More Than England

Horatio Hornblower lay in the darkness contemplating the ceiling that he could not see.

He would have to say something eventually, he told himself reasonably. He would have to endure the awkward felicitations of Bush and the staid congratulations of Pellew, if either of them chose to show anything but disappointment in him. Matthews’ reaction might be more kindly than most, but Matthews had a way of making even the bleakest of situations seem less so.

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He could practically hear Kennedy laughing…

A father… My God, he was going to be a FATHER…

It would be a greater financial burden, certainly. He would have to save the money for the midwife’s bill and, if there wasn’t one stored away in Mrs. Mason’s attic somewhere, another part of his pay would go toward the purchase of a cradle. That would not be inexpensive. And when the baby came, additional clothing and food would have to be bought…to say nothing of the little "extras" he was certain Maria would insist upon that were really not needed at all. And, eventually, there would be schooling to consider…

Thank God for the gift of promotion. It would make things easier, at least. Assuming, of course, that he was given a ship…

Hornblower sighed. A life’s worth of responsibility and hardship all for one poorly-timed night’s worth of marital bliss…

He closed his eyes, listening to the gentle timbre of Maria’s breathing. How could she just sleep like that? Did she know what was coming…? Had she any idea of the dangers that she would be facing in nine month’s time? Dear God…! He well remembered the frantic calls his father had answered…the calls Dr. Hornblower only received when something had gone terribly wrong. He recalled pitying those wretched husbands as they stood on his father’s doorstep pleading with him to hasten to their wives’ childbeds. Horatio sympathized with their desperation in a sickeningly real manner now.

But, God willing, she would survive the delivery. Then there would be an entirely new set of trials. No doubt Maria’s thoughts were consumed with idyllic images of a cooing cherub-like bundle which neighbors fawn over and declare to be the "most beautiful creature on earth." Hornblower considered himself far more sensible than that. He could foresee sleepless nights…illnesses…

…Foul smells…

And she would have to manage much of it alone.

He gazed at his wife, lost in sleep, and wondered if she would be strong enough on her own. It was ridiculously unfair to ask her to endure it all when it was just as much his responsibility as it was hers…

But she had agreed to this life, he reminded himself. When she had accepted him, she was aware that he could promise her nothing more than long absences and frequent partings. She knew she would not have him near at all times. Even the most difficult ones…

On the positive side, he would be spared many of the more nerve-wracking aspects of having an infant in the house. Yet the thought that he would be physically removed from all the daily troubles brought him no consolation. It could take weeks to get a letter at sea; he would never be able to be completely confident that all was well at home. And when he WAS informed of bad news, he would be helpless to do anything about it from his ship. He would simply have to suffer through the excruciatingly long wait before receiving a letter that might ease his worries—or confirm his worst fears.

It was some comfort—a very little comfort—that Mrs. Mason would be near. If nothing else, he could rely upon his mother-in-law to offer advice and support where it was required. (And he could certainly depend upon her to offer it where it was not…) Should he be gone when the time came, it was good to know that Maria would have someone close to help her through. There was no one more appropriate to have at her side at such a moment. And yet…

It was for him to welcome his child into the world. He did not like to think that Mrs. Mason might be the first to congratulate Maria--HIS wife, the mother of HIS child. She should not have the opportunity to hold the baby before he did. A grandmother, he told himself indignantly, should not have more privileges than a father!

But fathers had other duties, Horatio checked himself. Duties that would temporarily abnegate those privileges. Duties that, if he allowed himself to contemplate the terrifying possibility, might very well deny him the chance to ever meet his heir…

When he had first boarded the Hotspur after his wedding night, he had been struck by the same thoughts. He had had a sense that his death might have a greater impact than it did before—that it was no longer simply a matter of being no more. That Maria’s life would be profoundly affected should something happen to him. But, while his heart had ached for the hardship that she would have to endure should he be lost, he had also managed to convince himself that she was perfectly capable of managing alone. He would simply be no more. The loss would be entirely hers…

Somehow, the prospect of fatherhood changed all that. There was much more to forfeit on his side…

He was prepared, perhaps, to miss first smiles and first steps. Reality bid him recognize that he would most likely hear first words from his wife’s pen rather than from his child’s mouth. But he was completely unwilling to think about missing other moments. The joyful homecomings with two people eagerly awaiting his return. Drooly kisses and scribbly masterpieces. Sitting on the edge of a bed, recounting sea stories like an old salt and ignoring Maria’s chiding that it was long past bedtime. He would hide candy in his pockets to be discovered when Mother wasn’t looking and bring trinkets home from far off places. And there would be walks on the beach with a chubby hand in his own, uncovering all manner of "treasure" together. Visits to the pier carrying a little body that writhed in uncontained excitement at the first glimpse of the sails… Admiring eyes that sparkled up at him for no other reason than that he was "Papa"…

Hornblower tried not to smile. Silly as it was, he rather liked the sound of his new title…

The prospect was frightful and delicious all at once. There would be another person who would be completely dependent upon him…another person whose existence could be made joyful or miserable by his survival. It was no easy weight, this responsibility. But the thought of having yet another person to care for, one who might love him unconditionally in return, was strangely appealing. Parenthood, he decided, would be well worth whatever hardships might come.

He turned onto his side, placing a gentle hand on Maria’s belly. She stirred in her sleep, rolling into him and gazing up with drowsy eyes at her husband. Horatio smiled back tenderly. "Are you comfortable, my love?" he whispered.

"Yes," she murmured, "Thank you…"

"I’m sorry for waking you…"

But her eyes had closed again, and she returned to her position on her side, curled up snugly against him. With a sleepy sigh, she moved her hand on top of his and her breathing became even once more.

Hornblower put his head down on his pillow, his own eyes closing and the hint of a smile gracing his lips, supremely content to be resting here in the stillness. Just himself, his wife…and his child…