“I didn’t mean that.” Sabrina shook her head. Her eyes were very wide. “I mean England. We can’t stay bottled up forever. Can we beat Boney all alone?”
“No, but I don’t think we will be all alone for very long. He’s growing more and more hated as he grows more and more arrogant and demanding. He’ll make a mistake that will turn Alexander against him soon enough. Time’s on our side, Brina.”
“I hope so,” she sighed. “But I’m sorry for all the people who will suffer while time ripens. What do you think he’ll do to Portugal if the prince regent goes to Brazil?”
“I can’t be sure, but I suspect nothing worse than if Prince João stayed and yielded. Boney will take the best of the army out of the country and send it to Prussia or Austria—anywhere—so that the Portuguese are crippled and can’t fight him. And then he’ll tax the people to death. But they’d be taxed anyway. If they fight, the money he demands is called reparations; if they don’t fight it’s called assistance. He’ll quarter his troops on the people and Boney never buys supplies to feed troops. They forage and live off the land, so they often take more than they need as well as whatever forbidden items they can grab. Some women will be mistreated. It would be worse if they fought.”
He fell silent. There were no more flames in their small fire, since Perce had stopped feeding it about half an hour earlier, but a few red embers glowed. He watched those, and Sabrina watched him. She could not make out his features only the outline of his body. Still, there was something in the way he held his head and hunched his shoulders that called out for comfort. Sabrina moved closer and put an arm around him. He sighed, and leaned his head against hers.
“Something is broken, Brina,” he said sadly.
“Are you hurt?” she cried, wondering how he could have concealed it so long.
She felt his head shake and his lips against her cheek. “Not in me, just… I don’t know. We’ll win the war with Boney partly because his blind hatred of England will ruin the countries that otherwise would find it easier not to resist him. Last time Austria and Prussia and Russia fought, it was mostly because of pride and greed and fear. Next time it will be utter desperation. But nothing will be the same, Brina.”
“Who would want it to be?” Sabrina asked, much surprised by this reaction. “The world must move forward or we’d still be living in caves and painting ourselves blue.” Then she had a revelation of what Perce had meant and her voice sharpened. “And if you’re thinking that all the romance and glory have gone out of war, I’ll tell you plainly I don’t believe there ever was any. The Black Prince might have invited the King of France to dinner after the baffle of Poitiers, but I think the screams of the wounded were just as loud and the tears the women shed for the dead just as bitter.”
Perce kissed her hair. “You’re a clever witch. It is partly the loss of the shining armor—”
“With fleas under it,” Sabrina put in wickedly.
Perce shuddered. “Don’t remind me,” he said in a horrified voice. “I was crawling with them from Pultusk until Eylau. And mostly I had so many layers on because of the cold, I couldn’t even get my hand in to scratch. Still, I could move the clothes around and rub them against me.” He broke into chuckles. “It must have been hell to wear armor. I think I’d better give up this Weltschmerz after the finer days of high honor. There must have been cit-types that tried to eat the world before Boney.”
“Think of Attila the Hun!” Sabrina offered.
“I don’t think he was a cit,” Perce replied with spurious gravity. “Fine old Hun family.”
“Carrying only the best blue-blooded fleas.” Sabrina giggled, then sighed. “I’m beginning to feel as if I’m carrying a few myself. I’ll be glad to get back to the house no matter how many questions I have to answer. What are we going to say about why we ran away?”
“If you don’t mind, Brina, I think I’ll put the blame on you and say you were afraid of Dom José. I know it was my fault, not yours, and it isn’t fair to blame you, but we want to get through this as easily as possible. It wouldn’t be very tactful to admit that I thought the regador might be corrupt.”
“No, of course not, poor Senhor de Sousa would be so shocked. You can exaggerate as much as you like. I won’t mind playing the helpless little woman, only…will that fit my escape from des Ermidas?”
“Desperation and hysteria make people do strange things. By the way, why did you go out the window?”
