Roger learned that Wellington's pursuit of Massena was going well. The French were in a desperate plight, as they retreated across the mountains of central Beira. Nearly all their horses were dead, so they had had to abandon most of their wagons and many of their guns, while the men, demoralized by long privations, were deserting by the hundred or dying by the roadside.
Quite casually, as though it was of little importance, just before the girls left, Mary gave him a piece of news that had reached Lisbon two days earlier. On the 20th, Marie Louise had presented the Emperor with a son, who was to be known as the King of Rome.
The event might be of no great significance to Napoleon's enemies, but Roger knew how much it would mean to the Bonaparte’s. At last the Emperor had achieved his dearest ambition a son fathered on the daughter of an Imperial house that claimed its descent from the Emperors of Rome and Byzantium. He could imagine the fabulous jewels that Napoleon would shower on the young mother; the spate of honour’s poured out to friends and high officials of the Empire; the fireworks, fetes, parades and balls that, regardless of expense, would celebrate the arrival of this little heir to territories stretching from the Baltic to the tip of Italy. He could also imagine the rage and bitter disappointment with which several members of the Bonaparte family would be filled by this royal birth. Joseph, as Napoleon's eldest brother, had always regarded himself as having the best claim to succeed him. While still believing himself incapable of begetting a child, Napoleon had as good as expressed his intention of nominating the son of Louis by Hortense as his heir. And Murat, spurred on by his ambitious wife, Caroline, had been led to believe that his immense popularity with the French Army and people would lead to their offering the crown to him rather than to any of the Bonaparte brothers.
During the next few days Roger made good progress. Except at the times when his wound was dressed, he was fairly free from pain. The healthy flesh of his buttock and thigh promised to heal well; so his badly bruised thigh bone was the only matter for concern, and his surgeon said he should be able to get about on crutches by the end of the week.
The girls came daily to see him, little Mary looking quite ravishing in a simple pink dress and a new spring bonnet. On the morning of April 5th he tried walking with crutches and found that he could do so without straining his injured leg; so, on the following day he was moved in an ambulance to the Legation and there most kindly welcomed by Lady Stuart.
That evening the Minister came up to spend an hour with him and gave him more precise details of the progress of the war. Wellington had led five divisions in pursuit of Massena and detached two under General Beresford to guard his rear against Soult, advancing into Estremadura and, if possible, relieve Badajoz. Unfortunately, Badajoz had fallen to Mortier much earlier than expected; but, now it was known that the French did not intend to move against Lisbon, a large part of Beresford's force had become available for other operations.
In the north, no pitched battle had been fought, but a constant series of independent actions by brigades and regiments. Marshal Ney had commanded the French rearguard with such skill that only on one occasion had he been caught napping. This had been three days earlier at Sabugal. The British light division had surprised the French 2nd Corps in a fog and killed or wounded over a thousand men. News had come in that morning that Soult's army had been driven out of Portugal, and had retired on to the great stronghold of Ciudad Rodrigo, which was all the Marshal had left to show for an inglorious campaign.
Next morning a footman helped Roger to dress, then get downstairs to sit in the garden. In the afternoon he went for a drive with the girls. But the unaccustomed exertion tried him so much that, on their return, he asked to be helped up to bed. By the time his dinner was brought up to him his fatigue had passed off and, after the footman had taken away his tray, he lay back on his pillows thinking how lucky he was to have made such good friends at the Legation and be able to convalesce in such com' fort.
At about eight o'clock there came a gentle knock on his door, and when he called 'Come in,' Mary entered the room, carrying half a dozen books. Smiling at him, she said:
'As usual, there were quite a number of guests for dinner, so when we'd finished I managed to slip away. I thought you might be bored; so I've brought you something to read.'
When he had thanked her, she asked, 'What were you thinking about when I came in?'
'How lucky I am to be here, and how very kind to me you all are,' he replied truthfully.
She made a little moue. 'I was hoping you would say you were thinking of me. I nearly fell through the floor with embarrassment when Sir Charles returned from the hospital that first day and said you had sent me your love. But when I got up to my room I hugged myself with delight. You do love me, don't you?'
Roger was in a quandary. He had no intention whatever of marrying Mary, and to seduce an unmarried girl whose upbringing gave him every reason to suppose that she was a virgin was against his code. The idea had never even crossed his mind. He was loath to encourage the tender feeling she obviously had for him, but at the same time, most reluctant to hurt her. She had laid the books on the bed and was standing beside him, her green eyes solemnly fixed on his.
Taking her hand, he said gently, Mary, my dear, of course I love you; but I'm not going to allow my affection for you to get the better of my judgment. As I told you that day when we picnicked out at Cintra, I'm too restless a man to settle down to married life. Moreover, I'm much too old for you.'
She shook her head and her ringlets danced. For such an intelligent man, you are really very stupid, I'm sure I could make you happy.'
'I'm sure you could,' he smiled, 'but the trouble is that I could make you happy only for a while. I'd again get that itch to travel. Then you'd be miserable, and try to persuade me not to. The result would be tears and quarrels.'
For the best part of a minute she was silent, then she said, 'Very well. I accept that. And I promise that I won't try to prevent your leaving Lisbon when you wish to go. But while you are here, I want you to treat me as though we were secretly engaged. You see, I haven't got a very bright future. I'm just averagely pretty, but not a beauty; and I haven't got a penny of my own. So when I do marry, it is almost certain to be someone that I don't really care about, and perhaps even older than you. I'd like to have just one romance in my life to look back on. Do you understand?'
Tears were brimming in Mary's eyes and Roger felt deeply sorry for her. Had he not been a nearly helpless invalid, he would have made some excuse to get a passage in the first ship leaving for England; as he felt that the sooner she saw no more of him, the better it would be for her. But as things were he knew that he would not be fit to travel for at least two weeks. In the circumstances, to refuse her request would have been brutal, and he swiftly made up his mind that, if he was going to pretend to be her fiancé, he must give her as much joy as possible by entering into the game wholeheartedly.
'Of course I understand,' he said, 'and I am truly delighted that you should offer me such happiness. But you must not take such a poor view of your attractions nor be so pessimistic about the future. You are not only a very lovely girl, but your gaiety and charm make you a wonderful companion. I'm certain that before long a man nearer your own age, and of ample fortune, will come into your life and beseech you to marry him. Now, I only pray that he does not come on the scene while I am in Lisbon. Come now; give me a fiancée’s kiss.'