The Kent Heiress

by Roberta Gellis

  “Better add some brandy,” Roger said in French, since that was the language in which Perce had addressed Sergei. “I think I might need it.” He watched Sergei until he went down the stairs and then said, “Are you the reason Sabrina decided to leave William?”

  “Yes… No… I don’t know how to answer that,” Perce said, sitting down rather hard.

  Roger stared at him, his face impassive now because so many different emotions seethed behind it that no expression was able to dominate long enough to register. Then slowly, he also sat down. The worst part of his shock, oddly enough, had little to do with Perce’s relationship with Sabrina. It was the need to come to grips with the realization that Perce was a man rather than a mischievous boy. It was the shock of seeing Perce’s face, bare of its masking, the face of a man. The mouth was hard, marked by lines of pain, and the eyes had seen far, far too much.

  “I think,” Roger said slowly, “that I have a right to ask for a better explanation than that.”

  “You have the right,” ‘Perce agreed, “but is there ever an explanation for something like this? I can only tell you what happened.”

  He did so as briefly as possible, without embroidery, beginning with his own awakening when Elvan’s courtship of Sabrina began and Sabrina’s response after they had met at Czartoryski’s ball.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it,” Perce finished angrily, “but I’m glad I did. I love her, and I want her—”

  “How?” Roger asked pointedly.

  “There’s no need to insult me, sir,” Perce said quietly, flushing again. “I want to marry her, but—but I’ll take her and care for her any way at all.”

  “If a breath of this gets out, I’ll never get an annulment,” Roger remarked. “You realize that, don’t you?”

  There was a pause while Perce digested the implications. Roger was telling him that he must avoid Sabrina until she was free. He turned his head to stare out the window, unaware that Sergei had come up from the cellar.

  Roger watched with considerable astonishment. He had been considerably shocked by Sergei’s tone and manner when he replied to Perce. Now that he thought of it, he realized he should have been shocked by the way Perce shouted instead of ringing a bell. Now his eyes opened wide as Sergei set two glasses on the table and drew the corks from the bottles with his teeth! Roger opened his mouth to protest, but Sergei did not notice, having turned his head toward Perce to ask in a casual tone, “You want me to pour?”

  “No, go away,” Perce responded automatically.

  Sergei went back into the bedroom and Roger said mildly, “Your man’s method of uncorking wine is original. His style and manner are also not just in the common mode.”

  Perce looked at him, then at the bottles of wine and glasses standing on the table—no tray, no decanter, and tooth marks on the corks. He began to laugh. “He isn’t my servant, he’s my serf, or slave—at least he insists he is, and nothing I can say will dissuade him. But, you know, he’s saved my life I don’t know how many times, and besides, he expects to marry Katy.”

  “What?” Roger exploded.

  Laughing even harder, Perce recounted the conversation in the inn at Riga. By the end of that story Roger was laughing, too. The tension between them evaporated, leaving them looking soberly at each other when the mirth was over.

  “I’ll do my damnedest to make, Brina happy,” Perce said “I’ll never forgive myself for not realizing in time what she meant to me. Perhaps I could have spared her all this unhappiness.”

  “Don’t,” Roger interrupted. “It was our fault, Leonie’s and mine, but really all mine. I should have known better, but I was sure Elvan was ripe to settle down.”

  Perce shrugged. “It’s no use flogging a dead horse, sir. We’re all to blame. Brina, too. She’s stubborn. It might have happened no matter what we did. The course now is to get her out of it.”

  “Yes, well, that’s one of the reasons we all agreed that she should go to Portugal.”

  That statement left Perce with his mouth hanging open. Roger took advantage of his surprise to explain the scene that had taken place with William. One big weight toppled off Perce. If Brina had actually asked that an annulment of her marriage be procured, she must not have been angered or hurt by his letter.

  “But I don’t understand, if an annulment was being discussed, why Brina agreed to accompany William to Portugal.”

