'The boy was a fine, healthy infant so, no doubt, he still thrives there. As soon as it is possible to do so I will arrange for him and his nurse to come to you here in Lisbon. To spare you an unpleasant surprise at the child's appearance, I must now tell you that he is a black piccaninny. And with the best will in the world I am incapable of begetting a Negro.
'He is not my son. His father was your slave, Baob, to whom Lisala shamelessly gave herself when in Brazil. I have renounced the inheritance on behalf of myself and the heirs of my body. The boy is no heir of mine, but he is Lisala's. So he, and not your son, will now get the de Pombal fortune.'
13
The Forwardness of Lady Mary Ware
Furious at having been outwitted, the Senhora and her companions left the crypt. Shortly afterwards, having thanked Father Joao for his hospitality Roger, accompanied by Mr. Lessor, followed them back into Lisbon.
Although the village was less than two miles outside the lines, it took the best part of half an hour to reach them, because Wellington's army was at last leaving behind the great earthworks that, during the winter months, had served to protect it so well. Along the road advanced a steady stream of British and Portuguese infantry, guns, limbers, wagons and, behind each contingent, the little band of male and female camp-followers that all Generals detested, because they embarrassed troop movements, but could not get rid of without risking mutiny from their men.
As, time after time, Roger had to turn his mount aside on to the verge of the road, he noted with pleasure the greatly superior appearance of these troops to the ones he had left on the morning of the previous day. The uniforms of the French were threadbare, many of them had been wearing patched coats, broken boots and battered shakos. Their faces were thin from insufficient food and their eyes lacked lustre; whereas Wellington's men showed ample evidence of his care of them. Their uniforms were of good English cloth, with little sign of wear, their belts were pipe-clayed and their equipment brightly polished. They were ruddy-faced and in excellent health, owing to ample and regular rations. As they marched, they were singing or bandying jests.
Arrived at last in the city, Roger parted cordially with Mr, Lessor and headed for the Legation. As he approached it he was thinking how pleasant it would be to see little Lady Mary again, and it was only then that it crossed his mind that, during many of his idle moments while at Massena's headquarters, his thoughts had turned to her.
The Minister, his family and guests had just risen from dinner and were in the big salon. As Roger was announced, Mary was standing just inside the doorway. Her green eyes lighting up, she gave a cry of delight, impulsively ran forward, laid a hand on Roger's arm, went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
Lady Stuart was nearby, talking to General Picton. Raising her eyebrows, she exclaimed not unkindly, 'Really, Mary! What unmaidenly behaviour.'
Mary's cheeks went scarlet. But Roger covered her confusion by crying gaily, ' 'Tis an occasion for kissing and rejoicing. I am now cleared of that false charge that was to have been brought against me.' Then he stepped up to the Minister's buxom wife and kissed her.
Next moment Sir Charles was shaking him heartily by the hand and saying, 'Mr. Lessor looked in on me this midday, to inform me that your affair was as good as settled. It must be a great relief and we are all delighted for you. But you were not in time for dinner, so must be hungry.' Looking quickly round, his eye lit on his niece and he said to her:
'Deborah, my dear, take Mr. Brook into the dining room and see that he is served with anything he fancies; then tell Smithson to have a room prepared for him for the night.'
Mary joined Deborah and Roger as they moved away. In the dining room the table had just been cleared, but the footmen were setting out a cold buffet on the sideboard for later in the evening. With a girl on either side of him, Roger tucked into a game pie and slices of York ham. It was the first good meal he had had since leaving Lisbon, and he happily contrasted it with the meagre fare at Massena's headquarters.
Between mouthfuls he answered the girls' eager questions. They had no idea that he had been on a secret mission, but supposed he had been lying low outside the lines while Mr. Lessor did his best to prevent a charge of murder from being brought against him. When he told them how it had been settled to the discomfiture of the de Pombals, they both went into gales of laughter.
On returning to the salon they found that Lord Wellington had come to take leave of the Minister, as on the following day he was to take the field against Massena.
On seeing Roger, he greeted him simply as an acquaintance whom he had not seen for some days. But ten minutes later, without being observed, he managed to wink at him, then turn his head in the direction of a small salon that led off the large one. Roger skillfully brought to an end a conversation he was having with a naval Captain and sauntered into the small room. As on most occasions when there was not a large party at the Legation, it was empty. Wellington joined him there, closed the door and said;
'Mr. Brook, I cannot thank you enough for the great service you have rendered us. Now I am anxious to have a long talk with you, as there must be much valuable information you can give me about the condition of Massena's army and other matters you must have become acquainted with while at his headquarters.'
Roger bowed. 'I had had it in mind, my lord, to write a full report tonight, and wait upon you with it in the morning.'
The General shook his fine head. Nay, I'd liefer have it from your own lips; for there are many questions I wish to ask you. I shall he leaving shortly. I pray you slip away soon after, and we'll drink a bottle of port in my private quarters."
Three quarters of an hour later, they were closeted in a small, map-lined study adjacent to Wellington's bedroom, a decanter of port between them. For half an hour Roger passed on all he had seen and heard whilst at Santarem, and another half-hour went by answering the questions the keen eyed General shot at him. At length, refilling their glasses for the third time, Wellington said:
'The parlous condition to which Massena's troops are reduced makes it tempting to launch an all-out attack in the hope of overwhelming them. But his regiments must still contain many hard-bitten veterans of Bonaparte's past campaigns. Even in adversity they can be counted on to put up a stiff resistance. Moreover, you tell me that Massena has Ney and Junot with him. The first is one of the most able Marshals and the other at least a courageous leader. So, in this case, discretion may prove the better part of valour. Britain has only one army in the Peninsula, whereas the French have six. Should I be defeated and driven into the sea, we'd be back again where we were in 1807, and Bonaparte the master of the whole continent. By following Massena up closely, we should be able to inflict heavy losses on him, with little loss to ourselves. That, I think, would be sounder than to risk facing him in a pitched battle.'
Roger smiled. 'I am no General, my lord; but in you and your army are Britain's one hope; so, had I your responsibility, that is certainly the course I would pursue.'
Nodding, Wellington said, 'And now, Mr. Brook, regarding yourself. You have been charged by Massena to carry a dispatch to Soult.'
'Oh, come, milord,' Roger laughed. 'Surely you do not expect me to deliver it? 'Tis an appeal for help and, if responded to, could seriously jeopardize your own plans.'