Fortune's Bride (7 page)

Robert 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.

“Captain Moreton,” Esmeralda said in a slightly unsteady
voice as soon as they were past the last houses, “I do not know how to thank
you for what you have done.”

“Don’t have to thank me,” Robert replied a trifle brusquely.
“You are a British citizen in distress. I’ve done no more than my duty to you.
And any officer would have done the same. I just hope I didn’t take the one
sound mule the French left them. I thought you would say something one way or
the other about that.”

“Oh, no. I would have found a way to warn you if you were
really hurting them, but they can buy ten mules with what you gave them, not
that they need them. Most of their income comes from fishing. I couldn’t
say
anything, however.” Esmeralda smiled at him. “That would have lowered your
status. Only henpecked husbands allow their wives to speak even a word when men
talk business.” She chuckled. “It wasn’t only that I wasn’t as pretty as some
of the village girls that made young Pedro decide he didn’t want to marry me no
matter how rich I was. It was the fact that I dared to argue with his father.”

This logical reply to what Robert had considered a somewhat
unfeeling attitude toward people who had, despite an uncomprehending
greediness, protected Esmeralda from a real danger made him laugh heartily. “I
didn’t think of that,” he admitted. “Well, thank you for saving the honor of
the British army.” He had turned to look at her while he spoke and added
doubtfully, “I’m afraid you are not very comfortable.”

“No, I am not,” Esmeralda replied forthrightly, but she
tempered her statement with a brilliant smile. “I am not used to riding
astride, of course, but even riding sidesaddle I am sure the gait of this
animal would have nothing to recommend it. However, I am not repining,” she
assured Robert merrily. “I prefer this mule infinitely to the one I left back
in the village.”

Robert laughed heartily before he realized that no delicate
young woman could possibly have meant what he was thinking. Then he hastily
smothered his mirth and examined Esmeralda’s expression, wondering whether she
had intended the double meaning or whether he had shocked her into recognizing
it by his burst of laughter. Girls, Robert knew, were never as ignorant as
their mothers or governesses would like one to believe. But what the devil
could Miss Talbot have meant if she had not been comparing young Pedro’s sexual
gaits with those of the mule she was riding? Still, he did not know how to
respond.

Breaking the moment of awkward silence that ensued,
Esmeralda said blandly, “The old man was so stubborn. No matter how many
difficulties I pointed out, among which was the fact that his son was
unwilling, he would not move from the position that marriage would be best for
both of us.”

It was, of course, the perfect answer to the question Robert
had asked himself, but he remained somewhat uneasy. Had there been a wicked
glint in Miss Talbot’s eyes for the brief instant they had met his? Robert
faced forward to watch the road and once again wondered how he could have so
completely forgotten so clever a girl.

By the time they reached Oporto, he admired her courage,
steady good sense, and good humor, too. It was plain that she was suffering
considerable discomfort, not only from her unaccustomed position and the
awkward gait of the animal she rode, but also from the necessity, despite the
excessive heat, to cover her legs with a blanket to preserve the decencies.
Still, not a word of complaint did she utter, nor did she propose that they
stop and rest every few minutes. To add to those remarkable qualities, she did
not chatter compulsively, only answering cheerfully any conversation addressed
to her.

During the ride, Robert learned the facts about the
shipwreck and Esmeralda’s sojourn in the village. He could see that, although
she was greatly relieved to have been rescued from that situation, there was
something else troubling her. However, she did not seem to wish to speak about
whatever it was, and Robert really had no desire to inquire too particularly.
If she presented a problem to him, he was bound to try to help; but he had no
intention of looking for trouble.

Trouble came soon enough without being sought. Having
established Esmeralda in the best hotel in Oporto and arranged for a dressmaker
to visit her at once so that she would be able to appear in public, Robert
began to investigate means of getting her back to England or if that failed of
providing her with sufficient money to live decently until passage could be
arranged. Both avenues were blocked. There was, at present, no ship leaving for
England nor any expectation that one would be leaving in the near future. And
as for money, Robert found to his horror that he could not obtain personal
credit, not even from the Bishop of Oporto. The refusal was couched in
diplomatic terms, but it was definite.

