‘I have made no secret of my tender feelings for your daughter, Sir William,’ he said. ‘I have indeed come to ask for your permission for us to marry.’
Sir William waved him to a chair. ‘You have certainly been of much service to her, to us both, lately, and I am most grateful. But have you asked Mary this herself?’
‘I have,’ Sebastian said. ‘And she has agreed.’
‘As I am sure she would.’ Sir William reached for a small box on his desk and turned it over between his fingers, not quite looking at Sebastian. ‘I love my daughter very much. She is all I have left of her mother. I have long hoped she would find someone she loves and who loves her back as much as she deserves. Are you that man?’
Sebastian nodded. He knew that now he was able to, had to, reveal his heart, to the whole world and not just to Mary. Everyone had to know how wonderful she was. ‘I have known no true happiness, no true goodness, until I met Mary, Sir William. She is beautiful, of course, but also brave and honest. I know we will be able to work together for our family, for our country, and will love each other for the rest of our lives. I cannot do my work without her. And if you will give me the chance, I will prove to you how I can make her happy in return.’
Sir William slowly nodded. ‘I have hoped that she would find someone like you. It is hard for me to let her go, but I can do it if I know she will be loved.’
‘So she will be. Always.’
‘I can see now that you mean that. And that you are the man for her, in a way your late brother could never have been.’ Sir William opened the box and held it out to Sebastian.
Sebastian saw it was a miniature portrait, inlaid in a velvet lining. A woman with Mary’s fair oval face and glossy dark hair smiled up at him, but her eyes were brown. Next to the image was a ring, a ruby set in pearls. ‘That is Lady Manning?’
William smiled down at the painted image. ‘So it is. Mary is much like her, as I am sure you can see, and not just in her prettiness. Maria was also brave, sometimes to the point I feared for her safety, and she was loyal and good. I was lucky to have her for as long as I did and now I can give you the gift she left me—our daughter. Perhaps you would like to give Mary her mother’s ring as well? I know the Barretts must have jewels, but I know Maria would have liked that very much.’
Sebastian swallowed past the sudden knot in his throat. For so long in his life, he had longed for a family who would accept him and let him truly be a part of them, who he could work for and love. Had he now found that? He dared hope he had and it was yet another gift Mary had given him, just by being herself.
He felt like the most fortunate man in the world.
Sebastian reached for the ring and cradled it on his palm. It would indeed look lovely on Mary’s finger. ‘Thank you, Sir William. I know you are giving me the greatest gift ever and from the bottom of my heart I must thank you.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mary watched in the dressing table mirror as Adriana put the finishing touches on her coiffure, winding a wreath of white rosebuds through the elaborate curls to hold Mary’s mother’s lace mantilla in place.
‘You have quite outdone yourself, Adriana,’ Mary said with a happy laugh.
‘Of course, senhorita. It is your wedding day! And you are the loveliest bride.’
Her wedding day. Mary could not stop smiling at those wondrous words. It was the day she had once thought could never be—the day she married Sebastian.
Outside her window, the sun was high in the clear azure sky, and the squares and lanes of Rio were quiet. Doña Carlota, her latest scheme foiled, had retired to her new villa in the hills with some of her courtiers and Dom Joao spent his days in his library, politics finally settled for the moment. The dinners and teas in honour of Mary’s engagement had been nothing but merry. The only thing she did not like was that she and Sebastian had been too busy to do more than snatch a secret kiss or two.
And now the wedding was upon her and they would have long days just to themselves.
‘There, I am all finished, senhorita,’ Adriana said, affixing the last pearl-headed pin to Mary’s coiffure. ‘What do you think?’
Mary stood up to spin around before the mirror. Her gown, made by the same dressmaker who had created her masquerade costume, spun around her like a cloud, all pale-blue silk sewn with tiny pearls and crystals that sparkled in the light. Sebastian’s gift to her, a pearl necklace with a clasp of Brazilian diamonds, shimmered around her throat and her hair gleamed a glossy darkness under the lace of her veil. Adriana had truly wrought miracles of stylishness that day.
‘May I come in?’ Teresa called from the doorway. Mary spun to a stop to see her friend standing there, a bouquet of tropical orchids in her hands and a rather hesitant smile on her lips. They had renewed their friendship since Luis’s demise, but the traces of that terrible night still haunted Teresa’s smile. Her face was rather pale, her eyes shadowed, despite the loveliness of her new burgundy pelisse and bonnet, but Mary had hopes that soon her friend would see a wedding of her own. Nicholas Warren had escorted Teresa to many parties of late.
