Marianna

by Nancy Buckingham

  ‘I am only too pleased to have been of service, Dona Catarina.’ Marianna seated herself on the needlepoint chair that Jacinto had drawn up for her. ‘You must rest assured that I shall continue to help in any way I can.’

  She was awarded a wan smile. ‘I trust you will not regret the offer, senhora. We shall be quite merciless in taking advantage of your kindness, shall we not, Joao?’

  He inclined his head. ‘I am hoping, my dear Catarina, that Dona Marianna will allow us to find a way of repaying her kindness.’

  ‘Yes, she must, indeed she must. Now then, you two run along and leave us to have a nice little chat. Tell Maria to bring in the tea things, if you please.’

  Lucia went to the door obediently. Jacinto took his wife’s hand and pressed it to his lips before turning to Marianna and bowing, his eyes impassive.

  When they were alone, Catarina said without preamble, ‘Joao has spoken to me of the possibility of investing money in your wine firm, senhora.’

  ‘Oh, it is early days yet. We have merely mentioned the possibility.’ Marianna picked at the stitching of her doeskin gloves. ‘Is it something you would perhaps not welcome, Dona Catarina?’

  ‘On the contrary! I would never dream of voicing an opinion to Joao, of course, but strictly between ourselves such a move would make me most happy.’

  ‘I don’t quite understand ...’

  Catarina weakly raised a hand. ‘For his sake, I mean. Poor Joao, he has had much to contend with on account of this wretched illness of mine. And somehow ... this may sound strange, but it has always seemed to me that my husband never really settled in Guiana. Sometimes I have seen him with such a faraway look in his eyes. He comes from Portugal, as perhaps you know, though he has no family left and no connections. It may be that here in Madeira he will find what he seeks in life.’

  ‘Has he said anything... ?’

  Catarina shook her head. ‘It is just a feeling I have that this beautiful island is somewhere Joao could settle happily when I am no longer with him. Oh, I see that out of kindness you try to contradict me, senhora, but it is useless to pretend otherwise. I am not long for this world. On my better days I dare to be optimistic, but I am under no real illusion.’

  A maidservant entered with a tray, and the two women were silent as she set out the tea things. When she had withdrawn, Catarina continued, ‘I should be content to die, you know, if I could think that my Joao would be happy. Guiana holds nothing for him now. He has worked miracles in keeping my father’s sugar plantation going against heavy odds, even making it profitable. But the days of the independent growers are numbered. Eventually he would be forced to join one of the combines, and that is not my husband’s way. Here in Madeira things are different.’ Her eyelids drooped for a moment, then wearily lifted again and she looked directly at Marianna. ‘So there it is, senhora. If Joao knew I was pleading on his behalf he would be angry. But I wanted you to know that I am praying - yes, praying - that his negotiations with you will be fruitful.’ She sank back, exhausted from so long a speech, and whispered, ‘I have to ask you to pour the tea, for I would never manage to lift that heavy pot.’

  ‘Of course!’ Marianna welcomed a few moments to collect her thoughts. Did Catarina know something about herself and Jacinto, had she guessed something? Surely not, she seemed so sincere. It was incredible to find that the pathway to their future meetings was being made so smooth and easy. She managed to find words to answer Catarina, convincing words because they were true — though the essential core of truth was omitted.

  ‘Some seventeen years ago when I returned as a widow from England to rebuild my father’s devastated wine shipping business here, I was in urgent need of capital. Now, I am thankful to say, the urgency has receded. However, that does not mean I no longer have loans outstanding, bank debts to be settled. If your husband wishes to invest with me, Dona Catarina, his money would be put to excellent use. There is room at the firm of Tobias Dalby for an energetic partner, for the business is capable of further expansion.’

  A brave smile curved the invalid’s lips. ‘I am glad of that. I feel it in my bones that the two people who are so dear to me will be happy in Madeira. As I lie here day by day at this window, gazing out at such tranquil beauty. I know that this is truly an enchanted island.’

