Fortune's Bride (14 page)

Lord Burghersh, who had already shown considerable ability
at diplomacy, accompanied Sir Arthur and returned in a state of emotional
suppression that threatened a violent explosion. Urgently needing an outlet, he
made his way at once to the little house that had already become a safe haven
to most of the young gentlemen. To those flayed by one of Sir Arthur’s icy
outbursts, Robert offered philosophical consolation from his years of similar
experience, while Esmeralda soothed the nerves with tea and sympathy. Here they
were free to air their military opinions and complaints, get their buttons
sewed back on and damage to their uniforms mended.

Thus, when Burghersh burst in, neither Robert nor Esmeralda,
who happened for once to be having tea alone, was much surprised. “I think
everyone except us is insane,” he snarled.

“And I’m not too sure about us,” Robert rejoined placidly.
“What’s wrong, John?”

“Freire, that’s what’s wrong. Damn it, I thought the
Portuguese were going to be different from the Spanish. You know we rode over
to Montemor-o-Velho with five thousand muskets for that ragtag army of his.
You’d think the man would be grateful, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” Robert replied, his lips twitching. “Native allies
seldom are, and native generals, never. Sit down and Merry will give you a cup
of tea.”

“Well, good God, you’re calm about it. I suppose you would
have liked to hear him acting as if he were in command, telling Sir Arthur
where and how to move his troops—”

“Where did Freire want Sir Arthur to go?” Robert asked with
considerable interest.

“Inland,” Burghersh said. “He wants us to follow the road to
Santarém down to Lisbon.”

“Why?”

“He says the road is better, the countryside is very rich
there, and the army could live off the land.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Robert remarked.

Burghersh took a deep breath and sank into a chair, leaning
forward a moment later to take the mug of tea Esmeralda held out to him. “It’s
his manner, damn him,” he said, and then, after a few sips, he sighed. “I don’t
know. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.”

“Don’t let it worry you,” Robert comforted. “I don’t think
Sir Arthur cares much for him, either He’ll listen and take any information
into consideration, but he knows what’s best for us and he’ll do that.”

“I know. We’re still going to move along the coast where
we’ll be in touch with the fleet. But for a while Freire was threatening to
simply take our muskets and go off on his own. Sir Arthur convinced him to meet
us in Leiria instead. Freire says there’s a good-sized magazine there, but he
acted as if he were doing us a favor, as if—”

A knock at the door interrupted him. Robert shouted, “Come
in,” and an orderly put his head around the opening to say, “You’re wanted by
the general, Captain Moreton.”

Robert got to his feet at once. “I think this means we’ll
move out tomorrow, Merry,” he said.

“Very well,” Esmeralda replied. “I will be ready.”

Her voice drew Burghersh’s attention, and he smiled at her
and said, “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Moreton. I’m afraid I’ve been dreadfully
rude, bursting in here and not even giving you a word of greeting, just
grabbing cups of tea out of your hand as if you were a servant.”

“Please don’t apologize,” she replied, smiling back. “I am
very glad you feel so much at home in your brother officer’s quarters. It gives
me a great deal of satisfaction to be able to forward our purpose, even with so
small a thing as cups of tea.”

“Yes, do stay and finish your tea,” Robert said rather
stiffly.

“I’d better not,” Burghersh answered, but not because he had
noticed anything unusual in Robert’s manner “If you’re wanted, I probably will
be, too,” he explained.

Esmeralda, however, had noticed. Nor was this the first time
she had been made aware that Robert seemed to dislike it when she was alone
with any of the other men. The first time she had noticed the reaction, she had
anxiously reexamined her behavior, wondering if Robert had perceived anything
vulgarly inviting or flirtatious in her manner toward his friends. She had been
somewhat less generous with her smiles for a while, but it was really very
difficult to resist the confiding friendliness his fellow ADCs offered.

This time, after Robert and Lord Burghersh had left,
Esmeralda sat for a while allowing hope to rise more strongly than ever before.
Was it possible that Robert was jealous? And, if so, what should she do? Was
there any way in which she could invite him to make their marriage real without
disgusting him or driving him away if her guess was wrong?

For all her bold use of words like “consummate” and
“light-skirt”, Esmeralda really knew very little about sex. Her mother had died
before Esmeralda was told anything about the subject, and in recent years she
had not been allowed to have friends intimate enough to discuss such matters.
She had, of course, heard hints and innuendos, but these were dreadfully
confusing. On the one hand, a young and lively matron, married very much to her
own taste, would smile and wink with sparkling eyes and hint that her
matrimonial duties were a most delightful pleasure. On the other, another would
sigh lugubriously and cast up her eyes to heaven like a martyr. Both husbands
had seemed pleasant enough to Esmeralda, but since she had never found either
of them more physically appealing than the other, she was not a bit the wiser.

