Evil in a Mask (52 page)

‘Maybe. But by the time we can get to Lisbon, news of my father's death will have reached there. As his heir, I must claim my inheritance.'

Roger was momentarily shocked by her callousness. Then he said, ‘That is unnecessary. I have money enough to support us both.'

She shrugged. ‘A few thousand guineas perhaps. But no great fortune. Unfortunately, Papa took with him to Brazil the family jewels. So those are lost to me, at least for some time to come. I have a craving for rubies, emeralds, diamond and pearl necklaces to adorn my person; and those you cannot afford to buy. So to Portugal we must go, in order to claim my inheritance before those filthy French get their hands on the de Pombal properties, declaring that they have gone by default.'

In vain Roger argued with her, urging that it was far from easy now to get to Portugal. But she swept aside his protests, asserting that there were smugglers who would run them over, and that if he did not love her enough to go with her, she would go alone.

During the day Roger gave the matter much thought. To allow Lisala to make such a voyage unaccompanied was out of the question; so his problem was how most speedily and safely he could convey her there.

Eventually he decided to seek an interview with Mr. Canning. As a pretext, he could say he had recently returned from Brazil, so could furnish an account of the state of things in that country. Accordingly, he wrote to the Foreign Secretary.

Two days later. Canning welcomed him as an old friend, recalling the evenings when they had shared the exhilarating
company of Billy Pitt and thanked him for his communication from Vienna. For some ten minutes Roger spoke of the hideous voyage endured by the exiles, the miserable conditions in Rio, and the potential natural wealth of Brazil. Then he mentioned that, before leaving Lisbon, he had spent a week in Madrid.

Immediately the Minister displayed greater interest, and asked his impressions of the leading men there. Roger gave him such information as he could, then Canning said:

‘Spain has now become our principal preoccupation. Having in the past been our most successful secret agent and attached to Bonaparte's staff, you will doubtless know that he has long had designs on the Peninsula and postponed them only while having to deal with Prussia and Russia.

‘His pact with the Czar at Tilsit freed him to turn his gaze south; and he has played his cards there with his usual unscrupulous cunning. By tempting Godoy with a Kingdom in southern Portugal, he induced him to use Spanish troops to help subdue that country. As France's ally, he then requested King Carlos to send a considerable contingent of Spaniards to assist in garrisoning Hanover; and that moron of a King did as he was asked.

‘Thus Spain was denuded of her best regiments and, theoretically, vulnerable to invasion by us. On that pretext, Bonaparte infiltrated many thousands of his own troops into the Peninsula and by guile, or forged documents, they have since gained possession of all the principal fortresses, including Pamplona, San Sebastian, Figueras and Barcelona. With these in, his hands, twenty thousand troops in Portugal, forty thousand in northern Spain and another twelve thousand in Catalonia, he has Spain by the throat.

‘When that dawned on the slow-witted King, he decided to seek safety in his American dominions. But by then it was too late. His son, that unsavoury young Prince Ferdinand, prevented his departure and forced him to abdicate. Bonaparte played with Ferdinand for a while, persuading him that he intended to support his claim to the throne, then sent General Savory to lure him to Bayonne. There he was confronted by his parents and Godoy who, after being half-killed
by the mob and spending a month in prison, had been released at the order of the French. My intelligence sources report that most terrible scenes ensued. But, of course, Bonaparte had the last word. With Godoy, he drew up a Convention, by which King Carlos and Prince Ferdinand surrendered their claims to the Spanish throne.'

Roger nodded. ‘So there is now no King of Spain; but Godoy gets his Kingdom of the Algarve after all.'

‘By no means. He, too, becomes a permanent exile, and Bonaparte has come out in his true colours. He does not intend to partition Portugal, but keep it for himself.'