Moreover, though Robert had brought with him a substantial
sum, knowing from previous periods of service in war zones that at best his pay
would be irregular and might under certain conditions become nonexistent, his
personal funds were now rendered almost useless. Robert would have been
perfectly willing to expend every penny to get Esmeralda safely off his hands,
but he had naturally carried pound notes rather than gold, and no one in Oporto
was willing to exchange more than one or two pounds for Portuguese money.

Robert was certain that Portugal would be cleared of the
French, normal trade with England would resume, and British pounds would retain
their value. Portuguese bankers and merchants, however, did not share his
confidence. If the British were driven out instead of the French, pound notes
would be little more than worthless paper. They were willing to change
relatively small sums to pacify and please their allies, but nothing near the
amount Robert felt to be necessary could be obtained.

Of course, there was the money that Sir Arthur had left with
him to pay for the transport animals and their keep. The two hundred
escudos
Robert had given old Pedro had, in fact, come from this purse, but Robert had intended
from the beginning to make up the sum from his private resources. However
sympathetic Sir Arthur might be to the need to rescue Miss Talbot, Robert knew
the government would take a dim view of such an expenditure. And even if the
payment were condoned owing to the emergency, further expenditures for clothing
and accommodations were not likely to be acceptable, particularly if that meant
there would be fewer mules and oxen to carry supplies.

Remembering that he had set no limit on Esmeralda’s orders to
the dressmaker, Robert hurried back to the hotel, wondering how he was going to
explain these unpalatable facts to her. Thus, he was considerably relieved
when, as soon as he entered the sitting room the hotel had provided, she said
calmly, “I see that something has gone wrong, Captain Moreton. Please sit down
and explain to me what has happened.”

“I am afraid,” Robert began, “that I was too sanguine when I
spoke of arranging your passage to England. It seems that no ships are going
there, at least not from Oporto.”

To his surprise, instead of crying out,
What am I to do
?
Esmeralda smiled faintly.

“I know you will think I am quite mad,” she said, “but I
must admit your news is the greatest relief to me.”

“Relief?” Robert echoed. “What the devil— Oh, I beg your
pardon. What do you mean?”

“You need not bother to beg my pardon for a most natural
expression of irritation,” Esmeralda remarked. “Papa used the most unsuitable
language before me. I am quite unshockable. But I am sure you are more
interested in why I do not wish to go to England.” She paused and sighed. “I
know I am a most unwelcome burden, Captain Moreton, and I had resolved not to
add my troubles to the ones you already have, but…but really I am in the most
dreadful situation.”

Robert’s lips tightened. He remembered Henry Talbot’s seedy
appearance, and he thought he knew what was coming. Probably Talbot had been
carrying with him whatever small fortune he had realized when he had sold his
house and whatever other holdings he had in India and that had gone down with
the ship. His daughter was thus penniless. Well, Robert told himself angrily,
it was no business of his. He would not, of course, expect her to return the
money he had paid old Pedro or the dressmaker’s fees, but he was damned if he
would get in any deeper.

“I assure you,” he said, “that there is no need to repay—”

“Oh, no!” Esmeralda interrupted. “My problem is not any lack
of money.” She blushed painfully and then continued with obvious discomfort.
“We were not…not so badly off as Papa liked to pretend. That was just…just his
way. I can well afford… That is, I will have a…a comfortable competence if…if…
My problem, Captain Moreton, will be in proving who I am.”

“What?”

