by Jessica Dall
“What does that mean for you?”
He took a seat across from her, catching his hands in front of him. “Either I need to disavow ever being with you tonight and hope the first minister has gone too far, or I should become your new closest friend and hope Carvalho stops looking at me like I’m next for the scaffold.”
“I thought you said you weren’t important enough to be noticed.”
“He certainly noticed me a few minutes ago.”
Cecília nodded, watching Luís closely. Worry had etched itself onto his face, and the muscles in his jaw continued to twitch. She waited a final moment before speaking. “You’re sitting here.”
“What?” His eyes slid up to meet hers.
“That isn’t the thing to do, if you plan on disavowing me.”
“That is true,” he said but didn’t make any move to stand.
She held his gaze then offered a quick nod of understanding.
The door swung open, and Luís stood to face it.
Tio Aloisio froze in the doorway, looking at the younger man before he noticed Cecília and shook his head. “You have a nose for trouble, don’t you, Cilinha?”
“I heard Avô Santa Rita was in trouble.” Cecília stood as well.
“Not as much as some.” Tio Aloisio looked back at Luís.
“Tio, this is Luís de Terra—”
“Oh, I’m aware who he is.”
Luís’s eyes widened slightly, as though surprised at the recognition, but he bowed. “Senhor.”
Tio Aloisio didn’t bother to return the pleasantry, pulling his gloves off with quick, jerky movements.
“Is Avô Santa Rita in trouble?” Cecília jumped to what was important. “Should Bibiana—”
“Your grandfather has made some imbecilic decisions,” Tio Aloisio said, “that come from listening to some less-than-trustworthy people. Had he listened to anyone who mattered, he would know the king has more than full faith in the first minister and the changes planned for Lisbon. Assuming he stops listening to his false friends, though, and does as I’ve directed, he’ll be on his way back to Loures in a few days, as will you and Bibiana.”
Cecília wasn’t certain if she should find that statement comforting or alarming, as much as he made it sound like a banishment.
Tio Aloisio turned back to Luís. “Thank you for your help. I can handle things from here.”
Luís sent Cecília a quick look, a final moment of hesitation in his expression before he gave a shallow bow. “Thank you, senhor. Good night, senhorita.”
Tio Aloisio bent enough to be cordial then waited for Luís to leave before he turned back to Cecília. “I know you’re still dealing with what happened last year, Cecília, but you’re not going to help anything by getting yourself caught up in this. You need to learn to keep your nose in your own business.”
She frowned. “I was trying to—”
“You were trying to put yourself in the middle of where you don’t belong, and once again, you’ve managed to pull some young man in after you.”
How is John? Cecília nearly asked out of defiance. She crossed her arms instead, trying to stop the wave of feeling like a chastised child from chipping away her earlier resolve. Her voice still came out too petulant. “You’re the one who sent me off with Mr. Bates in the first place.”
“And I obviously underestimated the effect you have on his ilk.”
Cecília pressed her lips tightly together, the situation with Luís de Terra seeming so remarkably different from what had happened with John that it was laughable, but no good was likely to come from continuing the line of discussion. “My grandfather—”
“I told you, he’ll be fine if he listens to reason. You and Bibiana as well.”
“But—”
“This isn’t the time, Cecília.” Tio Aloisio rubbed his temples. “It’s late. You can sleep in the side room.” He pointed to one of the doors off the antechamber. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“But—”
“Good night, Cecília.” He moved through the other door connected to the anteroom.
She stood where she was, thoughts being pulled in too many directions for her to make any one decision. She could look for Avô Santa Rita, though Heaven knew where he was. And she couldn’t imagine much good would come from finding Senhor Carvalho again. He didn’t seem like a man who would be swayed by any prostrations for clemency. Once again, her family was in danger, and she couldn’t do anything but try to keep her own head above water as they all were bandied about. Only this time, there was no question that this was the will of man over God.
Rather than turn for the side room, she sat down heavily on the little settee in some weak show of defiance, trying to think of anything else she could do to help.
Sadly, she couldn’t think of a thing.
Chapter Fourteen
Cecília stirred awake, finding herself on a low mattress in what had to be the side room Tio Aloisio had mentioned, though she didn’t actually remember ever having gone inside. She looked around, disoriented for a moment both by the room and by questions of what had woken her. Then she heard it again.
“So Mendonça’s gone?” Tio Aloisio’s voice filtered through the door.
“He supposedly kissed the decree when he received it, the cabrão.” Senhor Carvalho swore loudly enough that Cecília was willing to bet he wasn’t aware she could hear. Or perhaps he didn’t know that she was there at all. “But yes, he’s reportedly left for Porto. Not as far as that traitor should be sent, but for now... I’ve recalled my brother from Brazil to replace him as Secretary of the Navy. I imagine things will go much more smoothly from here on, once we deal with the rest of our problems.”
If Tio Aloisio answered, Cecília didn’t hear it. Carefully, she stood, the straw in the mattress crinkling more loudly than she liked, and padded to the door to listen.
“Your niece is at court again?” Senhor Carvalho said after a beat.
