“You were shipwrecked?”
Lord Burghersh’s question did not imply disbelief. He had heard of the shipwreck from Lord Fitzroy, and he now recognized Esmeralda as a British gentlewoman. However, neither did his question express the shock and sympathy that would ordinarily be extended to one who had passed through so harrowing an experience. Although Lord Burghersh was quite young, as the scion of a politically active, noble family—he was, in fact, cousin to General Henry Fane—he had grown wary of manipulators.
“Yes,” Esmeralda said. “It was horrible. The whole voyage was dreadful, storms alternating with awful calms, and then there was an unbelievable storm, and the Ranee went down north of Oporto. Papa and I were on our way home from India. He had been ill, and the climate became too much for him.”
“India!” Burghersh exclaimed, “Moreton was in India for years. D’you mean to say you knew him?”
“Yes, of course,” Esmeralda said with a faint smile. “I admit my situation here in Portugal was appalling, but even so, I do not think I could have brought myself to marry a person I did not know.” Her lips twitched and she added mischievously, “Not even a person who looks like Robert. But he was in Bombay several times. We met at Governor Duncan’s house at a ball and became moderately well acquainted.”
“And your father…” His voice rose in a tentative question.
Esmeralda lowered her eyes and turned her head to look fixedly between Boa Viagem’s ears. “He only survived the shipwreck by a few days,” she said very softly. “He is buried in the village. As soon as it is possible for me to do so, I will have his grave properly marked. But money is such a problem, for no one would give Robert credit or—”
“Yes, we are having the same problem here,” the young man said.
Then to change the subject, he added quickly, “And even if we had money, I am afraid that victualing will be a problem.”
Turning her head toward him immediately and raising her eyes again, Esmeralda said even more softly, “Thank you. It is a difficult subject for me to speak about.” Before he could reply she went on with deliberate briskness, “I agree that victualing may be a problem. It is very dry at this time of year so that I believe it to be impossible, in this area at least, for a second crop to be sown, even though the weather may remain warm long enough to ripen it. And my boy, Carlos, told me that the French had destroyed a good part of the crops in the vicinity of Oporto by using the standing grain for feed. I suppose we must assume that they would have done the same wherever they were camped en masse. What is more, I know from personal experience that the foraging spread at least fifteen or twenty miles out from the central concentration of troops. In that area, the people, who are normally very hospitable, have learned instead to be very clever in hiding anything they have.”
Lord Burghersh made some noncommittal comment, but it could not conceal his surprise at Esmeralda’s interest in and familiarity with the subject. He had expected her to say “Too bad” or something similar, and then choose another topic for conversation.
She smiled and said tentatively, “I hope you do not think the subject unfeminine. Truly, my sympathy has been aroused for the people, and I find myself most eager to hear any detail that, even at some space of time, promises their relief.”
Whatever Burghersh thought, he could not fail to respond with approval to a question phrased in those terms. And actually, he did not think the subject unfeminine. Many women exhibited a fine military fervor. All that had surprised him was Esmeralda’s grasp of the practical aspects involved, and they spent the remainder of the ride in enthusiastic discussion. In fact, they were so happily engaged that Robert had to speak several times before he could get their attention. There was nothing at all in either Esmeralda’s manner or Burghersh’s that could have roused any suspicion, even in the most insanely jealous husband. Robert nonetheless felt a faint twinge of irritation, and he had to remind himself that he did not own Esmeralda. She had a perfect right to discuss anything she wished with anyone. But he found that reminder only exacerbated his feelings so that he spoke quite sharply.
This drew a quiet apology from Esmeralda, and no outward reaction from Burghersh at all, although inwardly he was somewhat surprised. He had already realized that Esmeralda was thoroughly in love with her husband. There was a slight change in her voice, a glow in her eyes that utterly betrayed her every time his name came into the conversation.
