Fortune's Bride (38 page)

At first, Esmeralda did not want Molly to do anything,
protesting that she should not lift anything or stretch too far, which threw
Molly into such fits of laughter that she threatened she would have her baby
then and there if her mistress did not stop talking so silly. She pointed out
that she had been lifting and stretching up to that very morning without any
dire result and also that, at this stage of her pregnancy, it was too late to
worry. If the baby came a few weeks early, so much the better. Esmeralda was
all the more embarrassed when she realized that Molly had been four or more
months pregnant when she had hired her in August, and she admitted she knew
nothing about the subject other than a few whispers overheard.

“Weel, if ye be wantin’ t’ know, Oi’ll tell ye,” Molly
offered, “but ye’ll unnerstand it’s a sojer’s wife talkin’, no foine leddy.
Ye’ll be more delicatelike thin me, and need more cossetin’. Still, some things
is th’ same fer all.”

Thus, quite by accident, Esmeralda had a piece of the
greatest good fortune of her life. She learned about pregnancy and childbirth
from a woman who regarded them as both natural and joyful, who did not shrink
from the less delicate aspects of the experience or regard them with disgust and
horror. Such parts of the process as morning sickness and the pain of bearing
were simply part of it, to be endured with as good humor as possible in the
knowledge of the wonder to come. Only at the end did Molly’s expression change
from eagerness to sadness.

“’Tis all nithin’,” she said. “Whin ye hold th’ little one,
all thit’s been, it’s nithin’. Th’ pain—” Her eyes filled, then closed, and
tears rolled down her cheeks. “Th’ pain is whin they die,” she whispered.

Esmeralda’s eyes were like saucers, and they, too, filled
with tears. “Oh, Molly,” she sobbed. “I don’t think I could bear
that
. I
don’t think I could.”

Molly dashed the tears from her eyes. “God willin’ ye niver
will,” she said. “But ye bear what ye must. And silly the two of us are t’ be
talkin’ sorrow whin ‘tis joy thit’s comin’. Whist! Let’s on wit oor work, or
th’ master’ll be comin’ in t’ a mess o’ bundles over th’ floor.”

Such a representation was the best way to shake Esmeralda
out of the dismals. It was, of course, impossible to complete the packing in
one day, particularly since Esmeralda had decided to send back everything,
heavy or not, that was not absolutely essential. That meant all the summer
clothing, her ball gowns, most of the linens and other household conveniences
they had accumulated—anything, in fact, that Robert would not notice was
missing. And, since he certainly would notice bags and boxes piled in the
apartment, Esmeralda had the packed goods stored in the stable. With Bear
there, she did not think that there was any danger of theft. Few people will
approach a bear, even if it is known to be tame.

Oddly enough, Esmeralda’s assumption that no one would try
to steal articles protected by a bear seemed mistaken. After two days it became
apparent that someone was trying to get into the stable. Carlos, who slept with
the animals, reported that twice on the night of December 1, Bear became very
restless, even rising and going to the length of its chain to sniff and whine
at the stable wall. The horses, too, had seemed briefly uneasy.

Esmeralda wondered whether to tell Robert, but she did not
want him to think—because she was sending so many of their possessions to
Portugal—that she was frightened. He might decide to send her with the convoy.
Also, he was completely absorbed in the various efforts being made to induce
Sir John to change his mind. Appeals were coming in from the English minister
in Madrid and from the Spanish juntas that Moore not abandon the Spanish cause.

“And I wish to hell they would leave him alone,” Robert
snarled to Esmeralda. “The manner and attitude of the British minister toward
him is most rude and improper, and the ignorance—or dishonesty—of the Spanish
is appalling. All they do is infuriate him and confirm his opinion that they do
not comprehend the situation.”

“Do they not?” Esmeralda asked.

“Well, the Spanish do not. They continually write about huge
armies, which they have created with their pens. But the worst of all, Merry,
is that
we
are spread all over the place, and no one force is complete
enough even to defend itself. Hope has all the artillery, Baird has nearly all
the cavalry, and we have most of the infantry. Damn the Portuguese who don’t
know their own country, and damn that lazy idiot Dalrymple, who never sent out
engineers to scout the roads.”

“But Hope has nearly caught up with us, has he not?”

Esmeralda’s question sounded anxious, and Robert looked at
her gratefully, believing she shared his eagerness for a union of Hope’s
division with Moore’s. Once that junction had taken place, Robert was convinced
that Sir John would see the chances of the British army in a less despairing
light. In fact, Esmeralda’s anxiety was on the opposite side—she was praying
that General Hope was far from union—but she knew well how to be sly about the
phrasing of questions so that Robert believed her sentiments to be much the
same as his own.

“Yes.” Robert’s eyes gleamed. There was no way he could see
the expression in Esmeralda’s since they were, as usual, fixed on some mending
in her lap. “Bless Hope, he’s only fifteen miles away. What’s more, there’s
information that the French have no idea where we are. In fact, they seem to
think we’ve already run back to Portugal.”

