The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware (19 page)

Madrid might still possibly have fallen to the British
had not Wellesley learned that Soult, reinforced by Mortier's corps, was moving up from Galicia with the intention of cutting his communications. His army was so exhausted that it could not fight another battle; so he was compelled to beat a hasty retreat into Portugal.

In the late summer and autumn, Spanish forces continued, in widely-separated areas, to engage the French, but Wellesley—who in September was, for his victories, created Baron Douro and Viscount Wellington—flatly refused to commit British troops with them; so their gallant efforts were defeated again and again.

Although the French were being harried everywhere, Napoleon's war with Austria being as good as over, he was pouring more and more troops into the Peninsula; so Wellington, fearing that his much smaller army would be driven into the sea, retired on Lisbon and began to construct across the neck of the isthmus on which it stood the afterwards famous lines of Torres Vedras. These were not mere entrenchments, but solid earthworks, strengthened by palisades. The first line was twenty-nine and the second twenty-two miles in length. They included one hundred and twenty-six redoubts and were defended by four hundred and twenty-seven pieces of artillery.

Meanwhile, in the south Soult had taken Seville and Napoleon sent Masséna, who had the reputation of being the most able of all his Marshals, to command the army in Portugal. Fortunately for Wellington, the Emperor decreed that the assault on Lisbon should not begin until every man he could spare had crossed the Pyrenees. This gave the British a seven-month respite to prepare their great defensive wall. Moreover, during these months, Wellington was able to take other valuable measures. These included the embodiment and training of many regiments of Portuguese, and securing the consent of the Portuguese Government to render central Portugal a desolate wilderness. Its towns and villages were all evacuated,
the peasants taking to the mountains and the townsfolk brought into Lisbon.

By the summer of 1810 there were three hundred and seventy thousand French troops in the Peninsula, and in August Masséna invaded Portugal with one hundred thousand of them. But, before advancing on Lisbon, he delayed to besiege and capture several fortresses. When he at length approached the capital, he found the British deployed in a strong position outside it at Busaco, for Wellington had decided that if he could fight a successful action it would greatly strengthen the morale of his own men and the Portuguese people. Masséna, who had never before encountered the British, imagined he would have an easy victory but, to his amazement, in a short, sharp battle, his assault columns were driven back with heavy losses. Well satisfied, on October 11th, Wellington withdrew his army behind the lines of Torres Vedras.

Masséna, having reconnoitred these tremendous defences, reluctantly decided that they were too strong to be forced; so he withdrew his men and settled down to besiege Lisbon. But he soon had cause to become extremely worried. For scores of miles round, there was not a head of cattle or a bale of hay, and only a trickle of supplies could reach him, because every convoy was attacked by the Spanish insurgents. During those winter months he was losing hundreds of men a day through harassing raids and snipers, and his men were becoming weak from near-starvation.

Such was the situation when Roger arrived in Lisbon.

That afternoon he called at the British Legation and was received by the Minister, the Rt. Hon. Sir Charles Stuart. Roger was surprised to find in so important a post such a youngish man, for the Minister was only a little over thirty; but he proved very pleasant and, when Roger had told him his reason for coming to Lisbon, at once promised to put him in touch with the Legation lawyer.
Then, after Roger had given him the latest news from London, he invited him to dine the following evening.

Next day, Roger waited on Lord Wellington, whom he had met several years before in India. When he handed Wellington the letter from his brother, the General read it, then gave him an appraising look and said:

‘The Marquis informs me that you have a dual identity, that you have spent many years on the Continent as one of Bonaparte's A.D.C.s and have supplied our Government with much valuable information. I recall now that when I went out to India I was charged to deliver a confidential letter to you from Mr. Pitt, and at the time I registered the fact that you must be a man of some importance. I would be greatly interested if you would care to tell me something of your activities while with the French.'

For over half an hour Roger spoke of the strange career that had led to his becoming a Commander of the Legion of Honour, a Count and known throughout the French Army as ‘
le brave Breuc
'.

Wellington listened fascinated and when Roger had done said, ‘Mr. Brook, it is evident that your facilities for obtaining information of the highest order are unique. I take it that you have met Marshal Masséna?'

‘Yes, my lord, on numerous occasions. Davout apart, I regard him as the cleverest of all Napoleon's Generals, and his record makes him even more outstanding.'

‘As you know, he is at present laying siege to us here in Lisbon; or, rather, he thinks he is. But in fact it is we who are besieging him. Our defences are secure and to us the seas are open, so we'll never lack for reinforcements or supplies. Whereas he, poor devil, is encamped in open country and surrounded by a sea of enemies. The number of his troops is dwindling daily, few convoys get through to him so he must be becoming desperate. Soon now he must take a decision. Either he must throw everything he
has got into a forlorn hope by an attack on our lines, or retire into country where he can secure supplies for his famished troops. My information about enemy troop movements could not be bettered, because every Portuguese man, woman and child is for us and against him. Daily I receive reports of every foray he sends
out
, even down to a troop of horse. But what I have no means of discovering is what course of action he contemplates taking when he no longer dare remain inactive, watching his army disintegrate. In his letter my brother says that you have no wish to resume your old activities. But, by going to Masséna, you could obtain this invaluable information for me. Will you not place me greatly in your debt by doing so?'

Roger smiled. ‘My lord, I pray you to excuse me. 'Tis a highly dangerous game, and I have been monstrous lucky to survive for so long. I am here only to lay claim to an estate that I have inherited. Once that is settled, I am determined to return to England.'

‘Very well, Mr. Brook.' Wellington stood up to indicate that the interview was over. ‘I appreciate your point of view. But in Portugal, as in most other countries, decisions by the courts are apt to be long delayed. You do not strike me as a man who takes kindly to idleness. So, should you become bored here, perhaps you will reconsider my request. In the meantime, if there is any way in which I can be of service to you, you have only to let me know.'

Having thanked him, Roger took his leave and went out to renew his acquaintance with the city.

That evening at the Legation, the Minister presented him to his wife and niece. Lady Stuart was a large, imposing lady who, at first sight appeared formidable, but Roger found her to be a most kindly soul. Her niece, Deborah, lived with them because her own mother was dead. She was a tall, thin, dark girl and by no means a
beauty which, no doubt, accounted for her shy, retiring manner.

At dinner eighteen people sat down at the long table. On one side Roger had a fat, much bejewelled lady who was the wife of a Portuguese General, on the other a girl whom he judged to be about nineteen. When he had been presented to her, he had learned that she was Lady Mary Ware. After they had exchanged a few remarks, she told him that she was a friend of Deborah Stuart's, and she had been invited out to spend the winter at the Legation.

She had a very small, but shapely figure. Her hair was brown and her eyes green. Above them, well-marked eyebrows that turned up slightly at the ends gave her a somewhat perky, quizzical expression, and this was strengthened by a slightly retroussé nose. What she lacked in size she made up for in vivacity, and Roger soon found her a most entertaining companion. When he had told her what had brought him to Lisbon and that he expected to be there for several weeks with nothing to do, she said:

‘Then, Mr. Brook, if you do not find the society of young females too boring, you must accompany Deborah and myself on some of our drives, for all our officers are always occupied with their duties, and the company of a gentleman would be very pleasant for us.'

He politely accepted her offer, although at the time he was not greatly attracted by the idea of acting as escort to two young women who could not long ago have left school.

Next morning he went to see the Legation lawyer, a Mr. Herbert Lessor, and put the matter of the de Pombal estate in his hands. In the afternoon he went for a stroll and, by chance, saw Lady Mary and Deborah Stuart in their carriage. Lady Mary waved to him, had the carriage pull up and invited him to join them. Having nothing to do, he assented and spent a pleasant hour in their company.

Deborah proved as shy and tongue-tied as she had in company, so it was Mary who did most of the talking. In fact, she was a born chatterbox and Roger found her chatter amusing. In consequence, when she asked him to come for another drive with them the next day, he readily agreed. From then on, except when it rained, it became a regular thing for him to accompany them on their drives through the deep enclave of pleasant country that lay inland from Lisbon, but inside the lines, or take them shopping; and, being completely at a loose end, he found it both a pleasant and novel occupation to squire two young girls. Sometimes they were accompanied by the buxom and sanguine Lady Stuart, but on most afternoons she was busy with her many charities: comforts for the wounded, assistance to widows of soldiers killed in the war, Anglo-Portuguese friendship and so on.