“Santa Rita didn’t send her back to Loures as he said.” A bitter note cut deeply into Tio Aloisio’s tone. “He apparently underestimated the penchant she has for wandering when left to her own devices. Anyone who’s spent more than a day with the girl should know a league isn’t nearly far enough to keep her from anything.”
“Should we presume that means her sister is still here as well?”
“I imagine so, but I doubt that will be a problem. I intend to properly send both girls home with Santa Rita today. He’s signed over the plot in Lisbon, and Loures does seem far enough to keep them from trouble.”
Senhor Carvalho took a moment before responding. “The younger one, perhaps, but I’m not certain we should be so quick to send your older one away.”
Cecília frowned.
“No?” A matching frown came through Tio Aloisio’s tone.
“A girl that determined and with the skill to get where people may not want her? She would likely be of more use here than off with a man who obviously doesn’t have a thimble’s worth of common sense.”
Tio Aloisio spoke cautiously. “Cecília also has a unique way of inviting trouble wherever she goes. I’m certain that wouldn’t work in our favor.”
“Don’t be so certain. The trouble she found last night gave me a reason to arrest one of the Vilhena sons. And she may have even turned the Terra bastard. He only stopped running his little ‘secret’ messages last night after he fell in with her. Didn’t speak up for Vilhena, either. Fairer girls at court wouldn’t be able to say they could do the same.”
Cecília frowned at the implied slight.
“She seems to be a very handy girl indeed with her skill set,” the first minister finished.
As the conversation trickled off, Cecília debated her next move. Still exhausted from the previous night, she half wanted to sit, have a nice meal, and nurse her sore arm and feet, but there was too much to do to remain in one place. Once Tio Aloisio and Senhor Carvalho’s voices moved off, Cecília slipped out of the side room then out of the antechamber en
tirely.
Winding her way through the palace, Cecília looked for any clues to what she had missed while she’d been away. The halls were all but empty. The odd, subdued feeling there had been at Senhor Mendonça’s home—his former home—coated the Real Barraca. She glanced into the open doors as she passed, but it almost seemed as if she were the last person alive. As she passed another room, she noticed a lump lying across a few cushions.
She stepped inside and made out who it was. “Senhor Terra?”
Luís started awake, blinking as he looked around. He jerked as he spotted her, quickly going to straighten out his clothing, though it was in surprisingly good shape for having been slept in. “Senhorita—”
“You slept here?” she asked.
“It was... a long night.”
Cecília nodded. “You didn’t go back to your room?”
“That’s an even longer story.”
“Because of Mateus de Vilhena?”
“It will all work out,” he said. “Word is that Isabel’s trying to call in what Távora connections she has to help him. As upset as the family is at Carvalho after last night, they very well might intervene, even with as little as they actually like Isabel. Having the Távoras as an advocate is nearly as good as having the king.”
After last night? Cecília kept that question to herself. “You want him to be helped? Mateus?”
Luís frowned.
“He hit you.”
Luís shrugged. “He’s Mateus.”
Her lips pursed, but he seemed to consider the topic closed with that statement. “Do you still think you did the right thing, coming with me last night?”
He studied her face for a long moment before speaking. “It’s going to be Carvalho or the Távoras who win this. Whoever does, I’m not certain I want to be in the middle of that fight.”
“Do you have to be?”
“I don’t have many other good options, if I...”
“If you...?” she prompted.
“Cut myself off from the Vilhenas,” he said.
“You can’t go back to your own fam—” Everything came together in a flash of understanding: Maria not giving Luís a second name. The Terra bastard. “You’re illegitimate.”
His eyebrows rose.
She realized she had spoken aloud. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any insult. I just realized—”
“My parents married,” he said quickly, eyes dark, “but my father died within a month. People like to question if the marriage happened at all when they don’t care for me.”
“I truly meant no offense.”
He looked at her for another moment, his expression softening in a way that made her wonder if her uncle had been a little more correct about how Luís thought about her than she realized.
Don’t be silly. He barely knows you.
“I should let you get on with your day.” She took a step back. There were more things to worry about than Luís de Terra.
“Please be careful, Senhorita Santa Rita,” he returned.
“It seems you should likely call me Durante right now,” she said then stepped back out into the winding hallways.
CECÍLIA SAT ACROSS from Senhor Carvalho in the dimly lit office, waiting for the man to speak first. He watched her from behind his large desk, his piercing eyes making Cecília’s skin crawl as he seemed to peer into her thoughts.
He finally sat back and interlaced his fingers as he set his hands in front of him. “I hope you didn’t have too hard of a night, Senhorita Durante.”
“I’ve had much harder,” she said.
Senhor Carvalho lowered his head an inch in recognition, some hint of amusement at her reply softening his eyes a fraction. “Your uncle told me you had actually returned to Lisbon all the way from Queluz after the quake.”
“I was looking for my family.”
“You didn’t trust your uncle to do that?”
Cecília chose her words carefully. “I’ve never been very good at sitting and waiting when something’s happening. Patience is a virtue I often lack.”
