The Abyss

by Lara Blunte

  Clara's eyes opened. "But I have just woken up!"

  Teté was pulling her arm, "You are too tired from the trip!"

  The girl kept pulling and Clara stood up. She wanted to protest and say that she needed to go downstairs, or out, but Teté took her back to the bedroom and sat down on the chaise longue and patted the place next to her.

  "You need a cafuné!" Teté said.

  "A cafuné?" Clara asked, sitting down.

  Teté patted her own lap, and Clara understood that she must put her head on it, and somehow it seemed like a good idea. She did.

  The girl began to run her fingers through her hair, parting it, pulling on it very softly. "This is cafuné. It's the best thing!"

  It felt wonderful. Clara tried to keep her eyes open and couldn't. She was so tired, so tired.

  Teté kept chatting in a low voice, and Clara could see her feet on the floor, clad in little black boots. The maid never stopped running her fingers through her hair.

  "When you are tired, when you are worried, when you are napping and it's hot, or it's cold, the best thing is a cafuné..." Teté was saying.

  Clara did not even stay awake long enough to agree. She must have slept very deeply, because she felt someone shaking her by the shoulder and woke up to find that her head was no longer on Teté's lap, and that the girl was trying to wake her. She realized, as well, that she was still clutching the gold bracelet, and that brought her immediately to the present.

  "Sinhá, it's time for supper."

  Clara was shocked to see that had slept through the afternoon, and twilight was coming.

  "What time is it?" she asked

  "Five o'clock!" Teté went behind her and efficiently put Clara's hair up in a chignon, which she secured with pins.

  "And Dom Gabriel?"

  "He is waiting downstairs."

  At first, upon being woken up, Clara had felt hunger, but now she felt a pang of dread in her stomach. She had slept almost all day, not eaten, and now she must see Gabriel, who had left hating her that morning.

  Teté was smoothing Clara's dress as if she were a doll. She almost felt like taking the girl's hand, so that she would walk in with her and face Gabriel. He could seem quite formidable when he was angry.

  She looked at the bracelet again.

  “Do you want me to fasten it for you?” Teté asked.

  Impatient at herself for fearing Gabriel even for a moment, Clara thought that she ought to wear the bracelet, because she had nothing to hide and he should know it. But she saw that the fastening was broken.

  “Oh, I can get it fixed,” Teté said, taking it from her hand. “Do you want me to?”

  Her mistress nodded.

  “I will ask Celso, he fixes things sometimes.”

  Teté put the bracelet in her pocket, and let her know that she was ready for supper.

  You're not a child! Clara told herself, and squaring her shoulders she went down alone. Teté stayed behind to put her things away, and prepare her bed. How would she even sleep, when she had napped so much?

  She had not been on a full tour of the house, but she could see the light at the end of the corridor on the ground floor, to the right of the stairs: it was the dining room. It had a table for six people with only two settings across from each other; there was a linen towel with beautiful embroidery on it, fine hand-painted porcelain dishes, crystal glasses and shiny cutlery. Flowers that she had never seen before had been placed in silver vases near the two candelabra. The footmen, Sebastião with his crooked teeth and Celso with his thin legs, stood behind the table.

  And then there was Gabriel, wearing a jacket and cravat as well as formal breeches. A nobleman who had been brought up as he had would dress for dinner, even in a home that was far away from everything. He inclined his head as she walked in and pulled out a chair for her. Once she sat down, he moved across the room to his chair.

  Apart from this gesture of cold politeness he did not speak, but neither did his eyes shy away from hers. She dropped her gaze to the table with a frown, so as not to see how changed he was from that morning, when they had been lying entwined in bed, and he had called her meu bem.

  Meu bem: a Brazilian expression for someone who was loved profoundly, who meant all that was good to the other.

  He had called her that at the beginning of the day, and now he looked at her as if she were nothing, his eyes cold and transparent as blue glass. Could such things happen because of a man who had been spurned in Lisbon, whose feelings for her had not even been deep?

