by Jessica Dall
“Which one?” Cecília asked.
“The eldest. The marchioness. And if she is involved, one has to imagine the entire Távora family—”
“Cecília’s just gotten well,” Luís cut in. “The last thing she needs is to hear scandal and conspiracies.”
“I’m fine, Luís. Really.” Cecília touched his arm. “I’m surprised my uncle didn’t tell me any of this. If there’s been a plot—”
“I truly doubt there has been,” Luís said.
“Then why has the first minister opened an inquiry?” Graça asked pointedly.
“He is doing his due diligence to protect His Highness,” Luís returned. “But an inquiry doesn’t mean guilt. I would be hard-pressed to believe Senhora Távora—”
“I think it’s too nice a day for all this,” Cecília broke in. Whether or not Graça did report to Senhor Carvalho, they were certainly treading too close to too many dangerous topics. Until she knew more about what was happening, the less Luís said, the better.
“Precisely.” Luís held Graça’s eyes for a moment before turning to Cecília. “You should be sitting.”
“I’ve been in bed for two days straight,” Cecília said.
“I should be going, anyway.” Graça stood. She caught Cecília’s hands and kissed both cheeks. “I’m glad you’re doing better. We all need to be careful with our health, with the weather changing.” Graça pulled back and sent Cecília a look, holding it long enough to suggest a deeper meaning to her words.
Cecília had the sinking sensation that she knew what Graça meant far too well. Her smile stayed carefully in place. “We certainly do.”
Graça disappeared back out into the garden, and Luís shepherded Cecília toward the once-again-empty bench.
“You really don’t have to fret over me, Luís.” Cecília took a seat all the same. “I promise.”
“I wanted to come and check on you.” He sat next to her. “But after the last time I saw your uncle... I hope I didn’t get you into trouble.”
“He was worried about me allowing you too many liberties.”
He frowned. “Does—”
“I told him nothing has happened,” Cecília said to cut the conversation off as quickly as she could.
Voices moved close enough to hear, and Cecília twisted toward them, listening. A group of women continued to chatter as they passed, nattering on about the supposed plot on the king’s life, though they didn’t stay in place long enough for Cecília to hear anything new.
“They aren’t coming this way.” Luís took her hand in his.
Cecília released a slow breath. “Do you ever get tired of hiding, Luís?”
He hesitated. “You know, if I could, I’d—”
“I mean...” Cecília certainly wasn’t trying to bring up the marriage conversation again—she didn’t have the energy for that—but she was straying perilously close to saying something she would regret. Doing her best to force a smile, she turned back to Luís. “This plot Graça was talking about—”
Luís groaned. “There’s no plot.”
“Whatever it is.” Cecília held his eyes. “Promise me you’ll stay out of it.”
“Trust me. This inquiry will blow over. There’s nothing for it to find. In a week or so—”
“After Senhor Mendonça—”
“This is nothing like that. The retribution was...” He censored whatever he thought of the punishments meted out two years before. “But there was a plot. I’m sorry, but no one will ever convince me that Senhora Távora attempted regicide. She’s a forceful woman, but she wouldn’t attempt a coup d’état, and certainly not one to replace Dom José with the Duke of Aveiro of all people.”
“Just promise me,” Cecília said. “Nothing good is going to come from this.”
“You’re going to make yourself ill again.” He touched her cheek.
“Please. Promise.”
Luís caught her chin and kissed her. After a lingering moment, he pulled back to speak. “I promise. Now stop worrying. This isn’t two years ago.”
No. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. It’s likely much worse.
CECÍLIA PUSHED A LOOSE strand of hair behind her ear and felt the warmth radiating from her skin. She should have worn a hat with a brim outside. As nice as the sun had been in the garden, she had certainly gotten some color from the hour she had spent with Luís. She opened the door to her apartment and froze.
Senhor Carvalho looked up from the book he was holding. “Ah, Senhorita Durante. There you are.”
She stepped through, scanning the room for her uncle, the fact that the minister was alone in their antechamber too odd for her to relax. “You were waiting for me?”
“Your uncle just left.” He seemed to read Cecília’s thoughts, as he had the uncanny ability to do. He shut the book and lifted it for her to see. “Have you read this?”
Cecília closed the door behind her and looked at the title pressed into the cover before shaking her head. “I can’t read English.”
“Neither can I, actually.” He set it back on the shelf. “Spent seven years in London and never learned a word, if you can believe it. Dealt entirely in diplomatic French. I got by surprisingly well, if I do say so myself.”
Cecília nodded, not certain what else she could say.
“Please, sit.” Senhor Carvalho motioned at the couch as if she were in his rooms and not the other way around.
She silently moved across the space and settled herself on the edge of the cushion.
He studied her. “You look nervous.”
“Strained, maybe.” She gave a smile, though she was certain the first minister would see through it. Whether or not the man could truly read minds, he certainly knew courtiers well enough to know a false smile when he saw one. “It’s been a long week.”
“Are you afraid of something?”
“I just don’t like not knowing what’s happening.”
