‘Yes.’ She could not blame him for reminding her of how he had saved her life. ‘You’re right. I was in despair.’ How long ago it seemed, that moonlight night, and how extraordinarily childish her behaviour. ‘It’s true,’ she went on. ‘I owe you a great deal, Mr. Varlow. But for you, I might be dead.’
‘I doubt that. I think, even if I had not been there, you’d have thought twice about that river. You’re no coward.’
‘But I am. Don’t you see? That’s just it. I’m terrified of going down that stair alone. And the full moon’s two days off.’ It was an extraordinary relief to have said it.
‘Of course you’re afraid.’ His answer surprised her. ‘You’d be a fool not to be. Frankly, I’m relieved that you are. Because I’m afraid for you. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.’
‘That would be the greatest comfort to me, of course.’
‘Miss Brett!’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Your man’s coming back. Try to understand … to see that I had no alternative. It’s not just Portugal that’s at stake, remember, it’s England too. If Portugal falls to the French, how long do you think England can stand alone? Imagine if Napoleon had the Tagus to collect his armada in as the Spaniards did. That’s what we’re fighting for, you and I, the safety of England. Be afraid, you’ve every right to be, and I hope it will be your best protection, but for God’s sake, and England’s, don’t fail us.’
‘But how do I know you won’t fail me? Suppose the government falls, now Fox is dead?’
‘I’ll suppose no such thing. The Tories are in even worse case than the Whigs. But surely you did not seriously believe that I would leave you without a word and go off with St. Vincent?’
She was ashamed now. ‘I was afraid of it. I’ve been so lonely. It’s hard to think straight.’
‘I know. The loneliness is the worst of all.’ It was what she had thought herself. ‘I promise myself, sometimes,’ he went on, ‘that when this job is done, I’ll retire, go into Parliament perhaps, live like other people.’
‘You mean, you feel it too?’
‘Of course. I’ve not been able to talk freely, not even to my sister, since I started this work. Oh, she knows that I am a Government agent of some kind. She thinks I have something to do with trade. It makes her very angry when I have to behave so unpredictably, and I don’t blame her, but I can’t explain. And, even out here: Strangford’s technically my superior, but I can’t talk to him. He’s charming, of course, but the less he knows, the better.’
‘You mean even he doesn’t know—’ Iago was very near now.
‘No. He just thinks me remarkably well informed. You’re the only one’ – he raised his voice, and filled it with passion – ‘whose opinion I care for. Miss Brett, I beg of you: have some pity on me and say you won’t go back to England.’
‘I’ll think it over.’ But they both knew she had yielded.
Chapter Eleven
They found Roberto at the castle, and Juana had a moment of near-panic. If Pedro had objected to her merely talking to Gair at Strangford’s party, what would Roberto do when he found him riding with her?
But he greeted them as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘I came to break it to you, Juana, that St. Vincent has gone, but I find that Mr. Varlow has been before me. I’m not the only one, it seems, who is ready to get himself muddy for your sake.’
Could he actually approve of Gair’s apparent courtship? ‘You’re both in a great hurry to bring me bad news,’ she said. ‘I was telling Mr. Varlow that I saw St. Vincent’s ships go. It made me so homesick I was tempted to book a passage on the next packet.’
‘You’ve changed your mind, I hope.’
‘Oh yes. Mr. Varlow persuaded me that Portugal can’t do without me.’
‘I don’t like it.’ Gair was as surprised as she when Roberto made a pretext to leave them alone together out on the seaward terrace with the castle walls looming above them, and the roar of the Atlantic below. ‘It’s not natural,’ he went on. ‘He should be furious that I am paying court to you.’
‘Yes, it’s true. I expected trouble when I saw him, and now look at us!’
‘Exactly. It’s unnatural, and, in my trade, one must learn that what is unnatural is almost always dangerous.’
‘Our trade,’ she said. ‘Still, while it lasts, we had better make the most of it. I have been wanting to ask you what I should do if I ever need to get in touch with you urgently.’
‘Ah.’ He was pleased with her. ‘That’s why I persuaded Lord Strangford to be impressed by your uncle’s translations of Camoens, which, between ourselves, are worth a special place in the Dunciad. If you ever need me in a hurry, send a messenger to Lord Strangford, asking for your transcriptions back. It doesn’t matter what pretext you give, just ask for them. I will come at once.’
‘If you can.’
‘Miss Brett you must trust me. I involved you in this. I will take care of you.’ He took her hand, and her heart gave a great infuriating jump. ‘There’s someone watching us from the castle,’ he explained, ‘from the right-hand turret. We’ve been talking altogether too seriously.’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with passion, turning a little so as to get his back to the castle. ‘There’s no one deaf in your household is there?’
‘Deaf? No, I don’t think so.’ She sounded as surprised as she felt.
‘They might be able to read our lips,’ he explained. ‘We’d best assume they can. Turn sideways a little and they won’t be able to see.’
‘But that’s my window. In the right-hand turret?’ She did as she was told. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure. But of course it may be entirely innocent. Your maid, perhaps?’
‘Maria? It’s siesta. I’m sure she’s fast asleep in her own quarters.’
