In the Brazilian's Debt

by Susan Stephens

  There had been one small miracle, she conceded, turning the horsehair friendship bracelet on her wrist. She’d found it when she’d been foraging in the attic for Christmas decorations. Chico had made it for her. She should throw it away, but as she turned it round and round she remembered that he’d painstakingly woven it for her so she would never forget him. ‘As if,’ she murmured, huffing a rueful smile.

  Shaking her head with regret at the way things had turned out, she slipped the bracelet into the pocket of her jeans, intending to throw it in the bin when she got downstairs. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a knock at the door.

  Her heart soared and plummeted in the same instant. When was she going to realise that Chico was in Brazil, and that he had no intention of travelling to Scotland?

  Annie answered the door, and when Annie started giving orders in a confident voice as if she knew their visitors Lizzie took that as her cue to go downstairs.

  She was just in time to witness a second miracle as a tall Scots pine was delivered. The ghillies from the estate were busy erecting it in the hall. It touched her to think they had remembered, where her grandmother had always put her Christmas tree. ‘We’ll hang the lights for you,’ one of the ghillies said, beaming smiles at Lizzie as she continued on downstairs.

  ‘And decorations,’ Annie reminded them. ‘And then I’ll give you a nice cup of tea, and a piece of my freshly baked cake–with your permission, Miss Lizzie.’

  ‘Of course.’ Lizzie couldn’t stop smiling at the thought that she would soon come to believe in miracles at this rate.

  Keep that thought, she reflected tensely as someone else knocked at the door.

  But it was the local farmer delivering a turkey, a ham, and a tray of eggs.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t pay you,’ Lizzie admitted with embarrassment.

  ‘Please don’t insult me,’ the farmer insisted in a kindly way. ‘This is my Christmas gift to you and to everyone who works here.’

  ‘I hope you’ll join us here to celebrate my grandmother’s life after we say goodbye?’

  ‘We’ll never say goodbye to your grandmother while you’re here, Miss Lizzie,’ he said gruffly, and while Lizzie was still taking this in, Annie remembered something that could turn out to be the biggest miracle of all.

  ‘Did Hamish tell you about the new ponies, Lizzie?’

  Lizzie frowned. ‘No. What new ponies?’

  ‘Your grandmother called in a favour from a friend of hers who owns a stud. She wanted it to be a surprise for you. Hamish is looking after them in the far field. Well out of the way,’ Annie added with a suspiciously innocent look.

  ‘No wonder I haven’t seen them,’ Lizzie said with a smile. Her mind exploded with possibilities. Maybe Rottingdean could survive after all. The ponies were a last gift from her grandmother, and a lasting gift at that, if she could find some way to keep them.

  ‘Chin up, Miss Lizzie,’ the farmer said on his way out of the door.

  Her chin was definitely up, Lizzie concluded. How could it not be with such an abundance of miracles?

  The generosity of everyone in the village was the best tribute her grandmother could have, Lizzie thought as gifts kept arriving. The baker’s boy carried in a tray loaded with more bread and cake than an army could eat, and finally the florist called round with several buckets of flowers. ‘Left over from my big Christmas order,’ she explained. ‘They’ll only die if you don’t take them.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure?’ They looked very fresh to Lizzie.

  ‘I’m sure,’ the smiling older woman insisted. ‘Your grandmother was a good friend to me.’

  And that wasn’t the end of it, and one of the most appreciated deliveries was a cartload of logs from the rangers in the forest. ‘Shame to let them go to waste,’ the head ranger told Lizzie as he supervised the unloading. ‘A big place like this takes some heating, I imagine.’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ Lizzie confirmed, feeling for the first time that she had the same bond that her grandmother had shared with these good people. If they all pulled together, who knew what they could achieve?

  ‘Your grandmother was much loved,’ Annie confirmed. ‘She did so many little acts of kindness that people want to repay her now.’