All she knew was that Robert had a very strong effect on her
and that as their familiarity grew, the effect not only strengthened but
changed. When they had first joined company, she had been satisfied just to
look at Robert’s handsome face, and to hear him speak was a pure delight. Now
there was a growing sense of dissatisfaction mingled with her pleasure. It was
not enough to look. Esmeralda wanted to touch and to be touched.

It was a most frustrating desire, for there was little
opportunity for “accidental” intimacy when they were alone. The tiny house had
two rooms, one above and one below, and Robert did not share the upstairs
bedchamber with Esmeralda. Although this must have been known to all, as
Robert’s cot stood against one wall, it caused no surprise or doubt. Few
husbands and wives of Robert’s class shared a bedchamber. In this particular
case, the separation was even more natural because Robert might be called out
at all hours. To rouse him if he had slept above-stairs would have been more
difficult and even embarrassing. Moreover, there was no reason for Esmeralda to
have her night’s rest broken by the demands of Robert’s duty.

Nonetheless, living together as husband and wife did affect
their relationship. Despite not sharing a bedroom, Esmeralda saw a great deal
more of Robert’s body than she would have under more formal circumstances. It
would have been unnatural, considering the heat, for Robert not to take off his
uniform jacket when he was supposedly at ease at home. Thus, Esmeralda was
treated to a frequent display of her husband’s manly form as his thin,
sweat-wet cambric shirt clung to him, exposing every curve of muscle as clearly
as if he had been naked. Nor did his tight breeches leave much more to the
imagination.

Naturally, Esmeralda did not allow her eyes to linger on
these most fascinating aspects of the male body. That, she knew, would be
vulgar and unladylike. At least, she did not allow Robert or anyone else to
catch her staring. But if she found her husband asleep when she came down from
siesta, she would drink in the lines of his body, standing with hands tightly
clasped so she would not reach out to caress him. Or at other times, when he
was busy with writing some report, she would lift her eyes from her sewing and
let her gaze slide from shoulder to thigh as if she were stroking him.

More puzzling to Esmeralda than her desire to touch
Robert—she had long accepted the fact that she loved him, and it seemed logical
to her that one should wish to touch a beloved object—was the effect merely
looking at him had upon her. When her eyes rested on his strong shoulders and
thighs, her skin would grow warm, and she could feel her breasts thrust against
her bodice, the nipples hard and almost painfully sensitive. And her thighs
would tremble and seem so weak that she had to press her knees hard together to
make her legs behave.

It was very strange but also most fortunate, Esmeralda
thought, that his handsome face did not cause nearly as strong a reaction. She
giggled. That would have been a major disaster. It would have been impossible
to look at him when answering a question or during normal conversation when his
friends were present. And then the giggle died. Would it have been unfortunate?
If she had given herself away, would Robert have responded?
Was
he
jealous?

Esmeralda rose and went to look into Robert’s shaving glass,
propped on a shelf near the one window. She had to stand on tiptoe and could
see no more than her face. She sighed. No, she was allowing her own desire to
twist her thinking. There was nothing in the face that looked back at her that
could tempt a man into love in two weeks. It was far more likely that Robert,
totally unaware that she
was
in love with him, feared she would be
attracted to one of his fellow officers and embarrass him by misbehavior.

Insofar as Robert’s conscious thoughts went, Esmeralda was
quite correct. The word “love” had never entered his mind. He was as troubled
by Esmeralda’s presence as she was by his and was having as much difficulty
controlling where his eyes rested. But he accepted that as quite natural, for
Merry had a fine figure. He had acknowledged that from the day he married her.
It was quite normal, from Robert’s point of view, that a man’s eyes should be
attracted to a fine feminine figure and that his body should be aroused by it.
He did not associate physical desire with love, and aside from sometimes
feeling annoyed when it delayed his falling asleep or when he woke with a
powerful urge, he could almost completely dismiss that aspect of his feelings
about Esmeralda.

There was, however, one small thing that puzzled him. Robert
had never been a three-times-a-night-and-every-night-of-the-week man, even when
he was idle. When he was deeply engaged in military activity, as he now was,
his sexual appetite was moderate. A girl once or twice in a week, or even less
frequently if he was really busy, was enough to quench all desire and even all
thought of women. Yet, although he had found a willing girl in the camp the
evening after they had arrived, only hours later, when he had taken Merry’s
hand and kissed it just before they parted for the night, he was suddenly no
better off than if he had not relieved himself.

