Whispering

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Whispering Page 11

by Jane Aiken Hodge


  ‘I knew you would.’ His arms were round her again, compelling. And then, ‘One more thing. Have you met an English Major called Dickson?’

  ‘No, I’ve not met any of the English except Frank Ware, but, do you know, I think he has mentioned him. I am sure the name is familiar.’

  ‘Then see to it that the Wares ask him to this famous party of yours, there’s a good child, and flash your pretty little eyes at him. My friends say he’s working closely with Wellington, probably knows more about what is going on upriver than anyone, but he’s said to be close as an oyster. I’m sure you could open him up, my clever darling.’

  ‘I’ll certainly try. No, Luiz, we can’t, we mustn’t –’ She detached the hand that was at work again on the buttons of her dress. ‘It’s getting late, Madame Feuillide must be about done with Harriet.’

  ‘What’s the matter with you, Caterina? Why have you changed so?’ His eyes were dangerous. ‘Don’t tell me they have turned you into an English miss among them!’

  ‘They could hardly do that, could they?’ Now was the time to tell him. But he was kissing her hands again, in farewell this time.

  He put a finger under her chin and gazed into her eyes. ‘If I have offended you, my own, remember it was love that did so, and forgive me. We will understand each other better next time we meet. Mind you make an early date to come again, and for the party. Be very sure I will risk anything to meet you here. Deuce take it, here she comes.’ He picked up his cloak and vanished round the corner of the yew hedge as Harriet came down the steps from the house.

  Father Pedro left his room for the first time next morning, and the whole house seemed darker for his presence. He moved so silently, on his sandalled feet, that no conversation in any of the public rooms was safe from him. ‘We must not seem to huddle in our own rooms.’ Caterina summed it up, safe for a moment at the far end of the terrace with Harriet. ‘Nor appear to have secrets.’

  ‘Everyone has secrets,’ protested Harriet. ‘Oh, I do wish we had heard from England.’

  ‘I begin to think I made a great mistake in coming,’ said Caterina. ‘But how was I to know things had changed so in this house? Oh dear, this must mean a caller.’ A servant had appeared from the house, and announced that the Senhora Emerson had called.

  ‘Jeremy’s wonderful Miss Emerson,’ exclaimed Caterina. ‘Bring her out here, Sancho. And wine and cakes, please.’ Both girls watched with interest for the appearance of the young woman who had been described as putting a spring into Jeremy Craddock’s step, and both were faintly disappointed with what they saw. The bright sunshine of the open terrace was hard on Rachel Emerson’s pale good looks. Her broad-brimmed hat concealed the flaxen hair and cast unkind shadows on the smiling face.

  ‘I hope you do not think I am taking a liberty in calling.’ She held out a friendly hand to Caterina. ‘I was so desperately lonely here in Porto when my brother and I first arrived, and I have been thinking a great deal about you two, tucked away here so far out of town. And your cousin talks about you so much. He is a most delightful young man, is he not, and quite devoted to you, Miss Gomez. Such a sad life as his has been, poor young fellow. I do so hope that I may be able to help him a little.’ She paused in her flow of talk to be introduced to Harriet. ‘Delighted to meet you, Miss Brown. Such a fortunate thing that you were able to accompany Miss Gomez on her voyage home. That is, if you feel it is home, Miss Gomez?’ Dismissing Harriet, she turned back to Caterina. ‘The Portonians strike my brother and me as an unfriendly enough set of people, but I suppose you feel yourself one of them. And at least you are part of English society too, which seems to have quite its own rules and customs. I have never been lucky enough to visit England, and quite long to do so. My father came from a little English village called Barnstaple. He was pressed into the British navy during the struggle for American independence, captured and ended up a better American than most, my mother always used to say. Have you perhaps been to Barnstaple, Miss Gomez?’

  ‘No, I am afraid not. Bath is the furthest west we have been, Miss Brown and I.’

