Evil in a Mask (51 page)

He then stood up and added, ‘But you have been up all night. Now I am sending you to bed. By this time, doubtless, Madame is sound asleep; so you had best occupy the bed in the dressing room. We'll meet again this evening. My cousins Lady Caroline and Judith Stanley are both here on one of their periodic visits. I'll tell them about Mrs. Brook, and you may be sure they will do everything in their power to make her stay with us a pleasure.'

Lisala had only the sadly-worn clothes she stood up in; but the ladies of the family lent her garments that fitted her well enough for her to be presentable at dinner. The Earl was still in the country, but relatives, friends and hangers-on usually numbered from twelve to twenty at every meal. All of them proved most eager to hear about the royal family's flight from Portugal, and about Brazil; so Roger and Lisala were the centre of attention. But, pleading the fatigue they still felt from their journey, they escaped early to bed.

The following morning Roger went alone to Droopy's apartment, to breakfast with him. Over their mutton chops, washed down with good bordeaux, they discussed the future. Roger's intention was, as soon as practical, to take his bride to the
‘Grace and Favour' residence, Thatched House Lodge, in Richmond Park, of which Mr. Pitt had given him the tenure for life. But first Lisala had to be provided with an entire new wardrobe, and he wished to spend a couple of nights at Georgia's lovely old home, Stillwaters, in order to see his daughter.

Droopy assured him that Caroline and Judith would be delighted to take Lisala to the best mercers, modistes and milliners and would also introduce her to many of their friends, so she would have plenty to occupy her while Roger was out of London. Roger then said:

‘Tell me now, what has been happening in Europe? During my long absence I had little reliable news.'

Heavily buttering a muffin, his friend replied, ‘The war goes on, of course, but oh! how drearily. Since Billy Pitt's death, England seems to have lost all power of initiative. The so-called “Ministry of All the Talents” failed lamentably, both in its attempts to agree a peace and to prosecute the war. Since His Grace of Portland became Prime Minister, with Mr. Canning as his Foreign Secretary, we have had hopes that matters would improve. But, so far, the only notable success—of which you must have heard—was the seizing of the Danish Fleet at Copenhagen. The expedition to Egypt proved a fiasco. We took Alexandria but were defeated at Rosetta and, in September, had to evacuate our forces. Admiral Collingwood has, alas, become a tired old man. Although he had a fleet of some eighty ships in the Mediterranean, he failed to prevent the French from entering the Adriatic, revictualling Corfu and returning unmolested to Toulon. That apart, we continued to be mistress of the seas. Two sizable squadrons despatched by Bonaparte into the Atlantic to disrupt British commerce did us little damage, and have since become dispersed and impotent.

‘But Bonaparte now rules the roost unchallenged on the Continent, from the Baltic to the Mediterranean. His alliance with the Czar leaves him nothing to fear in the North. They treat their third partner, Prussia, with contempt and have despoiled her of half her territories. 'Tis said, too, that they plan to divide the Empire of the Great Turk between them. Meanwhile, Alexander's army has overrun Sweden's Finnish
lands and Napoleon bullies the states in the south into accepting his “Continental System”.

‘Portugal, Spain, Etruria and the States of the Church are now all occupied by his troops, and in January he even succeeded in coercing neutral Austria into closing her ports on the Adriatic to British shipping. His policy is inflicting the gravest hardship upon both his own people and all others who have submitted to his will. Our industrial revolution gave us a virtual monopoly in manufactured goods. Europe had become dependent on Lancashire cottons, and Yorkshire woollens. They are, too, starved of the many exotic goods brought by our merchant fleets from the Indies and the East. Sugar is now almost unobtainable on the Continent, and coffee is worth its weight in gold.'

‘It surprises me that supplies are as short as that,' Roger put in. ‘Although British bottoms carried to the Continent far more than those of any other nation, there remain the neutrals, particularly the United States. The merchants there must be making fortunes out of such a situation. Surely, too, neutral ships could be used to take in our manufactured goods?'

