‘It is not for me, Sir, to enquire into your circumstances; but, unless you are immensely rich, it surprises me that you have not yet claimed the great fortune that awaits you in Lisbon.’
Since Lisala’s death Roger had had so many other things to occupy his mind that his being his wife’s natural heir had never occurred to him.
De Queircoz was going on: ‘The late Marquis’ sister, Dona Arahna, returned from Brazil last summer. When she learned that Lisala was dead and had left no will, she applied for permission to administer her late niece’s estate on behalf of her son, Captain Don Carlos, who is serving with the Anglo-Portuguese contingent under General Graham, which is bottled up with the Spanish in Cadiz. But the court ruled that the Marquis’ nephew had no title to inherit unless it was proved that you, too, were dead or, for a period of seven years, had failed to make your claim. So you have only to go to Lisbon and complete the formalities, then the whole of the de Pombal millions will be yours.’
Roger thanked the Portuguese for having given him this valuable information, talked on with him for a while, then left the party deep in thought. The following night he discussed the matter with Georgina.
There seemed no reason to believe that de Queircoz knew that Roger had been accused of his wife’s murder and sentenced to death on that account; nor, as that had taken place at the other end of Europe, that anyone in Lisbon should be aware of it. Even if they were, in Portugal there was no likelihood whatever of his being apprehended for having escaped from a Prussian prison. And, although during the past twenty years he had amassed a quite considerable fortune, the prospect of becoming immensely rich was not a thing to be lightly thrown away.
He was, however, somewhat troubled by the ethics of the matter. Lisala would not willingly have left him a button, and it seemed unfair to deprive the Senhora de Arahna’s son, who had come into his uncle’s title, of the means with which to support it, and also of the family estates.
Georgina then suggested a compromise. Why should not Roger go to Portugal, establish his claim in the courts and afterwards divide his inheritance? He could hand over to the young man the estates, with sufficient money to maintain them, but keep for himself a good part of Lisala’s fortune. Having made this suggestion she added:
‘During the past two months there has been hardly a day that we have not spent part of together; but we must not go on like this indefinitely, otherwise old K will say that our affaire is becoming too obvious and will start making trouble. To honour my bargain with him I ought now to spend a month or so at his seat near Newmarket. Meanwhile, you could go to Lisbon and, at least, put in your claim. Then, on your return, I’d come back to London and we would renew the happy life we have been leading.’
Roger agreed that if he went abroad for a while that would be a good way of retaining the Duke’s passive acceptance of him as Georgina’s lover; so, the following morning, he went to the Foreign Office and sent up his name to the Marquis Wellesley, whom he had met several times in society.
Three-quarters of an hour later, the Marquis received him and listened politely to his request for a passage to Lisbon; then he said, ‘So you are going abroad again, Mr. Brook? I am delighted to hear it, as I have no doubt your secret activities will prove of great value to my brother.’
Staring at him in surprise, Roger replied, ‘I do not understand Your Lordship. To what secret activities do you refer?’
‘Don’t fence with me, man,’ the haughty Marquis said with a frown. ‘Having been Foreign Secretary for near eighteen months, I have had ample time to go through the secret files. From them I learned that for many years Mr. Pitt accounted you his most resourceful secret agent, and more recently you sent from Vienna valuable information to my predecessor, George Canning.’
Roger relaxed. ‘Then, my lord, I’ll not deny it. But I have no intention of resuming my dual identity when I am in Portugal. My object in going to Lisbon is solely to claim an inheritance that is my due.’
‘That is to be regretted. I had supposed that you had become weary of leading an aimless life in London and intended again to serve your country by securing for us particulars of the intentions of the French. However, since you have a matter requiring your presence in Lisbon, I will willingly secure you a passage in one of His Majesty’s ships.’
Having thanked the Marquis, Roger left his address and took his leave.
He did not have long to wait as, now that a considerable part of Portugal was in British hands, warships and transports were constantly leaving for Lisbon. Moreover, there would be no necessity for him to land secretly on a deserted shore at night, as he had three years earlier, when the country was occupied by the French.