  A shallow man had provoked a deep wound across the sea, and her life might be decided by that single action. She could not help being angry at Gabriel for believing the worst of her, and she would not beg him to believe her again.

  The kitchen maids walked in with tray after tray, which they set on a side table. The footmen picked one each and moved to the table, offering them the food, which was beautifully arranged. Once more Gabriel inclined his head: she must help herself first. He was going to smother her with politeness.

  The smell, which ought to be delicious, made her sick. She shook her head and raised one hand, thanking Sebastião. Gabriel frowned and motioned for Celso to go round with his tray, and the footmen switched places ─ but a simple dish of vegetables earned the same response. She shook her head and raised her hand in thanks again.

  "Is the food not to your liking?" Gabriel asked.

  "It is fine, but ─ I am not hungry."

  Sebastião, his teeth showing in confusion, had taken up another tray with chicken, but Clara, clutching her napkin, only shook her head again.

  "Will you not eat?" Gabriel asked.

  "I am not hungry."

  "I have been told you have not eaten all day."

  "I am not hungry," she insisted.

  Gabriel waved Celso away as well. "Take all the food back. We shall not eat."

  The footmen rushed to obey. When they were alone, Clara lifted a face that now was distinctly mutinous to him. "I am not hungry. That doesn't mean you should not eat."

  He replied calmly, "What you deny yourself shall also be denied to me. I told you that."

  "You're absurd!"

  "Perhaps."

  "You..."

  Her sentence was cut by Maninha, the cook, who walked in looking so aggrieved and anxious that Clara immediately felt repentant.

  "Dona Clarinha," Maninha said in a soft voice. "You don't like the food? What can I make for you?"

  Behind her, at the door, a group of downcast faces watched her; practically every house servant was there, all of them worried. It was her first day in her new home, and she had not realized how much they would want to please her.

  "On the contrary, Maninha," she said smiling. "It smells delicious! I felt a little queasy for a moment, but now I am fine. May I have the chicken?"

  Sebastião rushed forward again and brought it to her with a huge smile. Maninha said that she must drink aniseed tea and bustled towards the kitchen to prepare it.

  Lucia, who had come in, said to the other servants, "She is only tired, leave her alone for a moment."

  A few minutes later Clara and Gabriel were silently eating, but she realized that she was not alone, that there were many people around them, people with the unexpected desire to care for her because she was the sinhá.

  Dona Clarinha, they were calling her, using the loving diminutive of her name. It almost brought tears to her eyes to think that her father almost never called her anything else, but that she was not in his house anymore.

  Yet she would accept the affection these strangers were showing her, and return it to them; and every day she would pray that her husband might see how wrong he had been to mistrust her.

  Nineteen. All That Was For Her

  After dinner Gabriel lit her way to the door of her room with courtesy so unassailable that it seemed like a wall. He then bowed and walked to the other end of the long corridor, where she supposed he would sleep from now on.

  Bad
thoughts only increased as the night advanced without sleep, and Clara lay thinking how simple it would have been for Gabriel to believe her, and not someone else, and be next to her now. The chill of the evening would not have made her shiver if they had slept in each other’s arms, as they had for almost a month.

  Instead, she was alone and saw a loveless life stretching out ahead of her with a stranger for a husband, without children, and without tenderness or companionship.

  The day was already dawning when she fell asleep, vowing that she would not cower before that unknown husband, that she would act as his wife and as the mistress of the house, which she was. She had no reason to feel ashamed or guilty.

  So when Teté walked in with her breakfast tray, chattering and opening the windows, she found a very determined mistress sitting up in bed.

  "Sinhô already left for the field," Teté said. "He goes before dawn every day. He said today he wants his luncheon sent there."

  Clara shrugged, thinking, I don't care! She then almost faltered when she looked down at her breakfast tray, remembering how in the weeks of their marriage he had liked to feed her, peeling her fruit and giving her spoonfuls of things to taste.