Sabrina shuddered. “I thought he was waiting outside the door.”
Perce took her in his arms. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that back into your mind.”
“It isn’t that part that bothers me,” she whispered, burrowing her head into the warmth of his neck. “It’s the… They were lying embraced and—and their heads…” Her voice faltered into silence.
“Dreadful for you, darling,” Perce comforted, holding her with one arm and running his hand soothingly up and down her shoulder, “but better for them… If Dom José shot them in the head while they were—er—coupled, they must have died without the slightest pain or fear.”
“Oh, Perce, is that true?” Sabrina asked hopefully.
“Yes. It is. I’ve seen enough men shot in the head. Their faces hold whatever expression they had before they were hit. Death is so quick there’s no time for thinking or for suffering.”
It wasn’t always true, of course. It depended on where the wound was and how massive the injury, but Perce had heard the utter relief in Sabrina’s voice when she asked her question. He would maintain instantaneous, happy death had taken place no matter what the truth was.
“But wouldn’t they have known if he held guns to their heads?” Sabrina persisted, wanting to believe him but seeking further reassurance.
Perce made himself laugh softly. “Darling, if someone had come up very quietly while we were making love a while ago, do you think you would have noticed?”
“No,” Sabrina breathed happily, “no, I wouldn’t.” Then she giggled. “I don’t think I could have noticed if a whole army had walked right over. Maybe if someone actually stepped on—” Her voice checked.
“Dom José wouldn’t even have had to touch them. He probably didn’t. With their heads so close together, he just had to bring both hands up and pull both triggers. Truly, Brina, they couldn’t have known he was there. They would have jerked apart if they had heard him. Believe me, darling, there was no pain, no fear. Just pleasure one moment and a merciful and forgiving God the next.”
She sighed and relaxed against him. “Oh, thank you, Perce, thank you. It was so horrible to think William had died in agony, and it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault!”
“No, perhaps not, but if he didn’t know…that’s good, Perce. William was afraid of death. I guess everyone is, but if he was spared knowing and was spared any pain, that makes it less dreadful, almost a mercy—except for the years he lost.”
She sighed again, but not sorrowfully, in relief. The last little spark of ember winked out. They sat silently in the dark for some time, then Perce hugged Sabrina hard and relaxed his grip. She sat up straighter without protest, and he let her go and began to feel around where the fire had been. The ashes were still warm, but there was no hot spot, and after a careful investigation Perce decided the fire was safely out. He felt his way back to the blanket, and they lay down quietly side by side.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was again thirst that wakened Sabrina. She had drifted toward consciousness several times during the night but had managed to fall asleep again. This time, however, there was light enough to see. She turned her head cautiously, unwilling to disturb Perce if he was not yet aware of discomfort. As soon as she moved, however, he sat up. He was smiling, but his mouth was as dry as hers and there was no more fruit. What food remained in the bag could not even be considered until they found water.
The need was now so acute that neither mentioned it. Sa
brina did not even feel an urgent need to relieve her bladder, although Perce moved off to do so. Perce rolled the blanket and threw it over his shoulder. He reached for the food bag, too, but Sabrina shook her head and took it. It was depleted and not heavy. There was a brief hesitation before they looked at each other.
“You know, I haven’t the faintest notion of where we are or which way to go,” Perce remarked, his voice scratchy.
Sabrina took his arm and hugged it. She wasn’t frightened. Perce would find a way; he always did. She waited patiently while he stared around, not thinking about their problem but about how she could have been so stupid as to have found William attractive and overlooked Perce. But Perce had never seemed the least interested in her, either—at least, not the way William was interested. Just as that unpalatable idea crossed her mind, Perce gently disengaged her fingers from his arm.
“You stay here. I’m going to look around,” he said.
