The woman approached the grating revealing a worn face with a sweet, sad expression. Her long dark hair was streaked with grey and our heroine could see that her form was thin and malnourished. Laurencia explained that she was the niece and ward of the marquis. The woman looked startled.
‘I am Eleanor, the wife of the marquis; he has told the world that I died. I have been locked in here for two years and I wish only to die.’ The prisoner grasped the bars of the grating and began to sob.
‘Why has he done this terrible deed?’ gasped Laurencia.
‘Because I have not given him a son. He plans to wed a young girl who will give him ~~hair~~ an heir. He cannot bring himself to kill me so he condemns me to a long, lingering death from malnourishment and ill treatment!’
Laurencia’s blood froze in her veins as she listened to this terrible tale. She began to realise why the marquis had made her his ward and appeared so fond of her. He planned an unholy alliance with her! This vision filled her with dread and nausea!
‘You must leave this place,’ the woman whispered urgently. ‘Someone will come soon. His trusted servant brings me scraps of food.’ She flitted away, wraith-like and resumed her seat, head bowed.
As she groped her way back through the darkness Laurencia vowed to help the unfortunate woman if she could. Was not her own position perilous enough? When she reached the safety of her own chamber, she looked out of the window and saw the marquis riding out to hunt. She was free again for a few hours.
Lunch was eaten in the vast dining hall at an enormous table, where she sat with only Mademoiselle Serafina for company. The woman questioned her closely.
‘Where have you been? I have not seen you all morning,’ suspicion laced her clipped tones. Laurencia answered that she had been reading in a corner of the library. Serafina looked unconvinced and Laurencia escaped back to her room as soon as possible. As soon as Serafina’s door closed our heroine slipped quietly out of the castle and made her way to the stables. She had always loved horses. When her father was alive they rode together in the forest near their home every day.
She slipped into the stables inhaling the equine odours and the perfume of hay. The horses were out for the hunt. Only a mare and her foal remained behind. Laurencia buried her face in the mare’s warm coat and wept. She wept for her dead parents, her lost home, for the poor woman in her desolate prison and for her own future which appeared bleaker than ever.
‘Don’t cry!’ A voice spoke softly behind her and a hand was placed on her shoulder. She started and turned to see a handsome youth of her own age whom she supposed was the stable boy. He invited her to sit with him on a nearby hay bale. He told her that his name was Ferdinand.
Laurencia poured out her woes, unable to stop. The youth’s face was so kind and gentle in its expression and his manner was both respectful yet protective…
I found that I was weeping softly over the pages as I wrote, dear reader.
After I had poured out my tale of woe, I was greatly comforted by Ferdinand’s compassionate looks. His dark eyes glowed with true feeling as he recounted his own history. I had already ascertained that Ferdinand’s refined manners and address indicated that he was no peasant lad assigned to look after the horses.
‘I am the son of Count Belladon,’ he told me. ‘The marquis killed my elder brother in a duel and my father died soon after, of grief. My mother had died when I was a small child. I am glad that she did not live to see the destruction of our house.’ He grew silent for a moment, overcome with emotion.
‘The marquis appropriated our lands and castle saying that, as a distant relative, he was acting as my guardian. I was sixteen years old and I knew he would kill me if he could. I escaped from the castle with the help of a loyal servant and I lived in the forest for many months – in a charcoal burner’s hut. But I knew I would have to return here if I wanted to avenge my family.’
I regarded him with amazement. ‘You have entered the lion’s den! Are you not afraid of being recognised?’ He laughed bitterly, ‘I no longer look like a nobleman’s son. I am a rough peasant, a stable lad. People see what they expect to see and the marquis does not expect to see his enemy’s son in the stables.’
After this exchange of sad tales we sat in companionable silence for a while. The realisation that I had finally found a friend and confidante lifted my spirits from the slough of despond into which they had sunk. How would we achieve our aims… revenge, escape from the castle for a poor woman – and for me? These questions were insuperable.