Until Burghersh had heard the irritation in Robert’s voice, however, he had been quite certain that the feeling could not be mutual. He and Robert had often talked about Robert’s tour of duty in India, and Robert had given no indication whatsoever of any interest in that country or any regret in leaving it, aside from what he had learned and hoped still to learn in a military sense.
“I must see about quarters for you, Merry, and then for the men,” Robert pointed out. “This is an army camp, not a town. And I must hand over the animals officially, although I’ll probably have to make sure they all get into camp myself.” He turned to look at Lord Burghersh. “Who’s in charge of quartering and commissariat?”
“Not I,” Burghersh exclaimed thankfully. “Ask Fitz. He’s bound to know. No, never mind. You go back to your cattle herding, and I’ll see about getting Mrs. Moreton settled and quarters assigned for your muleteers.”
For one moment it almost seemed to Esmeralda that Robert would object and insist on seeing to her quartering himself, and her heart leapt. However, he said nothing to Lord Burghersh, merely turned back to look up at her, since she was still mounted, and asked, “Will that be all right, Merry?”
She put out her hands to him to be helped down from Boa Viagem and smiled. “You know that whatever suits you best will be perfectly satisfactory to me,” she said.
“Well, to speak the truth,” Robert remarked with raised brows, “I’d rather go with you and have a pleasant cup of tea, which is what I suspect this lazy lout is planning, but Sir Arthur likes his orders carried to completion. Don’t let this crew finish up all the supplies. They will tell you the most pitiful tales of deprivation, but remember who comes first.”
Chapter Eleven
It was not so easy to accommodate a gentlewoman in the overcrowded conditions of a small village filled to bursting, and Esmeralda was very glad Robert had been spared the trouble. At first, Lord Burghersh had suggested that she move into the building Sir Arthur was using as his headquarters, since it was the best and largest. Esmeralda was very reluctant to stay there, as she intended to avoid notice by Sir Arthur insofar as it was possible. If he did not recall that she was with the army, he was much less likely to consider the situation to be growing dangerous and order her sent to England.
She could not say this, of course, so she was greatly relieved when Lord Burghersh himself realized that the house was not really large enough to afford privacy and the constant coming and going of officers at all hours would make it inconvenient for a lady. Eventually, a very small house on the grounds, in which several of the ADCs had been staying, was cleared for her. Gallantly, the young gentlemen made no complaint, but Esmeralda was worried.
“Will my accompanying the troops always make this much trouble?” she asked.
There was a brief silence that marked Lord Burghersh’s shock, although his voice was expressionless when he said, “You intend to march on into Portugal with us? Would it not be safer and more comfortable for you to go back to England?”
“Safer, perhaps,” Esmeralda was forced to admit, “but not more comfortable. You see, there is no question of ‘back to England’ for me. I was born in India and do not believe I know a single person living in England. I have never met Robert’s family, and I have none of my own. Lord Burghersh, I assure you I am not a stranger to physical inconvenience, nor do I fear it, but to be thrust upon the Earl and Countess of Moreton without Robert’s support quite sinks my spirits.”
“But Mrs. Moreton,” Burghersh protested, “there may be far more t
han inconvenience involved. There may soon be bullets and cannonballs flying about.”
“Surely not into the base camp or headquarters,” Esmeralda said quietly, completely unmoved.
“I hope not,” Burghersh replied, a trace of sharpness in his voice indicating the impatience he felt with the stubbornness and ignorance of women. “However, one can never be sure of the results of a battle. Camps and even towns at a considerable distance have been overrun.”
Esmeralda raised eyes full of tears to him. “I am not ignorant of the risks,” she whispered. “Please believe that there is a most compelling reason for my desire to remain with the army. And please do not tell Robert how unwise you think it to allow me to come. He is already too aware of the dangers to which I may be exposed and also of the fact that Sir Arthur does not approve, in general, of wives accompanying their husbands into a war zone. I have promised that…that if I am too great an inconvenience on the march, I will go without further protest, but I am very eager to remain as long as possible.”