Sabrina froze. Could she say, William didn’t want me and you don’t want me, either? She would sound like a petulant, idiotic child. He had come all the way to Portugal to take her home. No, he hadn’t. Canning had wanted him out of England, and it had been Roger’s idea to bring her home. Stop it, she told herself, and made herself smile. Perce smiled back readily and started off. His mind was essentially on the practical problem of how to find the stream again. He would have settled for any stream. It would be easier to think when he was not so worried about Sabrina suffering from thirst. She was the most angelic, uncomplaining woman, but that only made him feel more responsible for seeing that she had nothing about which to complain. What an idiot he was to get them lost, and a worse idiot to tell Brina. But she hadn’t seemed alarmed, just looked at him the way she used to when she was a little girl, sure he could make everything right.
The memory caused a horrible sinking feeling in Perce’s midsection. She had always come to him when she was in trouble if Philip wasn’t available. She had come to him when her marriage had gone bad, and he had offered love. She had accepted it eagerly—as eagerly as she had accepted the kitten he had rescued from a tree, the repaired dolls, the bandage around skinned knees, the kisses to salve hurt feelings or wounded pride. Did she love him as a man or as a brother?
That had been worked out during their courtship in Russia he reminded himself, but he glanced back at Sabrina. She was standing where he had left her, very much as the little girl had stood where she was told while he and Philip did something with which she might have interfered, and that disturbed him. As his eyes searched the ground for footmarks or broken undergrowth, he asked himself if what he was doing to Sabrina was fair—and whether he cared if it was fair. The answer to that was that he didn’t, except for one thing. Would Brina wake up some day and resent the advantage he had taken of her?
He stared unseeingly at the ground, realized what he was doing, and focused his eyes. Not now, he told himself. There will be time enough to worry. Now find a way out. He turned back to look at the area he had just passed over without, he feared, proper attention. The light was better. The sun must be up. And then his head came up sharply. It sounded to him as if there had been a human shout, faint and distant but not a bird call or a fox’s bark.
“Perce!” Sabrina cried.
“Did you hear that too?” he called back.
“It sounded like someone shouting,” she replied.
“I thought so, too,” he agreed. “Can you scream, Brina?” I think your voice will carry better than mine.” He ran back toward her.
“Do you think it’s safe?” she asked.
“We’d better take the chance,” he said. “Dom José’s servants heard him say he committed the murders. I’m virtually certain they forced him to abandon his search for us. If that’s him shouting, he’s alone, and I can handle him alone. Go ahead, Brina, yell.”
She did, an ear-tingling, high-pitched “Here! We’re here!” And then, after a deep breath, she repeated her effort.
There was a response almost overlapping her second cry so that they nearly missed hearing it. But that, too, was repeated. The sound was clearer, as if whoever was shouting had come closer, and Perce was able to determine the general direction from which the voice came. He pulled the loaded pistol from his pocket. It probably would not fire, since he had used most of the priming powder to help start the campfire, but it was the only threat he had.
Sabrina called out again, cupping her hands around her mouth to direct the sound. Perce put his left arm around her and they began to make their way cautiously in the direction of the answering cries. After a few minutes, Perce realized there was more than one voice answering Sabrina’s shouts, and in another minute he and Sabrina laughed and began to run forward more quickly, Perce stuffing the gun back in his pocket. One of the voices was shouting “Where are you?” in Russian!
They were so intent on reaching their rescuers that they almost fell into the stream. Perce shouted while Sabrina drank. It seemed to be a different part of the stream—or a different stream, as far as either of them knew—but the water was fresh and sweet, and they both laughed and kissed each other with moist, refreshed lips. Then, oddly, they stood on the bank, hesitating to cross although there were plenty of stepping-stones. Both felt the strangest reluctance to leave the forest and return to the world. Sabrina went so far as to look over her shoulder, back the way they had come, and then look at Perce.
But it was too late. Before Perce could respond in any way to that unspoken question, one and then another of the grooms from the dower house came into view. Sabrina waved and started across the stream. As she tested the second stone for security, Sergei came bursting through brush lower down, rushed up through the water, and carried her, over. He would have handed her to one of the other men to be carried all the way back had she not insisted on being put on her feet. Then he rushed to help Perce, who laughed at him. Meanwhile, everyone was asking questions, which no one bothered to answer, and two more men converged on the party, also talking excitedly.
