We had arrived in a deep forested area with a grand turreted structure rising overhead, a mini yellow castle with balconies hanging over arched windows and an abundance of ornate rococo details. I gaped. This was the quinta—with turrets?
The doors of the laundry truck slammed shut. Soon the vehicle’s tires spat up the gravel as it zoomed down the drive. Out of sight, a gate clanged shut, leaving me alone.
It felt as though I’d just been dropped into the midst of a Walt Disney special minus the remote control. Nothing about this mini castle looked old or worn or otherwise real. The whole experience struck me as more akin to somebody’s idea of a fairy tale.
A brilliant sunset blazed over top of the trees, gilding the surrounding gardens as my feet crunched across the gravel toward the doorway. I tried the brass knob—locked. I knocked. No answer. Probably in the trauma of the ailing senhor, I had simply been forgotten. Visions of Alice in Wonderland crowded into my head.
Fine, so I’d just try the front door. So says a woman completely unaware of how large a country estate can be, let alone exactly which end was which.
I trod along what I took to be a side path beside a wall-like hedge heading in the direction from which we had arrived. At least, I could just see the lane the truck had taken before disappearing into the woods and that had to mean something. Besides, I caught glimpses of lights through the trees. Was that toward the front?
Obviously not, because soon I was surrounded by foliage so thick I could hardly make out anything in the fading light. Totally turned around, I found myself wandering into the garden, or one of them. Banks of flowers swayed in the golden light and a fountain tinkled somewhere out of sight.
I needed to stick to a path because paths are supposed to lead somewhere good, or that was the theory. But there were paths branching in every direction. Do I choose the one going down or the one heading up, to the left or to the right?
Choosing left for no other reason than I liked the look of the marble bench marking the fork, I ended descending into a wooded grove where mist snaked low against the ground. A moss-covered well tangled in ivy added to the atmospheric interlude, perfect for something out of the Brothers Grimm. Backtracking, I arrived more or less where I started, only nothing looked the same.
Alarmed, I wandered into a circular rose garden and inhaled the fragrant blooms as a kind of consolation prize for the hopelessly lost. Seconds later, I emerged beside a huge stepped fountain with a bronze dragon spewing water into a bowl big enough for a small swimming party. In desperation, I climbed the fountain steps to get a lay of the land. There, several feet aboveground, I could finally see the house glowing in a mass of lights to my right—not too far away actually, if I could only figure out how to get there.
But I wasn’t expecting the fountain behind me to burst into a sudden foam-spitting light show. I may have yelped as the dragon above turned from green to orange while spewing colored water from his jaws, splashing into the pool and onto me. The entire garden blazed with artful light shows like Vegas crossed with the Tivoli fountain. Okay, so maybe I was getting cranky. The hell with dragons, anyway.
Moving away from the spray, I pulled out my phone, thinking to activate my geo-positioning device, but gazing at the blank screen sobered me. Did I really want these Divinios or whoever the hell they were to track me into fairyland? I shoved the phone back into my pocket just as I heard shouting coming beyond the botanical maze.
“Over here!” I called. “By the dragon!”
The dragon kept me company in its fashion as I leaned against the marble pool watching the flashlights bob through the dusk toward me. Occasionally, I’d gaze up at a particularly spectacular sparkly spew as the giant reptile spat colored water into the pool.
A few minutes later, two masked men and a little girl wearing a glittery pink kitten face mask arrived.
“We are most sorry, Ms. McCabe,” an older man said in thickly accented English from the bottom of the steps. “We lost you. We look everywhere but gone!”
“But do not worry because we have found you now!” the little girl called up.
“It’s all right,” I said, stepping down. “I should have stayed where I was put.”
But then one of the men pulled a gun.
“Whoa!” I said, putting up my hands.
“My apologies, senhorita,” the man said. “This for temperature. Not a gun. Sorry to alarm. Please step down.”
“Oh, right.” I climbed down the rest of the stairs and leaned forward while he aimed the laser thermometer at my forehead. It was one of those weird Covid moments worth tucking away along with all the others. By now I had quite a collection.
“You are cleared to come into the house,” he said. My welcoming party removed their masks except for the child, who still wore her kitten variety.
“Oh, good.” Because I had no idea what I would do if they refused.
“Hello.” A little dark-haired girl grinned up at me, her heart-shaped face and wide brown eyes beaming with delight. “I am Ana Marie Carvalho.”
No older than seven or eight and dressed in perfect girlie clothes—a lovely pink crinoline skirt and matching velvet jacket—she looked ready for a birthday party. “This is Senhor Abreu and Senhor Afonso. They work for my grandpapa, and behind you is Draggy, my dragon. Grandpapa gave him to me for my seventh birthday. Mama allowed me to come welcome you.”
The short-haired older fellow who had taken my temperature and his young black companion both wore identical navy shirts and trousers and seemed otherwise delighted to see me, too. Each shook my hand in turn, smiling all the while. It seemed that, in their minds at least, once my temperature had been determined as normal, so did everything else.