“Hard for you to know what’s happening when you don’t leave your room for two days.” As kindly concerned as the words were said, Cecília could feel the bite to them.
“I...” wasn’t feeling well, Cecília started to lie before realizing how pointless that would have been. Her uncle would have told him how she had been hiding away, not fully able to return to spying when they had come so close to being on the losing side after two years in power. She changed topics, having to believe the first minister wouldn’t take her loss of faith well. “I was out in the garden today. Everyone’s talking about how the men you hanged implicated the Távora family in trying to kill His Highness?”
“More than just the Távoras.” Senhor Carvalho caught his hands behind his back. “It’s no secret that many of the grandees have been displeased with His Highness’s decisions on some key issues.”
“To the point of assassination?”
“So it seems,” Senhor Carvalho said. “Have you heard anything worrying? Something that maybe didn’t seem important before Sunday but does now?”
Cecília wet her lips, going through a mess of conversations she had listened to in her mind. “Nothing that jumps out. I can try to think of things.”
“See that you do.” Senhor Carvalho pinned her with his eyes. “We might need those in the next couple of months.”
“Months?” She frowned.
“The truth isn’t always an easy thing to uncover. At the moment, I’m simply making certain that everyone is as dedicated to the effort as they should be.”
Cecília’s insides squirmed at the look he was giving her, but she fought to keep her face placid. “Of course.”
“I’ve come to trust you quite a bit these past years, Cecília,” he said. “I hope you feel the same about me.”
She nodded. “I do, senhor.”
“I’ll be in touch.” He moved to the door. “Just keep listening. You never know what you’ll hear.”
He didn’t seem to expect a reply, so Cecília didn’t give one. Silence certainly was going t
o be safer for the foreseeable future.
“Oh.” He paused in the doorway as if he had just remembered something. “Your brother will be leaving court tomorrow, if you would like to send him off.”
Cecília blinked, able to otherwise hide her surprise. “He hadn’t said.”
“Oh yes,” Senhor Carvalho said. “He has taken up a mission to Brazil.”
“Brazil?” Her voice raised to a near squeak as her surprise overwhelmed her carefully manufactured calm.
“I’m sure everyone there will be thrilled to have such a devoted shepherd to see to their souls.”
Cecília’s mouth opened as she tried to form words. Then she shut it and gathered herself. As offhand as the minister had said it, she had to assume Francisco hadn’t been the one to decide to leave. If it hadn’t been a banishment by another name, she had to imagine it would have been a much different discussion about how she needed to find out what Francisco was planning.
Once again, court was being cleared of anyone Senhor Carvalho considered a threat, and no good could come from ending up on his list. With her thoughts in some kind of order, Cecília started again, much more calmly. “I’m certain they will. Thank you for telling me, senhor.”
Senhor Carvalho tipped his hat and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Cecília alone to roil in her own thoughts. Where are we all going to end up this time?
Chapter Nineteen
When nothing came of the whispers of assassination for months on end and Dom José relieved the queen of her regency, the court as a whole relaxed. Cecília couldn’t. She knew far too much ever to relax again. Senhor Carvalho hadn’t given up on a formless case. He was lying in wait, collecting everything he thought he needed while the people he wanted to see in a noose went back to laughing and living their lives as if nothing had happened.
“Are you still missing your brother?” Luís ran his thumb over the back of her hand as they sat in one of the small sitting rooms, the door almost completely closed. Cecília couldn’t say whether Luís truly thought that would pacify her uncle if anyone found out about it, but she didn’t bother to comment. Tio Aloisio had far more to worry about than her reputation. She had far more to worry about.
“What?” She looked away from the window.
“You’ve been staring off into the distance since he left as if your mind got on that ship with him.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be in a mood.”
“It’s fine. There’s quite a difference between having a family member gone from court and only few days away and one across the ocean.”
She looked at him, pulling her mouth tight.
“And... I’m not helping.”
“It’s fine. I just miss him.” Cecília shook her head, forcing her face into something much more congenial. With Senhor Carvalho still slowly planning his final blow, it was likely better to have Francisco across the Atlantic than with a priest Senhor Carvalho hated more than any of the grandees at court.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Luís asked.
Give me my family back. Be an entirely different man. Go back three years.
No, she would have to have gone back much further if she wanted everything to be like it once had been, when everyone had been happy. Francisco, Mamãe, Ana Margarida, João, Papai...
Before she could work out an answer she could actually give, voices in the hall outside the small room made her senses prickle. Recognizing Graça’s, she stood and moved to the doorway.
“Cecília?” Luís asked.
She pushed the door out just enough to see Graça having a very animated discussion with someone wearing a red-patterned coat. Pushing a little farther, she saw a corner of the man’s face. Mateus.
She ducked back into the room before Luís could come to the door as well. “Since when have Graça and Mateus been on speaking terms?”
Luís’s face twitched in the way it always did when he didn’t want to tell her something.
She fixed her eyes on him, giving him a slightly softer version of the look Senhor Carvalho always pinned on her in similar moments.
Luís didn’t last more than a second. “I saw Graça leaving Mateus’s room last week and then again a few nights ago.”