The following morning a sealed packet was delivered to him at Thatched House Lodge. It contained instructions that, two days hence, he should report to Captain Hurst of H.M.S. Swiftsure, lying off Greenwich; also a letter addressed to General the Viscount Wellington and a note from the Marquess asking him to deliver it personally to his brother.
Roger had already told Susan that he would be going abroad for a few weeks, so she and Mrs. Marsham were to return to Stillwaters. After packing the things he was likely to need, he took a fond farewell of his daughter and went up to London. That night and the next he spent with Georgina out at her little house above Kensington village. She was now loath to let him go, but resigned herself to it after he had promised to take care of himself. Next morning he said good-bye to Droopy Ned, then went down to Greenwich and presented his credentials to Captain Hurst, who allotted him a little cabin and said he was happy to have his company.
The Swiftsure was one of the newest frigates and she had, for the time of year, a good passage. Roger suffered only one day of really bad seasickness, and landed at Lisbon on the 31st January.
Within a couple of hours he was installed at the Leao d’Ouro, a comfortable inn at which he had stayed previously. While he was unpacking his bags, he ran over in his mind the course that the war in the Peninsula had taken.
It had been started by Napoleon in October 1807, with the object of forcing Portugal to accept his Continental System and cease importing British goods. Without warning he had despatched an army, under General Junot, to capture Lisbon and coerce the Prince Regent into agreeing to his demands. Only just in time the Royal Family had escaped by sea and fled to Brazil. But Napoleon had a mind to be master of Spain also. As his reluctant ally, Spain had been bullied by him into sending her best troops to garrison fortresses in Germany, while he deployed his French troops against Austria. Then, when Spain was almost defenceless, on the excuse that the British might invade Portugal he had sent large forces, theoretically to resist such an invasion, but actually to seize, by guile and treachery, the principal fortresses in Spain.
In March, King Carlos IV had been forced to abdicate by his son Ferdinand. Napoleon had lured both of them across the frontier to Bayonne, on the pretext of adjudicating between them; but had made them prisoners. This had roused the Spanish people to such fury that, on May 2nd, the citizens of Madrid had revolted against Murat who, a few months earlier, had occupied the capital and been nominated the Emperor’s Lieutenant-General.
Napoleon’s next move had been to bring his brother, Joseph, from Naples and make him King of Spain, replacing him on the throne of Naples by Murat. By then it was high summer, the whole of Spain in revolt and a Junta had been formed of Spanish notables. They had little control over their scattered forces, but entered into an alliance with Britain. In an attempt to suppress the risings, Marshal Moncey had been despatched to Valencia and General Dupont down to Seville, but Moncey was forced to retire on Madrid and, to the grievous humiliation of the French who, under Napoleon, had never before suffered such a defeat, Dupont had been compelled to surrender at Baylen. Joseph had then panicked, evacuated his new capital and retired behind the Ebro.
Meanwhile, the Spaniards were putting up a fanatical resistance. Saragossa was held by Palafox until the city was reduced to ruins by Lannes, and the Frenc
h under General Duhesme were besieged in Barcelona. On August 3rd, a British army under Sir Arthur Wellesley landed in Mondego Bay. Junot went out from Lisbon to meet it and, at Vimiero, was so heavily defeated that he had to surrender. Most unfortunately, within hours of having won the battle, two Generals senior to Wellesley arrived from England and superseded him. Instead of making the whole French Army prisoner, they had entered into a Convention with Junot at Cintra to send his whole force back to France in British ships. For this incredible piece of folly, all three Generals were recalled to England and court-martialled. Only Wellesley was exonerated.
Meanwhile, Napoleon had ordered the corps of Ney, Mortier and Victor to Spain and, in October, arrived himself on the frontier to direct operations. The Spanish armies, though large, lacked all co-ordination; so the forces confronting the Emperor were strong only on the wings. Smashing through their weak centre, he routed them utterly and retook Madrid.
