‘You really mean it.’ He looked suddenly abject, a bully exploded.
‘I really mean it. I’m glad you believe me.’ She turned to Jeremy. ‘Goodbye, Mr Craddock. I thank you with all my heart for what you have done for me today. And you shall have your information when we have our passages. And, Mr Craddock – Jeremy – don’t mind too much.’
It was pouring with rain when Jeremy got outside into the stinking alley and he was glad, it suited his mood. Fool, idiot, fool. Hardly aware what he was doing he began to climb the steep slope towards the cathedral, and then beyond, up to the ruins of the seminary where Wellington had made his landing two years before. It was deserted up there, the rain bucketing down, he could stand unnoticed and curse his own folly. He had let her make a lovesick fool of him, he who had sworn long ago that he would never trust a woman. It was good to feel the rain wash the taste of her off his lips, the feel of her from his body. Gradually, beginning to feel colder, damper and somehow purged, he began to think about it all again, differently. She had not mocked him, not really. When she had said she enjoyed his kisses, she had meant it. And so had he. I’ve lost a love, he thought, and maybe found a friend. How very odd. And he walked five miles upriver and back through the drenching rain without thinking of anything at all.
‘Mr Craddock, where in the world have you been?’ Mrs Ware exclaimed in horror when he finally returned and unfortunately met her in the hall as he came dripping in from the sodden outdoors.
‘Walking,’ he told her. ‘I’m sorry to flood your house, ma’am. I’ll go straight to my room.’ He knew she was thinking of her Axminster and her chintzes.
‘I trust you have dined, Mr Ware. We waited for you as long as we could.’
‘I’m so sorry –’
‘You’ll take tea with us, I hope. In half an hour? I’ll have hot water sent up.’
‘Thank you. It’s more than I deserve.’ He looked at the little pool of water forming at his feet on the marble floor of her cold hall.
Changing swiftly into dry clothes, he had the strangest feeling that he was recovering from an illness. He felt free, clearheaded, his own man again. He ought to be broken hearted and instead he was relieved. And, best of all, it looked as if he was going to get the information he had been sent for, just for the price of two passages to America. He would be able to stop pretending to be an invalid; he would be able to leave this gossipy town where Rachel Emerson felt disaster looming, and return to England, a step taken forward in his career.
He was knotting his cravat, met his own eyes in the looking glass. He did not want to go back to England and take up his career. If Rachel Emerson was right, if disaster was really imminent here in this dangerous town, how could he leave? And did he want to go on with work that involved him in such shabby pretences? It suddenly struck him that he could hardly go to his cousin Caterina, and tell her that he was not a sick man at all, had merely been feigning sickness in order to advance his career. He remembered how kind, how considerate of him the two girls had been on the voyage out and thought he would rather die than admit it had all been pretence. So, best go at once? And leave them to the dangers Rachel felt threatened here in Oporto with no protector but that old curmudgeon of a father and his attendant priest?
His half hour was almost up. He must not be late again. He retied his cravat with ruthless efficiency, shrugged into his best jacket, ran a comb through damp hair and hurried downstairs.
‘That looks better, Mr Craddock. I do hope you have not taken cold.’ Mrs Ware was alone, enthroned behind her elaborate tea equipage. ‘Frank has gone to see Miss Gomez,’ she went on. ‘He quite haunts that house these days. He says it is something to do with this mysterious new work of his, but I think you and I know better, do not we?’ With a roguish look. ‘It’s a little difficult to imagine how a charming young thing like Caterina Gomez could be associated with Major Dickson and his material of war.’ She handed him his tea cup. ‘Just as you like it, I fancy. Now, Mr Craddock, I am hoping for a word of advice from you.’
‘I should be delighted. Thank you.’ He took the cup and put it down on the gilt-legged table beside him. ‘Anything I can do –’ He looked as puzzled as he felt.
