same woman. Emma had the excuse that the endless feasts and balls were ruining her figure, and by constant alteration to her wardrobe she was able to disguise each increase in her waistline.
From every point of the journey, letters flew back to Naples and on to London, impressions of Nelson and of Sir William and his wife. Most, even couched diplomatically, could not avoid reference to the way the Hero of the Nile fawned over Emma Hamilton. Hosts heard from their servants of nocturnal traversing and morning retching in Emma’s apartments, and while never precise, hints were dropped that the recipients would fully understand.
Approaching England, Emma was beginning to show the full bloom of her pregnancy. In private it was the start of a bulge that Nelson loved to caress, taut skin to which he put his ear hoping for a heartbeat or a kick. In public it would be hidden under a newly extended set of garments. Nelson hoped that the Hamiltons, while people would be aware of them, would not excite as much attention as he himself would, and thus Emma would escape scrutiny.
He knew that he was in bad odour in certain quarters, and not only for the extended mode of his travel. There were his relations with Lord Keith to account for, the fact that he had ignored his instructions. The more he thought about it, the more he had concluded that Keith’s orders had been designed for one purpose only: to get him under his personal, close command and curb his independence. In short, Keith had been motivated by jealousy, not sound tactical thinking. So he was not minded to turn up in London and apologise, though that did not prevent him worrying.
The Board of Admiralty must have concurred with Lord Spencer before he had sent the admonitory despatch. There were members of that body, and yet more who had the ear of one, who were less than fond of him, officers and officials whom he had offended long before his own exploits had made him a substantial person in the public eye. While proud of his natural inclination to speak the truth, he knew it tended to create enemies. The envy of service superiors, who felt he had been over-indulged and given commands above his rightful station, would be added to that, which left Nelson to conclude that despite his successes, nothing in his future was certain.
If the Board of Admiralty backed Lord Keith to the hilt it could bevery difficult. Suddenly that strip of coastline conjured up a sense of impending danger rather than welcome.
It was known to all sailors that news, both good and bad, travels faster than the ship carrying it, and the town of Yarmouth had been alerted to the arrival of the nation’s hero well before his merchantman cleared the harbour entrance. The bells of every church rang out, while every window that faced the sea contained a waving flag. The quay and the harbour wall were lined with people, obliging Nelson to move on to the poop to accept the accolade. Sir William, who had joined him on deck, stayed in the waist, alternately grinning at him and at the cheering crowd. The sun, well above the horizon now, seemed especially ordered to illuminate the hero, sparkling off his jewelled orders and the diamonds of the Chelenk that adorned his hat.
Below decks, preparing to land, Emma’s heart swelled at the sound. Fêted in the Mediterranean, courted throughout the whole of his European journey, Nelson feared that what fame he had achieved might have faded. With what sounded like the whole of Yarmouth yelling his name, how could he feel that now?
Sent ashore in a boat while the ship edged in, Tom Allen had hired a carriage to supplement the travelling coach, now lashed to the deck, and had booked rooms at a modest inn called the Wrestler’s Arms. By the time the party landed the hired horses had been removed from the shafts and replaced by a dozen sturdy fellows. The leading burghers of the town, the Mayor and Aldermen, formed a double line from the quay edge to the carriage
From every point of the journey, letters flew back to Naples and on to London, impressions of Nelson and of Sir William and his wife. Most, even couched diplomatically, could not avoid reference to the way the Hero of the Nile fawned over Emma Hamilton. Hosts heard from their servants of nocturnal traversing and morning retching in Emma’s apartments, and while never precise, hints were dropped that the recipients would fully understand.
Approaching England, Emma was beginning to show the full bloom of her pregnancy. In private it was the start of a bulge that Nelson loved to caress, taut skin to which he put his ear hoping for a heartbeat or a kick. In public it would be hidden under a newly extended set of garments. Nelson hoped that the Hamiltons, while people would be aware of them, would not excite as much attention as he himself would, and thus Emma would escape scrutiny.
He knew that he was in bad odour in certain quarters, and not only for the extended mode of his travel. There were his relations with Lord Keith to account for, the fact that he had ignored his instructions. The more he thought about it, the more he had concluded that Keith’s orders had been designed for one purpose only: to get him under his personal, close command and curb his independence. In short, Keith had been motivated by jealousy, not sound tactical thinking. So he was not minded to turn up in London and apologise, though that did not prevent him worrying.
The Board of Admiralty must have concurred with Lord Spencer before he had sent the admonitory despatch. There were members of that body, and yet more who had the ear of one, who were less than fond of him, officers and officials whom he had offended long before his own exploits had made him a substantial person in the public eye. While proud of his natural inclination to speak the truth, he knew it tended to create enemies. The envy of service superiors, who felt he had been over-indulged and given commands above his rightful station, would be added to that, which left Nelson to conclude that despite his successes, nothing in his future was certain.
If the Board of Admiralty backed Lord Keith to the hilt it could bevery difficult. Suddenly that strip of coastline conjured up a sense of impending danger rather than welcome.
It was known to all sailors that news, both good and bad, travels faster than the ship carrying it, and the town of Yarmouth had been alerted to the arrival of the nation’s hero well before his merchantman cleared the harbour entrance. The bells of every church rang out, while every window that faced the sea contained a waving flag. The quay and the harbour wall were lined with people, obliging Nelson to move on to the poop to accept the accolade. Sir William, who had joined him on deck, stayed in the waist, alternately grinning at him and at the cheering crowd. The sun, well above the horizon now, seemed especially ordered to illuminate the hero, sparkling off his jewelled orders and the diamonds of the Chelenk that adorned his hat.
Below decks, preparing to land, Emma’s heart swelled at the sound. Fêted in the Mediterranean, courted throughout the whole of his European journey, Nelson feared that what fame he had achieved might have faded. With what sounded like the whole of Yarmouth yelling his name, how could he feel that now?
Sent ashore in a boat while the ship edged in, Tom Allen had hired a carriage to supplement the travelling coach, now lashed to the deck, and had booked rooms at a modest inn called the Wrestler’s Arms. By the time the party landed the hired horses had been removed from the shafts and replaced by a dozen sturdy fellows. The leading burghers of the town, the Mayor and Aldermen, formed a double line from the quay edge to the carriage
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