‘Probably. But her husband’s one of them.’
‘Tomas! How do you know?’
‘We know quite a few of the lower members. I won’t tell you how. The less you know, the safer you will be. Could you pick me a bunch of flowers, do you think?’
‘Flowers? Here?’ On this high terrace, exposed to wind and salt from the furious Atlantic below, there was nothing but a few blasted looking aloes and a forlorn row of geraniums in pots sheltered by the containing wall.
He laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not much of a conspirator after all. But, think, what would you be doing if I was really courting you?’
‘Making a fool of myself!’ And then, changing her tone. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Varlow. I’m afraid I must be a disappointment to you, but you must remember that I’ve hardly had your experience in this kind of affair.’
‘It’s I who should be sorry. But here comes your cousin.’
She thought it a relief to him and was hardly surprised.
Roberto had come to say goodbye and ask if Gair was riding to Lisbon. ‘We could ride together as far as Queluz. Company will make the road seem shorter.’
Gair accepted with enthusiasm finely modulating into regret at leaving Juana. The whole performance irritated her enough so that she could take the parting with equanimity. Only after the two of them had ridden out the castle gate and down the long slope of the hill did she face the certainty that Gair would not be back before the night of the meeting. There were so many things she should have asked him, and one that she should have told him. Tomas was a member of the Sons of the Star, he had said. And Tomas had been with her when she was attacked. What did it mean? Or did it mean anything? She was angry with herself now for having wasted their time together. She would not let it happen again. Or would she? Had he not, perhaps, been parrying her questions, avoiding the discussion she wanted? For fear she would lose her nerve again? Very likely, and not cheering.
Mrs. Brett sent for her next day for the first time since Lord Strangford’s party. ‘She’s a little better,’ said Manuela. ‘But weak still. You won’t let her tire herself will you? She insists on seeing you alone. She won’t even have us
in the antechamber.’
‘I’ll try not to tire her. But it’s hard …’
‘She tires herself.’ Estella was waiting for them in the anteroom. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do to stop her. But she’ll make herself worse if she doesn’t see you, menina.’
‘She’s really ill?’ Here was a new and terrifying thought. Had she let herself believe too easily in Elvira’s theory of a selfish old woman caring for no one but herself?
‘We thought she was dying,’ said Manuela.
‘Only she wouldn’t,’ said Estella.
‘We wanted to send for the doctor,’ said Manuela.
‘And the priest.’
‘But she lost her temper and called us a couple of meddling old busybodies.’
‘So then we thought she would probably live.’
‘You will see for yourself,’ concluded Manuela, opening the door of the inner room.
Juana did see. Her grandmother seemed to have aged ten years since the day of the party. If she had seemed withered before, now she was desiccated, ready to blow away, down into the darkness. Only her eyes still glittered with intelligence in the wreck of her face. ‘Those two have been frightening you, child. Don’t let them. I won’t fail you. I’m stronger than they think. But, before we talk, make sure the anteroom is empty, and leave the door open.’
‘Oh, grandmother, I’m sorry.’ It was an apology for her own suspicions. How could she have let Elvira convince her so easily? Guiltily, she almost felt as if it was her fault that Mrs. Brett had been ill, as if she had ill-wished her. But that was to think like Iago. Was there something about Portugal that made one superstitious?
‘Don’t be sorry. It’s a waste of time. Unless you are sorry that I have to go on living. It’s no pleasure. But I mean to, so long as I must. Those old women out there wanted to send for the doctor, who’d probably have bled and killed me, and the priest, who’d have made all right with extreme unction. I’m not ready for that yet. There’s too much to think about. We have to decide what you’re to do if I die. I wish I could have seen Mr. Varlow yesterday, but it would have seemed too odd. Specially with Roberto here. What did he want, by the way?’
‘I don’t know. Mr. Varlow said he didn’t like it. He was so friendly. You remember what Pedro was like at the party?’
‘Yes. That is odd. They’ve always hunted in couples, those two. Don’t trust them, Juana.’
‘Who can I trust?’
‘Me. Your Cousin Vasco, of course. Gair Varlow. Yourself. Maria, I think, in small matters, but remember that her husband—’ She was tiring, and paused here for breath.
‘Is one of them. Mr. Varlow told me.’
‘yes. Tomas – and who else here in the castle? You’d think it would be’ easy enough to find out, but I never have. Someone, I’m sure.’ She pulled herself up among her pillows. ‘I’ve sent for my lawyer from Lisbon; Senhor Gonçalves. He’s coming tomorrow. I’ve no choice now. I’ll have to leave the castle to you. They won’t like it, the rest of them, but I can’t help that.’
‘Grandmother, no!’
‘But I must. Don’t you see? If I should die – I don’t mean to, but if I should—’ She was looking past Juana, as if she could see death in the corner of the room, waiting – ‘You’ve got to be able to carry on. I shall say, in my will, that as my heir you are to move into my room. It would seem so odd otherwise, and of course you’ll have to, because of the stair. You won’t fail me, Juana; not now? You’ve been wishing you were back in England haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Useless to prevaricate.