‘How lovely you look, Teresa,’ Mary cried, and hurried over to take her bouquet. ‘You will quite overshadow me.’
Teresa laughed. ‘No one could do that. Surely Rio has never seen such a beautiful bride!’
‘No, indeed,’ Mary’s father said as he hurried into the chamber, his watch in his hand as if he feared they would be late to the church. ‘My dearest Mary. You are the very image of your mother. You have her beautiful eyes and also her kind heart and loyal soul. How she would have loved to see you today! She would be so happy, as I am, that you have found a love like ours was.’
‘I wish she was here, as well.’ Mary feared she would start to cry at his words, but she made herself laugh instead. She kissed her father’s cheek, and took his outstretched hand. ‘Shall we go, then?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he answered. ‘Mustn’t keep the vicar waiting...’
* * *
The English church, low and stolid, built of grey stone on a hillside, was not as grand as the cathedral, but it was full with every Englishman in Rio as Sir William led Mary through the open doors and into the vestibule. Teresa straightened her lacy train before taking her place in the front pew beside Mr Warren. The organ swelled with a glorious processional and Mary’s hand tightened on her father’s sleeve as he led her on to the blue carpet of the aisle.
For an instant, she could not breathe with the wondrous dreamlike feeling of the moment. Light streamed through the red and blue of the stained-glass windows, and brilliant tropical flowers were banked along the walls, sending their sweet scent into the air. But Mary could see nothing but Sebastian, waiting for her at the altar.
He was surely the most handsome man in the world, she thought, in his fine blue coat and white-satin waistcoat, his smile brilliant as he watched her move slowly towards him. Against the expected ceremony, he met her halfway down the aisle, catching her free hand in his. ‘Mary,’ he whispered. ‘My Mary, at last...’
‘And my Sebastian,’ she answered.
He laughed, and kissed her again. ‘Always.’
Epilogue
The first Christmas of the Barrett family
‘Do you see it, Maria?’ Mary whispered. She gently waved the new crystal ornament, tied with a red bow for the baby’s first Christmas, and let it catch the rays of bright golden sunlight that danced around the edges of the terrace. She laughed in delight as Maria reached for it with her chubby, pink hand.
Mary kissed those tiny fingers, marvelling at their perfection. Maria laughed, kicking out her feet under the hem of her muslin gown. Behind them, through the tall open doors of the terrace, their villa’s drawing room was decorated with red, green and gold ribbons for the holiday, wound around gilt picture frames and brightening the pale
colours of paint and upholstery that kept the house so cool. Green wreaths made from palm leaves and tropical flowers hung over the doorways.
Like the improvised wreaths, that Christmas was unlike any Mary had ever known. Their new home, the low, white villa on the side of a hill where it could catch the sea breezes, was finally finished and her family living within its walls. Her father napped now in the shade, much more rested since Sebastian had inherited much of his work, and Maria’s nursery was filled with dolls and rocking horses and tiny tea sets for her first Christmas presents.
Only a week ago, Mary had gone on Sebastian’s arm to Teresa’s wedding to Nicholas Warren, in the same church where she herself had been married and Maria christened. Mary had never thought Brazil, so exotic, so beautiful, so different from London, could be a true home, but now it was. More than she ever could have imagined.
‘You know it is Christmas, don’t you, my darling?’ Mary whispered, swinging the crystal back and forth in front of her daughter’s gaze. The baby’s eyes were jewel-green, like her father’s, and a fluff of dark hair crowned her perfect head. Mary was sure she would grow up to be a great beauty, and a most determined one, who would firmly grasp whatever she wanted, just as she did now with her crystal.
‘It was only about a year ago that I found your father again—and realised how very wrong I had been about him,’ Mary said, thinking of how very much life had changed. ‘And now this year I have you and our new home. Christmas is a lovely time of year, no matter where we are!’
‘I agree to that, most assuredly,’ Sebastian said as he stepped on to the terrace. He still wore his riding boots, from the short journey from his work in Rio to their home. His new duties suited him, for he seemed most invigorated by their new life, just as Mary was. His skin glowed a pale gold from the touch of the sun and his hair was brighter than ever. But the best part was his smile, which was easier, wider, quicker than ever before. ‘There is no better day.’
Mary laughed and leaped up to kiss his cheek. He smelled of the flowery breeze outside, the warm sun, and he held her close. ‘You are home at last! We missed you.’
‘As I have you.’ He kissed her cheek, softly, a lingering touch, before he knelt down to reach for the baby’s hand. Her fingers curled tight around his as she laughed and cooed and kicked.