“Quiet!” Perce bellowed.
The tone if not the word, which only Sergei and Sabrina understood, brought instant results.
“Yes,” Sabrina agreed in Portuguese. “Let’s go back to the house first. That will be the time to answer questions.”
“I am glad we found you so soon,” Sergei remarked as they made their way back toward the road. “I hope it is soon enough.”
“Is Katy worse?” Sabrina cried fearfully.
“It is impossible for that woman to be worse,” Sergei replied. “She is already more unreasonable than any other woman alive.”
Sabrina could not help smiling, but she was still worried. “What did you mean, you hope it is soon enough?”
“I mean that she wanted me to go out to look for you last night. It was already dark. The man who brought the horses—”
“What horses? Ours?” Perce interrupted.
“Yes, yours. Who else’s would she care about?”
“Who brought them?”
“Pavlo, no, Pablo. It seems the horses followed their party when they brought their master home. He is dead now—of the heart, the man said. Then she became quite mad, and—”
“Katy was worried about us,” Sabrina explained.
“And you think I was not?” Sergei exploded. “But what was the good of going out at night? The man Pablo swore he could not find the place in the dark. He said he would come again at dawn. She would not believe him. I had to keep him there, and she questioned him and talked at him until he wept.”
Sabrina laughed. Katy could wield her tongue like a lash when necessary, but it seemed quite a feat to have done it in Portuguese.
“She’s been like a mother to me,” she said placatingly to Sergei.
“And would I not be like a dead man without my little father?” Sergei asked heatedly. “Would I neglect his good, on which mine depends? Did I not say this a hundred times? A thousand? Mad! She is quite mad!” Then he
shrugged, and a smile illuminated his harsh features and dark eyes. “She is a worse slave than I, for I can recognize what is reasonable, and she cannot.”
The smug satisfaction in his voice made Perce and Sabrina choke, but conversation was suspended when they came to the road and then went toward the horses. Nor did they talk on the road, since all were intent on getting back as soon as possible. Nonetheless, it was not until about noon that the whole muddle was straightened out. Arrival back at the dower house was punctuated at first by kisses and tears rather than by explanations, and then by a deeply desired and heavenly bath. Breakfast followed, and although there was enough for two, Perce did not come to share it. Sabrina knew he would not, that it would be stupid to display so much intimacy, especially before the matter of William’s murder was settled. Still, she felt she had lost something, and with sudden tears in her eyes remembered the shared greasy, awkward meals in the forest.
At least she did not need to hide or explain the tears. Katy was in a makeshift bed in the parlor. The break in her leg had been worse than they expected, and she was forbidden to move more than the absolutely necessary minimum for at least one week on pain of being permanently crippled. That was why Sergei had been so worried, and the worry was for Katy, not for himself having a crippled wife. Sabrina had seen that in the look he gave Katy when they entered the room. And Katy’s “Ye brought them back. God be thanked for ye, Sergei” had warmed Sabrina’s heart.
After all, as soon as Katy saw they were unhurt, she must have realized they would have found their way home. That was sweet. Sabrina sighed romantically. She could afford to be sentimental about Katy’s coming marriage. It was very pleasant to think about when she dared not think about her own.
While she was combing her hair—that was a long and painful process, it took her nearly an hour to get the tangles out, and she had to snip several strands that were matted with tree sap—Sabrina decided to take time to shop in Lisbon, naval vessel or no naval vessel. Katy had to have different underthings now, and—and different nightgowns, yes, and a more revealing peignoir or two—or three, even. Portugal had beautiful lace and exquisite embroideries, and everything was very inexpensive. Not that the price mattered to Sabrina, but Katy would be angry and embarrassed if she thought Sabrina was giving her too costly a gift.
The Kent Heiress Page 41