My spirits began to sink again and at that moment I heard the shrill tones of Mademoiselle Serafina calling my name. ‘She is my enemy!’ I gasped. ‘She is in league with the marquis.’ Ferdinand took my hand and raised it to his lips in a courtly gesture. My heart gave a little leap as I gazed into his beautiful dark eyes. ‘Try to return here tonight when the castle sleeps. We must devise a scheme to help you and the marquis’ wife.’ I nodded and slipped out of the stables to be confronted by my nemesis.
‘What were you doing in there?’ she barked, eyeing me in a hostile manner.
‘I have been walking for exercise and I slipped in to the stables to pet the mare and her new foal.’ She brushed me aside and peered into the stables. Seeing no one she seized my arm roughly and hurried me away. I was not to walk in the grounds alone, ‘for your own safety,’ she added with an unpleasant smile.
Soon after we returned to the castle I heard the sounds of the marquis and his entourage returning. A message was sent to me requesting my presence at dinner that evening… Mademoiselle Serafina came to my door to ensure that I kept this appointment. I had no appetite either for food or the company of my guardian. All my thoughts were of Ferdinand.
As the dishes were uncovered at the table steam rose from the haunch of venison brought back from the hunt. I remembered the imprisoned lady surviving on bread and water and scraps. Her fate was a terrible one. It would have been kinder to kill her outright than to bury her alive. When had she last seen the sun or breathed the summer air? Birds were singing in the garden and late evening sunlight was slanting through the windows of the great hall.
Would I suffer a similar fate if I refused the marquis’ demands? Such a thought destroyed my appetite. As I pushed food around on my plate, the marquis frowned and asked if the meal displeased me. He threw off his fur-trimmed, velvet cape and leaned towards me. His eyes were like a cat’s or a lion’s eyes, pitiless and glinting!
‘I hope you are not unwell, Laurencia. You have not eaten.’ I replied that I had little appetite. Unable to meet his eyes, I mumbled into my uneaten dish of venison, convinced that the marquis would guess that I knew his secrets. I could not keep a tremble from my voice. Absurd! He was the guilty one, yet he revelled in his evil deeds.
He leaned across the table and seized my hand, squeezing it hard. I could scarcely refrain from crying out! ‘I have a surprise for you, my dear.’ He signalled to a servant who came forward bearing a gown of rich blue velvet and white silk, lavishly trimmed with silver lace. It was more luxurious than anything in my closet. I saw the Serafina woman’s lips tighten in annoyance and envy.
‘We must improve your wardrobe, as befits your status,’ the villainous man said. ‘We have guests tonight at dinner and you will do me honour.’ He smiled the smile of a predator and released my hand. I stammered my thanks. My guardian did nothing by chance. All his actions were carefully planned to further his ends.
If the gown was meant to display me to advantage to his guests, then my plight was grim indeed. Would he announce his intention to take me as his betrothed? My body turned to ice at the very thought.
At this point I shed a few tears over my heroine’s plight – and my own.
I called Adelaide and read the entire piece to her, hoping for a good opinion. She was engrossed by the tale, although I had to explain what a slough of despond might be.
‘Is it in Kent?’ she asked, ‘or somewhere near Venice? It’s that marshy in those areas.’ In the circum
stances it seemed pointless to ask her if she knew the correct spelling of ‘insuperable’.
When Laurencia returned to her room she found the gown laid out on her bed, together with silver embroidered velvet slippers. With a muffled cry of despair, she flung herself down by the bed and wept piteously. The anguish of her heart was only relieved by a sudden vision of Ferdinand and the tenderness she had glimpsed in his dark eyes.
Gradually she collected herself and began to consider how she might escape from the room to keep her rendezvous with him. But before that longed-for meeting, she must face the ordeal of dinner with the marquis and his guests.
Adelaide interrupted at this point to approve the description of the gown. She thought that Laurencia should have shown more pleasure in receiving it.
‘But it has been given to her by an evil man who has designs upon her person,’ I explained. Adelaide’s expression implied that women have to take the rough with the smooth. I have lately realised the truth of that.