  I don't care, she thought again. I can feed myself.

  There was a beautiful plate of fresh fruit and she attacked that first, with appetite. Then she ate the warm corn bread and jam with her coffee. "What is this jam? It's delicious"

  Teté, who had sat at the end of the bed, pointed, "This one is guava and this one jabuticaba. Maninha makes them very well."

  "The butter is so creamy!"

  "It's made here."

  The girl fell sideways on the bed at her feet, propping her head on one elbow. Clara couldn't mind, as Teté was clearly not doing it out of insolence. She saw what Gabriel had meant, it was difficult not to like Teté and her ways.

  "Sinhô tried to plant wheat here, but it didn't take,” she was saying. “Too much rain. He says he will try again because you will miss wheat bread otherwise."

  After Clara was done, Teté got up to take her tray and put it to one side.

  "What would you like to do?" she asked Clara. "Where would you like to go?"

  "I would like to see as much of the house and grounds as possible. Will you take me?"

  Teté stood on tiptoes and gave a wide smile, "Yes!"

  Half an hour later Clara was ready, having put on a cotton dress chosen by Teté, who had also gathered her hair in a low chignon.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” the girl cried, fishing in her pocket. She held up the bracelet. “It’s fixed! Do you want to wear it?”

  Clara almost offered her wrist, but then she withdrew it, biting her lip. Perhaps she should wait until a few days had passed, when wearing a trinket her father had given her would be a natural thing, and not a gesture of defiance. She put the bracelet in a glass box by her bed and closed the lid.

  "Show me outside first," she requested. "It's such a beautiful morning!"

  The two women set out toward the chapel, where Clara prayed briefly, and Teté knelt in the back. "I always think Jesus is so beautiful," Teté said as they walked out. "Do you think he looked like that?"

  Clara smiled, "I don't know. I think he must have looked very poor, because he cared nothing for riches, and yet we make statues of him in gold."

  "But," Teté said, "it's because we love Him, and so we give Him the best we have."

  They walked over the lawn, and it truly was a glorious morning with perfect temperature and silver blue skies. They walked toward the huge ancient tree, twenty meters tall, that stood on the lawn as the last witness to the forest that had existed there. Primitive vines hung from its branches, and bromeliads on its trunk burst into bright pink or yellow flowers in the center.

  A group of parrots flew above them, cackling loudly in a display of green and yellow. As they walked by the banana trees at the end of the lawn, Clara could see very colorful little birds skipping and biting nervously at the fruit. Two bigger birds with huge black beaks, and yellow and red faces, looked down at her out of tiny blue eyes. Clara laughed out loud.

  "They are tucans!" Teté explained, and cried. "Tucano! Tucano!"

  Teté showed her the stables where two carriages were kept, the one she had arrived in, which was like a phaeton, and the other a bigger, closed vehicle. The stable keeper, a black man called Jiló, walked towards her smiling.

  "Will you see your horse, sinhá?" he asked

  "I have a horse?"

  She followed him to a stall and there was a beautiful white filly with black eyes inside. "It's mine? Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Dom Gabriel bought it for you. She is very sweet. Whenever you want to go riding, send a boy to let me know and I will have her saddled and ready."

  Clara fed a carrot she found in a bucket to the filly and caressed her muzzle and mane.

  "What will you call her?" Teté asked.

  "I thought of sugar when I looked at her! She is white and sweet!

  "Oh, I like that! Sugar!"

  As they walked on, the wild garden seemed enchanted to Clara, with lush plants that sprung from the ground full of flowers she had never seen, as if she had suddenly been transported to a world of dreams. Teté pulled her by the hand to show her a tiny chameleon, which made them laugh as it grabbed a leaf with tiny hands and changed color.

  “Dom Gabriel said they aren’t from here,” Teté said. “They come from Africa, like me. Well, like part of me!”

  When they arrived at the library Clara stood back, thinking that it was Gabriel's private sanctum, but Teté motioned to her, "You can come in. Sinhô said you would like it. There is no one here!"