‘You’re thinking I should ask Frank!’ She gave one of her braying laughs. ‘A boy, Mr Craddock, a charming boy. I flatter myself, but a boy for all that. Now, I recognised you from the start as quite the man of the world, for all your unfortunate illness. I am sure you can give me just the advice I need. The case is this: I have been approached, on the very highest level, but the less said about that, perhaps, the better. All most flattering, most civil … Who would have thought when I planned my modest little party that it would come to this? If only my poor husband were alive, how happy it would make him. And then, of course, I would not need anyone’s advice but his. But as it is – a poor widow woman with no one to turn to … I know I can trust you with a secret, Mr Craddock.’
‘Of course. You said a high-level approach –’ He could not help but be interested.
‘About my party. Yes. It seems that a very important person indeed is planning a bolt to Oporto, as he calls it, for next week. When he heard about my party, he most graciously said he would like to drop in on it. No pomp, no circumstance and above all no talk, just a friendly visit and a dance or two with some elegant company. He’s being dined at the Factory that day, you see, and means just to walk over and give us a look in. All very fine, but what I need to know is when. My Frank has never been to one of their formal dinners, so he’s no help at all.’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, ma’am, but nor have I. And anyway, does it matter if it is indeed to be a surprise visit?’
‘Of course it matters. Why do you think I was warned of the “surprise” if it was not so that I could make suitable arrangements? I am sure you can find out for me, Mr Craddock. But tactfully, of course, so that no one has any idea …’
‘I am sure I can,’ he told her. And so could your son. But he did not say that.
Chapter 11
Calling at the Gomez house, Frank Ware found the two girls on the point of leaving to visit their dressmaker. ‘I am so sorry, Mr Ware,’ Caterina apologised. ‘But if we are not to disgrace your mother next week we must keep our engagement with Madame Feuillide.’
‘And we want to look our very best, now we know who is coming,’ said Harriet. ‘I could hardly sleep last night for thinking of it.’
‘You won’t forget that it is a deep secret,’ he warned. ‘Madame Feuillide has lived here for ever, I know, but the fact remains that she is French. Don’t for goodness sake let anything drop about why you want to look your best.’
‘Our lips are sealed,’ Harriet promised him. ‘You would be surprised how well women can keep a secret if they really want to.’ Was it his imagination or did she and Caterina Gomez exchange a quick glance?
Caterina had risen as a servant appeared to announce that the carriage was ready. She picked up a paper from the table beside her. ‘Here is a list of names and directions I got from old Tonio.’ She handed it to him. ‘He says he is sure most of them will be happy to find work under almost any conditions. I had not realised quite how bad things are here in Porto. It all looks the same on the surface, or not much different, but Tonio says there is real despair, real hunger, in the back alleys and out in the country. He actually asked me to be careful where we went, Harriet and I. Me, a Gomez! It’s hard to believe.’
‘But I beg you to take the man seriously,’ he urged. ‘I have heard tales of highway robberies on the road to Braga, of desperate men who would risk their lives for a few scudos. You do always take an armed escort, I trust, when you go riding down at Foz?’
‘We take a groom,’ she said. ‘If you like I’ll make sure he is armed. And in return I suggest that you do not take any sidealley short cuts on the way home from here, Mr Ware. Tonio said something that made me a little anxious – about feelings towards the British. You do rather keep yourselves to yourse
lves, don’t you, and behave as if the world were your oyster.’
‘You are talking as if you were not half British yourself, Cat,’ protested Harriet.
‘Why, so I am. How very strange.’
The two girls sat silent for a while as the carriage lurched forward through rain-sodden lanes. Caterina had told Harriet everything that had passed between her and Luiz’s grandmother, and they had discussed it upside down, backwards, and sideways, in the day that had passed since she met the old lady. And at the end of it all, they seemed to be back where they had started. Caterina could not bring herself to believe that Luiz was as bad as his grandmother had painted him. Or was it, Harriet wondered, that she could not bring herself to admit that she believed it? She had promised to be infinitely careful in what she said to him, but felt she must suspend judgement until she had talked to him. ‘After all,’ she said in the carriage, as she had said before, several times, ‘Madame Feuillide is a clever woman. She has deceived the Portonions easily enough, maybe she has fooled Luiz too.’