The year 1809 had opened by Sir John Moore landing in northern Spain. Unaware of Napoleon’s great strength and believing that Madrid was still holding out, he sought to create a diversion in Old Castile and cut the Emperor’s line of communication. But Napoleon learned of his whereabouts and concentrated a much larger army against him. His hasty retreat had ended with the battle of Corunna and his death. The bulk of the British army had been evacuated, leaving only a small force under General Baird, which had retired on Lisbon.
At this juncture Napoleon received information that Talleyrand and Fouché were conspiring against him, so he returned to Paris at full speed, after leaving directions as to how the campaign was to be brought to a successful conclusion. Ney was to hold down Galicia, while Soult took Oporto, then Lisbon. Victor was to take Badajoz, then Seville. Sebastiani was to crush the Spanish resistance in the south.
In March, after an appalling slaughter of men, women and even children who, under their Bishop, had striven to defend the city, Soult had taken Oporto; but, hemmed in on all sides by guerrillas, he had not felt himself strong enough to advance any further. The following month Wellesley landed at Lisbon with a considerable army. Victor cut a large Spanish force to pieces at Medellin but, like Soult, isolated and without reinforcements, became stuck there.
In May Wellesley decided to move fast against Soult and, if successful, rapidly turn about and attack Victor. By a daring crossing of the Douro where the banks of the river were so precipitous that they had been left unguarded, he heavily defeated Soult and chased him out of Oporto; but he just failed to catch Victor, whose army had been reduced to such a state of starvation that he had withdrawn to the valley of the Tagus.
Wellesley then formed a plan with the Spanish generals that they should make a demonstration against Madrid, while he attempted to crush Victor. On June 27th, the British and French met at Talavera. Sebastiani’s army had by then joined Victor, and King Joseph had brought up the last reserves from Madrid, so the French now greatly outnumbered the British. The battle was a most bloody one. It lasted two days, and there were over twelve thousand killed and wounded. Victor refused to believe that the British line could not be broken and sent his columns against it again and again. The line held, and Wellesley won a resounding victory, but he was robbed of its fruits by the hopeless incompetence of his allies, so he swore that never again would he operate with Spanish troops unless they were under his command.
Madrid might still possibly have fallen to the British had not Wellesley learned that Soult, reinforced by Mortier’s corps, was moving up from Galicia with the intention of cutting his communications. His army was so exhausted that it could not fight another battle; so he was compelled to beat a hasty retreat into Portugal.
In the late summer and autumn, Spanish forces continued, in widely-separated areas, to engage the French, but Wellesley—who in September was, for his victories, created Baron Douro and Viscount Wellington—flatly refused to commit British troops with them; so their gallant efforts were defeated again and again.
Although the French were being harried everywhere, Napoleon’s war with Austria being as good as over, he was pouring more and more troops into the Peninsula; so Wellington, fearing that his much smaller army would be driven into the sea, retired on Lisbon and began to construct across the neck of the isthmus on which it stood the afterwards famous lines of Torres Vedras. These were not mere entrenchments, but solid earthworks, strengthened by palisades. The first line was twenty-nine and the second twenty-two miles in length. They included one hundred and twenty-six redoubts and were defended by four hundred and twenty-seven pieces of artillery.
Meanwhile, in the south Soult had taken Seville and Napoleon sent Masséna, who had the reputation of being the most able of all his Marshals, to command the army in Portugal. Fortunately for Wellington, the Emperor decreed that the assault on Lisbon should not begin until every man he could spare had crossed the Pyrenees. This gave the British a seven-month respite to prepare their great defensive wall. Moreover, during these months, Wellington was able to take other valuable measures. These included the embodiment and training of many regiments of Portuguese, and securing the consent of the Portuguese Government to render central Portugal a desolate wilderness. Its towns and villages were all evacuated, the peasants taking to the mountains and the townsfolk brought into Lisbon.