  * * * *

  Even though, on the return journey to Funchal, Marianna had spotted a steamer with the Penfold Line blue funnel riding at anchor near the Loo Rock, it came as an unpleasant surprise to find Ralph at the house in Rua das Murças. He was sprawled in one of the easy chairs in her salon, talking to Dick, a glass of Malmsey in his hand. As she entered the room he rose lazily to his feet.

  ‘You look engagingly flushed, dear stepmama. With pleasure at seeing me, I trust?’

  At this Dick gave a smothered giggle which seemed to gratify Ralph. Marianna controlled her irritation and said, ‘I wasn’t expecting you, Ralph. You didn’t write to say you would be coming.’

  ‘No, well... it was a rather spur of the moment decision. I’m continuing on to the Cape in the Mercury. The way things are going, it looks as if we can count on a war with the Boers, and I want to make sure I get my full whack of whatever transportation is going to be needed.’

  She regarded Ralph with a distaste that she did not bother to conceal. He was still a handsome man, but too fleshy now, too florid — the marks of a dissipated life of wine, women and song.

  His marriage six or seven years ago to Sir Percival Rockingham’s daughter, Alicia, had been contracted, she surmised on the calculation that a liaison with the banking family would be no bad thing for the Penfold Line. As far as Ralph was concerned, love would not have entered into the matter.

  ‘How is your wife?’ she inquired.

  ‘So, so! She’s besotted with the two infants these days. She reminded me to send you her love, by the way.’

  ‘Thank you. Please convey mine to Alicia when you return.’

  Ralph swigged his wine. ‘Young Dick’s just been telling me about this fellow Carreiro from Guiana. I didn’t realize you were hard pressed for cash, Marianna.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘That’s a relief!’ He grinned, twirling his waxed moustache. ‘Because as a matter of fact, it’s money I want to talk to you about. The Penfold coffers are a bit low just at the moment, you know, and I was hoping you’d cough up something in advance on the next twelve months’ shipments.’

  Marianna gave him a disdainful glance. ‘Who would have expected the owner of the mighty Penfold Line to come cap in hand to small fry like me?’

  ‘Damn it, woman, I’m not cap in hand. I’m merely suggesting that my father’s widow could help me through an awkward spot. Best to keep these little problems in the family, don’t you know.’

  Her instinctive feeling of triumph at his financial embarrassment was overlaid by her desire not to antagonize Ralph while he was there. And on no account must she allow him and Jacinto to come face to face. She must send word at once to Monte for Jacinto to keep well away until she announced that it was safe.

  ‘I suppose I could manage a small advance,’ she said.

  ‘How about five hundred?’

  ‘Five hundred pounds? That’s a great deal of money — for me.’

  ‘You can afford it, old girl.’ Ralph thrust out his glass for Dick to refill. ‘D’you think this tame sugar planter of yours might be persuaded to come up with some shipping business? We call regularly at Georgetown ...’

  ‘No!’ she protested, far too vehemently.

  Ralph was amused. ‘Want to keep him all to yourself, eh? Perhaps it’s not just the fellow’s money that you’re interested in, what?’

  Dick’s dark look of anger was intended for her, but all the same he rushed to his mother’s defence.

  ‘Look here, Ralph,’ he stammered, ‘you shouldn’t make remarks like that.’

  Ralph did not immediately take the refilled glass from Dick, but reached up and ruffled the boy’s fair hair. �
��Only joking, young fellow-my-lad! No offence meant — and none taken, I’ll be bound. Isn’t that right, Marianna?’

  She managed a faint smile. ‘About the advance payment, Ralph. I’ll get Roderigo Gomez to arrange for a banker’s draft payable in London. Will that suit you?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better, old girl. Must say I’m gratified to find you so ready and willing to oblige. But then isn’t that what families are for?’

  Ralph stayed two nights at Rua das Murças, taking it as his privilege to do so. Marianna was in a fever for him to be gone. She wrote a short note to Jacinto — an innocuous note which could be read by anyone — to the effect that her stepson had come to Madeira so that her time would be fully engaged for the next day or so. However, she would look forward to seeing him again soon to discuss their mutual business interests.