  “He agreed to consider the annulment only if she would go,” Roger said. “Elvan claimed Canning would give the assignment to someone else if Sabrina refused to accompany him, because a hostess was necessary.” Roger’s face grew bleak. “It wasn’t true, in fact, but I only learned about that a few weeks ago.”

  Perce jumped to his feet “Then why? Why did he say—”

  Sit down and don’t imagine horrors. You’re as bad as Leonie. We’ve had letters from Brina all along. And don’t say that Elvan may be forcing her to write. I’m not sure he could, but quite aside from my opinion, the housekeeper at Stour has had letters from Katy. You know damn well Elvan wouldn’t have thought of that. I think he planned to court Brina again. He can’t believe she isn’t still in love with him. He seems to think she wants to dissolve the marriage because she’s jealous. In any case, the only thing Katy seemed worried about was the heat making Brina weak and dizzy.”

  “Then is Brina coming home?” Perce asked eagerly.

  Roger looked at him sadly and shook his head “Once, just once, let Lady Jersey or any of those other society gossips get a look at your face with that expression on it, and any chance I might have to get Brina free without a scandal would be gone. Anyway, she isn’t coming home. Elvan has taken a house for her in the mountains where it’s cool.”

  “You needn’t worry about my face,” Perce replied, immediately assuming his village idiot expression.

  Roger had to laugh, but he shook his head again. “You know it isn’t so easy. If you came across her unexpectedly…”

  “Well, there isn’t much chance of that now, is there?” Perce began to pace the room. Rather than easing his tension, this discussion seemed to have increased it. He had the feeling that he had to go to Sabrina at once, but he could not say that outright after what Roger had been telling him. After one turn he stopped in front of Roger. “Sir, Portugal isn’t safe. Brina must come home immediately. Didn’t Portland tell you what was in those articles?”

  Roger stood up too, his brow wrinkling. “No, he didn’t, and I didn’t ask. For God’s sake, I thought it must be another invasion scheme, perhaps using the Russian navy.”

  “No. Oh, its invasion in the long run, but Boney’s no fool. He must have guessed right off that he couldn’t touch Russian troops or ships, not without Alexander interfering constantly and probably taking offense and withdrawing the troops and ships at the last moment. Instead, the navies of Denmark, Holland, Spain, and Portugal are to be loaned to France until the end of the war. The end being, of course, the conquest of England.”

  Roger whistled. “Denmark must yield, of course. She is completely surrounded and has no power to resist. However, Spain will fight if invaded. There’s a British fleet at Gibraltar. There will be plenty of time to take out our nationals.”

  “No, there will be no time. You haven’t heard it all. Spain will not be invaded. At least, Spain won’t realize it’s being invaded until it’s too late. You remember back in 1801, Boney proposed a treaty with Spain that would divide Portugal? He’s going to propose the same again and ask permission to march his armies across Spain for the purpose of subduing Portugal.”

  Roger spat an obscenity. That would work. The Spanish hated the Portuguese because Portugal had won its freedom from Spain twice. The Spanish would jump at any chance to regain power over their erstwhile territory. Besides, the government of Spain was violently divided. Between the factions, Bonaparte would surely get agreement for any scheme he suggested. None of the fools, all of whom would be busy trying to destroy
each other, would stop to realize that when Bonaparte’s armies were in Spain, he would pick them all off like ripe plums, swallow them, and set whomever he wanted on the throne.

  “If he stops to take over Spain—” Roger began.

  “He can do both at the same time, you know,” Perce said sharply, and then, looking away again, “I’m going to get Brina as soon as Canning is through with me. I’ll leave her at whatever port we touch in England. She can travel safely with Katy, or I can send Sergei with them, but I’m going to Portugal.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Roger protested. “You’ll probably miss her. She isn’t really of any diplomatic use. I’m sure Elvan will send her home as soon as he hears about the Russian defeat at Friedland. He’ll realize—”

  “Maybe, and maybe he won’t. It won’t matter if I miss her. If she’s on her way home, so much the better. I won’t be around to make a nuisance of myself for a few weeks. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, sir, but I’ve got an ugly feeling. I don’t know whether it’s about Brina or about the situation in Portugal, but I must go.”