Canning took a pinch of snuff, then went on, ‘But Spain has now become our major concern. The Spanish people took great umbrage some while since at a proposal by Bonaparte that Spain should be deprived of the Balearic Isles, so that he could give them in exchange for Sicily. His treatment of the Spanish royal family has further incensed them, and to such a degree that on May 2nd there were bloody riots in Madrid. Now, I gather, the whole country is seething with hatred of the French. Having told you all this, I should like to have your opinion. Do you think there is any chance at all of the people rising
en masse
and driving the French out of Spain?'

‘ 'Tis hard to say, Sir,' Roger replied. ‘I took a poor view of the nobility that I met when in Madrid; but the people are tough, courageous and deeply religious. If their priests inflamed them further against their oppressors, they might succeed in forcing the French to retire into their fortresses. But Napoleon would still hold Spain, unless … yes, unless we could send an expeditionary force with ample artillery to support the insurgents.'

‘Ah!' exclaimed Canning. ‘That is the very thing I have in mind. But we dare not take such a risk unless we have sound reason to believe that the Spanish people will fully commit themselves. And now a thought has come to me. I am, of course, aware that, since the death of our dear friend, Billy, disgusted with the Government that succeeded him you refused to accept further missions abroad. Would you consider re-entering the Service as my special agent? Having been a member of Bonaparte's
staff, you are in a unique position to find out how the French view their chances of holding down a widespread rebellion. Such knowledge would be invaluable to me. Will you go to Spain on my behalf?'

After hesitating for a moment, Roger smiled and said, ‘It so happens that I came here today to ask if you would aid me to get to Lisbon. I recently married the daughter of the late Marquis de Pombal. She has inherited a great property there, and is anxious to go to Lisbon so that she can claim it. Knowing that British ships of war are constantly patrolling the coast of Portugal, it occurred to me that you might be good enough to secure for my wife and me a passage in one, and enable us to be put ashore on a dark night in some secluded bay.'

‘My congratulations, Mr. Brook. I shall be happy to arrange matters as you wish. May I take it you will then go on for me to Madrid?'

‘I thank you, Sir. But to proceed to Madrid may not be necessary. Do you know who now commands in Lisbon?'

‘Yes, General Junot. At least, he did so up until a week ago; and, as he has occupied that post ever since the Braganzas fled, there is little likelihood of his having been superseded.'

‘Excellent!' Roger smiled again. ‘He is one of my oldest friends, and it is certain that he will be well informed about how matters are shaping in Spain. If the frigate that lands us can return after a week or so, and send in a boat, I'd be able to transmit to you by her a sound appreciation of the situation.'

‘An admirable idea. That could save us weeks in learning what our prospects are should we send an army into the Peninsula.'

They parted most cordially, Canning having promised to let Roger know when a frigate was sailing to relieve another in the fleet that was blockading Portugal.

Two days elapsed; then, late at night on May 25th, a note arrived for Roger from Canning, to let him know that
Gadfly
, a sloop-of-war which was lying off Greenwich, would be sailing the following noon with despatches for the Admiral commanding the British squadron blockading Lisbon; and that her Captain had been given orders respecting Mr. and Mrs. Brook.

Next morning Lisala threw one of her fits of temper when Roger told her that she must leave behind all the pretty clothes she had bought, because they were to make a secret landing, so could take only what they could carry. To his insistence she had to give way and, when they went downstairs, her face had its usual angelic expression.

Droopy conveyed them down to Greenwich in his coach; Caroline and Judith came too, to see them off. The ladies exchanged tearful farewells and the Brooks went aboard
Gadfly
, to be received by a young Lieutenant named Higgins. He apologised for the narrowness of the quarters in the sloop, but gallantly gave up his own cabin to them. It was a sunny afternoon when they dropped down the Thames and the weather proved clement for the remainder of their voyage. On the night of May 30th, he put them ashore in a small cove some ten miles north of Lisbon.

Roger would have preferred to face the long walk to the city, rather than risk giving themselves away by seeking transport; but Lisala would not hear of it, and showed at her best in dealing with the situation. She knocked up the people at the nearest farmhouse, boldly told them who she was and, without giving any explanation of their presence in such a lonely spot in the middle of the night, demanded to be driven into Lisbon.