  It was a beautiful room, opening out onto a view of the waterfall. There was a massive oak desk littered with papers and a leather arm chair near a bookcase that covered the whole of one wall.

  Teté leaned against the case, "Sinhô said that you would like this, because you love to read."

  Clara had been looking at some of the titles, thinking how much she would like to take a few books. She had not read in so long! She put her hands behind her back, as if keeping herself from the temptation to grab any.

  "Why do you like reading books?" Teté asked.

  "Because they have wonderful stories, and knowledge. You can learn about how people in other places and other times lived. Do you want to learn how to read?"

  "Oh, I know!" Teté said. "For example, this says ─ this says ─ "

  Clara laughed, "That one is in English, try this one!"

  "It says Ca- can—cantata. Cantata de ...Dido!"

  "That is right. Who taught you?"

  "My father," Teté said. "He was white, and the foreman in a plantation, and then he fell in love with my mother, who was a slave, so they ran away together, because he didn't have the money to buy her."

  Clara widened her eyes. "I didn't know!"

  Teté nodded almost matter-of-factly. "Yes, and they lived in Rio like man and wife and had me, but every now and again in the newspaper there was a description of them, because that is how the owners look for escaped slaves. So they would move and move. But then my father died and because she was arranging the funeral they found my mother, and they took us back to the owner."

  "What!" Clara cried. "You too?"

  Teté nodded, "Yes, I hadn't known a day of servitude, but then I became a slave like that!" She snapped her fingers. "My mother died soon after, they say malaria or the ague, but I think her heart was broken..."

  The girl let the words trail and Clara thought there was nothing she could say to something so horrible. But Teté's face was brightening up.

  "But then I was such a bad slave, because I didn't know anything about it, that my mistress allowed me to go round with a paper so that if another person was willing to buy me, the price was written on it. And Dom Gabriel bought me in Rio, because I asked him!"

  "How did you know he would be a good master?"

  "Oh, because he had kind eyes..."

&nb
sp; Clara thought of the icy eyes that had been looking through her since the day before and said nothing.

  "So,” Teté went on, “I just walked to him and showed him my papers, and he smiled at me and bought me, and freed me, and gave me work that is paid."

  Clara had approached the leather chair. She was almost touching the spot that still bore the imprint of Gabriel's head.

  "He is a very good man," Teté said, watching her. "Even if sometimes he is brabo."

  Clara took her hand away. "Brabo?"

  "Brabo, like the sea when it gets all angry and mad. Then there is no talking to him, but it passes. He can't be very angry for long."

  One of Clara's eyebrows went up, "No?"

  She moved away from the chair and, moving to the desk, she saw something that she wanted: a pencil. There were several, and she thought he would not miss one, or a few sheets of paper. Teté rolled the sheets and bound them with a string, and she carried the paper as Clara put the pencil in the pocket of her dress.

  Outside, looking at the valley and hills, Clara asked, "And the plantations?"

  "Oh, I couldn't take you there, sinhá," Teté said. "One of the stable boys could. You have to ride there, and I can't ride. Also, I get a little bit lost! And, also, your shoes and dress are too dainty, you would get all dusty and muddy!"

  "Is Gabriel's land that big, then?"

  Teté put one hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the sun and with the other she motioned as if something went on and on. "Even the hills are sinhô's. And yours."

  "Then show me where you live," Clara requested.

  "Would you like to see it?" Teté asked, happily getting on her toes again.

  They walked a while, greeting people on the way who stood looking at Clara and smiling, as if she were an illustrious visitor. They finally arrived at a row of low houses built around a courtyard where women bent over pots, sometimes with babies on their backs. Others were pounding corn, or washing and hanging clothes. They looked at Clara and nodded, or smiled, but did not stop what they were doing.

  "Some of them are African," Teté said. "And speak very little Portuguese. Sometimes two people cannot understand each other because they are from different tribes, and sometimes they fight."