‘How are my ladies this lovely afternoon?’ he said. ‘I hope you haven’t started the holiday party without me.’
‘Never!’ Mary said. ‘We have only just finished our decorating, and came out here so Grandpapa could have a rest. He would never close his eyes if Maria was anywhere near! She wants her grandfather’s attention at all times, laughing and chattering away at him.’
‘Everyone must pay attention to our lovely miss whenever she calls for it, of course.’ Sebastian made a face at his daughter, who giggled and kicked even harder.
‘Teresa and Nicholas will arrive later and hopefully there will be a proper Christmas pudding for our dinner. The cook has been trying it for days.’
‘And of course there will be a good rum punch.’
Mary laughed as she remembered her chokingly strong drink from the royal picnic by the sea. ‘Maybe not quite so powerful. But we shall have a lovely holiday with our best friends and family around us.’
‘It will be the finest Christmas ever. You and Maria are the best gifts I could ever have wished for,’ Sebastian said. He swept her into his arms for a long, sweet kiss, even though there were no mistletoe boughs near. Even after months of marriage, his kiss thrilled her to her very toes, warmer even than the tropical sun.
She held him close as their baby gave a delighted coo. ‘Oh, my darling Sebastian. I am sure no one ever had a finer holiday gift than this one...’
* * * * *
Author Note
I don’t know about where you are, but here it has been a long, cold, grey winter—and I hate winter! So I was very happy to escape into writing Mary and Sebastian’s story in the warmth of Brazilian sun and beaches. Even though in 1808 it wasn’t exactly a beach as we think of it—with bikinis and drinks with tiny umbrellas—I was desperate enough to get out of the snow I would take any beach!
I had heard of the story about the flight of the Portuguese court from Lisbon to their colony in Brazil, but not really the details. Most of my previous research for the Napoleonic Wars centred on Spain and Waterloo. A few years ago, I came across Patrick Wilcken’s book Empire Adrift: The Portuguese Court in Rio de Janeiro, 1808-1821, in a second-hand bookshop, and started reading right there in the aisle. What a fascinating tale! On November the twenty-ninth, 1807, just days ahead of the Napoleonic Army under General Junot, almost fifteen thousand people—figures vary—sailed away from Lisbon harbour, under the protection of the British Navy, bound for Brazil, a land almost none of them had ever seen and which would prove to be a completely different world from wintertime Portugal. The royal court wouldn’t return to Lisbon until 1821.
It was a tumultuous, complicated story of the ‘Mad Queen’ Maria, her son, the Prince Regent Joao, and his Spanish wife, Doña Carlota—a cousin whom he’d married when she was ten years old: they proved to be a disastrous mismatch—British commercial relations with Portugal that needed to be preserved at all costs, a stormy, months-long voyage and a landing in a new, strange world. It was like reading an epic novel, but it was all real and I loved putting Mary and Sebastian right in the middle of it all!
If you’d like to know more about this period in history—and there is so much more to know!—these are some books I found very useful:
Patrick Wilcken, Empire Adrift: The Portuguese Court in Rio de Janeiro, 1808-1821 (2004)
Maria Graham, Journal of a Voyage to Brazil and Residence There, 1821-23 (1824)
Kirsten Schultz, Tropical Versailles: Empire, Monarchy, and the Portuguese Royal Court in Rio de Janeiro, 1808-1821 (2001)
Kenneth Light, The Saving of an Empire: The Journey of Portugal’s Court and Capital to Brazil, 1808 (2009)
Laurentino Gomes, 1808: The Flight of the Emperor (2007)
Sir Henry Chamberlain, Views and Costumes of the City and Neighbourhood of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, from Drawings taken by Lieutenant Chamberlain, Royal Artillery, During the Years of 1819 and 1820, with Descriptive Explanations (1822)
Marcus Cheke, Carlota Joaquina, Queen of Portugal (1947)
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ISBN-13: 9781460387726
The Demure Miss Manning
Copyright © 2015 by Ammanda McCabe
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How she would continue to obey his curt instructions without a quick rejoinder she simply didn’t know.
Squarely she placed her feet in front of her and crossed them at the ankle, wishing for something to lean against. Still, the chaise longue was softer than his armchair and she would allow no fault to be found with her posture.
“That will do.”
As he rested on his heels, her whole body stiffened under his scrutiny.
“You need to remain still,” he commanded her brusquely.
How could she be still with him staring at her? She dropped her shoulders and puffed out a slow breath.
“Now, turn to the right. No, not like that, turn some more.”
Harlequin Historical November 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 Page 37
