“Oh good gracious,” Esmeralda agreed, “I have not. Do you know where you can get one for me?”
He nodded and ran off after Esmeralda had given him a little money, and she sat and waited, shaking her head at her own distraction. How could she have forgotten so essential an item? One would think her training in India would have hammered that into her head. To ride in the August sun of Portugal without a hat was to invite heatstroke.
Although the headgear Carlos brought drew whoops of laughter from Esmeralda, it was really most practical, being a straw confection with a tall, peaked crown and a very wide brim, worn by peasant women when they worked in the fields. By noontime, she was blessing Carlos’s total lack of fashionable sense. The tall crown of the hat kept her head as cool as the parasol-hat combination she had used in India, and the brim shaded her eyes effectively also. Equally important, she was delighted with the boy’s honesty. She knew she had given him far too much money, yet he had returned it all, saying that he had been given the hat since it was for the English, who would drive out the French.
During the first hour or two of the march, Robert would appear periodically with his horse in a sweat and an anxious expression on his face because he had forgotten about her. The first time, he was convulsed by the hat, too. He assured her that it would not break his exchequer if she obtained something more fashionable at the next town.
“I will do so, of course,” Esmeralda replied, “if you feel that my present headgear will lower the tone of our most elegant expedition. Naturally, if you think I will embarrass the oxen, or that group of…ah…soldiers that General Freire so kindly sent as escort…” She hesitated while Robert choked on laughter and then went on more seriously, “However, if I may have my preference, I should like to keep it. It is really most effective.”
Robert chuckled. “Well, just don’t come out to dinner with me in it. Sir Arthur is very nice in his dress. He’d have a fit.”
“I think I shall embellish it with a band of ribbons and some flowers,” Esmeralda remarked with spurious gravity, but she was thinking that it would serve her purpose best to avoid Sir Arthur entirely if he disapproved of army wives remaining with their husbands.
“Don’t do that, or Luisa will eat it,” Robert protested.
“Luisa is a very delicate mule,” Esmeralda said indignantly. “She would never commit such an impropriety.”
“Likely not,” Robert agreed, laughing again. “No delicate lady would have anything to do with that hat.” Then he looked anxious again. “You are all right?” he asked. “I’m sorry to neglect you, but I don’t really trust the drivers so close to home.”
“Carlos is taking excellent care of me,” Esmeralda assured him, “and one cannot get lost because there is only the one road.”
Robert agreed somewhat doubtfully, but when she remained equally calm and cheerful during his second and third checks, he seemed more relaxed and did not come again until he was ready to call a halt a little south of Grijo, where they found a stream at which they could water the animals.
Carlos soon chose a shady spot well away from the road where he unloaded the mule, spread a blanket upon which he set the hampers of food, and then took Luisa and Boa Viagem to the stream for water Esmeralda laid out plates and glasses and took out a portion of bread and cheese, which she gave to Carlos when he returned, having tethered the horse and mule where there was a little dry grass on which they could graze. His eyes widened at the size of the portions, and he thanked her with the passion of one who understands hunger too well.
The kindness fortunately did not induce him to take advantage, which Esmeralda had feared might happen in a village boy without experience of society. Without instruction, he moved to the side of the road and sat down to eat at a decent distance from his benefactress. He was a clever boy in every way, Esmeralda thought, when about half an hour later, Carlos jumped to his feet to hail Robert. She had been watching the road herself, ready to call out because Robert had no way of knowing exactly where they were. He had only told them when to stop and had himself ridden back to instruct the drivers. But Carlos seemed determined to be the perfect servant, for he took Robert’s horse and began to walk the animal slowly to and fro in the shade to cool it before he took it to drink. Robert raised his brows when he reached Esmeralda, and she shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she replied to the unspoken question. “I can’t imagine where he learned, unless there is a gentleman’s house in or near the village where he lived and one of his relatives served there, or perhaps he was a servant there himself and ran away. However, I’m not going to look too closely into the gift horse’s mouth. I think we have found a treasure.”
“I seem to have found one, too,” Robert said, sinking down onto the blanket. “You have no idea how refreshing it is to have one’s meals served in a civilized manner on a march.” And then, after he emptied a tall glass of watered wine in a continuous series of long swallows, he exclaimed, “Oh, bless you, woman! I was as dry as the desert.”
Esmeralda smiled as she filled glasses and plates, but she did not trust herself to speak. Everything was working so well, so exactly as she had hoped, that she almost feared to breathe lest the charm be broken. In particular, she did not wish to say anything that Robert would consider trivial, but she was also afraid to ask about how the drive was going, for Robert’s appearance implied that there were problems. He was covered with dust from riding back and forth along the animal train, and he looked tired to death. So she ate slowly and silently, desperately searching for a remark that would allow him to talk freely if he wished to without actually implying that she expected him to tell her anything. And then she had cause to bless the indecision that had kept her from speaking at all.
Robert suddenly pushed away his plate, looked at her, and said, “’My gracious silence.’ That’s from Coriolanus. It’s what he called his wife for not talking his head off and creating a scene when he said he was going back to Carthage. My whole family thinks I’m an idiot because I wanted to join the army, but a few things did stick in my head in school. I’m so tired I can barely chew. Bless you for not expecting me to talk.”