  ‘A beautiful city, I believe. My brother has suggested that I might care to go there to practise my healing arts among the invalids who take the waters, but I confess to you young ladies that I quite long to be back home in our United States. Foreign parts are all very well for a while, but between you and I, there is no place in the end like home. But how I am running on. My brother says I am a terrible talker, and I am afraid that when I feel at ease in society it is quite true. I can tell right now that we three are going to be the greatest friends. We have so much in common, don’t you think? Distant homes and homesickness, and, of course, the charming young fellow we all know, your agreeable cousin, Miss Gomez. Such a tragedy that his complaint puts marriage out of the question for him, otherwise we might see ourselves as rivals, might we not? Tell me,’ to Caterina, ‘what is young Ware like? I have never had the pleasure of meeting him, though his mother has long been one of my most valued clients. I can’t tell you the flattering things she has said to me. I miss her sadly now she is so busy with the arrangements for the party she is giving for you, Miss Gomez. I am sure we all look forward to that. With the news so gloomy we must take our pleasures where we find them, must we not?’

  ‘Is there bad news today?’ asked Caterina.

  ‘I was sure you would have heard. Poor Wellington’s beat, they say. Marmont has thrown supplies into Ciudad Rodrigo, enough to last all winter, shown the great general a clean pair of heels and is on the quick march for Lisbon.’

  ‘For Lisbon?’

  ‘A surprise, is it not? He must have thought of a way to deal with those lines of Torres Vedras we heard so much about last year. But at least we don’t have to be worrying here in Porto, a great relief to me, I can tell you. I tremble to think what would happen to me and my brother if the French should come here. That tyrant Bonaparte had me thrown out of France, neck and crop, for standing up in defence of his poor wife Josephine. She was my good friend and patroness, you know. Many’s the time I have soothed away her miseries for her, poor lady. Magic, she used to call my hands, pure magic. If I may say so, Miss Gomez, you look as if you could do with a touch of my magic; I can always tell when I am needed, though I do not always have the presumption to say so. But I feel so comfortable here; it is because we are going to be friends; the only unattached young ladies in our little society. We must be friends or rivals, and friends is much better, is it not so?’

  Caterina and Harriet exchanged one quick glance. ‘I’m sure –’ Caterina began, and stopped. Father Pedro was bearing down the terrace upon them and she could not have believed she would ever have been so pleased to see him.

  Introduced to Miss Emerson, he lost no time in making his displeasure felt. ‘You practise some kind of healing, I believe, here in Porto?’

  ‘I do my poor best to soothe away the anxieties of these terrible times, father. It’s a little gift God gave me, and I thank Him for it every day of my life. I truly believe that I am helping the senhora’s cousin a little; he is certainly so good as to say so. I was just saying to her that I thought she might benefit from my services, if she would let me try. Purely for love, of course, because we are all young people together.’

  ‘It’s very good of you –’ Caterina was trying to think how to phrase her instinctive rejection of the idea, but Father Pedro interrupted her.

  ‘Ridiculous,’ he said. ‘An absurd notion. What has the senhora to be anxious about, at home with her loving father? And if she were to think herself in any difficulty, she knows well in what direction it is her duty to turn. We’ll have no talk of your mumbo-jumbo healing practices in this house, if you please, Miss Emerson.’

  ‘I beg your pardon.’ She was obviously used to being rebuffed. ‘I only meant it for the best. Surely you must agree with me, father, that we are all in this world to help each other. I am sure Miss Brown thinks so.’

  ‘Why, yes, of course.’ Harriet was surprised
to be suddenly included in the conversation. ‘Only sometimes it’s hard to know just what one should do for the best. I often wonder if leaving people alone isn’t the kindest thing one can do for them.’

  ‘There’s my cue to take myself off,’ said Rachel Emerson, putting down her glass with a sharp little click on the marble table. ‘It has been good of you to be so kind to me, Senhora Gomez, and I do thank you a thousand times for inviting me to Mrs Ware’s party. I shall very much look forward to seeing you there, and introducing my beloved brother to you. You will find him quite out of the usual way.’ She leaned forward to plant an apparently impulsive kiss on Caterina’s cheek. ‘My heart tells me we are going to be the very best of friends. Goodbye, Miss Brown, Father –’ With a cool nod for Harriet and a deep, graceful curtsey for Father Pedro.

  ‘But I never invited her to the party,’ said Caterina, when she had gone.