Droopy shook his head. ‘On the contrary. The Government is carrying out a counter-blockade. Our merchants are much opposed to it, because by using neutral ships they could continue to export their goods. But that has been forbidden, bringing trade almost to a standstill and threatening many merchants with bankruptcy. Neutral ships sailing from their own countries are also barred from entering Continental ports. You can well imagine the resentment that such a high-handed action by us has caused. We are already at war with half the world, and the other half would now like to see us speedily defeated.'

‘Then things are come to a sorry pass,' Roger commented, ‘and no-one seems the gainer. Smugglers excepted, of course. They must be reaping a golden harvest.'

‘They are indeed, for they no longer have to fear the Excise men on the other side, at least as far as Bonaparte's allies are concerned. In secret they defy his ordinances and welcome cargoes of illicit goods. Even the French themselves are prone to do so on occasion. Would you believe it, not long
since Bourrienne, who was once the Emperor's
Chef de Cabinet
, and is now his agent at Hamburg, was ordered to supply fifty thousand uniforms for the French troops up in Poland. At his wits' end where to find them, and not daring to disobey his master, he had the cloth for them smuggled over from England.'

Roger laughed. ‘Poor Bourrienne. I knew him well. He was a charming man and of the very highest intelligence. His only fault was that, having made a bad speculation, he recouped himself from the Public Funds. Although a thousand others were doing the same, Napoleon dismissed him for it; and, after years of invaluable service. Never did a master more surely cut off his nose to spite his face. But what of Spain? While waiting at an inn for the coach that brought us up from Portsmouth I heard two officers say that the French are having trouble there.'

‘So I heard in White's some days ago. The course events will take in Spain has been the main subject of speculation for the past two months. I think it as good as certain that Bonaparte intends to take the whole country over, just as he has Portugal. In mid-March Murat, or the “Grand Duke of Berg” as he is now styled, arrived in Madrid as Napoleon's Lieutenant-General. With him he brought a considerable body of French troops. The pretext for doing so was that they are to assist the Spaniards in resisting a British invasion. But obviously their presence was to enable Murat to coerce King Carlos into doing as Bonaparte wishes; so he might as well have named him Viceroy.'

‘Then, after all these years, the Prince of Peace has been forced into second place?'

‘Oh, Godoy! That wretched man now has no place at all. Within a day or two of Murat's arrival, the mob rose, sacked the Prince's palace and half-killed him. It was Ferdinand who brought about his downfall. For plotting against his father, the Heir Apparent had been under house arrest for some while. 'Tis said he learned that his parents contemplated following the Portuguese pattern of sailing for their territories in the Americas, and tipped off the French. To stop them,
Napoleon sent a fleet to blockade Cadiz, and gave Ferdinand his head. Having got Godoy out of the way, he forced his father to abdicate and had himself proclaimed King. Although the people acclaimed him with delight, Murat refused to acknowledge him; and, ten days later, King Carlos repudiated his abdication as having been forced upon him under duress. So now there are two Kings of Spain, but neither has the power to lift a finger without Murat's sanction. Realising this, the populace is showing intense resentment, and on May 2nd the Madrileños rose in revolt against him. He quelled the riot with much bloodshed. More than that is not yet known here.'

‘The Spaniards are a proud people,' Roger said thoughtfully; ‘and, if they get the bit between their teeth, Murat's position may become very difficult. I doubt, though, whether that could greatly influence the general situation.'

‘Nor I,' Droopy agreed. ‘Meanwhile the war drags on. Our people here are utterly weary of it and, short of surrender, would give anything for peace. But I see no hope of it.'

Three days later, early in the morning, Roger rode down to Richmond. At Thatched House Lodge he found the faithful Dan, who welcomed him with a shout of joy. His now ageing henchman had, as ever, proved a most conscientious steward. With the aid of a cleaning woman and a gardener, he had kept the place in excellent order. Roger told him of his marriage and, to the old ex-smuggler's delight, that having at last come home, he intended to take up permanent residence there.