  “Superstition, Perce?” Roger had meant to tease, but his voice sounded worried and he found himself agreeing. “Yes, go. If there’s any way I can help you, let me know. Superstition or not, I’d rather have you bring her home than trust her safety to Elvan. His work comes first to him. He should have sent Brina home from Prussia two months before he did. It worked out that time, but this time we may not be so fortunate. Yes, go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Whatever feelings of doom or danger Roger and Perce suffered, Sabrina felt none. She was delighted with the house on the mountainside above the town of Lousa. The town itself, although small, was a retreat from the heat of summer for many families of the minor nobility. Thus, there were shops that catered to expensive tastes and amusements suitable for a lady. Not many families were yet in residence, but those that were had little sympathy for the notions of Carlota Joaquina. They might have ignored the heretic Englishwoman at court under orders, but here they welcomed her cheerfully.

  Nearly two weeks passed pleasantly. The only difficulty Sabrina faced was explaining why she would not accept evening engagements. This was, of course, because William would not accompany her. Now that he was reverting to his old habits, William usually did not accompany her during the day, either, but this did not matter, because her visits were to the ladies. Evening engagements were different; they were events for couples. She could not come unaccompanied to those, not while her husband was known to be in residence.

  Sometimes it was very difficult to think of reasons for refusing. Sabrina noticed a few odd expressions. There had also been odd expressions when she was asked about how she came to rent the dower house on the da Silviera estate. She had told the truth, insofar as it concerned herself, that she could not endure the heat in Lisbon, and Donna Francisca had very kindly offered the house out of sympathy for her affliction.

  Later she realized this was a mistake. From certain hints and warm, protective acts, Sabrina came to understand that the ladies of Lousa had guessed Donna Francisca was attracted to her husband. Donna Francisca, it seemed, did not make a practice of extending sympathy to beautiful women. All that was needed to confirm the idea of an affair between William and a high-and-mighty lady they did not like in the gossip-hungry minds of the ladies of Lousa was William himself. A few meetings fixed in their minds his superb good looks, his obvious high breeding, and his caressing manners, all of which were a violent contrast to Donna Francisca’s elderly unattractive, common-born husband.

  But Sabrina did not give the matter much thought. Frankly she was annoyed with William for his carelessness. It would have done him no harm, she felt, if he gave up two or three evenings of his mistress’s company to go to a dinner or musical party in Lousa. Had he done so, Sabrina could have found more logical excuses for other refusals. She had done her best, and if he would not cooperate even a little and her excuses were not believed, she could do no more.

  Sabrina was looking forward to her husband’s departure back to Lisbon once his leave expired. Then she would be known to be without escort, and an extra man would be found to make numbers even. Actually, this departure took place somewhat sooner than Sabrina had expected. On July twenty-fifth a letter arrived from Lord Strangford summoning William back to the embassy at once. Although there was a sense of urgency about the message, it said nothing about Sabrina. William gave the matter only a few minutes’ consideration. If he took Sabrina back with him, he would have no excuse to return to des Ermidas. William’s conscience twinged, but he soothed it with the idea that if the situation had been critical, Strangford, who doted on Sabrina, would have mentioned specifically that she must go home.

  Although William’s interest in Donna Francisca was already waning—she was entirely too eager and far less interested in delicate innuendo than in copulation—the interest was not dead. Also, William rather relished the idea of a romantic parting, one in which he could play the role of a heartbroken lover torn by political forces, rather than surfeit, from his lady. It would be a novelty to part with tears rather than recriminations.