  This was borne out by a steady stream of tradespeople who continued on throughout that day, carrying an assortment of produce through to the kitchen.

  ‘It’s such a shame that the house might not even be here next year,’ Annie commented as they shut the front door on what surely had to be the last delivery.

  ‘Might not be here?’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If the estate has to be sold, there’s a rumour that a developer has his eye on it, for a shopping mall and a housing estate.’

  ‘This developer would knock Rottingdean down?’ Lizzie exclaimed in horror.

  ‘It seems your grandmother never got round to having the house put on the protected list of historic buildings,’ Annie explained. ‘Apparently, it just slipped through the net, and then she was ill—and, well, I should have said something.’

  ‘It’s no one’s fault, Annie,’ Lizzie soothed, sensing Annie was becoming agitated. ‘But there’s nothing to stop me doing something about it now. If some developer thinks he can get away with this, he’s going to rue the day. I’ll keep him tied up in court until—’Until what? Until she won the lottery she had never once played?

  Lizzie sighed with frustration, knowing her words were nothing more than empty threats. She didn’t have enough money for the bus into town, let alone for lawyers’ fees. But she had to do something. She had to give these people who relied on the estate for their living something to look forward to.

  ‘I’m going to fight this, Annie. Everyone’s rallying round, so let’s not give up just yet.’

  ‘I believe in you, Lizzie,’ Annie said firmly. ‘I think it’s going to be a happy Christmas, after all. Oh—and there’s another knock at the door. I wonder who it is this time...’

  Lizzie’s thoughts were racing. Her heart was thundering too. If only she’d found some sort of closure with Chico maybe she could stop thinking it was him every time.

  ‘Surprise!’

  Lizzie gasped with amazement as her father and Serena pushed Annie out of the way as they entered the hall.

  * * *

  He cursed violently as if that could make the plane fly faster. At long last, he was in the air, and with any luck he’d make the funeral. He had to pay his respects. It was a mark of honour, and crucial to him. He’d brought Maria with him. She’d wanted to come once she’d heard his story, saying she felt that she and Lizzie’s grandmother were like sisters in arms.

  Whatever Lizzie thought of him, her grandmother had meant a lot to him, and with Eduardo dead, and now Lizzie’s grandmother passing, it was like the end of an era, and the end of an era meant evaluating everything that had gone before. What mattered now was what happened next, as far as he was concerned, and the only thing he could be certain of was that he and Lizzie had unfinished business to sort out.

  * * *

  Just when everything seemed to be going right! She knew she shouldn’t have believed in miracles. There always had to be a counterbalance for anything good, her father had used to say, but Serena and her father in league with each other? Seriously? Only one thing could have united them, and that was the scent of money—which hardly augured well for the future of the estate.

  Lizzie wasn’t sure of her legal rights when it came to protecting her late grandmother’s property, but she felt defensive as her parents strolled around, picking and touching and lifting and showing. It was up to her to protect what was left. To underline her growing concern, she could see the neck of a bottle of her father’s favourite type of Scotch peeping out of the pocket of his overcoat.

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nbsp; ‘Come in,’ she said, though her parents were already well and truly in. ‘Welcome,’ she added faintly.

  Her parents ignored her. Serena clearly didn’t want to waste time chatting, as she was already taking stock.

  ‘Isn’t that a Stubbs?’ Serena said as she eyed the gilt-framed painting of a horse. ‘And this one? Isn’t this a Van Dyck?’

  ‘In the style of,’ Lizzie’s father said, still without acknowledging Lizzie’s presence. ‘Even so, it’s worth something. We need to get these out of here right away.’

  ‘Now just a minute—’ Lizzie hurried across the hall as her father reached up an unsteady hand in an attempt to dislodge the valuable painting from its hook. ‘All this is in the hands of the administrator. We can’t take anything down. It would be stealing.’

  ‘From ourselves?’ Serena flashed, turning on Lizzie with an imperious stare. ‘Don’t get in our way,’ her mother warned. ‘We know what we’re doing. And we can do it faster without your interference.’