“Graça and Mateus?” Cecília’s eyebrows rose. For as much as Graça despised the man, Cecília had to assume that whatever had been happening in Mateus’s room after dark was some sort of plot in itself—one that likely intersected with Senhor Carvalho’s, Cecília assumed.
“I had the same reaction. Trust me.” Luís had clearly read the wrong thoughts into her expression. “But I make it a point to stay out of whom Mateus takes to bed.”
“Do we think Isabel knows?”
“As she’s only been an average amount of awful to Graça lately? My guess would be no.”
The sounds of footsteps and the sway of fabric moved down the hall in Cecília’s direction. One pair—Graça but not Mateus.
Cecília motioned to the doorway. “I should talk to her.”
“I wouldn’t suggest involving yourself with whatever’s happening out there.” Luís shook his head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Cecília flashed him a smile then slipped out into the hall before Luís could answer.
Graça slowed for a step then tilted up the corners of her mouth in a tense smile. “I was coming to find you.”
Cecília glanced at the now empty corner. “Should I ask?”
“Not here.” Graça motioned for Cecília to follow. “We have somewhere we need to be.”
FOR ALL HER TIME AT court, Cecília hadn’t spent much time in audience with Dom José. She had certainly never had reason to have a conversation with him. It had actually been smarter for her not to. With her reporting to Senhor Carvalho, she had to imagine anything important she said was passed along, and any meeting with His Highness would have gotten too much attention.
Sitting across from him in the royal apartments, though, had her petrified—even if she hadn’t said more than a sentence between Graça laying out everything she had apparently learned about a Távora plot, with Senhor Carvalho’s prompting here and there. Dom José was likewise quiet, listening to everything Graça had to say as he watched her, his brown eyes peering out of his fleshy face.
“And how did you hear all of this?” Senhor Carvalho once again stepped in as Graça took a breath. “Were you in the Távora apartments for some reason?”
“The Vilhena ones,” Graça said, dropping her gaze demurely. “I’ve always been a bit enamored with Mateus de Vilhena, and when he invited me back to his rooms... Well, I don’t think anyone else knew I was there that late at night, and after Mateus fell asleep, I heard them talking.”
“Who is ‘them’?” Senhor Carvalho asked, though Cecília suspected he had heard Graça’s story before.
“João Manuel de Vilhena and one of the younger Leonor Távoras. She was saying she was worried about her mother’s plans relying too much on Teresa, as His Highness hadn’t visited her in months.”
“Teresa Távora?” Senhor Carvalho rested his hand on the back of the couch he stood behind.
“From what was said, it would seem so.” Graça nodded. “Cecília agreed.”
Cecília started at her name.
“Were you there as well, Senhorita Durante?” Senhor Carvalho’s eyes hit her.
“I-I...” she floundered.
“I don’t think you and Luís are a particularly well-kept secret, Ceci,” Graça prompted as though she knew Cecília needed her line.
“Yes, senhor,” Cecília addressed Senhor Carvalho rather than the king.
“And you believe they did mean Teresa Távora in this conversation?”
Nothing about the situation seemed right. Cecília couldn’t say what Graça had or hadn’t heard—she certainly had been with Mateus Vilhena, from what Cecília had seen—but if they were asking for false collaboration, they obviously weren’t entirely beholden to the truth. Still, Tio Alo
isio’s voice pounded through Cecília’s head as the first minister’s sharp eyes hit her: you’re going to have to say yes.
“Yes, senhor. That is what it seemed.”
If Dom José had any reaction to his mistress being implicated in a plot on his life, his face didn’t show it. Then again, after months of an inquest, Cecília imagined it wasn’t necessarily news to anyone in the room but her.
“Did it sound as though they were talking about old plans or new ones, by your estimation?” Senhor Carvalho asked.
“They sounded new to me,” Graça said. “Then it made me think of a conversation Cecília and I overheard in the garden a few weeks ago. Isabel was teasing Dores Távora about how Dores should try to take her cousin’s position, and Dores said something about how her time would be better spent with Senhor Aveiro. We didn’t know what she meant then, but—”
“You’d be willing to testify to that fact?” Senhor Carvalho crossed his arms, moving his eyes between Graça and Cecília.
Testify?
“Yes, senhor,” Graça said without hesitation.
This lie isn’t bad enough? The twisting in Cecília’s stomach turned to full-blown nausea at the idea of taking an already dangerous story and condemning a possibly innocent woman with it. With Senhor Carvalho’s eyes on her, though, she still found herself nodding.
“Yes?”
Cecília swallowed, keeping her eyes on the first minister rather than the king. “Yes, senhor.”
She had obviously done whatever Senhor Carvalho wanted from her for the moment, and he turned to the king. “As you can see, Your Highness, time has passed, and the vipers are starting to stir once again. They think they have gotten away with their plot and are now planning their next attempt. The traitors confessed, we have the duke’s pistol, we know it was he who gave it to them, only the Távoras knew you would be on that road at that time... This is all treason. When bitten once, one does not give a snake a chance to strike again before lopping off its head.”