  On the day Ralph departed for South Africa, an idea struck Marianna which left her breathless with excitement. She would invite Jacinto and his daughter to stay at the Quinta dos Alecrinis for a day or two. If Senhor Dom Joao Carreiro was contemplating an investment in her business, it would be only natural for him to expect to see her vineyard. And as for Lucia, she had shown interest in the wine lodge and could surely be expected to enjoy a short stay in the country to experience another side of Madeiran life. There would be no objection from Catarina, she felt sure.

  Jacinto came to see her immediately upon receiving the invitation. Old Roderigo ushered him into the office, fussed with wine and glasses, then shuffled out. Jacinto held the hand she extended to him, gazing at her, feasting his eyes, and Marianna knew that he was near to gathering her into an embrace.

  ‘No, it isn’t safe,’ she warned, breaking away from him and stepping back. ‘Someone might come in, or we might be observed through the window — men are constantly crossing the courtyard.’

  ‘It is very hard to be alone with you and not kiss you.’ He was silent, thoughtful, then asked, ‘Does Ralph Penfold visit here often?’

  ‘Twice a year, perhaps.’

  ‘Surely he would not recognize me after all this time? Remember that he only ever saw me through a telescope.’

  ‘The police issued a very complete description of you, Jacinto, which they obtained from your place of employment, and I am certain that it would be firmly fixed in Ralph’s mind. The scar at your temple alone might be sufficient for him to identify you. I agree it is not as visible now as it was when you were younger, but...’

  ‘Nobody here has shown any sign of recognizing me, apart from you and my own family. Ralph Penfold will have forgotten all about Jacinto Teixeiro by now.’

  ‘Never!’ she said forcefully. ‘Hatred can keep memory alive just as love can, Ralph and I make a pretence of cordiality, but be under no misapprehension — his is a cruel, vindictive man, and he would rejoice in the chance to bring destruction down upon the two of us.’

  ‘Sooner or later I shall have to meet him, though,’ Jacinto’s dark eyes were intent and searching. ‘It may seem somewhat callous to speak in this way with Catarina still living, but one day I shall be free and then we can at last come together, querida. God knows I do not wish my wife in her grave, but you have seen for yourself how ill she is. Is it so wrong that we should look ahead to the time when you and I can at last find the happiness we have been denied for so long?’

  Marianna had no answer to give him. Was it really possible that after all these years fate would be kind to them? She thrust from her mind the question of Ralph Penfold and the perpetual danger he would represent.

  ‘About the Quinta dos Alecrims,’ she said. ‘You will come, Jacinto?’

  ‘Yes, indeed we will.’

  As if more bait were needed to ensure that he would not change his mind, she said, ‘Your mother will have a chance to see her grand-daughter.’

  His eyes thanked her for creating the opportunity. ‘But Lucia must not know of the relationship,’ he warned anxiously.

  ‘Of course not, there will be no need for that. But it will bring your mother such pleasure.’ Marianna held back an impulse to recount with what loving tenderness Rosaria had held Dick in her arms as a baby. If Jacinto entertained no doubts that William Penfold was the father of her son, she must put none into his mind now.

  She said, ‘Your wife wants me to persuade you to invest money in Dalby Wines. She told me that she believes you could be happy settling in Madeira when ... when she is no longer here.’ Jacinto seemed surprised, and she added, ‘Catarina loves you very much, you know.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said slowly, ‘I have always been aware of that. I have tried to repay her love in every way that was open to me. But I was unable to give her my own love in return, for that belonged to you, Marianna.’

  She felt deeply moved. Not looking at Jacinto, she said, ‘It is strange — Catarina is your wife, my rival in a sense, yet I feel only warmth for her. I should like to be her friend for the short time she has left.’

  ‘She feels warmly for you too, querida. You must not think that we are cheating Catarina. I have performed my duty to her, the duty her father entrusted to me, and I will continue to do so until the end. I would never willingly do anything to hurt her. But beyond that, the love that you and I feel for one another is not to be denied.’