A little logical thought as he was lying on his cot half an
hour later presented an explanation. The simple fact that there was an
attractive woman near him at all times when he was off duty was a constant
reminder and inducement. A little more logical thought presented a solution.
Get rid of the woman, and he would be rid of the sexual problem. However,
instead of relief, this solution produced a profound depression of Robert’s
spirit, until he remembered that he had promised Merry not to send her alone to
England. He could not, he told himself, go back on his word to her solely to
provide himself with a less tempting atmosphere. The immediate lifting of his
depression, he assumed, was the reward for his self-sacrifice. Doing right, he
knew, always made one feel good.

It was less easy to explain to himself the uneasiness he
felt at the attentions paid to Merry by his friends. Even if she had really
been his wife, there would have been nothing to object to in them. In fact,
when there was a group laughing and talking in the little house, Robert felt
very proud of Merry’s interest and intelligence and her ability to make
everyone feel comfortable. However, when any single man settled beside her to
talk seriously, or stayed behind when Robert himself had to leave, or arrived
before he was himself in the house, Robert could feel a very strange sensation
in his spine.

If he had been a dog, he thought ruefully as he and
Burghersh walked quickly toward the headquarters, his hackles would be up. The
simile was embarrassing because it made Robert think of a dog in the manger,
snapping at an ox to keep it away from the straw the dog itself did not want.
Or
did
he want it? he wondered. But that revelatory thought had no
chance to take hold. At the moment it arrived, he entered the room Sir Arthur
was using as an office and was enveloped in instructions pertaining to the
march to be made the next day.

Esmeralda was not totally discouraged by her guess that
Robert might fear she would become interested or arouse interest in one of his
fellow officers. Even so much as that was a large step forward. When he had
rescued her, he would not have believed any man
could
be interested in
her. The very fact that he was thinking about her at all was an achievement, at
least so long as he did not start to think in the wrong direction, that she was
a nuisance who should be sent away.

That notion brought Esmeralda hurrying to the door to shout
for Carlos. Robert had simply accepted her statement that she would be ready to
move out with the army the next day, but there was still time, she feared, for
him to change his mind. From long experience Esmeralda knew that the best way
to escape unwelcome attention was not to be noticed. And the best way to do
that was to be out of sight.

Esmeralda’s call brought Carlos to the door at once, and
again she blessed the twist of fate that had made Robert choose Luisa to carry
their baggage. There were countless advantages to having the small Portuguese
boy as her manservant. One of these was his youth and small size, which made it
possible for him to go almost anywhere without challenge so Esmeralda did not
need to bother Robert to obtain passes or identification for him.

“Go into the women’s area, and ask Mrs. M’Guire to come to
me,” Esmeralda told him.

During the delay necessary for disembarking Spencer’s
troops, Esmeralda had had a chance to make inquiries and hire a woman servant.
Of the many who had applied, she had chosen Molly M’Guire, a big, strong,
fresh-faced Irishwoman who was not new to army service. In fact, M’Guire was
Molly’s second husband, her first having died in the West Indies of fever. Two
of her three children had died there, too, and Molly had left the one surviving
little girl with her mother in Ireland when she had been one of those chosen by
lot to accompany the men.

Esmeralda had asked her about leaving her child behind,
because she had been warned that more than a few of the women increased their
husbands’ pitiful pay by whoring for the rest of the men or the officers. Molly
was good-looking enough to make that a possibility, and she might have wished
to be free of the child to be more available. Of course, that did not fit very
well with her application to be a servant, but greed might make her think she
could manage all three occupations.

“I almost did not put me name in th’ lot,” she replied in
her appealing brogue, “but Oi tho’ght ibout it ‘nd decided it were M’Guire
who’d need me most. Mam’ll take good care o’ Katy, ‘nd if they’re sometimes a
wee short ‘nd flat i’ th’ belly, ah weel, it’s loike inough we’ll be short,
too. Oi’ve niver bin wit th’ troops that we did no outrun oor pay ‘nd oor
commissary carts.”

It was a most reasonable answer, and Esmeralda was
particularly attracted to Molly’s cheerful cynicism bred by useful experience,
but it was meeting M’Guire himself that decided the issue. When Esmeralda had
presented the problem to Robert, he had asked her to have the husband up and
see whether he was willing and capable of being Robert’s batman and groom.

“It’s best to have a couple, if it can be arranged,” he had
said. “And I never heard of an Irishman who couldn’t handle horses, so that
will be all right. Find out with what regiment he’s serving if he seems
suitable.”

