Meanwhile, life went on much as usual in the army. A number of men acquired Spanish or Portuguese mistresses, so that the hoard of camp-followers was becoming oddly polygot. They quarrelled even more violently than the Irish women, and could not be trusted to refrain from using knives as weapons when they were angry, but the stews which they cooked in their earthenware penellas made it worth while putting up with their murderous tendencies. All Spanish women were expert in the management of the penella, which stood day in, day out, at the side of the fire, and was turned from time to time. Juana, taking lessons from the Padre, learned to make a stew the very smell of which set one’s mouth watering. But when Billy Mein, riding over to dine with the Smiths, asked her what she put in the pot to give it such a flavour, she never seemed to know, but answered vaguely: ‘Oh, un poco de aceyte y una cabeza de ajos!’ But since her stews all tasted different, no one believed this, and ‘a little oil and a clove of garlic’ became a standing-joke, the stock-answer to any culinary question.
Billy Mein was often to be found in the Smiths’ quarters. He used to ride into Fuentes de Onoro to drink grog made of bad rum with Harry. Major Rowan was a frequent visitor, too, bringing news of the regiment’s Colonel, who had been invalided to England after the taking of Ciudad Rodrigo. The men of the 52nd would not be happy until Colonel Colborne was in command of them again, for there was no officer who more thoroughly understood outpost work, none more beloved. ‘Oh, for Colborne!’ they groaned, whenever anything went amiss. But he had had his shoulder so badly shattered in the assault on Rodrigo that it was doubtful whether he ever would return to the Peninsula.
At the end of January, the troops had the satisfaction of knowing that Beau Douro was amongst them again. The sight of his well-known figure had always a most cheering effect upon the army. It was hoped his lordship had enjoyed himself, junketing about Cadiz: he looked very well, and seemed to be in excellent spirits, so no doubt he meant to give King Joseph some hard knocks in the coming campaign.
Early in February, much to their disgust, the Smiths had to leave their billet in Fuentes de Onoro, to go with General Vandeleur to Fuente Guinaldo. Brigade headquarters had been moved there, to make room for the Spanish headquarters in Fuentes de Onoro. No one appreciated the change, for it was much colder at Guinaldo, besides being twenty-four miles distant from Frenada. The Smiths would have taken the Padre with them, but he had made up his mind to go back to Vicalbaro. Perhaps he was tired of cooking. At Guinaldo, Vandeleur was busy with Courts Martial. He had made the acquaintance of the new Judge-Advocate, a civilian, but a very pleasant fellow, who came over from Frenada on a handsome black horse, and seemed to be astonished at the army’s way of life. Since he happened to be spending the night in Vandeleur’s quarters, he accompanied him to a masked ball given by the officers of the Light division. All the belles of Guinaldo were present, some dressed as English officers: an indelicate frolic which rather shocked Mr Larpent: and all of them remarkably free and easy with the gay Light Bobs. Indeed, one plump, seductive creature was the cause of a minor disturbance, for she cuddled into the arms of Vandeleur’s why young Brigade-Major, in a convenient alcove, and cooed gently to him, with her cheek against the frogs on his jacket. The Brigade-Major’s eyes gleamed laughter between the slits of his mask; he did not seem to be unresponsive to his partner’s advances, judging from the way his arm encircled her waist; but while Mr Larpent idly watched him, a little stormy creature descended upon the Brigade-Major in a sudden flurry of fringed petticoats, and dealt him a ringing box on the ear. The Brigade-Major jumped up, shaking off the plump lady, and looking as though he would very much like to return the slap. His assailant addressed him in a torrent of low-voiced Spanish, which Mr Larpent was unable to understand; he shot out a rapid answer in the same tongue, and just as Mr Larpent, quite scandalized, moved forward to intervene, a very tall man in Rifle green strolled up, and swept the little dark creature into a waltz that was just starting.