“But didn’t you tell me that they had some cavalry units at
Valladolid? That’s only about sixty miles. They must have heard—”

“Well, they didn’t,” Robert said triumphantly. “The damned
Spanish officials may not be worth thruppence, but the people are with us all
the way. It looks as if they were so closemouthed that not a hint of our being
here was passed to the French. Besides which Romana insists he
does
have
twenty thousand Spanish soldiers. He admits that they’re half-starved and
without shoes or other equipment but swears that if they were equipped, they
would fight.”

“Then…you think Sir John will change his mind about the
retreat.”

Robert sighed. “I don’t know,” he said.

Esmeralda went on hoping for one day that something would
delay General Hope, but on December 3, Hope’s division arrived in Salamanca.
This gave Moore twenty thousand men, well trained and well equipped with
adequate artillery, and changed the entire aspect of the situation. What was
more, Hope brought information about the movement of the French. They were
apparently ignorant of the English army and were moving southward, not toward
Salamanca. On December 5, Sir John wrote to Baird again, canceling his previous
orders for a retreat and requiring him to return to Astorga.

He knew the French were now determined to take Madrid, but
the city was preparing to resist. The remains of the Spanish armies were
converging on the capital, and the people were arming and barricading the
streets. Sir John did not believe that they could hold out long, but he might
be able to do something to distract the French. If they sent part of their army
to combat him, Madrid might be saved. Of course, if they sent the whole of the
army after the British—and Bonaparte might order that, urged by his monomania
about England and feeling that when they had finished the British army they could
return to take Madrid—then, Moore pointed out, they would have to run for it.

A plan was made to join the British forces with the Spanish
under General Romana and attack the French lines of communication by marching
on Valladolid. Nonetheless, Sir John ordered the convoy with the sick and the
heavy baggage to leave. Esmeralda urged Molly to go with it, but she would not,
insisting that as a staff officer’s servant she was better off with the army.
And when M’Guire was asked to intervene, he only blushed and said, “But
you
’m
goin’, mistress.”

“
I
am not eight months’ gone with child,” Esmeralda
protested.

“No, mistress,” M’Guire agreed, blushing more than ever,
“but you’m a
leddy
.” Then he shrugged. “Molly knows best. ‘Tisn’t her
first.”

And then Molly pointed out that as a displaced wife she
would be at the mercy of a quartermaster sergeant, whereas with Esmeralda she
was assured of decent lodgings and food in plenty. Knowing about the army and
the treatment of the common soldiers’ wives, Esmeralda began to reconsider
sending Molly back to Lisbon. Robert would give her whatever money he could
spare, but living in Lisbon was expensive. Besides, without her husband and
Robert’s rank to protect her, Molly could be preyed upon and might end up worse
off in Portugal than with the army. The reasoning was quite correct, but
neither Esmeralda nor Molly knew of the conversation taking place around Sir
John’s dining table.

“What is hoped,” he said to his staff as the wine went
around after dinner on December 5, “is that our attack will induce Bonaparte’s
marshals to divide. Then, if we can defeat the portion of the army sent against
us, we will give the Spanish time to rearm, retrain, and reorganize.” Then he
sighed. “Truthfully,” he went on, “I have not the slightest expectation that
the Spanish will use the time we will buy them with our blood to the smallest
good purpose. I greatly fear we will have to run, and I have already asked Lord
Castlereagh to have transports waiting for us at Corunna, but if the people of Madrid
are ready to sacrifice their lives, we can do no less than give what aid is
possible.”

A murmur of agreement went around the table, and Robert
said, “Is there any chance of arranging matters so that it seems the attack has
been made solely by the Spanish? It is more likely that the French will send
only a small force to quash them, whereas if it is known that we are involved…”

“That’s a good idea,” Colborne agreed, “but I don’t think it
would be possible. Some of the French are bound to get away, and many of them
would notice the red uniforms or recognize and report that the men weren’t
speaking Spanish.”

Sir John’s lips twitched. “I am afraid, Moreton, that
Colborne’s objections are just. No, if we are successful and our men are still
capable of it, we will try another strike near Burgos. Then we will have to
look for a strong point that commands the roads to Corunna. If we can resist
and settle into winter quarters, we will do so, but… I will speak my mind
plainly, gentlemen. I believe we will need to run.”

Oddly, it was while this discussion was taking place and
after the baggage had been dispatched to Portugal that another attempt was made
to enter the stable in which Bear was kept. Carlos, who had been having his
supper with Molly and M’Guire in their quarters, returned to the stable only to
see a man about to unlatch the door. Carlos yelled, and the man ran off before
M’Guire could come out of his quarters and see him. When Robert got home,
Carlos told him that he thought the man was tall and fair.

“Do you think he’s after the horses?” Esmeralda asked.

“He must be,” Robert said. “But how the devil does the fool
expect to get
my
horses out of Salamanca? They’re thoroughbreds. Any
officer of the guard would start asking questions the minute he saw them.”