  His conscience smote him again when he discovered the full facts, but Lord Strangford assured him that there was, as yet, no emergency. Although Russia had made peace and agreed to certain secret clauses directed against Britain, the government was preparing countermeasures. Ships would be gathered and readied to take aboard all nationals with their families and personal property, and certain Portuguese who had close connections in England if they wished to go. William had been summoned back partly to sound out the Portuguese and partly to warn longtime British residents in Portugal in such a way as to avoid any panic. Those who intended to leave, should it be necessary to do so, were to collect their valuables, sell what they could, and discreetly transfer as much of their funds as possible, a little at a time.

  On August first the Portuguese foreign secretary, Antônio de Araujo, summoned Lord Strangford and told him he had received an ultimatum from the French demanding the closure of all ports to British ships, and even neutral ships that had stopped at any British port, by September first. William again raised the question with Lord Strangford of warning Sabrina. The ambassador agreed that he should write her to be prepared to leave at a day’s notice but promised he would send William to fetch his wife in good time.

  William felt very ill-used as he wrote his letter. It had been a dreadful waste of time, energy, and money to bring Sabrina to Portugal, and it was going to be a great bother to get her back home. That stupid little chit was as ice cold, as resolved as ever, to dissolve their marriage. Even if the marriage were annulled quietly, it would be very bad for him, and nothing that smooth-tongued St. Eyre could say would change his mind. God alone knew what depravity would be credited to him. Who would dream that the chit would be so insane as to object to a little flirtation now and then?

  Suddenly he thought how convenient it would be if events moved so fast that he could not go to fetch Sabrina. If she missed the ships that were to leave Portugal in a convoy, she might be detained in the country. There was little chance she would come to any harm he told himself, ignoring the likelihood that troops might get to her before a high-level officer recognized her quality. She could take refuge with the friends she had made in Lousa, he decided. The idea had only been born of irritation, but as William surveyed it again he saw possibilities in it. The main problem would be how to avoid blame for abandoning his wife.

  Pursing his lips, William tore up what he had written and began again. He made only casual mention of the French threat, but he could not avoid mentioning it, because Sabrina’s acquaintances in Lousa might have heard. Nor had he any fixed decision on what he would do. It might be possible to say she had gone off somewhere and he could not find her, or that she had been captured by bandits. Would it be expected of him to stay and look for her? William sent off his much abbreviated letter and sat back to think more seriously o
f reasons for leaving her behind.

  It was just as well he never came up with a ploy that he believed he could carry off successfully, because Strangford’s arrangements gave him more than enough time to bring Sabrina to Lisbon. On the tenth of August the ambassador gave him three weeks’ leave for that purpose. He said there was little more for William to do until France made another move. The British arguments why Portugal should not yield were being made clear enough by the English ships that sailed past Tagus Bay at regular intervals. Their gunports were now closed, but the prince regent did not need any reminders that every major city in his country was a seaport that could be reduced to rubble by the guns behind the ports.

  On the other hand, it was not possible for Portugal to resist the French. Where the combined might of Russia and Prussia and Austria had failed, it was not likely that tiny Portugal could succeed. Lord Strangford did not expect it. He was merely holding off the inevitable as long as possible. Also, the British government desired that Portugal be invaded rather than capitulate and invite the French into the country. If there were no armed resistance, it would make little difference to the inhabitants. Bonaparte was as rapacious with his helpless allies as with his enemies.

  To the English, however, there was a difference. A country prostrate under a conqueror was morally open to invasion by a country wishing to rescue the vanquished. To attack a Portugal that had made arrangements with France would be less acceptable. There was a plan to produce such a condition, but Lord Strangford knew it was impossible to put it into effect until the Portuguese court saw imminent capture or destruction staring at them. That could not be before the ultimatum date of September first, and would probably be weeks or months later. Thus, William had three weeks clear before Lord Strangford would need him to help convince Prince João to escape the French by fleeing to Brazil under the protection of the British Fleet.

  With the collection of ships for the transport of people and property to England, Dom José’s efforts to sell stock were ended. He did not really mind. He had been warned in good time and had been quite successful in his efforts. A great deal of other business, matters of the estate that had been his wife’s plus the vineyards and farms that were his had been put aside while he concentrated on trade. Now he turned his attention to this.