Not only was M’Guire willing and capable, but Esmeralda
liked him at once and liked even more the obvious good feeling that existed
between Molly and her husband. It was clear that M’Guire was years younger than
his wife, much less experienced, and not at all the type to look elsewhere if
Molly played around. Esmeralda therefore settled matters as soon as she was
certain that M’Guire was country Irish, not London slum Irish, and thus that
his claim to be “well inuff wi’ th’ horses” was probably true. He would be
responsible for Hermes, Jupiter, Mars, and Apollo.

Nor had there been any trouble about M’Guire’s temporary
detachment from his regiment. Caitlin Crawfurd did not wish to disoblige a
member of Sir Arthur’s staff and, making the stipulation that M’Guire should be
with his company in time for any action, excused him from all duties except
roll call. And since Robert was far more interested in having his horses and
weapons well cared for than in the perfection of the shine on his boots,
M’Guire was an adequate servant.

When Molly arrived, Esmeralda gave her the news, which did
not seem to be much of a surprise to her. They made quick work of the packing
and, far more important, plans for finding each other during the march if it
became necessary, and in camp or quarters. Molly suggested that if they passed
through any town, Esmeralda should try to buy food, specially cured meat,
cheese, and rice plus anything else that would not spoil, adding that she knew
ways of cooking such ingredients together so that they were truly good eating.

Esmeralda nodded agreement, as much because of what Robert
had said about Sir Arthur’s carelessness in feeding his ADCs as because she
feared the supplies would be inadequate. And since Esmeralda now had money—one
hundred beautiful silver
cruzados
—she intended to shop for more than
food as soon as possible. There was no need for a dressmaker for the simple
gowns she would need. If she could find attractive fabrics, she could sew them
herself with Molly’s help. Those hundred
cruzados
would go a long way,
Esmeralda thought. She would send Carlos to buy the food—a poor little orphan
boy, driving a mule for the English, should be able to obtain excellent bargains.
And accustomed as she was to Indian merchants, Esmeralda herself could drive a
mean bargain.

All the while she and Molly were talking and working,
Esmeralda prayed that Robert would be kept too busy to come back before time
for bed. He would dine with the mess, she was sure, but usually he was free by
nine o’clock. If he came back at that time, she could not avoid him. To be
absent when he expected to see her would fix his attention on her just as
surely as getting in his way when she should not be about.

Esmeralda got her wish, and even a little more, for Robert
sent an orderly to tell her that he would not be in until late. This gesture,
touching in its consideration for her, also troubled Esmeralda. She did not
want Robert to feel any guilt if his duties kept him away. Guilt is a most
unpleasant burden, a nagging irritation, and could quickly wipe out any
pleasure he derived from her company. The concern followed her into her dreams
so that, although she slept well enough, she woke as soon as the first sounds
of activity from the camp drifted through the open window, with the same worry
in mind.

Thus, she hurried her dressing and ran down to make Robert’s
tea and cut bread and cheese for his breakfast, working as silently as she
could until he woke. A convention had been established between them. Once
Robert began to stir, Esmeralda kept her back turned to him until he pulled on
his breeches and boots and went out to wash and visit the jakes. When he
returned, she allowed him to get well started on his breakfast before she spoke
to him, unless he addressed her first. Since Robert did not seem to be in any
haste to leave, Esmeralda followed the established practice for a while, but
when he held out his cup to be refilled, she assured him that it was not necessary
for him to inform her of his coming and going if it was not convenient.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he said, staring at her rather
intently.

“I know, and I am very grateful,” Esmeralda replied, feeling
a trifle puzzled by his steady gaze, “but you must not think of me as gnawing
my fingernails to the nub or filling a bucket with tears if you are unable to
return to our quarters at your usual time. Of course, if you can send word, I
would be glad to know when you are delayed, but if it is inconvenient, do not
give it a thought.”

Robert lowered his eyes to the piece of cheese he was about
to spear. It was considerate of Merry to assure him that he need not fear she
would worry about him, but somehow he wished she had not said it. Not that he
wanted her to be fearful, of course, but…

“Is there something wrong with the cheese?” Esmeralda asked.
“I can cut some fresh for you.”

“What?” Robert started and looked up. “The cheese? No,
there’s nothing wrong with it.” He looked down at it again somberly, suddenly
finding it very uninviting. “Except that it is cheese.” Then he looked up
quickly again, and his voice had a slight edge when he spoke. “No, don’t
apologize. I know there’s nothing else to be had. Are you ready to leave? If
so, you would do best at the very head of the baggage train. You won’t be
smothered in dust there, and I’ll know where to find you.”

