Fortune's Bride (Heiress, Book Four)

by Roberta Gellis

  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.

  Esmeralda went up, searching for a reason that would sound natural to have at least one cot carried in and, at the same time, hoping there would be an absolutely inescapable reason not to do so. Then she could share the bed with Robert. She could make herself small, pressed against the wall so that he might not at first notice she was there. And then… And then, she admitted, staring blankly at the bed, he would be furious with her and so disgusted that he would probably give up the pretense and quarter himself with the other ADCs until the first opportunity to be rid of her.

  At that moment her eyes focused on the bed, and she shuddered. “Bring up both cots,” she ordered, “but don’t set them up yet. Just put them as far away as you can manage from that nest of six-legged pests. And take the mattress out. Leave it in the corridor or carry it downstairs, but get it out of here.”

  The shock of disgust did her good, however. She had managed to keep herself reasonably clean in old Pedro’s village by insisting that she sleep on clean straw and by bathing frequently, a habit all residents of India established for the sake of the cooling effect. The rooms she had stayed in on the road from Oporto had been the best available, and she had insisted on clean sheets in each place. The little house in Figueira da Foz had been cleaned out for the young men who lodged in it before she arrived. Now, Esmeralda realized, she would be faced with the problem of making her quarters habitable.

  Forgetting her personal problems for the moment, Esmeralda went out to discover whether the few shops in the village carried such things as soap and brushes. Once in the stores, she remembered the other things she had intended to buy. Cloth of a sufficiently delicate quality was not available, but there was rice and other dry grain in plenty, dried fruit of various kinds, and other provisions. Clearly the French had not foraged excessively in this area or the inhabitants of Lavos were more clever at hiding things than most. Certainly they were hiding nothing now. Word that the English would pay had apparently preceded them.

  However, this information had also raised the expectations of the merchants. Esmeralda’s need to get the best price on everything stretched the time she spent in the shops, and in the end she ran into Robert in the street as she was edging her way around a group of men pushing and jostling to get into a wine shop. His arms were full of bottles, as hers were full of bundles, and he stopped short and glared at her.

  “You are incorrigible!” he exclaimed. “Did I or did I not tell you to keep M’Guire with you as a guard?”

  “Oh dear, I forgot,” Esmeralda admitted guiltily. “But if you had seen the bed in the room and the fleas on the walls—”

  “Don’t tell me about it.” Robert groaned. “You should have seen the look on the Beau’s face when we were escorted into ‘the finest house’ in the village.”

  “You should have seen the look on mine!” Esmeralda countered. “Anyway, the only thing I could think of was soap and scrubbing brushes. I’m sorry I forgot to take M’Guire along, but the whole town is so small, he would have heard me if I called him from anywhere. And there wasn’t any danger. The people are well disposed.”

  “They should be,” Robert replied dryly. “They will make a year’s profit on this visit of ours.” But he smiled at her with easy good humor as he nodded at the packages she was carrying.

  “Not out of me, they didn’t,” Esmeralda responded with pretended indignation, although she could have wept with relief at seeing the smile. He must have realized, she thought, that he had misunderstood her. “I’m no downy chick for plucking,” she added, laughing. “I learned to bargain in Indian bazaars.” Then she nodded in turn at the collection of wine bottles he was carrying. “You will be late tonight, I gather?”

  “Not unless I’m the lucky boy who will have to ride back to Figueira with the dispatch Sir Arthur is writing. The general officers are invited to dinner and, I imagine, to a planning and scolding session. I’m not sure the Beau will want to have the ‘messenger boys’ present.”

  “Scolding?” Esmeralda repeated. “But—”

  Just then an altercation broke out among the men around the wine shop, and Robert glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you later,” he said. “Get into quarters now, Merry, and stay there. The natives won’t make trouble, but these drunken devils may. I’ll come when I can.”

  She hurried away obediently, not afraid at the moment but realizing Robert was right. Sober, not a man in the army would have dreamed of touching her. In fact, most would hardly dare smile at her or speak to her. Her clothing and speech marked her as “officer class”. However, blind with drink, any one of them might play too rough before he realized who she was. It would be a disaster for Esmeralda to be involved in that kind of trouble. Even if she escaped unhurt, she would be sent away at once.

  Molly was already in the room, cleaning. She was startled, almost horrified, when Esmeralda proposed sharing the task. “Ye’re no used t’ sich work,” she exclaimed.

  “Well, I certainly was not used to it in the past,” Esmeralda admitted. “When I lived in India there were plenty of servants. But I am not so fine anymore. In the village where I was shipwrecked, I scrubbed my own clothes, and I helped in the house. There is too much for you to do alone, Molly, and I would rather help scrub than put up with the fleas. I’ll have to find something to wear, though.”

  She settled on a shirt of Robert’s that was already soiled and needed washing. Sinc
e there was nothing else and it was very warm, she just put it on over her pantalets. Molly choked with laughter, and Esmeralda giggled at the sight she knew she must make, however, under the laughter she was strangely stirred by wearing Robert’s garment. She soon forgot, though, and became sufficiently absorbed in what she was doing that she lost count of time. Nor did she pay any attention to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. M’Guire had been emptying slops and bringing up fresh water, but he had been warned not to enter the rooms. Molly had just left to put out the last of the dirty buckets.

  Thus, Esmeralda straightened up without concern from giving a last wipe to the wall and looked with satisfaction at her work. She did not turn as the door opened but said, “It’s odd, but despite the work there is a real pleasure in seeing a room properly put to rights.”

  Since the only reply she received was a shocked intake of breath, Esmeralda whirled about to confront Robert, who still had his hand on the door and looked paralyzed with surprise. Esmeralda could feel the blood rising in her face. Both of them stood staring, unable to speak or move. Robert swallowed convulsively as Molly’s voice came through the open door calling down to M’Guire that when he had emptied the bucket he should set up the cots.

  Somehow the combination of Molly’s voice and Robert’s astonished face recalled to Esmeralda how ridiculous she must look. Although she was mortified, she had very little personal vanity, and the whole thing struck her as extremely funny. Her hands flew up to her mouth, but they could not repress the giggles that shook her. “I am so sorry,” she gasped. “Molly wouldn’t think to warn you, and I am afraid I forgot the time.”

  The unnatural color faded from Robert’s face, and he grinned. “Shall I go out again?” he asked, but his eyes flicked appreciatively over her legs, bared from the knee down by her unusual attire, before they were tactfully averted.