“Very pleased to meet you, Ms. McCabe. I hope Draggy did not wet you,” Senhor Afonso, the younger man, said.
“Only a little. Hi, Ana Marie, Senhors Abreu and Afonso,” I greeted. “I’m very relieved that you found me since I was completely lost. Sorry for causing you any trouble. Why don’t you call me Phoebe?”
The child tugged my jacket. “I am not sure my mama will let us call you Phoebe but please come now. We will be late for dinner. We are dining early tonight because I am allowed to join you. My bedtime is usually at eight o’clock, which is too early.”
“Hush, Ana Marie—do not pester the poor lady,” Senhor Alfonso scolded in a tone that implied that nothing this child did could ever shake his patience.
I grinned. “I am not pestered, believe me. In fact, I am totally charmed.”
The child took my hand and tugged me down the walk toward the house, or in the opposite direction of the house actually. “But this place is so confusing.”
“My grandpapa says it is supposed to confuse. It is a maze. He calls it a big adventure but I know the way. My grandpapa and all the grandpapas before him designed the grounds like a fairyland. I love it best at night because it is magical. Sometimes Mama will let me go out to see all the fountains but not so much anymore, not since… Here, we will take a shortcut.”
“The grounds were once open to the public,” Senhor Afonso said, trudging behind, “but now we keep the gates locked.”
I assumed that was related to Covid but had no opportunity to ask because Ana Marie ran on. Soon I was being led through spotlit hedgy tunnels, beside reflecting pools that captured the twilight glow, past a topiary pruned like a rearing unicorn, and finally through another arched door that led into a flagstone patio by the house. A flashing light panel on the wall indicated a security system, which one of the men tapped in passing. The door clanged shut behind us.
“Is this the front?” I asked.
“No, the front is waaaay over there.” Ana Marie pointed roughly to the left. “Mama says I am to take you straight to your room so you can change for dinner and have a bath.” She giggled. “I should have said to have a bath and then change for dinner. Do you think my English good?”
“I think your English is amazing,” I told her as she took me do
wn back hallways leading to kitchens and laundry rooms and maybe a larder. The place was a warren of rooms. “But I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“Mama or Auntie Leonor will find you something. She leaves tomorrow but has lots of pretty dresses. I was allowed to choose one of my own so I could wear it to dinner tonight—see?”
“It’s beautiful!”
“Thank you. It is one of my favorites but I never wear it because we never have fancy dinners anymore. You will love the dresses my mama picked out for you.”
If Mama had been the woman running behind Senhor Carvalho when we arrived, I doubted she’d have anything to fit. I was of the curvy persuasion whereas that woman was model lean. Still, here I was in a fairy-tale castle about to dress for a formal dinner. After months of takeout and frozen dinners in my flat, I may as well have fallen into a magic kingdom.
A woman in a navy maid’s uniform smiled shyly and stepped aside as we passed. No masks worn here, I noted. This must be a house bubble.
“Mama would not be pleased that I take you this way but it is much faster!”
Ana Marie let go of my hand and bolted up a curving staircase that obviously curled up inside one of the towers. I hurried after her as we climbed around and around the stone column.
“Ana Marie, is your grandfather all right?” I puffed. “I meant to ask you sooner but I became distracted.”
I heard the footsteps falter. “Mama says he needs to rest more. Hurry, three more floors!”
By the time I reached the top, I was secretly cursing every exercise video I skipped during lockdown, and there’d been plenty.
“Here we are!” Ana Marie squealed in delight. “Mama has given you a turret room just like I asked because it is designed for princesses! This room will be mine someday but for now Mama wants to keep me close to her.” She spun around on her patent-leather shoes, a butterfly taking flight.
I gazed around the half-circular room with three arched windows, a grand four-poster bed, and a fire burning in the grate. Lamps glowed on the side tables and a light had been left on in the small adjoining bathroom. Had I been Ana Marie’s age, I would have leapt on top of that blue velvet counterpane and spread myself out like a snow angel.
Instead, I pulled away the window curtains. As expected, the room had a commanding view, with the garden light fantasy spreading out in all directions below. Fountains, circular shapes marked out in colored spotlights, huge topiaries casting strange shadows on the lawns, and something that looked like a miniature castle outlined in flashing pink were alight. From above it looked like a cross between a wonderland and a miniature golf park.
“I used to go out and play for a half hour every night in the lighted garden but not now,” a small voice said behind me. “Now I am only allowed to look through the window but it is not the same. None of the grown-ups will take me, but I miss seeing Draggy with all his sparking water breath and my own little castle playroom. I miss my daddy more. I know he is hiding out there somewhere and I would go find him, only Mama will not permit me.”
My heart caught in my throat. I turned to the child. “Why do you think that your daddy is hiding?”
Big tear-filled eyes looked up at me. “Grandpapa says he disappeared. I heard the adults talking. He went into the gardens but did not return. They told me that he never would come back and that I must wait for him in heaven. That was six months and two days ago and I think heaven is too long a wait.”
I knelt down before the child and brought her closer. “I’m so sorry to hear about your daddy, Ana Marie. That must make you very sad.”
