Having dragged her out of the hut and had his little revenge, Pedro tried to tell Esmeralda that the visitor to the village was English, not French. By then, however, she was so terrified, knowing how the French troops would use an Englishwoman who had no proof of her identity and thus no claim to honorable treatment that she could not take in what he said. Now young Pedro regretted his petty revenge. He certainly did not wish to drag a struggling, disheveled girl before a man of wealth and influence. It would make it very difficult to claim that they were her saviors and had been good to her and that therefore the Englishman should pay her debt to them.
Young Pedro paused behind one of the houses and shook Esmeralda until her neck nearly snapped. “You fool!” he snarled. “It is your countryman to whom I bring you. Listen! The man is English, not French.”
Esmeralda heard, but she did not believe him. She thought he was saying it only to trick her into going willingly. Of course, there was no sense in that, but she was too much afraid to think clearly. She made one last effort to wrench herself free, managing to kick young Pedro most painfully on the shin and sink her teeth into his hand. He howled, as much with shock and surprise as with pain, and Esmeralda managed to gain her freedom.
She did not know what to do with it, however. She darted away behind another building, but there she paused. She could hear young Pedro cursing as he trotted back toward his father’s house. If the headman had already betrayed her, she realized, there was no sense in running. The Frenchman was on horseback and could easily catch her. The only hope Esmeralda had was to convince him she was a lady and that there would be serious repercussions from his officers if she was molested. Thus, she fought back her tears, smoothed her hair quickly, and came out into the open.
The very first thing she saw was Robert, who had just remounted his horse. For a moment, Esmeralda believed that terror had unhinged her mind. In the next instant, she remembered that young Pedro had insisted the visitor was an Englishman.
“Captain Moreton,” she gasped, but shock froze her voice and the words came out scarcely louder than a whisper.
Robert, who had said his goodbyes, lifted his reins. Again Esmeralda tried to cry his name, but this time no sound at all came from her throat.
Chapter Four
Young Pedro, who saw his release from a shrewish wife about to disappear, gave up his low-voiced argument with his father, and as Robert’s mount began to move, turned and cried out, “There is an Englishwoman here who owes us money.”
He spoke quickly in his haste, so that the only words Robert caught were those for “English” and “money”. He did not rein in because he did not wish to waste any more time, and he thought the young man was asking another question about whether the English could be trusted to pay. However, the priest understood. He was puzzled by Robert’s indifference and asked, “An Englishwoman? How did she come here?”
And almost simultaneously, Esmeralda found her voice and called, “Captain Moreton! Wait!”
The feminine voice drew Robert’s eyes, and he frowned. Esmeralda, freed from the paralysis caused by fear followed too quickly by relief, hurried forward. “Captain Moreton,” she cried, “do you not remember me? I am Esmeralda Talbot. We met in India, in Bombay.”
For a moment, Robert just stared. The face and voice were only vaguely familiar. His own appearance was notable. Very few people who had seen him, male or female, forgot those perfect features. To Robert, however, Esmeralda Talbot had been only one of many plain, uninteresting girls. Nonetheless, the accent was that of an English gentlewoman. Robert dismounted again and went to meet her.
“Miss Talbot?”
Esmeralda picked up the uncertainty in his voice. “You must remember me,” she gasped, beginning to tremble. “You must! Please! Oh, please!”
“Of course I remember you,” Robert assured her soothingly, taking her hand. It was not exactly the truth. Robert did know that he had met this young woman before, but where and when had faded into the general blur of innumerable dull, dutiful parts of otherwise enjoyable social engagements.
“Thank God,” Esmeralda breathed, clutching his hand as if it were a lifeline. “You must help me, Captain Moreton.”
“I will if I can, Miss Talbot,” Robert said cautiously, “but I am on duty, and—”
“You cannot leave me here,” Esmeralda cried, her voice rising hysterically. “The old man wants to force me to marry his son because he thinks I am rich.”
“Good God!” Robert exclaimed, realizing for the first time that Esmeralda was not in the village of her own free will.
He had assumed when she said she had met him in India that her family had moved to Portugal for some business reasons. Robert had left India in 1805, two years before the French had invaded Portugal. There had been a reasonably large colony of British in and around Oporto involved in the wine trade. It was conceivable that some had not believed in the seriousness of the French threat and had not wished to abandon their businesses and return to England in 1807. For that kind of greed, Robert—whose family was rich and therefore could afford to be contemptuous about money—had little sympathy. However, if this young woman was alone and unprotected, Robert’s duty was clear to him. He was not happy about it, but he would not shirk it.
“No, of course, that cannot be permitted,” he added hastily, fearing Esmeralda was about to dissolve into tears. “Something will have to be done. Please try to be calm, Miss Talbot,” he concluded desperately.
Esmeralda drew a long, shuddering breath. “I am very sorry,” she said more steadily. “If you will listen to my problem and advise me, I promise I will not afflict you with vapors.”
“That’s the dandy,” Robert remarked with hearty encouragement and an enormous sense of relief.