‘Well then, think. At least, now, there is England to be homesick for. I don’t know what it means to you? Freedom, perhaps? Being able to say what you think, wherever you are? It’s true, you know: even for us Catholics. No looking over one’s shoulder there. We’re working for a great future, you and I, for England and Portugal, free and friends as never before. For all the little freedoms of living … For them, surely, no sacrifice is too great. And, after all, inheriting a castle is not such a sacrifice.’
‘But it’s not fair to Pedro and Roberto.’
‘I can’t help that. When did they ever think of anything but themselves? You could marry one of them, if you really feel badly about it.’
‘Never! Besides they wouldn’t have me.’
‘Not even for the castle?’ Juana had a curious feeling that the old woman was pleased with her answer. ‘Well, it’s their loss.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No compliment, child. I meant the castle, not you. As to marrying: I doubt if they will. Poor things, they try so hard to be good Portuguese, but when it comes to the women! I’ve seen their faces. They’re ambitious, Juana, your cousins, but they’re not stupid. It would be a mistake to think that. But they have neither of them ever cared a rap for me. Or for the castle. You at least had the grace to be homesick for it, when you were in England. And to come when I sent for you. I don’t see why you shouldn’t have it. Frankly, I’m beyond caring much. It will be a relief to have it settled. When I am dead, it will be your problem. Best tell Mr. Varlow you’re an heiress, hadn’t you?’
‘No!’ Intolerable to think that if Gair Varlow knew he might well start pretending his pretence courtship was real. ‘Promise me, ma’am, that you won’t tell him. If you don’t promise, I won’t go on.’
‘Very well. I won’t tell him. Oddly enough, I still believe in love matches. And Gair Varlow’s not the man for one of those. Nor the man for you. Use him, child, as he uses you, but don’t hope for more. Unless you’re prepared to take second best; to let him marry you for the castle – which I rather think he would, don’t you? – and hope that love would come later?’
‘I’d rather die.’
‘No need for melodrama. We’ve enough of that as it is. The moon is full tomorrow. Sit down quietly there, by the bed, Juana, and tell me, in order, everything you must do.’
Senhor Gonçalves, the lawyer, arrived from Lisbon next day, a neat man in dusty black with a huge bag and an expression of perpetual disapproval. This was more pronounced than ever when he joined the family after his long session with Mrs. Brett, and Juana thought he had a very sharp look for her when he was introduced. No doubt he disapproved intensely of Mrs. Brett’s new will. She hardly blamed him. She did not like it herself.
He had no intention of being questioned about what he had been doing, but drank his glass of wine and talked about the news from France and the prospects of the grape harvest, then rose firmly to take his leave.
‘Can I persuade you to take the Guincho road, senhor?’ Prospero, too, had risen. ‘I promised I’d take advantage of the full moon to visit friends there this evening.’
But Gonçalves pleaded business in Sintra and left alone, followed by Prospero: ‘I’ll be late back, don’t wait up for me.’
Miguel withdrew to his own rooms immediately after supper, explaining that he had urgent business to attend to in connection with his Little Brothers of St. Antony. Elvira burst into rhymed couplets and followed him. Watching her go, Juana thought how odd it was that they should separate thus on this night of all nights. Was Miguel really writing letters in his room? And Prospero supping with friends in Guincho? And where was Father Ignatius, who had not appeared all day? Were they all, secretly, separately or together, dressing in the black robes of the Sons of the Star, ready to go out, when the house was quiet, down by some secret way to the Council Chamber? The great gate of the castle was closed and locked at night, but she could remember from her childhood that there had been two or three ways at least that a determined person could climb in and out. And yet it was fantastically hard to imagine either her uncles or the priest doing so. Very likely it was all coincidence, all imagination …
The session with the lawyer must have been an exhausting one. Juana found Mrs. Brett looking so worn out, so drained of strength that she forgot her own terror in concern for her, and dressed as fast as she could in the new black dress with its all conce
aling hood and deep pockets. But when it came to the fastenings, her shaking hands failed her.
‘Come here, child.’ Her grandmother had noticed. ‘I’ll do it. There; now the hood, the key in your pocket, and you’re ready. But it’s early yet. Sit down, for a while, and rest.’
‘No.’ Juana bent to kiss the withered cheek, and felt it cold with exhaustion. She must let the old lady rest. ‘I think I’ll go now, ma’am. I’d rather feel I have all the time in the world and need not hurry down those steps.’
‘Sensible.’ Mrs. Brett was at once approving and relieved. ‘Good luck, Juana. I wish I could come with you.’ She was hardly capable of walking across the room. ‘But thank God I don’t have to.’ She sank back among her pillows and was already breathing heavily toward sleep as Juana felt for the secret panel at the back of the cupboard.
Why did the knowledge that her grandmother was already asleep make the dark journey down the winding stair seem so much worse? After all, waking or sleeping, she could not help Juana once the secret door was shut behind her. Feeling for the candle and tinder-box, Juana fought panic for a few endless moments in the darkness. What was to stop her going back through the doorway, back from this dank darkness to warmth, and light, and the familiar, reassuring scent of burnt lavender?
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