The Portuguese peasants being accustomed to obeying orders from the nobility without question, the farmer harnessed two mules to his wagon, put some bundles of straw in it for them to sit on, and they set off.

As they entered the city, the early summer dawn was breaking. Already they had planned what they intended to do. Having been twice to the de Pombal mansion as an Englishman,
Roger feared that, if a pro-French servant recognised him, that might cause him considerable inconvenience. So Lisala was to leave him near the
Leão d'ouro
, and proceed to her home on her own. Then, later in the day, he would get in touch with her.

At the inn the servants were just starting the daily round. Roger sent one of them to rouse the landlord, who came downstairs in a chamber robe and night-cap. On seeing Roger, he exclaimed:

‘
Senhor
Brook! Where have you been all this time? You disappeared without giving me a word of notice. But no matter. By returning to Lisbon you have run your head into a hornets' nest. If the accursed French learn of your presence here, it will be the worse for you.'

Roger laughed. ‘Don't worry. I can take care of myself. But what of my baggage? Is it still here, or have you disposed of it as payment for what I owe you?'

‘No,
Senhor
. Expecting you would return in a week or so, I had your things put up in the attic. Then, to tell the truth, I forgot all about them.'

‘Praise be for that! Please give me a room, have them brought down to it, and hot water sent up so that I may bathe myself.'

An hour later, Roger came downstairs. He had shaved off his side-whiskers and was dressed in the resplendent uniform of a French Staff Colonel, that he had had made for him in Madrid.

At the sight of this metamorphosis the landlord's eyes opened wide. Roger quickly put a finger to his lips and said in a low voice, ‘I had this uniform made secretly when I was here last November, intending to don it when the French arrived and to pass myself off as one of them. Most unfortunately, I was aboard a ship when the tempest arose and was carried off to Brazil. I am only just returned but, I trust, not too late to be of service to my country in this guise.'

The landlord began to laugh until his big paunch wobbled. Bending towards Roger, he whispered huskily, ‘Be easy,
Senhor
.
No one here will say a word of this. And may God prosper your activities against the accursed French.'

After giving the man several pieces of gold to settle what he owed, Roger sat down to a hearty breakfast; then returned to his room and slept for a few hours.

At four o'clock he ordered a carriage and now, as a high-ranking officer of the occupying Power with nothing to fear, he had himself driven out to the de Pombal mansion.

While discussing with Lisala his reappearance in Lisbon they had been faced with the fact that, on seeing him again, most of the de Pombal servants would recognise him as Mr. Brook; but there were others who had accompanied the Marquis to Persia, so if Roger arrived clean shaven and wearing French uniform, they would tell their companions that he was the
Chevalier de Breuc
who had paid court to Lisala in Isfahan.

He therefore presented himself in this role and said to the footman who opened the door to him: ‘There is a rumour in the city that the
Senhorita
de Pombal has returned home. If that is so, I should much like to pay my respects to her, as I made her acquaintance while she was in Persia.'

A major-domo showed Roger up to the big salon and left him there for a short while, then returned to usher in Lisala. With apparent surprise and evident delight, she greeted Roger, exclaiming how pleased she was to see him again after many months.

No sooner had the servant left the room than they burst into laughter and embraced. Then Roger said, ‘All has gone well, my love. The landlord at the
Leão d'ouro
now believes me to be an English spy, and can be relied on to keep his mouth shut. Now that we are established in the eyes of your servants as old friends, they will feel no surprise if I visit you here frequently. In the meantime, you must see your attorney and urge him speedily to make good your title to your inheritance. I will see General Junot and, if any difficulties arise, seek his influence to brush them aside. And, now, fatigued by your night's adventure, you must to bed, lest the roses in your lovely cheeks become faded.'

Roger marched out of the house as he had entered it—a master in yet another land which had become subject to his all-powerful Emperor. That evening he went to the Palace which Junot had taken over, and sent up his name. The Duc d'Abrantes had him brought up, flung his arms round him, kissed him on both cheeks and cried: