Fortune's Bride (11 page)

Esmeralda’s fear that Robert would forbid Carlos to
accompany them was wasted. Robert was familiar with the results of war, and
when he arrived, he made nothing of the matter at all beyond a single,
sympathetic, “Poor little beggar.” And when she had finished the story with the
request that Carlos be her servant, he nodded, smiling. “Yes, keep him with
you. He’ll be safer in the tail of the army than back in that village. At least
he’ll be fed—more or less—while he’s with us, and being with the army will make
him feel he’s doing something. Lads like that often run off and join the native
army and get killed.”

“Join the native army!” Esmeralda echoed. “He said he was
twelve, but I doubt it.”

Robert shrugged. “Our drummer boys aren’t much older, and
there are babes in arms with the women. I think they’re mad myself, but they
fight to come with the men. You should have seen the rage when they were told
only one out of five of the married women would be shipped with the troops.
More than half say they’re married but never bothered to go through the
ceremony, so actually we only took one in about twenty. They chose by lot, and
then we had to call out a unit to protect the ones who were going. Sir Arthur
doesn’t like it, I know, and neither do I, to speak the truth, but it’s army
practice. You can’t stop them.”

Esmeralda did not reply. She had not realized that families
accompanied the troops to war. Naturally she was acquainted with a number of
wives and daughters of the officers stationed in India, but she had always
thought of that as “foreign service” rather than “fighting service”. Her hopes
seesawed back and forth between the fact that it was not unusual for women to
accompany the troops and the fact that Robert and his commanding officer
disapproved. Well, she thought as they crossed the bridge and Carlos led Luisa
back onto the road, that was something else she could do nothing about at
present. Better put it out of her mind with all the other unpleasantnesses to
be faced in the future.

At least there was nothing immediate to dim her pleasure.
Carlos was transported to seventh heaven by Robert’s curt order to follow
Senhora
Moreton closely at all times and to see that the baggage was not mislaid or
stolen. Esmeralda was nearly in seventh heaven herself at the way Robert had
called her
Senhora
Moreton, as if it were the most natural thing in the
world, without a frown or a hesitation. And Robert himself seemed now to be in
high good humor as the animals were ferried across the river without a single
disaster.

Long before the last of them arrived, Esmeralda and Carlos
were on their way out of Vila Nova, but not before the boy had given the first
proof of how valuable he would make himself. The sun had risen fully just as
they reached the outskirts of the town, and Carlos, turning to say something,
stopped suddenly and cried, “You have no hat,
Senhora
Moreton.”

“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.”