When his sisters started to cry, he had found that they also seemed to lose the ability to make sense, so that it was nearly impossible to discover what had caused the distress in the first place and stop the waterfall. He began to feel more kindly toward Miss Talbot. As his alarmed concentration on her diminished, however, he became aware of a babble of excited voices behind him. He turned slightly and noted that the headman was alternately shouting at a younger man close to him and whining at the priest. Both the young man and the priest were replying, and owing to the medley of voices, Robert could not make out a word.
Robert began to feel worried again. If the villagers wanted to hold the girl, there could be trouble, and Sir Arthur had given strict instructions that everything was to be done to conciliate the people. Nonetheless, Robert could not permit the forced marriage of an English gentlewoman to a common peasant. He cast a glance at Esmeralda, but although she, too, was now looking at the three vociferous speakers, she showed no signs of becoming tearful again. He assumed that was because she could not understand what was being said.
“I do not wish to alarm you,” Robert said, “but perhaps it would be better to explain later. I would prefer that we leave before there is any trouble. That young man—”
As he spoke, he had watched Esmeralda anxiously, but instead of looking frightened a very faint smile appeared on her lips, and when he said “we leave” she relaxed the tight grip she had kept on his hand. Robert then gently disengaged his fingers altogether and felt even better pleased when Esmeralda showed no sign of objecting.
“Young Pedro will not try to keep me,” she said. “His father—old Pedro is the headman—is angry because young Pedro is the one who told me there was an Englishman in the village.” Now that she saw salvation within her grasp, Esmeralda was more than willing to forgive young Pedro for the fright he had given her and certainly did not wish to make any more trouble for him than he was in already. “You see,” she continued, “young Pedro is the one who would have had to marry me, and he didn’t like the idea any more than I did. I am afraid my putative riches did not make up for…for my other lacks.”
“The more fool he,” Robert said automatically. He was not, of course, thinking of the “putative
riches” Esmeralda had mentioned but only saying the polite thing to a girl who was obviously too aware of her plainness. “If you have kept your head in such a difficult situation, you cannot lack much,” he added, seeking to make the compliment he had paid a little less empty. Then, to avoid having to find another compliment that was not obviously a lie, he asked, “Do you understand them?”
“Oh, yes,” Esmeralda replied. “You need not worry about old Pedro making trouble. The reason he is so angry is because he thinks that the villagers have lost all chance of obtaining what he feels is owed to them, as well as personally having lost the chance of snaring a rich daughter-in-law. But really, if it is at all possible I would like to explain part of the problem now. You see, I-I do feel I owe the villagers a debt, and I have no way to pay it until I get to England.” Her voice began to tremble on the final words, and she stopped and swallowed hard.
“Now, now,” Robert soothed, “there is no need to worry about money. Something can be arranged, I am sure. How much is this debt?”
Esmeralda uttered a rather tremulous chuckle. “I am not quite sure. You see, when we were shipwrecked—”
“Shipwrecked!” Robert exclaimed. “You have had a rather rough time, I’m afraid. Perhaps you would like to sit down.”
A more natural laugh was drawn from Esmeralda. “It was more than a month ago, and I am quite recovered from the exertions involved,” she said primly but with twinkling eyes. However, she sobered immediately and added, “But Papa did not recover. We had left India, you see, because his heart was weakened and he could no longer tolerate the climate. Although he did survive the shipwreck itself, the shock was too much for him. And he could not stop worrying. Papa was terrified of being taken by the French. He offered to ‘pay well’ if the villagers would hide us. But I don’t know whether he ever offered a particular sum, and old Pedro has never mentioned any specific amount, either. However, that may be because Papa offered more when the French were foraging in the area and then reduced the amount again when they were gone.”
Robert had only been listening with half an ear. As soon as Esmeralda began to talk about “Papa”, the name Talbot had finally rung a bell in his mind. He still could not recall distinctly where and when he had met Esmeralda, although now he was certain he had danced with her at some ball or other, but Bombay and Talbot had come together to produce a clear memory. He did remember meeting Henry Talbot and not finding the experience a pleasant one. The man had tried to interest him in investing in some very dubious enterprises.
Realizing suddenly that he had made no response at all to Esmeralda’s mention of her father’s demise, Robert said hastily, “I am very sorry to hear of Mr. Talbot’s death.”
There was a slight pause during which Esmeralda stood absolutely still with lowered eyes. She knew what was proper, what was expected of her. Every daughter was supposed to grieve over a father’s death, but Esmeralda was envisioning the tens, perhaps hundreds, of times she would have to mouth falsehoods and pretend emotions she did not feel. What was more, she had sensed the coolness and reserve in Robert’s tone when he spoke the formal regret for her father’s death that politeness required. Impulsively she spoke the truth.
“You do not need to offer me sympathy over Papa’s death. He was not a very nice person and not kind to me. I have nothing to regret. I did my duty as a daughter, but Papa did not love me and did not wish that I love him, so there was little in his death to cause me grief.”