“No, of course not,” Esmeralda said softly. “Today must be dreadful, with everyone not knowing what is expected of him. If we are not too far behind schedule, perhaps you could sleep for an hour or so during the worst heat?” It was a question, not a suggestion, and she hoped he would not think it an attempt to interfere with his duty.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said gratefully, “I think I will. I’m sorry to be so rude. It isn’t the company that’s boring me, Merry, I swear it.”
“Don’t be foolish,” she answered. “I will probably doze a little myself, although I am not very tired. It’s a habit from India and customary here, too. Why don’t you take off that coat and cool off.”
He did not answer, just did as she suggested and was asleep almost as soon as his head went down. Esmeralda sat looking at his beautiful face, at the smoothly arched brows and long lashes, just enough darker than his golden hair to give character to his features, at the straight nose, the perfect arch of the lips. If she had been sure he was truly soundly asleep, she might have kissed them. She smiled, thinking of the way he had said his family believed he was an idiot. It must be a bookish family, then. Most parents in the upper nobility sent their sons to school because it was the thing that was done, not because they expected the boys to learn anything or cared if they did not.
Then Esmeralda turned away from him abruptly. Not only was Robert what she wanted, but his family sounded as if they would suit her as well. She was no bluestocking herself, but she liked to read and to think about things other than balls and clothing. Esmeralda sighed. She must not let herself believe her dreams would become reality, and yet, to be called “my gracious silence”…that was beautiful. And it had been his wife Coriolanus was addressing. She forced herself to remember that it was the silence, not the wife, for which Robert
was grateful. But in time…
She pushed away the thought and busied herself with recorking the wine and covering the food so it would be safe from insects. She did not load anything back into the hampers yet in the hope that Robert would be able to eat something more when he was rested. There would be plenty of time for her to repack and reach the head of the column, even if some groups set out before her. Then she leaned back against a tree and dozed herself, waking periodically to check the shadows cast on the ground.
When those were appreciable, she woke Robert. He sat up at once, without protest, for he was accustomed to being called out for duty at all hours of the day and night, but the soundness of his sleep was apparent from the slightly dazed way he looked around. Seconds later he was alert and aware and had pulled his watch from his pocket.
“Damn!” he exploded. “Why did you let me sleep so long?”
“I am very sorry,” Esmeralda said.
“No, it’s I who am sorry, Merry.” Robert apologized at once. “I remember now, I never told you when to wake me, or in fact to wake me at all. But how the devil I’m to get those lazy damned fools started and still get down to Oliveira to warn them we’re on the way…”
He stood irresolute for a moment, still a trifle bemused by sleep, and Esmeralda said, “Is there any reason why I could not ride ahead to Oliveira for you? I know it is not customary for a woman to do business of this type, but perhaps because I am English it would be acceptable. You could write a note, or several if necessary, on leaves from your pocketbook—”
An expression of relief came into Robert’s face. It wasn’t at all usual, of course, but it wasn’t an army officer with whom she would have to deal, only a town official, and Merry was an extremely self-possessed young woman. She was right about being English, too. The regador would almost certainly listen to her if she carried a note with his rank and signature. Also, the Bishop of Oporto had promised to send messages down to Oliveira, Agueda, and Coimbra, so the information Merry brought wouldn’t be unexpected or disbelieved.
As it was, the oxen would probably not arrive until nearly dark. If he rode down to Oliveira and back before he got them started, he had a horrible feeling half the animals would disappear into the dark. And if he ordered the drivers to get started and did not keep an eye on them, almost as many beasts would wander away and disappear in daylight while the men argued about whose business it was to pursue them.
“You wouldn’t be afraid?” Robert asked, relief giving away to an expression of anxiety. “I will, of course, send a man with you.”
“Naturally, I shall do whatever you think is best,” Esmeralda replied, “but you need not send a man unless you really believe there is some danger. I am not at all nervous, and I am sure the man will be of more use in keeping the animals moving than simply riding along with me. I will have Carlos.”
“Well, I don’t think there is any danger. If I did, I wouldn’t let you go, with or without an escort, but I also don’t think it would look right for you to arrive with official information without an official escort.”
Esmeralda laughed. “Very well, but I’m not at all sure that one of those scarecrows you said General Freire sent will add much to my status.”
“And neither will that hat,” Robert remarked teasingly, as he sat down to write the notes.
He was joking, of course, knowing that Esmeralda would have better sense than to wear a peasant-woman’s working hat when she made a call on the regador, but it showed his uneasiness. Nonetheless, everything worked out very well, and Esmeralda was able to send her escort back with the name of the inn in which they were to be quartered, as well as information on where the animals were to be held for the night. Moreover, by the time Robert arrived, a meal and rooms were ready so that he had no more to do than eat and tumble into bed, for which he was extremely grateful. Needless to say, that night he did not lie awake thinking about Esmeralda or any other woman.
