather than working on his accounts, when Roxane went in a few minutes later. He smiled to see her.

"My dear, come to bid your old uncle goodnight?"

"Indeed I have, Uncle Silas."

"How do Molly's lessons progress? Well, I trust?"

"Very well indeed, Uncle. Far better than I dared to hope. I think Molly has a hunger for learning, and knowing how to read will help feed that hunger."

"You are wise beyond your years, niece. Tell me, do you find Molly intelligent?"

Surprised by the question, Roxane nodded. "I do. More so than I'd expect to find in a housemaid, I think."

"You but confirm what I think myself, my dear. I think I might have other duties for Molly, but only once she is comfortable with reading and writing. How long has it been? A month? Six weeks?"

"Six weeks since Alex sailed, so a little less than that, Uncle. I think after three months or so I will only need to offer a little guidance, and encourage her to practice her writing." Roxane paused, and Le Tessier arched his brows in query. Roxane smiled. "I think I will need ink and pens for her soon, and paper."

Le Tessier nodded. "Add them to the list, my dear. Better they are ready, and any spares will not come amiss, for we both may use them as well as Molly."

"Indeed so, Uncle Silas. For now, though, I bid you goodnight." She bent and kissed his cheek, and Silas smiled, more comfortable now at demonstrations of affection than he had been when his orphaned niece had first come to stay with him.

"Goodnight, my dear. We breakfast together tomorrow?"

"Of course. In Alex's absence, I would have it no other way."

Le Tessier laughed. "Go," he said, "To your bed, girl. Sleep well, my dear."

"And you, dear Uncle. Goodnight."

Roxane's sleep was more restful now that Alex's departure was nigh six weeks in the past, but she still thought about him every night, remembering his touch, the thrill of having him take her in lovemaking, and wishing that he was there with her at that very moment. She always included him -- and, indeed, the entire Pelican crew -- in her evening prayers, and as she settled herself for sleep whispered her usual entreaty, 'Good night, beloved Alex. Come home to me soon.'

She felt a little restive next morning, but helped Mrs Trevelyan prepare the breakfast for herself and her uncle, and at the usual time sat down with him to eat.

"You slept well, my dear?"

She smiled. "Mostly, yes, but I did feel a little restless."

"I trust you are not ailing with something, my dear?" said Silas with gentle concern.

"I do not think so," she began, but felt sudden nausea. "Oh! Excuse me, please," she gasped and hurried from the room to the privy, only just making it before vomiting what little breakfast she had managed to consume. Shaken, she took a little time to ready herself before making her unsteady way back to her uncle. Concerned, he frowned at her.

"How do you feel, my dear? You do not look well at all."

"I fear I may have eaten something that disagreed with me, Uncle, that is all, but I fear I will not be able to finish my breakfast. You are finished?"

"Indeed I am, my dear."

"Well, I shall clear these breakfast dishes away and go to see what tasks Mrs Trevelyan has for me."

"Very well. I shall see you for lunch, I trust?"

"Of course, Uncle Silas."

In the kitchen, Mrs Trevelyan was just finishing her own breakfast, but her welcoming smile turned to a frown as she regarded Roxane.

"What ails you, Miss Roxane?"

Roxane shrugged. "I do not know, Mrs Trevelyan. I had no sooner started eating my breakfast than I had to rush to the privy and bring it up again!"

"Oh dear." The older woman regarded Roxane for a long moment before speaking again. "Miss Roxane? I am afraid I must ask you a rather personal question. When did you last have your courses?"

"Oh! Let me think." She did a rapid calculation in her head. "Some two weeks before Captain Gilroy sailed."

"So it has been about eight weeks?"

"That seems about right, yes." She frowned in sudden realisation. "Mrs Trevelya? I'm pregnant, aren't I?"

The older woman smiled and reached out to take Roxane's hand, squeezing the fingers gently. "It is possible, yes. If you are, you can expect morning sickness for about another six weeks. It was so for me, with my own children, and for my daughters, with theirs. But let us see what the next few days bring, shall we?"

By the end of the following week, both women, and Molly, were convinced of Roxane's pregnancy, her regular morning sickness being a convincing argument.

