England's Mistress_ The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton - Kate Williams [198]
I feel so much better, from change of climate, food, air, large rooms and liberty, that there is a chance I may live to see Horatia brought up. I am looking out for a lodging. I have an excellent Frenchwoman who is good at everything; for Horatia and myself, and my old dame, who is coming, will be my establishment. Near me is an English lady who has, resided here for twenty-five years, who has a day school, but not for eating and sleeping. At eight in the morning, I take Horatia; fetch her at one; at three, we dine, and then in the evening we walk. She learns everything—piano, harp, languages grammatically. She knows French and Italian well, but she will improve. Not any girls, but those of the first families go there. Last evening we walked two miles to a fete cham-petre pour les bourgeois. Everybody is pleased with Horatia… our little world of happiness is in ourselves.1
Emma was proud that Horatia was becoming a fine young lady proficient in French and Italian, as well as speaking a little German and Spanish. She was also making progress in music, mathematics, geography, and English and classical history. As Horatia later asserted, about her mother, "through all her difficulties she invariably till the last few months, expended on my education etc., the whole of the interest of the sum left me by Lord Nelson, and which was left entirely in her control."2 Emma implored Rose to petition Lord Sidmouth for money for Horatia's education and clothes, declaring that she was "the victim of artful mercenary wretches."
After a few months, the Calais lenders and shopkeepers began to question Emma's grande dame act, and she began the old game of hiding from them and fobbing them off At the same time, she was increasingly dispirited by the hopeless watch for the mail, and her health worsened. She was once more confined to bed with stomach pain, nausea, and headaches. Fretting about money, Emma moved into a large farmhouse in the village of St. Pierre, two miles from Calais—so out of the way that she did not trust her post to arrive, and she asked friends to send mail to Dessein's Hotel. The rent in St. Pierre was cheaper, and she thought that the country air might alleviate her sickness. Emma hoped that moving away would help her to hide her illness, for the Calais creditors would start pressing in earnest the minute they knew she was seriously unwell. She also aimed to keep her sickness out of the newspapers: she had a chance of a pension to care for Nelson's daughter only if she looked to live a long time.
Emma and Horatia were not dirt poor. They felt destitute because they had recently lived so stylishly, but they were never without food. Emma's old housekeeper, Dame Francis, came to run the household, and there were other servants, such as one Mary Cornish, to do her cooking, cleaning, and washing and serve her guests. Emma sent her maids to buy nourishing food at prices much cheaper than in London. In one letter, she described how they bought the best meat at five pence a pound and two big turkeys for four shillings, a large turbot for a half a crown, partridges, and excellent Bordeaux. She was anxious that Horada live as normally as possible, getting out of bed to take her to parties and dances, and delighting when her daughter's graceful dancing and fluent French made her the pet of the company.
By the end of September, the Calais tradesmen were demanding repayment. Her annuity from Sir William had been pledged away. She