Chapter 16: Aunt Lydia

Summer 1827

Richard was of course still in the employ of his mentor, Sir Robert Norton. That worthy gentleman had returned from his journey with fresh energy and ideas, and everybody who worked with or for him had a challenging time. Again, Richard and Ellen found little time for each other. The wonderful four weeks at High Matcham were soon forgotten and Ellen found her only solace in the prospect that Richard’s apprenticeship would end in the fall when the elections for the House of Commons would be held.

Andrew, 2nd Baron Lambert, had written a letter to Richard, asking him to act as executor of his uncle’s estate in case of his death. Andrew Lambert had been in a depressed mood when he wrote this letter, that much was apparent. The situation in the Mediterranean was volatile. The Greeks were fighting for their independence, but the Turkish troops had been reinforced by the Egyptian fleet under Ibrahim Pasha. The war was a bitter one, with atrocities committed on both sides. The sympathies of the ruling classes of Europe, with their humanistic education, sided with the Greek quest for freedom whilst Sir Edward Codrington, Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean Squadron had orders to prevent further bloodshed and enslavements, yet to avoid an outright war with the Ottoman Empire.

Lord Lambert had given up the command of the Dreadnought to serve as Captain of the Fleet on board the flagship. This was a promotion, but he missed being in command of his own ship. The ever changing and conflicting orders and advice his Commander in Chief received were confusing to the officers and made for short tempers. It was not a happy letter and it ended with the request for Richard to look after Lydia Lambert and their four daughters should something happen to him.

Of course Richard showed the letter to his father who could only confirm Lord Lambert’s assessment that the Ministry appeared to be decidedly undecided. Over the next weekend, Richard took three days off from his work with Sir Robert to visit his aunt in Portsmouth. Ellen accompanied him, glad for the chance to talk to him for a few uninterrupted hours during the coach ride. Lydia Lambert had also received dispirited letters from her husband and her pride for helping him find a command had long since vanished.

Richard and Ellen also discussed their wedding plans during the journey back, agreeing on the next spring. The fall would see the elections to the House of Commons and the formation of a new government, and Richard would be far too busy to leave for a honeymoon, something they both wanted to have. During the return ride in the coach with the curtains closed, they also had a chance to become intimate for the first time in half a year. Their need for each other was overwhelming and they ignored the rocking and swaying of the coach and enjoyed a few blissful hours with each other, kissing and caressing each other.

Back in London, Richard’s mad work hours began again and at times it was so bad that she would only see him for a few precious hours on Sundays. To diffuse the situation and lessen Richard’s feeling of guilt, Ellen agreed to accompany Lucy on a short vacation in the Lake District. Lucy too had felt some exhaustion in recent weeks, and the hot summer in London did nothing to help her. The two women enjoyed the walks and the distractions for a full month until in was time to return to London.

The season was about to start and Lucy became very much involved in various charity drives, notably the one that helped finance the Saint Albert’s hospital’s pro bono publico work. Ellen was happy to help and Lucy appreciated her talents. Ellen had acquired a phenomenal memory for people, and she mastered the art of composing letters to the benefactors. Ellen also made important acquaintances, something that would help her support her future husband after his election to the Commons.

Richard did not have to do much campaigning; he visited his borough thrice and spoke before the tenants and listened to their complaints. He ended his work for Sir Robert in September and was elected to parliament in mid-October. Even his grandmother came to congratulate him when he held a reception at his father’s house. He was the Richard Carter MP now, and people began to take him seriously, not least because of his well known connection with millionaire merchant Sir Robert Norton.

Parliament convened for the first session on November 9th, and it was a proud moment for Richard when George IV. opened parliament. He was taking more felicitations after the first session when he noticed two Navy captains who approached with worried looks.

“Mr. Carter, Sir?” the junior one addressed him.

“Yes, indeed,” Richard answered, slightly puzzled.

“I am afraid that we are the bearers of bad news, Sir. There has been a major fleet engagement in the Mediterranean, in the Bay of Navarino to be precise. Our forces prevailed against a large superiority of Turkish vessels, but your uncle, Lord Lambert, lost his life in the battle.”