“You see,” she went on hurriedly, “Papa quarreled with his
family and with Mama’s also. He was not of a forgiving disposition, and he
forbade all communications.” She hesitated again and blinked back tears. “He
even forbade Mama to speak of his family or hers and…and she was afraid to
disobey him. I do not know exactly where my relatives live, other than that
Papa and Mama originally came from Ireland and that Papa was very distantly
related to the Earl of Shrewsbury. He spoke of that because it was useful to
him, but obviously I cannot presume on such a relationship, and I have no idea
whether any of my grandparents or aunts or uncles, if I have any, are alive.
Nor do they know that I am alive. What is worse, all Papa’s papers went down
with the ship, and no one in England has ever seen me.”

“Good God.” At the moment, Robert could think of nothing
more useful to say.

“It is not quite hopeless,” Esmeralda began again. “I wrote
most of Papa’s letters to his bankers. Do you think they would recognize my
handwriting and accept that as an identification? Or perhaps,” her voice was growing
unsteady because she was more and more frightened by Robert’s frozen
expression, but she continued valiantly, “I could write to India. Many people
know me there. If someone who knew me in India was now in England, one of my
friends could tell me and that person could identify me, or…or…” She fumbled at
her neck and drew out the locket. “I have this,” she said desperately. “It has
Mama’s picture…”

“But you don’t know anyone in England who would recognize
the picture, and it would take months for a letter to get to India,” Robert
said somewhat absently.

He had been growing more and more appalled as he listened,
wondering if he had been trapped in some elaborate coney-catching scheme, but
the locket Esmeralda held had finally jogged his memory. He remembered seeing
it, the one pretty item in a rather drab costume that had endured a few too
many wearings. It was the locket that had attracted Robert and decided him to
ask Miss Talbot to dance first. He breathed a sigh of relief. Of course her
manner was different now. Three years ago she had been barely out of the
schoolroom, too shy to speak up, but he remembered her eyes, too, even though
she had only raised them once or twice.

“Yes, I know,” Esmeralda breathed, clasping her hands and
fighting helplessly against the tears that were now coursing down her cheeks.
“And how am I to live until then? And where? Oh, do forgive me, Captain
Moreton. This is not your problem. You have already done more—”

“I know you,” Robert said.

His voice was strong and so redolent of relief and
satisfaction that Esmeralda’s tears checked. She stared at him for a moment and
then started to laugh, hiccupping between sobs and giggles.

Poor Robert thought she was hysterical and rose to his feet
making inarticulate noises he thought were soothing and looking anxiously at
the door. Should he try to find the landlord’s wife or some other woman to
help? But how could he ever explain what had driven her into this state? God
knew what would be thought. The idea of trying to express what was necessary to
be said in Portuguese was far more frightening to Robert than riding through an
artillery barrage.

However, such desperate measures were not needed. Before
Robert could force himself to the door, Esmeralda had caught her breath and
gasped. “You are the kindest person! You did not really recognize me, did you?”
As she spoke she sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with the heel of her
hand. Delicate cambric handkerchiefs were no part of Portuguese peasant
costume.

Robert gravely presented his own handkerchief, and Esmeralda
used it. “I did and I didn’t,” he confessed. “That is, I knew I’d seen you
before, but couldn’t remember where or when.” He did not mention his brief and
passing suspicion that she had been setting him up for a skinning. He felt very
guilty about that. “But I know you now,” he went on heartily. “Remember your
locket and remember signing your card, thinking what a pretty name Esmeralda
was.”

Robert stopped abruptly again. He had almost added that he
had also thought it was a pity the girl wasn’t as pretty as the name. Happy in
his escape from one faux pas, he did not realize that what he
had
said
was almost as cruel as what he had not. Internally Esmeralda winced, but she
took no offense at the implication that her face was not memorable! The hurt
only drew a few more tears, which she wiped away surreptitiously. She knew
Robert had never had any special interest in her and the strong attraction she
felt for him had been most unintentionally engendered.

“Ghastly hot it was at that ball,” he went on reminiscently
as he sat down again, hoping that recalling a pleasant occasion would cheer her
up.