  Lizzie glanced at Annie, whose normally rosy face had turned ashen. Serena had always bullied Annie, but Lizzie was determined to protect the loyal housekeeper from any potential unpleasantness.

  ‘You wouldn’t be stealing from yourselves,’ she explained patiently, standing in front of Annie like a shield. ‘Everything will have to be sold to satisfy the creditors. The administrator will decide if we can take any personal objects, and until that decision is made I think we should leave everything as it is.’

  ‘These are all my personal objects,’ her father informed her, gesturing around expansively, staggering as he did so.

  ‘Of course they are, darling,’ Serena cooed at Lizzie’s father. ‘You grew up with them.’

  Darling? Serena had definitely put her father up to this.

  ‘And you can stay out of it,’ Serena sneered as Lizzie crossed the hall to see what Serena was putting into her pocket. Seeing it was one of the valuable antique paperweights had grandmother had used to collect when times were better, Lizzie pulled it out of her mother’s pocket and returned it to the shelf.

  Grabbing hold of Lizzie’s shoulder, Serena shoved her roughly out of the way. ‘No one’s going to stop us taking what’s rightfully ours,’ she exclaimed angrily.

  ‘And that’s where you’re wrong.’

  They all turned to face the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘CHICO!’ LIZZIE’S BREATH left her lungs in a rush.

  ‘I might have known I’d find you here, Serena...Reginald,’ he said quietly.

  The menace in his voice made her shiver, so goodness knew how her parents felt, Lizzie thought as Chico unwound the scarf from his neck and shut the door. He didn’t need to shout as they did to establish command, because Chico had a quiet strength that didn’t call for the posturing of her parents.

  ‘You’re getting careless,’ he observed, trapping them in his unwavering stare. ‘You should have remembered to close the door when you came in, but I imagine you were in too much of a hurry to plunder the house.’

  ‘Get out!’ Serena shrieked, cowering behind Lizzie’s father, who was swaying alarmingly now.

  ‘I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave. But as we’re all gathered here in one place I think this is the ideal moment to air some long-held grievances, and pick out the truth from the lies.’

  ‘You’re the liar,’ Serena flared self-righteously.

  ‘I haven’t said a word yet,’ Chico pointed out. ‘But that’s you being true to type, isn’t it, Serena? I’m guilty of all charges, regardless of whether I even know about the crime. What was it I was supposed to have done to you, Serena? I think we could all do with reminding about that, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m surprised you dare to ask such a question in front of my daughter. Come here, Lizzie. Come to Mummy. I’ll protect you.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Lizzie exclaimed, hardly daring to look at Chico in case his feelings didn’t match her own. She had no intention of looking to her parents for support. It was too late for that. ‘I prefer to make up my mind free of bias, if you don’t mind, Serena. As I was little more than a child at the time, and mostly ignored, I’m interested to hear what you all have to say.’

  As Serena stripped off her fur coat Chico realised that Lizzie’s mother was dressed for seduction in a low-cut dress that skimmed her skinny figure like a second skin. He almost laughed out loud. Never waste an opportunity. That was Serena’s motto. Who knew what opportunity the funeral might throw up? she must have thought. He was careful to keep his distance from the woman, though now she’d got used to him being here, Serena had left the shelter of her husband’s swaying body to prowl around Chico. She made his hair stand on end—and not in a good way. He thought about tossing her in the lake to cool her ardour, but with all the jewellery she was wearing she’d probably sink.

  To his surprise, it was Reginald who spoke first. Drawing himself up, Lord Fane said slowly and with considerable deliberation, ‘You don’t belong here, boy. This is a time of family grief, and if you had any decency at all you would realise that and leave.’

  ‘So, you’re not here to strip the place bare?’ Chico enquired mildly.

  Serena erupted. ‘How dare you?’ she flared. Coming to stand in front of him, she lowered her head like an angry bull. ‘You’re just an urchin from the slums.’