“I take it, that you are the heir to the title?” the older officer asked and Richard nodded numbly. He had to tell his grandmother, Aunt Lydia, and his mother. Oh God, what a tragedy for the family so shortly after his grandfather’s death!

“Milord, please accept our sympathy. His Lordship’s widow resides in Portsmouth, doesn’t she? Do you wish for us to provide transportation?”

Richard steeled himself. He would have to carry the flag now. His father could help him, but he also thought of Ellen and her quiet strength.

“That would be extremely helpful, gentlemen,” he answered, trying to maintain the stoical facade expected of him. “First however, I must notify my parents and my grandmother.”

“Of course, milord. The coach will be ready for you whenever you have completed your duties in London.”

“Please confer our heartfelt sympathies to your family, milord.”

Richard was already sitting in his one-horse trap when he realised how the captains had addressed him. He was Lord Lambert now. Richard Carter, 3rd Baron Lambert. He felt nothing but panic at the thought. He needed guidance what to do and how. He rapped the roof of his coach.

“The Wilkes’ residence!”

Ellen. Ellen would know how to help and support his grandmother and his aunt.

The Admiralty-owned coach lurched and swayed violently on the wintery road towards Portsmouth. It was cold, and the blankets did little to keep the passengers warm. Nevertheless, Richard did not look forward to the arrival. He would rather have travelled for days in the bitter cold than face his aunt and tell her of his uncle’s death.

Andrew Lord Lambert had perished in the Battle of Navarino. Details were still sketchy, but it had transpired that a confrontation between British, French and Russian ships on one side, and the combined Turkish and Egyptian fleets had suddenly escalated into an annihilating battle in the tight confines of the Bay of Navarino. Dozens of enemy ships were sunk and burned, but the European squadrons also suffered severe losses. Andrew Lambert had served as Captain of the Fleet on board the flagship, HMS Asia — a new, powerful ship of the line, built in 1824, and not Anthony Carter’s old ship captured from the French — and had been killed instantly by a round shot.

Richard looked up again to Ellen and to his grandmother. The old lady had suffered a momentary weakness upon learning of her son’s death, but after that, her first thoughts had been for her daughter-in-law and for her son’s four daughters. Ellen had come too as he had hoped, holding the old woman’s hand now.

“How shall we tell Aunt Lydia?” he asked into the silence.

His grandmother looked up with a sad expression.

“She’ll know as soon as she’ll see us,” she said.

“She will blame herself,” Ellen remarked. “After all, she set things up with Sir Edward Codrington. We must make her see that she only did something he desperately wanted.”

Old Lady Lambert nodded sadly. “Poor Lydia! She did it to make Andrew happy. And how proud he was. Well, she helped him to get the command of Dreadnaught, and Dreadnaught safely returned to Portsmouth last month. She had nothing to do with his posting as Captain of the Fleet. At least that’s what we have to make her believe.”

After this exchange, they fell into silence again as the wheels rumbled over the muddy road. The silence lasted until the clatter of hooves on cobble stones signalled their arrival in Portsmouth. The coach finally came to a stop in front of the house on High Street that Sir Anthony Carter had once owned and that had been Andrew Lambert’s for close to two decades. Richard helped the women alight from the coach and they rang the bell. A manservant opened. He nodded gravely when he recognised the visitors and led them towards the dining room without a word.

Lydia Lambert must have heard the bad news already, for she was already dressed in black with a veil covering her face.

“I heard of it this morning,” she stated. “You shouldn’t have come here in this weather, Mother, but thank you. You too, Richard and Ellen. Do you know how it happened? I only heard that there was a battle and that Andrew fell.”

In brief words, Richard told his aunt all he knew. When he was finished, he swallowed and stepped up to her. He hugged her and looked through the veil into her eyes.

“Aunt Lydia, I am not good at this. I want you to know however that you can always count on my help and support. I would have done it anyway, but Uncle Andrew asked me to look after you and the girls should something happen to him.”

“I know,” she nodded. “He had premonitions. In his last letters he also gave me all sorts of instructions. He wrote to call upon you and your father in any need.”