  ‘No. What an odd performance.’ Harriet turned to watch Father Pedro move solemnly away from them down the terrace towards the house.

  ‘Performance?’

  ‘Didn’t you think so? She was putting on the act of a silly young American woman. All that talk about Barnstaple and had we been there. I don’t like her, Cat.’

  ‘No more do I. But she made me remember those happy days at Falmouth. Oh, Harryo, I wish we would hear from your mother.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Harriet. ‘But I am sure no news is good news.’

  Chapter 8

  Frank Ware was getting anxious about his mother’s increasingly ambitious plans for her party. ‘Mother, you are absolutely outrunning the constable,’ he protested one mild September evening when he had found her in her boudoir giving lavish orders to an obsequious wine merchant. ‘We will have all the duns in town descending on us if you go on at this rate. And I am sure Miss Gomez would much prefer the kind of quiet little affair you first planned.’

  ‘Nonsense, Frank, you see it all the wrong way round. This party is to be at once an endorsement of Miss Gomez’s position in our society and a statement of our own. It is just the way to re-establish our credit, and, frankly, I blame you more than anyone for the damage that has suffered. All this absurd talk of getting a job, going to work for Major Dickson … Naturally people are beginning to talk, to wonder if things are not quite right with us. Good name is everything in these troubled times, and I do beg you to remember that.’

  ‘Good name won’t be much use if we have Marmont down on us like a whirlwind,’ he told her.

  ‘I thought he was heading for Lisbon?’

  ‘Nobody knows for sure. Dickson went upriver the other day with the last of the Chloe’s supplies, and I just hope he will be back soon with real news. This state of uncertainty is hard on everyone. I thought Miss Gomez and Miss Brown were in a suppressed state of nerves when I called on them yesterday, and there was not much I could say to comfort them, except to renew your invitation to join us if there should have to be another flight to England.’

  ‘I’m sure there won’t,’ she said comfortably. ‘But I’m sorry the poor girls are anxious; all the more reason for diverting them with plans for the party. I am glad you are such a faithful visitor to their house, Frank. Can I hope that there will be an interesting announcement to make to our friends at the party?’

  ‘Oh, mother, impossible! It’s outrageously too soon. How can I ask the girl to marry me when I have only known her for a few weeks?’

  ‘Don’t be absurd, Frank. She’s half-Portuguese, remember, and must have been brought up to the idea of an arranged marriage. Besides, you were childhood friends; everything’s on your side. I expect if the truth were known she is impatiently waiting for your proposal. And I am sure her father is.’

  ‘If she is, mother, she conceals it admirably. She is a most self-possessed young lady, and of course I hardly ever see her alone. She and Miss Brown are quite inseparable and Senhor Gomez never shows himself.’

  ‘That Miss Brown.’ Something in his tone had alerted her. ‘What do we know of her, Frank? I have been wondering a great deal about her, a nobody from God knows where. Can I safely introduce her to my friends? I wish you would try and find out something about her for me.’

  ‘She is Miss Gomez’s friend, mother. Surely that must be enough for us.’

  ‘It’s all so awkward,’ grumbled his mother. ‘At home in England it would be easy enough to find out, but here – I’m sure I don’t know what to do for the best.’

  ‘Welcome her to your house!’ He felt himself getting angry and knew he must fight it. ‘What are we, after all, but honest wine merchants? I hope I am as good a gentleman as the next man, but to more than that I will not pretend. My grandfather was a sugar baker in Hull, remember.’

  ‘On your father’s side.’ Impatiently. ‘But my mother –’

  ‘Was Lady Susan, an earl’s daughter. Mother, how could I forget it? But she’s long gone now, and I would much rather stand on my own two feet as an honest business man.’

  ‘If you still had a business.’

  ‘Well, there’s the rub, isn’t it? If only father had thought to diversify, to put some of his money into salt cod, or shipping, but it was vines all the way with him, and now look at us.’

  ‘That’s right, blame your poor father.’ She put a lace-trimmed handkerchief to dry eyes. ‘I knew it would come to that, it always does in the end.’