  He almost laughed. He certainly had no answer to Serena’s accusation. Firstly, he was hardly an urchin as he towered over everyone in the hall—and though he would never have mentioned it, he could buy and sell Rottingdean ten times over out of his petty cash.

  ‘Isn’t it rather vulgar to discuss class at a time like this?’ he murmured, fixing Serena in his mocking stare.

  ‘It’s never the wrong time to discuss class,’ Serena assured him, drawing herself up. ‘I see you don’t deny the charge?’

  ‘Why should I deny the charge, as you call it, when I’m proud of where I come from? My goal has never been to deny my background, but to build on what I’ve learned from it, so I can help others in the future.’

  ‘Like you tried to help me?’ Serena demanded, her voice turning weepy now she had realised that her bullying tactics wouldn’t work on him.

  ‘Since you mention it, yes, I did talk to you to begin with,’ he admitted. ‘I even sympathised with your so-called plight, until I realised what you were really like, and what you were after.’

  ‘What I was after?’ Serena demanded haughtily. ‘Would you care to explain that?’ She glanced at Lizzie, perhaps thinking he wouldn’t sink to discussing sex in front of her daughter.

  And she was right. Chico’s attention was wholly focused on Lizzie now. ‘Your mother kept those letters from you, because she felt bitter towards me for not falling for her as she expected me to. I needed you to speak up for me, Lizzie.’

  ‘And I would have done,’ she said fiercely, holding his stare for the longest time.

  ‘I never replied, because I never got the letters, because you kept them from me,’ she accused her mother.

  ‘I was protecting you, darling,’ Serena insisted.

  ‘From this terrible man?’ Lizzie gazed at him, with a plea for forgiveness in her eyes.

  Her parents, on the other hand, couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, he noticed. It was hardly surprising, when they had been well and truly brought to book.

  ‘You were trying to lure me into your vile world, Serena, and when I refused to have anything to do with you, you made false accusations against me.’

  As Lizzie’s mother drew her head back in a mockery of surprise he thought Serena had lost her way. She should have been on the stage.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she protested, clutching her chest as if she were about to faint.

  ‘Serena!’ Lizzie’s father exclaimed.
‘There’s no point in lying about it now. We just need him out of here, and if an apology is all that’s required, then please do it.’

  ‘Please, just do it,’ Lizzie added quietly, as if she couldn’t wait for this to be over and for her parents to leave.

  Her father beamed at her, no doubt thinking Lizzie had returned to the fold, but Chico knew that Lizzie just wanted to have a life free from their deceit.

  ‘Very well, I lied,’ Serena exclaimed angrily, as if everyone else in the room were to blame except for her. ‘Someone had to answer for all the gossip in the village, and it wasn’t going to be me.’

  ‘So I was your scapegoat?’ Chico suggested mildly.

  ‘Why not you?’ Serena demanded.

  ‘So, to recap,’ he said, gazing at Lizzie as he spoke to Serena. ‘I never touched you—I never forced myself on you—I never joined in your games?’

  ‘As if I’d have let you,’ Serena sneered. ‘A boy from the slums? Are you mad?’

  ‘Mad? No,’ he assured Lizzie’s mother. ‘Though you didn’t seem to be quite so fussy at the time.’

  ‘You were young and ripe,’ she said carelessly.

  Even Reginald had the good grace to look shocked.

  ‘I can see now that I had nothing else to offer you but my youth,’ he agreed.

  ‘Then, or now,’ Serena stated haughtily. ‘So, if you don’t mind, now that you’ve got all that out of your system, I’d like you to leave.’

  ‘You’d like me to leave?’ He glanced at Lizzie, who had gone pale, but who was standing her ground. Learning about the fate of his letters must have been a shock for her, though he guessed that this further proof of her parents’ abominable behaviour hadn’t helped, and he was keen to redress the balance for her.

  ‘What would you like me to do, Lizzie?’