The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware (31 page)

Mortier's army, covering Badajoz, was too strong for there to be any hope of taking the place, so Wellington marched north again and laid siege to Ciudad Rodrigo.
Marmont swiftly assembled his men from their cantonments about Salamanca and arrived on the scene with sixty thousand men, compelling the British to abandon the siege and retire from the frontier. The active Marmont followed them up and in September Wellington was forced to fight two rearguard actions. But the young Marshal did not feel himself strong enough to invade Portugal and, soon afterwards, both armies retired into winter quarters.

That summer, in the north and east, Macdonald was occupied with holding down Catalonia and the long siege of Figueras; while Suchet—who had been told by the Emperor that his Marshal's baton lay inside the walls of Saragossa—had taken that city and, now a Marshal, continued to dominate Valencia. From Cadiz an Anglo-Portuguese contingent had been despatched by water down the coast, with the object of taking Victor's army in the rear. It was not large enough for the task, so Victor defeated it, but remained unable to take Cadiz.

All over the Peninsula it was the same frustrating situation for the French. Wherever they ware called on to fight, they had to bring up reinforcements from another area, which promptly fell into the hands of the Spaniards who had again to be ejected. It was this Spanish tenacity and gallantry that saved the British from being overwhelmed; for, although Napoleon had three hundred thousand troops in the Peninsula and had lost another one hundred thousand in killed, wounded, prisoners and death from starvation, the French were never able to concentrate a force of more than sixty thousand against Wellington's fifty thousand.

At the end of the London season Roger went to stay with Georgina down at Newmarket and spent the greater part of August there. But it did not prove a happy visit. When Georgina had gone to London earlier in the year, Old K's youngest sister, Lady Amelia, had insisted on
moving in to look after her paralysed brother. She was a dour spinster in her early sixties, and had strongly disapproved of his marriage. Despising deceit and hypocrisy, Georgina did not seek to hide the fact that Roger was her lover, and Lady Amelia regarded it as an outrageous breach of decency that the Duchess should be indifferent to the servants knowing that she received a lover in her room every night. There was nothing Lady Amelia could do about it; but they had to have her with them at every meal and most evenings. This made conversation stilted and created a frigid atmosphere that cast a blight on their happiness.

Roger spent September at Richmond, but few of his friends had returned to London, so time hung heavily on his hands. To begin with he had greatly enjoyed having Susan to live with him, but now the novelty had worn off. She was a charming young girl, and he liked to see her about the place. He often took her riding and bought her expensive presents. But she had never been abroad, took no interest in the war, knew nothing about international affairs and, as yet, had no experience of life. So she made a poor companion for a man of Roger's active, well-stocked mind.

At the end of the month Georgina came to London for ten days, and for this brief interval they had the satisfaction of being able to resume their liaison in propitious circumstances. But toward its close they had a disagreement.

For many years past Georgina had been a shining light in high society, and she had innumerable friends. During the autumn it had long been her custom to make a round of visits to the country houses of those with whom she was most intimate, and she felt that she could not possibly break all the engagements she had made during the London season.

This meant that, except for a night or two now and
then when passing through London between visits, she would be unable to see Roger until she took up her residence again in Piccadilly shortly before Christmas. The thought of having to get through the best part of three months without her made Roger miserable, and he begged her to excuse herself from some of the invitations she had accepted. But this she refused to do, and said:

‘Roger, my dear, you ask too much. Even for you I am not prepared to give up my old friends. And, after all, what is three months? In the past you have at times absented yourself from me for years at a stretch.'

‘That is true enough,' he agreed. ‘But during those periods I was very fully occupied in serving my country abroad, whereas now I have naught to do that interests me. My life out at Richmond has become deadly dull, and I am sick to death of mooning about, listening to the scandals of the town. Apart from being with you, I have nothing to look forward to except an occasional men's dinner, and I no longer derive much pleasure in consuming more port than is good for me.'

‘There is a simple solution to your malaise,' Georgina replied. The two happiest years of your life were '90 and '91—between the Liberal Revolution in France and the coming of the Terror, when you had temporarily left Mr. Pitt's service and were married to Amanda. You must marry again.'

‘My love, I have already told you that I'll not do that, lest your husband dies and you again become free.'

‘Roger, in this case 'tis folly to wait for dead men's shoes. The condition of my poor old Duke shows not the slightest change. He may well live to be a hundred. And, did you marry again, it would make no material difference to us. Except when you were wed to Amanda and I to Charles, neither of us has ever been faithful to our spouses. Apart from maintaining happy relations with my friends, I am as free as the wind; and with your subtle
mind you'd find no difficulty in inventing plausible excuses to leave your wife now and then, in order that in secret we could be together for a time.'

Having declared that he would not even consider her suggestion, Roger was unhappily compelled to leave the matter there; and Georgina took her departure for the country.

In October Roger spent a fortnight at Normanrood in Wiltshire, the seat of Droopy's father, the Earl of Amesbury. His long talks with his best friend were one of Roger's greatest joys; but one of Droopy's was experimenting with Eastern drugs. He had recently discovered a new one which he had begun to take regularly, with the result that on several occasions he lay unconscious for as long as eighteen hours and, on coming round, was muzzy for a considerable time. It was only with difficulty and toward the end of his stay that Roger persuaded his friend to give up this dangerous habit and promise not to drug himself more than once a month in future. Meanwhile, for much of his stay he was thrown on the company of the other members of the house-party, none of whom was particularly congenial to him.

He had arranged for the end of his stay to coincide with Georgina's return to London, and they spent two nights together. She then went off to make other visits, and again he had to amuse himself as best he could while living at Richmond.

Bored by his sojourn there, in mid-November he decided to go to Brighton. For a decade or more past, owing to the Prince Regent, it had taken the place of Bath as England's most fashionable watering place. The ‘Corinthians', as the young bloods were termed, frequently went down there in their spider-like phaetons, making huge wagers on their timing. ‘Prirnny' had built for himself an exotic palace resembling those of Indian Rajahs. Here the beaux and belles assembled nightly, to dance and
gamble. Roger, having been presented on a previous occasion, had the entrée and mingled with the gay company.

Although the Prince Regent was not popular with the masses or with the Tory nobility, he was with his own set, who cared little for their country and cheerfully overlooked the fact that he was a most undesirable character. By day Roger amused himself by going to races, cockfights, boxing matches and viewing the activities along the front at Hove, where long terraces of elegant houses were going up. The virtue of most of the ladies in the Prince's set was decidedly easy, and he entered on a brief affair with a fair-haired charmer, by name Mrs. Peggy Wardell; but cut it short to keep another assignation with Georgina in London.

After three days she left again, and once more he tried to settle down at Richmond. Now that it was December, everyone's thoughts were turning to Christmas, so he set about buying presents and preparing for the festive season. But his heart was not in it He kept on thinking of the months ahead. He was again to spend Christmas as Georgina's guest at Stillwaters and during the ‘little season' in January, he could look forward to a few weeks with her, but what then? She was a splendid horsewoman, so would go to the shires to hunt; and it seemed unlikely that he would see much of her until Kew House was reopened for her at the beginning of May.

It was on an afternoon in mid-December that, while riding in Richmond Park, he witnessed an accident from a distance. A closed carriage and pair was coming in one direction and, from the other, a cabriolet driven at great speed. The lighter vehicle took a corner too sharply and collided with the carriage, taking off one of the wheels; it then overturned in a ditch.

Setting spurs to his mare, Roger galloped over. A young
buck was climbing out of the wreckage of the cabriolet, and Roger shouted at him:

‘You young fool! You deserve to be horsewhipped for your carelessness.'

The youth, who was unhurt, went red in the face and shouted back, ‘Dam'me, Sir. Mind your own business. I've a mind to call you out for that.'

‘By God, you'd better not!' Roger roared. ‘I can pip an ace at thirty feet. And I eat striplings like you for breakfast. Look to your horse, and make yourself scarce before I trounce you.'

Dismounting, with his arm through the mare's bridle he ran to the carriage. It had heeled over on one side and one window was smashed. The coachman had succeeded in clinging to his box, so was unhurt and was now endeavouring to open the carriage door, which had jammed. With Roger's help he got it open. On the floor inside lay a young woman. Her forehead was bleeding where, when pitched forward, she had cut it on the glass of the shattered window, and she had fainted. As they lifted her out, Roger gave an exclamation of surprise. It was Mary.

Roger told the coachman that he lived nearby, so he would send someone to put the wheel back on the carriage; meanwhile he had better unharness his horse and follow him. He then hoisted the unconscious Mary on to his saddle bow and rode off with her to his house.

On arriving there, she came to when he lifted her down and, with equal surprise, recognised him. Quickly assuring her that the cut on her forehead was only skin-deep, and that after an hour or two of rest she would be able to proceed on her way, he carried her inside. There, as Mrs. Marsham and Susan were out visiting friends, he bellowed for his housekeeper, Mrs. Muffet.

Together they got Mary upstairs to a bedroom and laid her on the bed. Leaving Mrs. Muffet to bathe Mary's
cut and make her comfortable, Roger went downstairs and sent his gardener, his groom and Dan to get the wheel back on the carriage. Soon afterwards, Mrs. Muffet came down to report that the young lady's condition gave no cause for alarm; upon which Roger told her to bring tea for two in an hour and a half s time, then go up and find out if their guest felt sufficiently recovered to join him, or would prefer to have tea taken up to her.

While the time passed, Roger revived his memories of Lisbon and wondered how Mary had fared since that most distressing night when he had ravished her.

At half past four, Mrs. Muffet came in with a hearty tea; sandwiches, scones, crumpets and cake, and said that the young lady was now feeling quite herself and would shortly come downstairs. A few minutes later Mary came in, looking as pretty as ever, except that her ringlets were partly hidden by a bandage round her forehead.

Roger was far too experienced a man to show any awkwardness, and so embarrass her. Smiling, he advanced to meet her, with both hands outstretched, and said:

‘My dear, I'm so glad you sustained no serious injury from your accident, and how glad I am that I was on hand to look after you.'

Returning his smile, she replied, ‘It was a horrid moment when I was thrown against the window of the carriage; but I was most fortunate in your coming to my assistance.'

They sat down before the roaring fire and she poured tea for them. Then, glancing round the drawing room, with its rich carpet, graceful Adam furniture and fine china, which Roger had collected through the years, she remarked:

‘What a lovely home you have here, Roger.'

Into his mind there flashed the empty months ahead, and Georgina's advice on how best to fill the long intervals
when they could not be together. Leaning forward, he said impulsively:

‘You like it, Mary? Then why not share it with me? I would love to have you as my wife.'

Her mouth fell open. Then she sadly shook her head. ‘Oh, Roger, had you only asked me when we were in Lisbon. I have been married these past three months.'

Roger suddenly gave a hoarse, unnatural cackle of laughter. Mary stared at him in puzzled dismay, wondering from his totally unexpected proposal followed by this weird reaction if he had gone out of his mind. But recovering quickly, he said:

‘I'm sorry, Mary; but I really am beginning to believe that my late wife cursed me before she died. I have since been accused of two murders, and you are the second woman whom I should have liked to marry and who would have liked to marry me, yet could not do so because she had married someone else.'

‘Then you have indeed been unfortunate,' Mary commiserated with him. ‘And atop of that you were grievous wounded by that brigand. I was told, too, that your wound reopened the night that … that night.'

‘Yes. But, as it turned out, that was a fortunate coincidence.'

‘Was it?' she questioned. ‘Secretly, I formed the belief that you deliberately opened your wound in order to be taken quickly from the house and so spare my feelings.'