Chapter 13
The following day, Adelaide persuaded me to take a short walk ‘for your health, madam.’ She had returned in one piece from her rendezvous with the first officer and, no doubt, wished to talk about it. Clinging to her arm, I walked with some difficulty over the large, uneven cobblestones laid by slaves almost two hundred years ago. As we walked, I noticed again the curious masonic symbols on the houses and I wondered if the brotherhood really was still powerful in the town.
‘They practice foul rites in the catacombs’ – that was said unjustly of the early Christians. False rumours are easily spread and I doubted that the Masons indulged in such things; was not Papa one of their number in England? I could not imagine him agreeing to anything untoward, although the Brazilian version might be very different.
I was still pondering on my possible fate, dear reader, and what if anything I might do to save myself. I am sure that when these journals are read by posterity (all the best journals are intended for publication), my readers will appreciate my predicament. Perhaps Adelaide had good news for me, but then I remembered Lafitte’s cold eyes and the piratical lust for treasure. Lafitte was no gentleman despite his dandified clothes. I had spied dirt under his fingernails – always a sign of lack of moral fibre and good breeding, according to Papa.
One of the slaves has told Eufrasia that the pirates have returned from the beach having unearthed nothing more than a few rusty muskets. Lafitte is on board his ship no doubt plotting his next move. Will I have to sacrifice my jewels after all? Da Silva said he could not remember where he had buried them, adding hastily that he was speaking in jest. Confound all men! I must rest my swollen feet – soon.
‘Do you have anything to tell me?’ I asked Adelaide. She eyed me anxiously; ‘You might offer the captain your jewels in return for a safe passage to Rio, madam.’
‘My jewels!’ I squealed, ‘my future… how can I part with them? You are mad, Adelaide, to suggest such a thing.’ My maid looked gloomy, saying, ‘That depends on how much you value your freedom, madam – and mine. We are the only Europeans here, after all.’ I pointed out that the Portuguese were Europeans too, but she declared that they ‘don’t count because they live here, and it’s all their fault.’ Her logic was somewhat twisted but I could not disagree. Our position is entirely due to Dom Pedro and the court officials.
She caught my arm as I almost tripped and led me back to the house where I was once more installed on the veranda. I gave my maid permission to wander off again to gather information. Eufrasia brought my tea and watched Adelaide depart with a disdainful expression.
‘That one no good for work,’ she opined in her cracked English. I gave her a reproachful look and reminded her that my maid was a personal servant and companion. Eufrasia was not abashed; she is remarkably unsubdued for a slave. She pointed to her nose and said, ‘slaves hear much – no person see them.’ She meant of course that no white person pays any attention to a slave. Although her English is not good she hears and sees a great deal. I had no doubt that she was fully aware of our situation. Da Silva wandered in and saluted me in a morose manner.
‘It is too quiet, Dona Lydia; it was all very well when those villains were digging up the beach but what are they plotting now? Lafitte will become desperate, and who knows what will happen?’ He gave one of his eloquent shrugs that are worth a dozen sentences.
‘I have sent Adelaide out again to see what is happening,’ I told him.
He shrugged again. ‘What is there to know? They have drunk the taverns dry and paid very little. The townspeople do not venture out after sunset, except for the waterside riffraff.’
‘And the count… what is he doing about this situation?’
Da Silva gave a derisory laugh. ‘Good taste prevents me from giving a lady my true opinion of the count. Sufficient to say he will do as little as possible. That is the Portuguese way.’
I shook my head in disbelief. ‘They will not allow a pirate from North America to invade their territory, surely? Such a thing is unthinkable.’
Da Silva appeared not to have heard me.
‘And then there is the problem of the slaves. All this excitement will give them ideas. I trust no one. I have been too long in this country.’ His words filled me with such alarm that I wished only to retreat into my Romance, but I must remember that I am British. I must do something.
‘I shall visit the count,’ I told him, trying to sound resolute. ‘I must ascertain his plans for us.’ Da Silva looked doubtful but went to assemble the guards to escort me. When I told the household of my intentions, reactions varied. Dona Serafina appeared relieved. She would not doubt the word of a Portuguese nobleman. Of course, she is unlikely to be in danger. I cannot imagine the pirates having any use for her.
