England's Mistress_ The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton - Kate Williams [122]
Emma had spent five days exhausted and covered in dirt. She had hardly had a moment to think about Nelson. He, however, had been watching her and was deeply impressed by her efficiency and fortitude. When the Vanguard anchored at Palermo, on Sicily's northern coast, at 2 a.m. on Boxing Day, Nelson was in love with her and anxious to turn their heady flirtation into a full romance.
CHAPTER 33
Passions in Palermo
God onely knows what yet is to become of us, we are worn out,” lamented Emma to Greville after two days in damp and freezing Palermo. Overwhelmed by “anxiety & fatigue,” she was worried about Sir William, who “had 3 days a bilious attack,” and moreover, “my dear adorable Queen whom I love better than any person in the world, is allso unwell.” When the ship arrived, Maria Carolina could not bear to stay on the ship one moment longer, and she, Emma, the other women, and the sad bundle of Prince Albert's corpse were rowed ashore in secret before dawn. At nine that morning, the king ceremonially disembarked to a warm welcome from the Sicilian people, who had long resented his reluctance to visit the island. They expected him to live in the royal apartments in the city, but they were disappointed. Ferdinand was not about to sit about in dreary Palermo when there were crowds of wild boar to be killed. The royal carriage sped to his hunting grounds just outside the city, now in the Parco della Favorita, less than two miles north of the city center. His family and their entourage, the Hamiltons, and Nelson huddled together in the dilapidated buildings of his hunting lodge, battling to keep warm in a house without fireplaces.
Within a few days, Emma and Sir William moved to the Villa Bastioni, another summer house nearby, the last place the Hamiltons would live without Nelson. Plump cupids bounced in ornate frescoes over the ceilings and walls, but the furniture was dirty and cracked, and there were once more no fireplaces. Shivering among the peeling gilt and dusty stucco, Sir William took to his bed, fretting about the fate of his belongings and distressed by stomach pain. Emma had to care for him and take over his duties with the royals and the hundreds of English who had fled, as well as thousands of Neapolitan nobles and loyalists.
Albert weighed heavily on Emma's mind. She was always on the brink of tears—much to the irritation of her husband—and when the queen gave her a mourning pendant with hair and the inscription “Prince Albert died in my arms, 25th Dec, 1798,” she refused to take it off. She spent every moment she could with the queen, who was wounded by Ferdinand's seeming indifference to Albert's death. “We weep together & now that is our onely comfort,” Emma mourned to Greville. But she could not lose herself in grief, for she had work to do. Maria Carolina had become utterly reliant on her as organizer, assistant, cheerleader, and friend. In the confusion of arrival, the queen had lost much of her luggage, and she sent Emma to find her court dresses before an official reception on Sunday afternoon. Then she needed her dear friend to find a way of hiding the treasure. The English visitors in Naples were no less demanding. Many were piqued that they had not been invited to travel with the royals, and Emma was expected to make up for the slight by procuring them good but cheap lodgings, a difficult job when every property owner in Palermo was profiting from the influx of wealthy refugees by raising rents.
Only Ferdinand was happy. The hunting was quite excellent, and he had decided that his first task on the island should be to transform his lodge into a palace fit for a king. He was intent on showing himself off as at the forefront of fashion and design. The Versailles look