By the summer of 1810 there were three hundred and seventy thousand French troops in the Peninsula, and in August Masséna invaded Portugal with one hundred thousand of them. But, before advancing on Lisbon, he delayed to besiege and capture several fortresses. When he at length approached the capital, he found the British deployed in a strong position outside it at Busaco, for Wellington had decided that if he could fight a successful action it would greatly strengthen the morale of his own men and the Portuguese people. Masséna, who had never before encountered the British, imagined he would have an easy victory but, to his amazement, in a short, sharp battle, his assault columns were driven back with heavy losses. Well satisfied, on October 11th, Wellington withdrew his army behind the lines of Torres Vedras.
Masséna, having reconnoitred these tremendous defences, reluctantly decided that they were too strong to be forced; so he withdrew his men and settled down to besiege Lisbon. But he soon had cause to become extremely worried. For scores of miles round, there was not a head of cattle or a bale of hay, and only a trickle of supplies could reach him, because every convoy was attacked by the Spanish insurgents. During those winter months he was losing hundreds of men a day through harassing raids and snipers, and his men were becoming weak from near-starvation.
Such was the situation when Roger arrived in Lisbon.
That afternoon he called at the British Legation and was received by the Minister, the Rt. Hon. Sir Charles Stuart. Roger was surprised to find in so important a post such a youngish man, for the Minister was only a little over thirty; but he proved very pleasant and, when Roger had told him his reason for coming to Lisbon, at once promised to put him in touch with the Legation lawyer. Then, after Roger had given him the latest news from London, he invited him to dine the following evening.
Next day, Roger waited on Lord Wellington, whom he had met several years before in India. When he handed Wellington the letter from his brother, the General read it, then gave him an appraising look and said:
‘The Marquis informs me that you have a dual identity, that you have spent many years on the Continent as one of Bonaparte’s A.D.C.s and have supplied our Government with much valuable information. I recall now that when I went out to India I was charged to deliver a confidential letter to you from Mr. Pitt, and at the time I registered the fact that you must be a man of some importance. I would be greatly interested if you would care to tell me something of your activities while with the French.’
For over half an hour Roger spoke of the strange career that had led to his becoming a Commander of the Legion of Honour, a Count and known throughout the French Army as ‘le brave Breuc’.
Wellington listened fascinated and when Roger
had done said, ‘Mr. Brook, it is evident that your facilities for obtaining information of the highest order are unique. I take it that you have met Marshal Masséna?’
‘Yes, my lord, on numerous occasions. Davout apart, I regard him as the cleverest of all Napoleon’s Generals, and his record makes him even more outstanding.’
‘As you know, he is at present laying siege to us here in Lisbon; or, rather, he thinks he is. But in fact it is we who are besieging him. Our defences are secure and to us the seas are open, so we’ll never lack for reinforcements or supplies. Whereas he, poor devil, is encamped in open country and surrounded by a sea of enemies. The number of his troops is dwindling daily, few convoys get through to him so he must be becoming desperate. Soon now he must take a decision. Either he must throw everything he has got into a forlorn hope by an attack on our lines, or retire into country where he can secure supplies for his famished troops. My information about enemy troop movements could not be bettered, because every Portuguese man, woman and child is for us and against him. Daily I receive reports of every foray he sends out, even down to a troop of horse. But what I have no means of discovering is what course of action he contemplates taking when he no longer dare remain inactive, watching his army disintegrate. In his letter my brother says that you have no wish to resume your old activities. But, by going to Masséna, you could obtain this invaluable information for me. Will you not place me greatly in your debt by doing so?’
Roger smiled. ‘My lord, I pray you to excuse me. ’Tis a highly dangerous game, and I have been monstrous lucky to survive for so long. I am here only to lay claim to an estate that I have inherited. Once that is settled, I am determined to return to England.’
‘Very well, Mr. Brook.’ Wellington stood up to indicate that the interview was over. ‘I appreciate your point of view. But in Portugal, as in most other countries, decisions by the courts are apt to be long delayed. You do not strike me as a man who takes kindly to idleness. So, should you become bored here, perhaps you will reconsider my request. In the meantime, if there is any way in which I can be of service to you, you have only to let me know.’
The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware Page 14