The tears that hung in Esmeralda’s lashes and the intensity of her voice proclaimed the depth and violence of her emotion, and Burghersh was impressed by the control that permitted her to speak coherently and quietly. He could not imagine what had driven her to make the decision to stay, but he no longer thought it a trivial exercise of female impulsiveness.
“I assure you I will not interfere, Mrs. Moreton,” he said, “but I must warn you that when your husband tells Sir Arthur of this, I doubt that Sir Arthur will permit it.”
“But I am sure Robert has already told him,” Esmeralda interrupted. “He said he must tell Sir Arthur everything, and Sir Arthur agreed that there was nothing else Robert could do. Why, he even was so kind as to instruct Lord Fitzroy to make us a present of one hundred cruzados.”
Every word Esmeralda had said was literally true. However, the implications of the whole, when put together, were patently false. This did not trouble Esmeralda a whit. She took in the expression on Burghersh’s face—he was looking down at her intently with his mouth slightly ajar—with considerable satisfaction. She was certain that he now believed what she wished, that Sir Arthur had given specific permission for her to go with the army for some secret purpose. Thus, Burghersh would not utter to Robert any criticism of her accompanying the troops.
Having seen her ruse work, Esmeralda promptly returned to the problem that had started this discussion. “But all this bother,” she said. “Is there no way in which I or my servant can make arrangements for my lodging without troubling Robert or causing so much disruption?”
“Oh, certainly,” Burghersh replied. “Now that you are on the rolls and the staff knows you will be with us, there will be provision made without any fuss. I will make sure that the quartering officer sends an orderly to show you to your lodging each day we move. And I must say, I am glad to hear that you are already furnished with a servant. Can I send someone to find him?”
“I doubt it will be necessary,” Esmeralda said. “If I know Carlos, he and Luisa are right outside the door.”
“Ah,” Burghersh remarked with relief, “you have a woman with you also.”
Esmeralda burst out laughing. “I suppose you could say so, but I fear Luisa would be a most unsatisfactory lady’s maid, for she has four legs and very bad manners.” Then, seeing that Lord Burghersh looked troubled, she said more soberly, “I imagine I shall be able to employ one of the soldiers’ wives eventually, but I would like to leave that until I can discuss it with Robert. I am very hardy and shall manage very well with only Carlos for tonight.”
Satisfied with that assurance, Lord Burghersh prepared to make his departure. Esmeralda, however, had not forgotten Robert’s parting joke about not allowing his friends to eat up all the supplies. In fact, the previous evening in Coimbra, he had urged her to purchase substantial quantities of any delicacies she believed could survive the heat and transportation on Luisa’s back without spoiling. Having also remembered what Robert said about the unfortunate state of Sir Arthur’s table, Esmeralda was sure that he intended these supplies all along as a treat for his friends.
Thus, she forestalled Lord Burghersh’s intended departure by saying, “Truthfully, I am rather concerned for Captain Williams and Captain Campbell and the others who were evicted to make room for me. Do you think they would be willing to come to a small supper at about nine o’clock so I can tell them how sorry I am? Nine o’clock should be time enough for Robert to wash and have a short rest.”
Lord Burghersh had initially looked uneasy, but as soon as Esmeralda mentioned that Robert would be present, he smiled broadly. “I shall pass the word,” Burghersh promised, nodding encouragingly.
Esmeralda hoped his expression meant that he would also pass along her explanation for remaining with them. If her expectations were correct, neither she nor Robert would be pestered with repeated statements of surprise or astonished questions. A seemingly indifferent acceptance of her presence by his companions would, she was sure, go a long way toward calming Robert’s doubts.
Fortunately, Esmeralda’s hope seemed to have been fulfilled. The supper that evening was a great success, and no one gave even the smallest indication of expecting that she would soon be leaving them. At first Robert was teased unmercifully about being the only man in the world who could be buried in manure and come out of the heap with a wedding bouquet. Soon, however, the talk turned to more serious matters. Captain Campbell remarked that he believed the disembarkation would be finished the next day.
“How many will we have ashore?” Robert asked.