Esmeralda could not understand what had annoyed him and did
not dare ask. At least he had given her instructions about the first stage of
the march. Since she knew that their objective was the inland town of Leiria,
there could be no question of her being ordered aboard ship until they reached
another shore point.

Thus all she said was, “Yes, I am ready. Do you know whether
there will be any towns along the route? Molly suggested that I buy food, and—”

“Don’t you dare wander away from the troops,” Robert
interrupted. “So far the people seem well affected, but we don’t know whether
Freire has stirred up any trouble.” He stood up abruptly.

“I will not leave the baggage train,” Esmeralda assured him
immediately. “I only thought if we passed
through
a town, I could buy
what I needed before the wagons got through. Then I could easily catch up to
the front of the train because Boa Viagem is so much faster…” She stopped
because her voice had begun to shake, and she was afraid Robert would think she
was acting like a spoiled child deprived of a chance to shop.

“I suppose you can do that, but have M’Guire with you as a
guard,” Robert said rather ungraciously. He hesitated and then added harshly,
“I
do
worry about you, you see.”

Esmeralda had been so alarmed by his seemingly unprovoked
ill temper that his parting words with their sarcastic emphasis took some time
to sink in. When they had, she jumped to her feet and ran to the door, but
Robert was out of sight. She stood biting her lips, knowing it was impossible
to pursue him to explain. That would only add embarrassment to his irritation.
But how dreadful that he had misunderstood her. How ungrateful he must think her
to be if he believed she could imply that she did not care what happened to
him.

One fortunate result of Esmeralda’s misery was that it
insulated her from the difficulties of that first day’s march. Robert had
spoken as if she were to leave at once, and in almost trembling haste she
washed up and packed the crockery they had used. Nonetheless, it was several
hours before the troops were out of the camp and even longer before the long
train of baggage mules and ox carts began to follow them. By then, the sun was
high and brutally hot.

Accustomed as she was to India’s temperatures, Esmeralda was
only minimally aware of the heat. Carlos and Luisa were just behind her, and
the water flasks were full. She could drink whenever she wanted. Nor did she
notice how heavily Boa Viagem was plodding, pulling her hooves one at a time
from a road so dry and sandy that she sweated from the effort despite the slow
pace. As long as the mare did not stumble, Esmeralda’s own unhappy thoughts
held her attention.

She saw, without really taking in, the bodies of stragglers
propped against their packs or lying limply along the road. They had fallen by
the wayside, exhausted by the weight of their unwieldy packs. The intense heat,
combined with the labor of marching under so heavy and awkward a burden,
seduced the unwise to make frequent use of their canteens, which were soon
emptied—and there was no water to be found after they had left Figueira da Foz
and the Mondego River. The new men dropped by dozens. A few died, most were
picked up and thrown onto the baggage carts where the blazing sun only
increased their torment.

Although Esmeralda was not overtly aware of what she saw,
the sights and sounds did penetrate some part of her mind, and all along the
way the patrolling subalterns acknowledged her presence, sometimes with
expressions of surprise and sometimes with shy nods. A few came up and spoke to
her. Those addressed her by name and remarked genially on her aplomb, saying
one would think she was “an old campaigner”. At the time the comments puzzled
her. Later she understood it was because she had made no attempt to interfere
or to aid the fallen men. She had, of course, seen far worse things on the west
coast of India which was partly why the sights had not penetrated her self-absorption.
Nevertheless, she might have stopped and tried to help had she not been
cautioned against it.

Fortunately Sir Arthur had examined the terrain himself and
knew the troops were raw. Thus, the first march he planned was no more than
twelve miles to the village of Lavos. The army was ordered to camp in the open
nearby, and the senior officers and staff sought quarters in the village. By
the time Esmeralda arrived, there was an orderly waiting to tell her that she
and Captain Moreton were to have rooms in a farmhouse conveniently close to the
building Sir Arthur had chosen.

There was no sign of Robert nor, indeed, of any of the other
ADCs, so Esmeralda went directly to their quarters and ordered M’Guire to take
Robert’s horses to the barn and then help Carlos unload Luisa. Carlos was
chattering away in a mixture of Portuguese and English about how good a mule
Luisa was. Esmeralda hardly listened. Her mind was ranging the countryside,
wondering where Robert was and whether he was so angry that he was deliberately
staying away. When M’Guire returned, she forced herself to consider more
practical matters. Having carried up the clothes bags and other essentials, he
asked whether she wanted the cots brought in, since there was already a bed in
the room.