  The two of them were entrapped in a spell of silence in which the tiniest sounds seemed magnified a hundredfold. Their own rapid breathing, the ticking of the wall clock, old Roderigo beyond the door, grumbling to himself over his columns of figures; and outside in the courtyard, the sound of barrels being trundled across the cobbles and the distant chuck-chuck of an adze chipping oak in the cooper’s shop. It was a fragment of time which seemed to last an infinity. Then suddenly they came together, reaching for one another, clasping, clinging. As they kissed, the years between were swept away for Marianna. Her small, shadowed office seemed all at once filled with radiance, and the pain in her heart was the pain of ecstasy.

  Chapter 16

  The visit to the quinta was arranged at short notice on the pretext that Lucia and her father would thereby see the tail-end of the vintage, the fifth and final picking over of the vines.

  In the week before the appointed day, Marianna saw Jacinto three times. Once alone, when he came to her office ostensibly for a business discussion (an unhappy occasion when they were both too much on edge to be natural with each other), and twice with the two young people.

  The four of them made an excursion on horseback to Camacha to see the basketworkers. Marianna herself purchased a long wicker chair and arranged for it to be delivered to the quinta at Monte, thinking that on the warmest days Catarina might care to sit out in the open air in the fragrant shade of the folhado tree. Dick bought two identical straw boaters and presented one to Lucia with a low bow, suggesting that she remove her bonnet and put it on to match his. She blushed prettily as she did so, and looked, Marianna thought, endearingly young.

  The day fixed for their second outing, this time to the Curral das Freiras deep in the mountains, was by no means so promising, the loftiest peaks being quite obscured by cloud. But arrangements had been made to meet Jacinto and Lucia on the road, so it was not easy to make a last-minute change of plan. She and Dick had hired saddle horses for the day from the livery stables in the Rua do Bispo, and the burriqueiro accompanying them assured Marianna with an energetic nodding of his head that all the clouds would clear away and it would be much beautiful.

  Jacinto and his daughter were first at the rendezvous, a little wayside shrine beyond the church of Santo Antonio.

  ‘We are promised an improvement in the weather,’ Marianna called apologetically.

  ‘I do not mind. Dona Marianna, even if there is not,’ said Lucia. ‘This is quite an adventure in the mist. Everything looks so mysterious.’

  As they continued, the hedges of fuchsia and wild rose gave way to groves of chestnut and laurel, and then to a region of heath and bilberry. They climbed ever higher on the tortuous, boulder-strewn road through the mountain pas
ses, and Lucia kept exclaiming at the wild savage grandeur of it all; so different, she said, from anything she had seen in Guiana. At one point where their way was hardly more than a narrow shelf cut into a vertical wall of rock, overhung with ferns and mosses, Marianna was forced to close her eyes and put her faith in her horse and the burriqueiro clinging to its tail. But Lucia seemed as fearless as her father had always been, and was clearly loving every minute.

  Dick, following just behind her, said boastfully, ‘This is nothing special, Lucia. I’ll show you a levada path near the Quinta dos Alecrirns that’ll make your hair stand on end.’

  ‘Oh no you won’t, young man,’ Marianna called back over her shoulder. ‘These sheer drops make me giddy, and I’m used to them.’

  ‘But I’d never put Lucia to any risk,’ he scoffed. ‘As if I would.’

  When at last they reached the viewing point to the Curral at Eira do Serrado, they were hemmed in on every side by dense, blanketing cloud. There was nothing whatever to be seen, and Marianna felt a bitter disappointment. Then in one of Madeira’s sudden miracles, the clouds began to roll away and within moments they were afforded a breathtaking view into the mighty chasm of the extinct volcano. All around them the mountain walls rose in rugged masses and jagged crags, terraced for cultivation on every ledge wherever it was possible for a man to climb. And two thousand feet below them lay the sunlit village, with its tiny straw-thatched houses and the little church in its midst.

  Looking down, Marianna felt a wave of dizziness; the rustic barrier seemed far too flimsy so she stepped back from the edge.

  ‘Why is it called the Nun’s Fold?’ asked Lucia, craning her neck eagerly.

  ‘Because,’ said Dick, ‘it’s where the Sisters from the Convent of Santa Clara in Funchal took refuge three hundred years ago, when some French privateers landed and went on the rampage.’