“Yes, indeed it was,” Esmeralda replied, smiling. She
understood Robert’s intention and responded gallantly, knowing that he meant
well and was doing his best in an impossible situation. “But Governor Duncan’s
balls always are. After all, one cannot refuse the governor’s invitation, so
his balls are always the greatest crush.”

“Were you ever tempted to refuse?” Robert asked curiously.
He had often wondered whether plain girls who knew they would not receive the
same attention as the pretty ones, exposed themselves voluntarily or were
forced by their parents to do so.

“No, certainly not,” Esmeralda said. “I love to dance, and
in India where there were so few English girls, I was assured of a partner. I
am not so sure I would be equally eager in England where I might be… Well, but
we are talking great nonsense. We are not likely to be troubled by balls here,
and there are worse problems than those of finding a partner for me.”

“Don’t be so sure of a lack of balls. Wherever Sir Arthur
sets up headquarters, there are bound to be…”

Robert’s voice drifted into silence. His mention of Sir
Arthur had reminded him that it would be necessary for him to leave Oporto in a
day or two at most. The two satisfactory parts of his interview with the
bishop’s secretary had been the report that a surprisingly large number of
animals had come in already and that more were on the way. The combination of
French atrocities and the offer of coined silver had worked a miracle and
produced a good crop of oxen, mules, and horses from a seemingly barren
countryside.

Had he been able to obtain sufficient funds to rent a house
for Esmeralda, provide her with servants, and leave her money enough to live on
for a month or two, he would have done so and dismissed her from his mind,
except for reporting her presence to the proper authorities. Since this was
impossible, he had to make other arrangements. He cleared his throat uncomfortably
and explained this to Esmeralda.

“I would not have wished to remain in Oporto anyway,” she
said quietly, “unless there were some English family with whom I could stay…”

The indefinite ending and lift of her voice made the
statement into a question. Robert shook his head. “I am very much afraid,” he
said slowly, “that you will have to come south with me. Unfortunately, I can
get no information about the roads except that they are dreadfully bad. I am
not sure a carriage could get over them, even if I could convince someone to
sell me one for pounds. I am very sorry, Miss Talbot, but—”

“Good heavens,” Esmeralda exclaimed, her smile lighting her
face, and her eyes shining with joy. “Please do not apologize. That is
just
what
I would have wanted, but I did not dare ask. You have already done so much, I
could
not think of imposing myself on you still longer. But if you are willing to
take me—oh, I will be so grateful to you.”

“Yes, but you know it is a good distance, over one hundred
miles, and the weather…”

Esmeralda laughed like a bird singing. “But my dear Captain
Moreton, I am quite accustomed to a hot climate, and I am equally accustomed to
riding. Oh dear, I never thought I would be grateful to Papa for his meanness,
but I am. He would never buy a carriage, and quite often we had to ride from
Bombay to Goa.”

She thought she would burst with joy. That invitation to
ride south was her salvation. Once Robert had brought her to a place where
there were other British people and introduced her as Esmeralda Talbot, her
identity would be established. Very likely Sir Arthur would send her back to
England on one of the ships that carried dispatches. Esmeralda was almost
certain that if Robert and Sir Arthur requested him to do so, the commander of
the ship would be willing to escort her to her father’s bankers and confirm her
explanation of the shipwreck, her father’s death, and the loss of all his
documents. Then her handwriting and her knowledge of her father’s affairs
should settle the matter.

All that was an enormous relief, but the real source of
Esmeralda’s well of joy was the knowledge that she would have several days more
of Robert’s company. It was no use telling herself that such thoughts were
futile and unhealthy. She knew perfectly well that she was nothing but a
duty—and a worrisome duty at that—to Robert. But just to look at him was a
precious delight to her. And with the thought she hastily lowered her eyes,
fearing that there had been an adoration in them that had made him uneasy, for
he was frowning.