  He nearly said, better than blaming your extravagance, but restrained himself. Quarrels with her always ended in hysterics, recriminations, and abject apologies on his part. He picked up his hat. ‘I think I’ll just step down to the quay and see if there is any news.’

  Caterina, too, was beginning to be a little anxious about the plans for Mrs Ware’s party. What had originally been described as a little meeting of the English colony now seemed to have burgeoned into a formal affair, with dancing. ‘Not that I don’t love to dance,’ she said to Harriet. ‘And I know you do too, but it’s not at all what I had reckoned on.’

  ‘No, it is odd, isn’t it? Specially when they are supposed to be so hard up. Mr Ware was telling me the other day how very much he hoped that when Major Dickson returns from upriver he will have work for him to do. He hates his idle life, he says, now with the future of the world at stake.’

  ‘What kind of work, I wonder?’ Caterina did not like questioning her friend under false pretences, but it must be done, for Luiz.

  ‘He’s not sure, but he says Major Dickson was very encouraging before he went away. His is a Portuguese rank, you know, and he finds it hard to get the help he needs from his English subordinates. I think maybe his plan is for Mr Ware to act as some kind of assistant. His knowledge of Porto and the Portonians could be very useful.’

  ‘Yes indeed. I hope Major Dickson is back in time for the party; I do so look forward to meeting him. He sounds a most interesting man.’

  ‘If the party is put off again, I should think he is bound to be,’ said Harriet. ‘Mr Ware says his mother is being driven quite to distraction by all the delays; there’s no getting a sense of urgency into the heads of the Portuguese, she finds. If it’s not the wine, it’s the musicians causing delay, or the problem of getting the floors ready for dancing.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said Caterina philosophically, ‘the more delay the better, if you ask me. I can’t say that I absolutely look forward to that party.’ She was minding more and more that she had not told Harriet about her father’s plans for her and Frank Ware. At first it had seemed unnecessary, since she knew she was going to refuse Frank, but now, as she watched him and Harriet together, she did wish that she had mentioned it casually, as an impossibility, in the first place. Too late now, but it would make things extra difficult if, as she sometimes feared, Mrs Ware intended the party for an occasion to try and precipitate an engagement between herself and Frank. Father Pedro had said nothing more about the plan, and his very silence made her anxious. Was he taking her acquiescence for granted? And to make matters worse, Madame Feuillide had twice postponed
her and Harriet’s fittings on one pretext or another. Since there had been no word from Luiz either she felt she must assume that he was out of town on some secret business for his group of conspirators. She very much wished he would come back. She had things to tell him, and things to ask.

  And yet, in another way, it was a halcyon time, with the September days getting cooler and Harriet proving a fearless rider on the gentle mule that had been found for her. As her confidence increased, they rode further everyday, often down past the fishermen’s quarter to the sea at Foz, where Caterina had happy memories of rare childhood outings with the Gomez cousins who now ignored her.

  A worse worry than social ostracism was a very basic one. Anything she asked for, she got, except money. Her father’s credit was good everywhere. There was no problem about Madame Feuillide’s account, or the yards of material and the gloves and shoes that she and Harriet had bought in town. The bills went to her father’s steward and were paid without question. But when she asked him for some money of her own, the steward referred her to her father. ‘I am afraid I have no instructions about that, minha senhora.’

  ‘Not even a scudo to throw to a beggar?’

  ‘I am afraid not, minha senhora. I have no orders.’

  Useless to plead with him. They both knew that her father’s decisions were irrevocable.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ She and Harriet had ridden out to their favourite view of the sea at Foz, and were sitting in the shade of a wild vine that grew riotously up a neglected cork tree. ‘I must have money to send home. Your mother won’t wait for ever; why should she?’

  ‘I’m sure she won’t do anything rash.’ But Harriet did not sound entirely certain. ‘Do you think your cousin would help?’

  ‘How could I explain?’ She looked unseeingly at the distant view of the castle at Foz and the blue horizon beyond. ‘I know he said he would help if I needed it, but, Harryo, how could I ask him for money?’ They sat silent for a few minutes, sharing the thought of Jeremy’s friendly visits and the way he talked about Rachel Emerson.

 

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