This system of travel and lodging arrangements worked so well that they used it on each of the two succeeding days. However, as the animal drivers and soldiers moved into unfamiliar territory, farther from their homes, they were far less tempted to abandon the cortege. And as they grew accustomed to their duties and also realized that Robert meant every word he said and would deduct the value of any animal lost or injured from their pay but fully intended to add a reward if all arrived intact, they grew more assiduous and efficient. Robert was not pressed so hard and could spend some time each day riding and talking with Esmeralda.
As Robert’s duties became less demanding, they played cards and talked in the evening—at least, Robert talked. Esmeralda said very little beyond what was necessary to encourage him. She learned a great deal about the European war, Bonaparte, the current political situation in England insofar as it pertained to the war, Robert’s family, and Sir Arthur Wellesley. Since this was exactly what she wanted, Esmeralda had no fault to find with the entertainment, and Robert could not remember ever having enjoyed himself more.
Nor was his pleasure confined to the evenings when, having examined the stock and assigned guards, he might with justice have put duty out of his mind. It was equally delightful to ride to the head of the column and find Esmeralda, cool and cheerful, under her funny hat. She had, as she had threatened, embellished it with flamboyant ribbons and large, ugly, paper roses, which she had begged from the innkeeper at their first stop. The hat and its decorations had begun Robert’s second day, which he had wakened dreading, on a bright note of laughter.
He looked forward to their luncheons, too. Esmeralda always had some amusing or perceptive remarks to make about the march or the countryside, and the meal, whatever it was, was tastefully set out, which somehow lent a better savor to the most prosaic, and sometimes ill-cooked, food. More than once it passed through Robert’s mind that this was the way to campaign.
Sir Arthur might be the most brilliant general England had—Robert judged him to be, although he felt Sir John Moore was almost his equal—but Sir Arthur was extraordinarily single-minded. On campaign he remembered the men had to eat and rest, since if they were not fed and rested, they would not be able to fight well, but he felt no such compunction about himself and his staff. They, he assumed, would do their duty fed or unfed, rested or unrested. Thus, the food and wine he offered his staff at mess was often very unpalatable, and he himself ate so fast that a man could choke trying to get enough down to stave off starvation before the plates were removed.
It would be very nice, Robert thought idly as Esmeralda was putting away the remains of the luncheon and he stretched out on the blanket in his shirt sleeves to doze through the worst of the heat, if there were a nice little supper waiting for him in his quarters near a cozy fire, with a companion who would be interested in what he had to say. If only there were some reason why Merry could not leave immediately… And then his eyes snapped open with shock. How could he be so selfish as to think for a moment of imposing more discomfort and inconvenience on her? Just because she was so good and never complained, or even looked dissatisfied, was no reason to think she did not suffer. He sat up so abruptly that Esmeralda was startled.
“We will meet Sir Arthur tomorrow at Figueira da Foz,” he said. “I will try to arrange that you be accommodated on the first vessel that goes back to England with dispatches.”
Taken by surprise, Esmeralda cried out, “Oh, no! Please do not send me away to England.”
“Do not send you away?” Robert repeated. “But—”
Esmeralda swallowed hard and fought to control her impulse to fling herself into his arms weeping and pleading. “You cannot have thought,” she said, her voice trembling, “that I am little better off now than when you found me in the village. I still have no friends, no relatives, no papers of identification, and nowhere to go. You may be the only person here or in England who can vouch for my bona fides. I am sorry that I have been such a trouble to you—”
“You haven’t been any trou
ble at all,” Robert interrupted. “In fact, you’ve saved me a great deal of trouble. I only thought that you would have had enough of this hardship and be glad to get back to civilization.”
“But I have endured no hardship. Truly, Robert, I have enjoyed myself. I remember that you said Sir Arthur did not approve of women accompanying the army and I realize that in the future I may become a grave encumbrance to you, but still, I beg you not to send me away until my presence is truly inconvenient. I…I am afraid to go to England alone.”
It was not true, of course. Going to England was not what Esmeralda feared. She knew that, with a letter from Robert and another from Sir Arthur to identify her, she would have no trouble being accepted by her father’s bankers. It was the collapse of her dream that widened her eyes and filled them with tears, and drained the blood from her cheeks and lips. Robert leaned forward and took her hands in his own.
“Of course I shall not send you to England alone if you do not wish to go,” he assured her.
It did not seem strange to Robert that Esmeralda feared making her way in English society more than she feared war. She must have heard tales enough of the horrible fate awaiting young ladies who could not obtain vouchers for Almack’s or find a sponsor to present them at Court, and she knew nothing at all of war. He thought briefly of offering to send her to his own family, but immediately realized that the complications arising from that might be almost as appalling to her. Besides, he had few fears for the future. He was perfectly sure that Sir Arthur’s campaign would be victorious. Thus, there would be no danger for Esmeralda if she stayed.
“I cannot ask for leave to take you home myself just now,” he went on before she was able to control her voice sufficiently to thank him without bursting into tears.
“Oh, no!” she cried, so shocked at the appearance of this new danger to her plans that her control was restored. “I would not think of it,” she added more calmly. “You must not allow the misfortune of finding me to interfere with your duty. I will manage very well. And if I stay out of Sir Arthur’s way, perhaps you would not even have to tell him I was about.”
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