‘Maybe,’ said Harriet, not for the first time. ‘But, Cat, whatever you do, don’t tell him about little Lewis. I think his grandmother’s plans for the poor baby sound alarming enough, without his father’s getting involved.’
‘I’m sure you are right about that,’ agreed Caterina. ‘It frightens me. She means to have him. She was going to send for her attorney today, she told me. I just hope nothing too drastic comes of that.’
‘What a blessing Lewis is safe in England,’ said Harriet.
‘If he is safe.’
‘He may be hungry,’ said Harriet, ‘if money is tight. But he will be safe enough, I am sure. Mother has got the sense to take the long view. He won’t be in clover, poor little duck, but he won’t be in actual danger either. Not so long as you are alive to ask after him.’ A shiver ran down her spine as she said it. ‘Cat, do you not think you should tell your father?’
‘I don’t dare.’ She leaned forward to peer out of the carriage window. ‘If only it would stop raining! How am I going to meet Luiz if it goes on like this?’
‘You won’t be able to meet him outside anyway,’ said practical Harriet. ‘Your shoes and skirts would be drenched; it would be bound to cause comment you cannot afford. I think you have to assume that Madame Feuillide and your Luiz will have worked something out between them.’ Privately, she thought she was glad of the rain, which might force the two conspirators to make their position clear to Caterina. ‘I wish you would let me stay with you this time.’ She had urged this before. ‘It would give me a chance to make up my own mind about him.’
‘Your unprejudiced mind? I do see what you mean … Oh, Harryo, if only I knew what to do for the best.’
‘Whose best?’ asked Harriet. And went on to answer herself: ‘It seems to me, love, that it has to be little Lewis’s. If you hold on to that, I don’t think you can go far wrong.’
‘Oh, Harryo, I do thank God for you!’ Caterina turned quickly to hug her friend. ‘And here we are!’
‘You are prompt to your hour,’ Madame Feuillide greeted them with her usual subtle distinction between rich girl and poor girl. ‘I was afraid this terrible weather might keep you at home.’
‘With the great party only six days off?’ said Caterina. ‘Impossible. To tell truth, ma’am, we had been getting a little anxious at not hearing from you.’
‘Oh well, all’s for the best now.’ The Frenchwoman was bustling about, doing things with damp shawls. ‘We’ll begin with you today, I think. Miss Brown. If you wouldn’t mind stepping into my humble little salon while we work, Miss Gomez? You know how I need to concentrate. You may find a young relative of mine there, I hope you won’t mind it. And the less said about him the better.’ With a conspiratorial smile for the two girls. ‘His father went to the United States with the Marquis of Lafayette years ago, but when the Marquis came back, my cousin stayed on and went into business there. Young Louis is on his first voyage to Europe and made a point of coming to see his old cousin. Isn’t it the most touching thing? But what with the French connection and this dreadful threat of war between the United States and England, I thought it best for him to lie as low as possible in the few days he is with me. Such a pity! I would so like to show him off here in Porto, but we all know that one cannot afford to set tongues wagging here of all places. Try to cheer him up, Miss Gomez? I am afraid he is finding life sadly dull here with me. Not what he expected at all. And not a word to anyone.’
‘At last!’ Luiz had been out in the rain and his normally curly black hair was plastered close to his skull. It made him look quite different. Older. Dangerous? He held out his arms. ‘My little love –’ And then, ‘No need to look so scared. Madame the dressmaker has given the strictest orders that we are not to be disturbed. And so have I, which is more to the point. They know better than to cross me here. But, what is it, my own?’ As she still hung back, facing him across the little room with its platoon of upright gilt chairs. ‘You want to make your report first, like the admirable colleague you are? Quite right,’ he approved. ‘But I’ve been travelling all day, through this foul weather. Come, love, let’s sit here and be comfortable while you tell me your tale.’ He stepped forward, took her hand and led her to a stiff little sofa that matched the gilt chairs. ‘I could curse this weather,’ he told her as he seated her and took his place too close beside her. ‘You have no idea what luxurious arrangements I had ordered to be made for us in the garden here. Never mind.’ He put a proprietorial arm round her shoulder. ‘Privacy will be all the sweeter when we achieve it at last. What a devilish clever girl you are to tease and tantalise a man so. I’d never had thought it possible, but I am as mad for you now as I was that first day, so long ago. How am I to bear thinking of you, surrounded by those stolid Englishmen at the Factory? I have been teasing madame the dressmaker with the notion that I will smuggle myself into this party next week, just to keep an eye on you, my little witch.’