Dan happened to know of a good woman, now seeking a place, who would prove an excellent cook-housekeeper and promised to engage within a week such other staff as would be required. Roger then spent an hour wandering round the house and garden. For him they held nostalgic memories of Amanda and the happy year they had spent there before sailing for the West Indies, where she had died giving birth to his daughter Susan. He then remounted his horse and rode on to Ripley.

The sight of Georgina's splendid home, looking out on its placid lake, from which the house had taken its name, Stillwaters,
evoked still more poignant memories of past joys. Yet he had no sooner entered the spacious hall than they were replaced by bleak depression. Nothing there had been altered: the same marble busts of long-dead Caesars still gazed sightless from their pedestals, the broad, grand staircase with its gilded iron balustrade rose gracefully to the floor above. But the place seemed eerily to have become peopled with unseen ghosts and had lost its soul.

Mrs. Marsham greeted him with pleasure, but said that Colonel Thursby, Georgina's father, who lived there for a good part of the year, was away in the North; which was a big disappointment to Roger. Susan then came in from the garden where she had been picking flowers. Shyly she accepted his kiss, then impulsively thrust the flowers at him. A little awkwardly, he accepted the gift, then gave her the big parcel of presents he had brought for her. Eagerly she undid the package and was soon exclaiming with delight at the lovely silks, costly knick-knacks and a string of small pearls suitable for a girl considerably older than herself.

As he watched her, he marvelled at the way in which she had grown. In spite of her puppy fat, she was already a young lady. She had her mother's auburn hair, and his bright blue eyes. Unquestionably, in a few years, she would be a beauty. He felt a surge of pride in the fact that she was his daughter.

Over the evening meal, for which, as a treat, she was allowed to stay up, he endeavoured to entertain her and her great-aunt with accounts of Turkey, Persia and Brazil; but it soon became clear to him that these distant places meant no more to them than voyages to the Moon. When she had gone to bed, Roger told Mrs. Marsham of his new marriage, and said that he had not brought his wife down because he had feared that to produce her without warning might upset Susan; but he would break the news to her the following morning.

Mrs. Marsham told him that she did not think it would make much impression on the girl, because she saw him so rarely. But she was troubled about the child, on account of a depression she had manifested since Georgina's departure. There could be no doubt that she was pining for her long
time playmate, the young Earl, and bitterly resented having been parted from him.

Of Georgina Mrs. Marsham had little news. Owing to the blockade, communications with the Continent were very difficult. Only two letters had got through. In them Georgina had described the castle on the Rhine in which she now lived, and said that she found the very limited society there somewhat boring but, apart from that, she gave the impression of being contented and happy.

Next morning, Roger told Susan that he had married a lovely Portuguese lady whom he would shortly bring down to see her. The girl took this news with indifference, merely remarking dutifully that she hoped they would be happy.

Roger had intended to stay two nights, but felt that he could not bear the dead atmosphere of the house for so long. He had known it filled with the cream of the fashionable world: statesmen, Ambassadors, beautiful and witty women. They had dined, gambled, flirted, conversed with knowledge on the problems of the day and, above all, there had been those many glorious nights of play and laughter in Georgina's great bed. At midday he said that urgent business required his presence in London and, heavy-hearted, rode away.

By then Lisala was beginning really to enjoy herself. With Roger's guineas and the aid of Caroline and Judith, she had purchased a fine array of furbelows. From new acquaintances, invitations were coming in to routs, balls and parties at Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens. The London season was at its height. Wherever she went, tribute was paid to her beauty. Very soon she became known as
La Belle Brasilienne
, and the most desirable men jostled one another to secure a dance with her.

After twelve days in London, Roger said to her one morning, ‘My beloved, I feel that we have accepted Lord Edward's hospitality for long enough. By now my house out at Richmond should be ready for us to occupy it. Within a day or two we'll go there and settle in.'

To his amazement, she shook her head and replied, ‘No. We cannot do that. We must return to Portugal.'

‘In God's name, why?' he demanded. ‘Are you not happy here?'

‘Yes. I find London far more agreeable than I had expected it to be.'

‘Then why this urge to leave it? From Richmond it is no long drive to the metropolis. We can continue to accept the invitations with which we are being showered and, at the same time, enjoy a home of our own.'