"You realise you must tell your uncle, don't you?" said Mrs Trevelyan, as they worked together on that evening's meal. "Tell him before you start to show, and he guesses."

"I shall tell him at dinner tonight."

And at dinner, after a meal they had both enjoyed, Roxane steeled herself.

"Uncle Silas?

"Yes, my dear?"

"I have something I must tell you."

"So tell me."

"I fear I am with child."

To Roxane's great relief, her news was not greeted with anger or alarm, but with one of Silas's gentle smiles."

"I thought that might be the case, my dear. Your morning sickness was the clue, perhaps."

"You are not angry?"

"Why should I be angry, my dear? The very strong affection between you and Alex was evident to us all, and it does not surprise me that you shared his bed."

"It was only those last two nights before he sailed."

"And as many women before you have learned, sometimes only once is enough." Silas frowned. "Are you going to tell Alex?"

"Do you think I should?"

Silas paused in thought before replying, then shook his head. "Were it peacetime, I would say yes, for as the child's father he deserves to know, but I fear such news might distract him at an inopportune moment. We are still at war with the French, although Wellington's victories in Spain and Portugal suggest that the tide may be turning. Let us pray it is so."

Chapter 33

Roxane suffered another five weeks of nausea and occasional sickness in the mornings, but three months after she and Alex had been parted she was able to greet each day normally. Although she had no idea where Alex was in actuality, she did have an address to which she could send letters, and she happily wrote letters to him, a task she began after church each Sunday, and which she committed to the mercies of the postal system each Saturday. The letters were long, affectionate, and she had no hesitation in describing the trivia of everyday life for Alex had told her, emphasising the fact, that a seaman away from home in time of war valued every trivial reminder of home.

So Roxane duly wrote of little things, trying her best to amuse her distant love, but she always ended each letter with some mention of how she enjoyed his touch, and how much she was missing it.

The one thing she did not mention was her pregnancy. Quite why, she wasn't sure, but she wanted nothing to distract Alex in carrying out his duty

Her pregnancy passed without incident, and their son was born after only an hour's labour. She had been almost in awe at the tiny being that she and Alexander Gilroy had brought into the world, although a couple of sleepless nights took away the awe, but not the love she felt for their son, a love that only strengthened as the baby grew.

She had received several letters from Gilroy, written and sent as means were available, and she had sent replies, although she never knew if they reached him. For reasons she could never fully explain, although she told herself it was for fear of distracting him from his duty, she had not mentioned her pregnancy in her letters, and it was only after the baby was safely delivered that she had mentioned him, but she didn't know if he had received that letter when his ship came home. Not the Pelican, for Gilroy had been given command of the captured French frigate, Ardent, and had spent most of the time away from her in the Caribbean.

It had been two weeks since the Ardent had returned to home waters, being replaced by another frigate, and Molly came hurrying into the parlour where Roxane was rocking the baby in his crib.

"Miss Roxane! They're here!"

"Molly, dear, calm yourself. Who is here?" But even as she asked the question, she knew the answer, and realisation almost made her faint. She had to ask, though.

"Captain Gilroy? And your John?"

Molly nodded. "Aye. It's them, they're home. Andrew saw the ship come in, and hurried back to tell me, and there's a gig coming along the lane now!"

Roxane felt panic strike her. Did Gilroy know about the babe? Would he be happy? Or not prepared? She sat, with a thump, then rallied.

"Molly? If it is Captain Gilroy, will you show him straight in here, please? Just the two of us, please. I do not know yet if he even knows about his son, so tell him nothing. I shall be the one to tell him."

"Very well, Miss Roxane. Oh! The gig is here!" Molly dashed out, laughing, and Roxane steeled herself, wringing her hands, worrying. It was only a couple of minutes later that Roxane heard the familiar footfall in the hallway and as the door opened she stood. Gilroy's face was bright with anticipation as he came into the room, a smile breaking across his face as he saw Roxane.

"My love! I am home again, and safe!" He moved towards her but faltered as she took no move towards him. "Roxane? My love, what ails you?"