Mr Larpent found General Vandeleur chuckling at his elbow. ‘By Jove, that young devil of mine has married a tartar!’ said the General. ‘Dear little soul, isn’t she?’ Mr Larpent was unable to agree with him. Juana, waltzing with Kincaid, still flushed and raging, did not look in the least like a dear little soul.
‘Malvada,’ Kincaid scolded softly. ‘What do you think you deserve for making scenes in public?’
‘I don’t care! I wish I had hit him harder!’
‘He’d have murdered you! Now, you know you are behaving disgracefully! English ladies don’t box their husbands’ ears-at least, not at masquerades!’
‘I am not English! I do not want to be English! He is faithless-no se inqirieta par nada!
‘You little devil, he’ll care for being made a fool of in public fast enough! Besides, you know he doesn’t mean anything by just flirting a little.’
‘He is dancing with her!’ Juana said in a shaking voice.
‘Of course he is! I would myself, if my wife came and slapped my face for putting an arm round a pretty girl’s waist!’
‘You are as horrible as he is, and I am going home-instantaneamente!’ ‘No, no, you can’t do that! Everyone will laugh at you if you do!’
Juana informed him between gritted teeth that the whole army was at liberty to laugh at her. He led her off the floor at the end of the dance, and was still persuasively arguing with her when the band struck up the next waltz. Juana said. ‘Either you will take me home now, or I go by myself!’ and suddenly saw Harry, his mask discarded, descending upon her. ‘You’ll dance this with me!’ Harry said, grasping her hand, and pulling her roughly into his arms.
‘I won’t!’ Juana said, but in rather a frightened voice.
He paid no attention, but began to waltz with her. He held her in an arm that felt like steel, and his grip on her hand crushed all her fingers together. He said in a molten under-voice: ‘What the hades did you mean by slapping my face? Answer me!’
‘You know very well, and if you don’t let me go I will do it again!’ whispered Juana. He looked down at her for an instant, his face rather white, and his eyes bright with anger. ‘You had better not, mi muchacha!’
Juana thought that perhaps she had better not. She said: “Then you had better not flirt with that-that ramera!’
‘I’ll flirt with whom I damned well please! And don’t let me hear that word on your tongue again! How dare you use such language?’
‘If I knew a worse word, I would say it! I shall say anything I like!’ ‘You’re a vulgar, stupid, jealous, ill-conditioned brat!’ ‘And you are a libertine!’
Harry gave a sudden crack of scornful laughter. ‘It would serve you right if I was! If you ever dare to make a fool of me in public again, I’ll leave you! Comprende?’ Her steps faltered; she replied with difficulty: ‘You would like to be rid of me, I daresay.’ ‘Very much, when you serve me a trick like that!’
The music stopped. Juana wrenched her hand out of his, and walked away to where Kincaid was lounging against the wall. He straightened himself, and said: ‘You know, Juana, you and Harry are the best dancers in the room!’
‘I am going home,’ said Juana, in a stifled voice. ‘Very well,” Kincaid said, catching the glint of a tear on her cheek. I’ll take you, then.’ There was a light crust of snow in the cobbled street, and the night air was very cold. Juana pulled the hood of her camlet cloak over her head, and walked beside her tall escort in silence. At the door of her lodging, he said: ‘Mi querida amiga, cheer up! If Harry has a regular pepper-pot of a temper, so have you, you know!”
‘Yes,’ said Juana. ‘I know.’
She said good night, and went into the house. The fire had sunk very low in the room she and Harry slept in, and a biting draught whistled under the rickety door. Juana put some charcoal into the brazier with shaking hands, shed all her finery, turned down the lamp, and crept shivering into bed. Half-an-hour later, sobs still catching her breath, she heard the outer door open, and shut with a crash. She shrank under the blankets, pulling them over her head, and clenched her teeth on her damp handkerchief in an effort to suppress her convulsive sobs. Harry’s quick step sounded; he came into the room. ‘Juana!’ he said sharply.