Robert had been cursing himself, thinking he had precipitated a new emotional crisis. He had been casting wildly around for some sympathetic phrase that would not make matters worse, when Esmeralda had raised her eyes to his and spoken. In that moment of relief, Robert thought them the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Further, he was so delighted that he would not need to wade through a bog of bathos that he found her candor far more refreshing than shocking. However, he had not the faintest notion of what to say in reply to such a statement.
Fortunately, there was no need to say anything because at that moment the diatribe old Pedro had been delivering to his son and the priest flooded over onto them. Pointing his finger at Esmeralda, old Pedro accused her of ingratitude and heartlessness, reminding her of the shelter, food, and clothing that had been bestowed upon her. Then he turned to Robert.
“She is lying to you,” he declaimed passionately. “She is saying we were cruel to her and that she owes us nothing—”
“Quiet!” Robert ordered, having remembered that one appropriate word from his limited Portuguese vocabulary. He then said to the priest, “Father, would you be good enough to translate what the headman said? He speaks too quickly when he is so excited for me to understand. And would you also translate what I say? It would take me too long to find the right words in your language.”
The priest repeated what Pedro had said. Robert flicked a glance at Esmeralda, and she nodded, smiling slightly, indicating that the translation was accurate.
“You are quite wrong,” Robert then replied. “Miss Talbot has not been accusing you of unkindness at all. She has, in fact, told me that her father promised you a recompense for what their keep has cost you and for your good faith in protecting them from the French. We English are honest people. We do not wish to cheat you.” At least, Robert thought, he had been able to get in a useful conciliatory statement.
While the priest translated, Robert made a rapid calculation of the amount of money he had with him. He knew that there could now be no question of riding farther to seek animals for transport. Sir Arthur, he was sure, would have agreed, had he been present, that Robert’s first duty was to get Miss Talbot to Oporto and make what arrangements he could for her safety. How to get her there, however, presented a problem. He asked the priest to stop translating for a minute while he consulted Esmeralda.
“I will walk if necessary,” she said gratefully, “but I could easily ride a mule or an ass. I was accustomed in India to riding long distances.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Robert replied, “but there is a problem. I am sure there will be no lady’s saddle in this village, if they have saddles at all.”
“Dear Captain Moreton,” Esmeralda laughed while she blinked back tears, “you are very considerate, but this is no time for delicacy. I would be happy to leave here draped over the back of an ass like a sack of wheat. I will not object to riding astride on a blanket, I assure you.”
A most reasonable girl, Robert thought. He wondered why he could not remember her more clearly. She was no beauty, certainly, but she had fine eyes and a good spirit. Usually he did remember young women who made interesting conversation.
“Tell the headman that I will give him two hundred escudos,” he said, “but that must not only clear Miss Talbot’s debt completely but include a mule and some kind of saddle for the animal.”
Robert then resigned himself to the endless haggling that followed. First there was a violent protest that a mule was not necessary. Women, old Pedro claimed heatedly, only rode pillion behind a man. Robert quelled that quickly enough by saying coldly that he had no intention of tiring his fine mount by making the horse carry double for that distance. And when the headman protested that she would only fall off and be hurt, Robert stated even more coldly that Miss Talbot was no common Portuguese peasant girl but an English gentlewoman, who knew well how to ride and was not accustomed to being bumped about on a horse’s croup like a faggot of sticks.
Meanwhile, Esmeralda had been thinking over Robert’s offer, comparing it with what she knew of the amount of money circulating in the village. Considering the fleeting expression she had noted on old Pedro’s face, she soon came to the conclusion that far from feeling cheated, the headman was afraid that Robert would later think he had overpaid and come back to reclaim his money if the offer was accepted too eagerly. Thus, she was not surprised when the first mule presented should long ago have been retired, and the second had a wheeze that could be heard across the whole square.
Rober
t was not unaware that he had been generous. As soon as he had been made responsible for the transport animals, he had begun to acquaint himself not only with their value but with the cost of forage and the wages a driver might expect. He knew that two hundred escudos was about the equivalent of what all thirty or so villagers would earn in a year. Information did spread from village to village, and Robert wished to be generous, to underline the value of preserving the life and honor of any British citizens who might be exposed to future dangers in the area.
Nonetheless, Robert scornfully rejected the two wrecks offered him. He did not actually care, so long as the animal could survive carrying Esmeralda to Oporto, but he did not wish to leave the impression that the English were not only honest and generous but also stupid. Thus, he displayed not only an assumed indignation but his thorough knowledge of beasts of burden, and the third animal that was offered was quite serviceable.
Then the argument about a saddle began. Robert was less certain of his ground here, not because of any concern over the value of the saddle but because he did not know what might be available in a small village. To his surprise, Esmeralda said nothing, although when old Pedro began to lament that there was only one saddle and giving it up would cause great hardship, she shook her head and winked. Partly because of that warning and partly because their pace would be too slow if Esmeralda had only a blanket to ride on, Robert persisted.
At last, the saddle was brought forth, the mule was readied, Esmeralda mounted with casual confidence which caused gasps of surprise from the villagers, who had not really believed Robert when he said she could ride, and they turned south toward Oporto.
Fortune's Bride (Heiress, Book Four) Page 5