“Yes, but the thief wouldn’t necessarily know that, Robert.”

“I suppose not.” Robert shrugged. “At least he now believes
that the stable is guarded and hopefully won’t come back.”

“Oh, Robert, he ran, but if that was only because he was
startled and he saw that Carlos was a boy…”

“I can guard the horses,
senhora
,” Carlos
interrupted.

Robert blinked, realizing that Esmeralda was more worried
about Carlos than about the horses. “Not if the thief should come back with two
or three to help him,” Robert said tactfully. “I think for a night or two I
will ask M’Guire to assist you. He has a gun.”

To this Carlos made no objection. He was aware of the value
of Captain Moreton’s horses and did not wish to be responsible for their loss.
Thus, M’Guire took over Carlos’s bed near the horses. Molly offered to take
Carlos in with her—over the months they had been in service together he had
become like a son to her—but Carlos had no intention of missing the excitement
if M’Guire should catch the thief.

M’Guire suggested that Carlos sleep with Bear. This was
reassuring to Molly, who was certain no stranger would approach close enough to
Bear to harm Carlos. And Carlos was happy to agree because he had been worried
about being cold. M’Guire would have his blankets. Cuddled against Bear,
however, he would be warm enough.

And, indeed, with no more than a low grunt, which might even
have signified pleasure, Bear accepted Carlos’s company in the clean straw. As
Carlos had expected, the bear radiated considerable warmth. Moreover, Bear
slept very quietly. The creature did snore, but it was a very regular noise,
soothing once one became accustomed to it. Thus, although Carlos was determined
to lie awake and watch for the thief—because he was sure M’Guire doubted the
man would return and would fall asleep—he himself drifted off very soon.

Nonetheless, it
was
Carlos who caught the intruder.
The boy was awakened abruptly when Bear suddenly stood up. For a moment he lay
still, sleep-dazed and confused by his unusual surroundings. In that little
time, he heard the clinking of Bear’s chain. It was that sound that recalled to
him where he was sleeping and why, and he jumped to his feet shouting, just as
the man undid Bear’s chain from the hook on the wall. The intruder was briefly
paralyzed by surprise. He had not noticed Carlos sleeping in the straw. Then he
pulled the chain, calling some incomprehensible gibberish. Bear moved forward,
but slowly. The time of the long sleeping was approaching, and the animal was
growing sluggish.

By then, of course, it was too late. Carlos launched himself
at the intruder—again taking him by surprise because he had dismissed the boy
as too young to do more than yell for help—knocking him off balance. The man
staggered against the wall, crying out himself and attempting to fend off
Carlos, who had drawn his knife. Then both of them were fixed in the beam of a
lantern. M’Guire, wakened by Carlos’s shout, had unshuttered his dark lantern
and was standing by the door, gun in hand.

“Ye be out o’ the way, young Carlos,” he ordered, “an’ put
away th’ pig-sticker of yourn. Ye be a demmed sight too quick t’ wave it
aroond.”

By then M’Guire had taken in the fact that the man had
bypassed the horses, which were all in their proper stalls, and still had
Bear’s chain in his hand. Obviously he had come for the bear, not the horses.
In the next moment, it became clear that he must be the bear’s owner. Bear
placidly accepted anyone who displayed affection or brought food, but as the
animal’s lethargy dissipated, it began to show excitement, snuffling and
whining and rubbing its head against the man who stood absolutely still under
the threat of M’Guire’s gun.

M’Guire frowned. “If y’ wanted th’ demmed bear, whyn’t ye
jist come ask? The mistress’s been half woild tryin’ t’ find a safe place fer
it.”

The man shook his head and said something. M’Guire did not
understand him at all. Carlos cocked his head and then said in broken English,
“He speak maybe some Spanish, but no good.”

“Weel, he don’ speak anythin’ I unnerstan’,” M’Guire said.
“An’ I ain’t about t’ wake Capt’in Moreton at this hour. Git me a rope, Carlos.
I’ll jist fasten ‘im down, gentle loike, and serve ‘im up to the capt’in fer
breakfast.”

Ignoring the passionate protests, which neither could really
understand, this program was put into action, so that Robert found the intruder
waiting for him as soon as he had washed and dressed in the morning. After
considerable fumbling with German, French, and Spanish, Robert determined that
the bear keeper was a German named Joseph Grossmann and the reason he gave for
trying to steal his pet, despite the messages that Robert had left along the
road to Béjar, was that he and his companions had been mistreated by the French
and consequently he was frightened. In fact, the other members of the troupe
had been forcibly abducted by the soldiers they had been entertaining. Joseph
had escaped only because he had taken the bear into a nearby wood to see if he
could find some honey.

There was genuine anguish in Joseph’s voice when he spoke of
those abducted—and real hatred when he spoke of the French. However, Robert was
not willing to take responsibility for giving Bear to the man and letting him
go. There was a chance he was a spy, and Robert did not trust his judgment
completely in this case. He knew he was predisposed in Joseph’s favor because
of the evidence he had of his kindness to the animal.