‘But, Luiz, it would be madness.’ If only the hand that held her would keep still.
‘Oh, not as myself, love. I’m not so crazy as that. But if you suddenly feel a warm breath on your beautiful bare shoulder from one of the flunkeys, don’t look round, for it will be I.’
‘Luiz –’ She pulled a little away to look him in the face, and felt that he did not like it. ‘We have to talk, you and I. You must see that I cannot answer your questions unless I know more about why you are asking them. Porto is full of whispers. I’ve been warned again about careless talk by Frank Ware. You remember, he scolded me before because I asked him about the Anthea’s cargo.’
‘Young busybody. I must certainly come to that party. But the Anthea is an old story now – no longer important, though of course I am infinitely grateful to you for trying to find out for me, my precious one. And the same goes for Marmont’s movements, though I am sure you have a great tale to tell me about them too. Everyone knows now that he got supplies into Ciudad Rodrigo and nearly got Wellington too, I believe. And now they are all going snug into winter quarters and we have to wait until spring for our next move. At least I hope it will mean a chance for us to be together, my sweet love. I am hoping my friends will agree that I am the obvious person to watch the course of events through the winter, here in Porto, and then I can find myself a place of my own, somewhere we can safely meet.’ His arm was close round her again now, telling its own urgent tale. Half of her yearned towards him; the other half thought of Lewis, her son, and what Harriet had said. And, suddenly, she knew just what Luiz was planning. Why had she not seen it before? He wanted her pregnant. That way, he thought he could force her father into letting them marry. He was wrong, of course. Her father would simply cast her out. Deep in her heart, she thanked God for the rain.
Did he feel her instinctive, momentary withdrawal? ‘You are absolutely right, my angel, as usual. That Miss Brown of yours will be upon us any moment. We must seem the mere acquaintances she thinks us. I shall put on a Yankee accent a
nd ask you Yankee questions! So – tell me about this great party you are going to look so splendid at next week! You will be guest of honour, Madame Feuillide tells me. I think I really must get myself a flunkey’s livery just to watch over you among all those pompous young Englishmen, my angel. I’d like to see you queening it there –’
The habit of confidence dies hard. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she was not to be guest of honour after all. ‘I’m not –’ and then remembering Harriet’s warnings and Frank Ware’s, she turned the sentence in a new direction: ‘I’m not letting myself look forward to it too much,’ she told him, ‘for fear that my father should suddenly get into one of his passions and forbid us to go, Harriet and I.’
‘And why in the world should he do that?’
‘He’s very strange these days.’ It occurred to her that in their two meetings he had asked her nothing about her own life. Did she only exist for him as someone to be made use of? It was dangerous to think like this, sitting here, alone with him, his arm around her. Her coachman and groom were far away in the back parts of this isolated house. Suppose he were to sense that she was no longer the willing, ignorant tool he thought her? Could she really be imagining the possibility of being kidnapped by Luiz, held to ransom? And then what would happen to little Lewis? She made herself lean a little closer to him, look up at him confidingly: ‘It would be entirely too dangerous for you. She is inviting mainly English people, of course, who would not know you, but think of the servants, Luiz. Your face is not one to be easily forgotten. Promise me you won’t think of it. I expect it will be deadly dull really, and I will tell you all about it afterwards. Do you think you will have your own house by then? How in the world will I manage about coming to see you?’
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