Naturally he told them nothing of his past secret activities, but he was able to regale them with tales of his early days in France, as a lawyer's apprentice, and of his travels in Egypt, India, Brazil and the West Indies, to which they listened wide-eyed, and they were greatly flattered to have secured such a handsome and interesting man of his years as their cavalier.

He soon learned Lady Mary's history. Her family was an old one, having first been ennobled during the Wars of the Roses, and later elevated to an earldom by Charles II. But her great-grandfather had been ruined in 1720 by the South Sea Bubble. For the past ninety years the family had lived very simply on a small property near Maidenhead. Mary herself was an only child and an orphan. Her mother had died in giving birth to her, and her father the previous year. On his death, the Maidenhead property had passed, with the title, to a distant cousin: a Canon of Peterborough Cathedral, who was a man of no fortune and had a large family of his own, so could do little for her. In consequence, she was very
badly off, with only a small income, which she was now ekeing out by staying for long periods with friends such as Deborah, whom she had known at the Seminary for Young Ladies at which she had been educated. But, in spite of her straitened circumstances and inability to afford expensive clothes, she was always cheerful and faced her uncertain future with courage.

During the fortnight after he first met the girls, as Well as seeing them in the daytime, he twice dined at the Legation and saw them several times at receptions and dances in other houses.

It was on the 13th February that, after a drive on a pleasant sunny afternoon, he was handing them from the carriage outside the Legation, when he suddenly caught sight of de Queircoz. With him at the foot of the Legation steps were two Portuguese
guardas
. Suddenly pointing at Roger, de Queircoz cried:

‘That is he! Seize him and he shall answer for the death of the Marquis de Pombal.'

Dumbfounded, Roger stared at the dark-browed diplomat. After a moment his brain again began to function. The Marquis had died in distant Brazil, but evidently on the return of his sister, the
Senhora
de Arahna, particulars of his death had become known in Lisbon, and de Queircoz knew, or thought he knew, who had killed him. But why should he be the person to accuse Roger? And why had he left his post in London to return to Lisbon?

That could be explained by his having come to the conclusion that
Colonel de Breuc
and Roger Brook were the same person. The strong resemblance of the two, together with the fact that it was the Colonel who had captured Lisala's affections in Teheran, and Mr. Brook who had later married her, were ample grounds for such a belief.

Within seconds Roger had solved the riddle. On meeting him in London de Queircoz had seen an opportunity to be avenged. He had dangled the de Pombal inheritance as bait, Roger had swallowed it, and his enemy had obtained leave so that he could follow Roger to Lisbon and denounce him. Yet Roger had a feeling that, behind the jealous malice of the Portuguese lay the still greater malevolence of Lisala's evil spirit seeking his destruction.

To have been tried and condemned for murder in
Prussia had been ordeal enough. His life had been saved by Davout only at the eleventh hour, and his rescue from a prison van by rioting students had been a piece of unforeseeable good fortune. To be tried again, only eight months later, for another murder he had not committed, seemed an outrageous injustice. And this time he would not be so lucky. The de Pombal family had great influence and the sympathies in a law court would be with them. Knowing how black a case could be made against him, he felt that once in the hands of the Portuguese his fate would be as good as sealed.

There was only one course open to him. It was to fight his way into the British Legation and seek sanctuary there.

His resolution was taken within half a minute of de Queircoz having called on the
guardas
to seize him. The taller
guarda
produced a warrant, stepped up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Roger gave him a violent shove that sent him reeling back, then darted toward the steps leading up to the door of the Legation. Before he could reach them the other
guarda
had flung his arms round his waist and had him in a bear-like hug. Exerting all his strength, Roger strove to free himself, and bashed with his fists at the man's head, but he buried his face in Roger's chest and gamely clung on. In desperation, Roger kneed him in the groin. His eyes popped, he gave a yelp of agony and relaxed his hold. But, only an instant after he had pushed the man away, his arms were seized from behind. The taller
guarda
had come to his companion's assistance. In vain Roger kicked out backward, his heels failed to find a mark and his arms were forced behind his back.