“That isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Senhor Carvalho said.
Cecília tilted her head. “I believe you’re the first to have thought so, senhor.”
Senhor Carvalho leaned back in his chair slightly, still watching her face closely. “If there is anything I have learned over my life, Senhorita Durante, it is that the only way to truly learn about the world is to go and experience it. If you wish to learn the truth, you have to go after knowledge with a net. If you don’t, you’re only going to learn what others choose for you.”
Not certain what else to say, Cecília nodded.
“And how is your sister?”
That question felt even more loaded. She treaded carefully. “Likely worried after me, honestly, since I didn’t return last night.”
“But she’s generally well?”
Cecília nodded again. “The king was very kind to send his physician to see her.”
“You believe Senhor Nunes is behind her recovery?”
Whether she did or not, she certainly wasn’t going to suggest differently in front of the first minister after last night. “It was only when he arrived that she got better.” Obviously, that was the correct answer. More of a smile came to the corners of Senhor Carvalho’s serious mouth. “I have a proposition for you, Senhorita Durante, if you’re willing to hear it?”
Cecília caught her hands in her lap, squeezing her fingers as she said, “Please.”
“There are enemies in court. A number of them attempted to overthrow what progress the king has made to recover from our great tragedy last night. I have ears listening for me, but I imagine it would be much easier for a pretty girl such as yourself to listen without attracting attention.”
So now I’m pretty. Some bitterness from the morning bubbled up unexpectedly. She kept the thought off her face. “You want me to spy for you?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘spy.’ Just let me know if you hear anything that sounds important to the welfare of the country. Of Lisbon. I imagine you would wish to stay at court, given the chance?”
Yes. Cecília couldn’t entirely deaden the part of her that truly wished to stay. She forced herself to ask, “With my sister?”
“If she wished.” Senhor Carvalho didn’t so much as hesitate, seeming to have expected the question. “Though I would be a bit worried that too much excitement might lead to a relapse of her condition. I imagine the quiet of the country might suit her better in this case?”
The country likely would have been Bibiana’s choice in any case.
If Senhor Carvalho is in charge, it’s best for her to stay away. So the question was whether Cecília could justify abandoning her sister. Is it abandoning? If I’m helping Senhor Carvalho here, he’ll care less about Bia and Avô Santa Rita.
The little nagging voice in her head popped up. Trying to convince yourself again?
“Senhorita Durante?” Senhor Carvalho cut in before she had to come up with an answer for herself.
“Yes, senhor,” she said, “I imagine you’re right.”
“Wonderful. Then I believe it’s settled? Your grandfather can see that your sister has all the rest she needs, and you can remain with your uncle. I’m sure there is a nicer set of rooms you two could share, assuming you are willing to make note of anything important you might happen to hear while going about your day. Are you willing to do that?”
All the nice words still sounded decidedly like spying—and that still couldn’t be good for her soul. But if she was going to be honest with herself, she had already made her decision, especially in the face of someone who seemed truly to believe that curiosity was a virtue, not a vice. She offered her own small smile back. “Yes, senhor. I am.”
Part Three: 1758
Chapter Fifteen
“He can’t just take it. It’s our land!”
“You should know better by now. You’d be safer saying ‘no’ to the king than the first minister.”
Cecília tilted her head toward the voices as much as she dared. She still moved the coral rosary beads through her fingers even as she listened to the two girls whispering a few pews back.
“But we still have two years to rebuild off that other silly edict! How can he just—”
“How can he just anything? He’s the first minister.”
“Girls!” an older woman whispered sharply. “You know better than that. And in church!”
“Sorry, Mamãe,” the girls whispered back.
Cecília waited for the three pairs of footsteps to audibly move out of the pew and toward the doors of the grand wooden chapel before she looked behind her—it was the Countess Atouguia and two of her daughters complaining about Senhor Carvalho, but that was barely worth reporting. Any noble who had ever owned so much as a statuette in Lisbon was still bewailing the law passed that allowed the crown to buy the land still needed in the Baixa with or without the owner’s approval. “Eminent domain,” Senhor Carvalho had called it. Two months of time to digest it hadn’t helped much. Since the first minister had put Porto under martial law the previous year, however, following a riot, there hadn’t been anything especially shocking for Cecília to report from inside the halls of the Real Barraca.
She supposed she should have been grateful. She had long grown used to her periodic meetings with Senhor Carvalho and actually enjoyed talking with the man when he had the free time to discuss philosophy and architecture, all things he fully encouraged she learn, but the wheeling and dealings of court could still give her headaches. Pageantry and excitement, she liked. Philosophy and theology, she liked. Politics, she could have done without.
Locking away the information about the girls in case she ended up with nothing else to report for a second week, Cecília crossed herself and stood to go to the confessional. She couldn’t say she’d had a truly clean soul since she had come to court—likely since the quake, but she could atone for most of her sins. It seemed most was the best everyone else at court did anyway. After two years of seeing the scandals and excesses of court, she could understand Father Malagrida’s harsh sermonizing about Lisbon’s sins.