“About eighty-seven hundred,” Campbell replied, “but it’s been a devilish landing. Half the supplies were overturned and soaked in seawater, and the horses got loose and went galloping up and down the beach. It took hours to catch them.”
“Good God,” Robert exclaimed. “Did we lose any guns?”
“No, but we lost about fifty men, two of them MPs. That will make a stink in England.”
“And that isn’t the worst of it,” Lord Fitzroy said angrily. “Not that it has anything to do with the landing, but I don’t suppose you’ve heard the Beau’s been superseded.”
“Oh, God damn it,” Robert groaned. “That’s just what I was afraid of right from the beginning when I heard we were going to Spain. Damn the Horse Guards! Damn them! For God’s sake, Campbell, couldn’t you manage to get whomever they sent out drowned instead of a lot of useful soldiers?” Then his face lightened for a moment. “Unless it is Sir John?” he asked hopefully.
“No such luck,” Somerset replied bitterly. “Don’t blame Campbell. Our new commanders haven’t arrived yet. Sir Harry Burrard is coming out from England, and Sir Hew Dalrymple’s coming up from Gibraltar.”
Robert closed his eyes for a minute as if he were in pain. “Do any of you realize that the last action Burrard has seen was in America back in seventy-nine?”
“No,” Captain Williams put in. “He was at Copenhagen.”
“So was I,” Robert snapped, “but he might just as well not have been. I was talking about action. And Dalrymple was with the Duke of York in Flanders. That was a brilliantly run campaign.”
A universal groan attested to the fact that most of the ADCs had heard about the disaster in Flanders even though it had taken place thirteen years earlier. It was a classic on how not to run a military operation, the high-level officers and staff making merry with wine and women in the cities while the men froze and starved in inadequate camps in exposed positions until they were too weak and dispirited to fight. There was a discouraged silence.
“Please pardon my ignorance,” Esmeralda said. “I have no knowledge at all of what is standard military practice. Does that mean we are to remain here until the new commanders arrive?”
Her question broke the gloom. Everyone looked more alert, and all heads turned to Lord Fitzroy Somerset. He might have read the orders or have information from Sir Arthur.
Somerset
hesitated then shook his head. “There is no standard practice, Mrs. Moreton, but I do not believe in this case that we will remain here. It is not a good position.”
A babble of talk broke out that was overridden by Robert’s voice saying, “If there aren’t specific orders, the Beau will move. I know him. If he can get in a few licks before those deadweights arrive, he will.”
“But what the hell can we do with nine thousand men?” Lord Burghersh asked.
The more experienced officers explained at length what could be done with so small a force, but the question of whether Sir Arthur would have considered their optimistic plans any better than pipe dreams never arose. On August 5, before the disembarkation was completed, additional transports were sighted. These carried nearly five thousand more men under the command of General Sir Brent Spencer. Their arrival was most timely, for the landing operations merely continued in full swing, more efficiently now and with less loss of life and supplies.
The arrival of Spencer’s division was also a blessing to Esmeralda personally. Although it was unavoidable that she be introduced to Sir Arthur, she had fortunately been presented at tea time just before General Spencer’s arrival was announced. Having been briefed on General Wellesley’s character by Robert, Esmeralda was at first surprised by his appearance. The admiration, bordering on awe with which Robert spoke of him had made her imagine him a giant. On the contrary, Sir Arthur was shorter than her husband, of no more than medium height, and spare rather than heavy. However, the fit of his clothing showed him to have a wiry muscularity. Like the young men of his staff—who, Esmeralda now realized, had copied his style—his lightly graying brown hair was cut short.
He was, really, Esmeralda thought, a most ordinary-looking man, except for the high-bridged, aquiline nose that dominated his rather long, narrow-jawed face. And then her eyes met his, and all at once he was a giant. The color, like Robert’s, was bright blue, but Robert’s eyes, whether smiling or troubled, looked at you, not through you. Sir Arthur’s had such intensity that one felt transfixed.
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