I felt at a distinct disadvantage being carried over the cobbles in a litter by several perspiring soldiers. The count’s wife would not receive me, naturally, but His Excellency admitted me to his library and listened courteously and with obvious disbelief to my story.
‘How can I convince you, my lord, that Captain Lafitte intends to carry me off and hold me to ransom?’ The count smiled and made a dismissive gesture.
‘What would be the point, senhora? He is holding the whole town to ransom but he will not wait for Dom Pedro’s money which will arrive with a squadron of soldiers. He will take what he can from us and be gone. The longer he waits, the more dangerous his position becomes.’
I could not believe what I was hearing. ‘The captain can slip anchor and be away within the hour, taking me with him. He has no fear of soldiers. It would be a small matter to seize me and overpower my guards.’ A small pang of guilt for da Silva attacked me at this point.
‘You told me, my lord, that the soldiers you sent for would come from Ouro Preto, not from the sea.’
The count mopped his brow. ‘We cannot hope for salvation by sea. There is not enough time. Never fear, senhora. There are enough soldiers here in Paraty to keep you safe.’ I doubted that. I could not see the count loaning his own guards to protect me. I tried another approach.
‘Lafitte has a great advantage, does he not? His guns are trained on the town. He could blow us all to kingdom come.’ I had great difficulty in translating this last phrase. My Portuguese was cracking under the strain. I wished myself at home with a cup of herbal tea.
The count appeared to understand me but he still disagreed, attributing my ‘fancies’ to my delicate condition. Men can be so irritating. I allowed myself to be conveyed back to the house after enquiring after the health of the countess, the lady who was responsible for the entire female population ostracising me.
As I prepared to leave the count handed me a letter which he said was an invitation from a certain Dom Luiz dos Carvalhões to stay at the Fazenda Muricama, an estate in the countryside outside the town. Seeing my look of astonishment (I am not familiar with the gentleman), the count assured me that it would be a wise step to take. I thanked him again and left.
Wh
en I returned to the house Adelaide had returned. She told me that, ‘Lafitte won’t kidnap you until after the baby is born, madam. It would be too much trouble for him. He wants to wait and see…’ Her voice trailed away as she realised what she had implied. Everyone will be waiting to see if my baby survives – and the fate of his mother.
The possibility of dying in childbirth is a terrifying one. I recalled mama’s vivid descriptions of her tribulations in birthing five daughters. How could I have been so unfortunate? I became so overwrought that Eufrasia produced a charm used by her people as protection in childbirth. Tears poured down my cheeks as I accepted it. I did not wish to know what was in the tiny bundle attached to a string, but would it be effective for an Englishwoman? I am not an African tribeswoman. When I recollected myself, I returned to my Romance…
It took all her courage to advance along that black void, but after a few minutes of walking she felt the ground rise as if going uphill. The tunnel widened out into a large chamber lit by flares in large sconces on the walls. Her amazement at this sight quickly turned to fear as she realised that a human agent must be at work nearby.
To her horror she heard footsteps approaching. As she stood rigid with fear holding the candle aloft, she was astonished and overjoyed to see Ferdinand enter the chamber from another tunnel entrance. He greeted her joyfully, but Laurencia was so overcome after her ordeal that she sank to the ground in a swoon, allowing her candle to roll away. Ferdinand hastened to raise her up and she found that she was clinging to him and weeping softly. He released her gently and explained how he came to be in the tunnel.
‘There is a ruined chapel not two miles from here. I found the entrance to the tunnel there and followed it knowing it would lead to the castle.’
‘I entered from my own chamber,’ Laurencia replied. ‘I found the hidden door, but I am afraid that my absence will be discovered if that woman Serafina comes to check on me.’ Ferdinand reassured her that it was unlikely to happen. ‘She will not imagine that you can escape from a locked chamber, so why will she check? Come; we must find some other windings from this tunnel. Perhaps one of them will lead to the imprisoned lady.’
The Bad Miss Bennet Abroad Page 8