And then she hugged me, sobbing into my shoulder while I hugged her back, feeling all the profound sadness that comes with trying to console a child facing infinite loss.
“I know all the secret paths to everywhere…” she said through her tears. “I could find him, I could! He’s hiding from the bad ones. Nobody believes me.”
What do you say to a grieving child? Do you distract her? I stood up and tried to smile. “Maybe you could show me around the gardens tomorrow. Are you allowed to go out in the daytime?”
She nodded. “As long as I am with a trusted adult. You could go with me, I think, but I want to go now.”
“Maybe not now.” I turned back to the window. “Come, point out where all your favorite places are.”
“The lights will turn off in one minute.” She held up her sparkly pink phone. “Grandpapa makes them to go off at 7:30.” And before my eyes the garden was doused in absolute darkness. When I turned back to Ana Marie, the child was gazing up at me with the kind of haunted expression no child should wear.
“There are evil creatures in the garden now,” she whispered. “They will snatch you away, but I am not afraid.” And then her phone beeped as a text lit the screen. “Mama wants to know if you like the dresses. Come, they are on your bed.”
Taking my hand, she led me to a carved four-poster bed where a selection of gowns had been laid out on the deep ultramarine velvet bedspread.
“Mama says I am to leave you now but that someone will come for you in an hour for dinner—probably Suzanna or Alma.” Ana Marie was reading a text on her phone. “She says that she is sorry not to greet you in person but she was with Grandpapa. Oh, here, she will tell you herself.” She passed me her phone.
I gazed down at the screen at a woman of about my age. Dark hair formed a glossy bob around a long angular face graced by magnificent cheekbones, all the elements creating a singularly beautiful woman.
“Hello, Ms. McCabe. Welcome to Sintra.” The accent was barely noticeable. “I am Adriana Carvalho and I apologize for leaving you wandering in the dark only to then place you in the care of my chatty daughter. My lack of hospitality was due to my concern over Papa Carvalho. He does not follow his doctor’s instructions, let alone mine.”
“I totally understand. Is he all right?”
“Much improved, thank you. It is his emphysema. He is not to get excited or to overexert himself but he does too much of both. For now he is resting but will see you later.”
“Please don’t feel the need to apologize for leaving me with this charming little princess here.”
Adriana smiled. “Princess Whirling Dervish?”
Ana Marie was now investigating the clothing options on the bed but paused long enough to shoot me a grin. “Mama was going to send you up with Auntie Leonor but she cannot move as fast as me.”
“Ana Marie, hush! Do not be rude. My daughter is half princess, half indomitable spirit,” Adriana laughed. “We will talk more over supper soon. Goodbye for now. And, Ana Marie, leave our guest in peace. She has had a difficult day.”
I returned the phone to the child.
“Did you have a difficult day?” the girl asked, looking up at me with those enormous eyes. “I am very sorry to hear that. Mama says I should never forget that others hurt, too. Today I studied history, maths, and geography and it was hard. Mama says that I am a good student but too easily distracted. Will you go into the gardens with me?”
“Of course I will. Maybe tomorrow during the day.”
She nodded. “I had better go now but I will see you at supper. We eat tonight at the big table.” And with that the little whirlwind ran to the door, pausing to add, “I like the maroon one best. It is the color of the chocolate cosmos in the garden—my favorite flowers because they smell so chocolatey and my daddy planted them. My tutor says I am very good with English but must improve my maths. Bye for now.” The door shut, leaving me alone in fairyland once again.
My heart ached for that child. I swallowed hard and strode to the window again to pull back the curtains. So this was Sintra. We were high up in a wooded mountain with lights in the hollows along with what looked to be other grand residences and maybe even a real castle in the distance. Really, a fairyland by any other name, despite the dark ominous garden brooding below or the missing father or the Divine Right of Kings…
Turning away, I stroked the clothes on the bed, three
outfits still bearing forest-green-and-gold dry-cleaning tags dangling from the labels. Would I or would I not fit into the long burgundy silk gown with the coordinating velvet jacket, Ana Marie’s favorite, or the deep gold satin gown with the elaborate neckline beading, or—heaven forbid—the turquoise silk muumuu? They all looked to be roughly a size fourteen bordering on twelve, providing one is minus hips or a bodacious bust. The muumuu was more like a satin tent.
I took a pile of fluffy towels into the blue-and-white tiled bathroom and poured a tub of scented bubbles. Once soaking, I studied the intricate harbor panel of tiles above my head, entranced by the ships laced with fanciful seashells and ornate motifs that proved why Portugal was famous for its tile work.
At the same time, I wondered what I had fallen into besides hot water, and how Evan, Peaches, Rupert, and Markus were faring. It seemed so wrong that I was steeping in luxury while they were, what—fretting over me? Escaping an explosion with their necks barely kept intact? At least I had been assured that they were all fine, but they still deserved to hear from me, no matter what. For that, I’d request the use of a landline.
And the Divine Right of Kings in the twenty-first century? Most monarchies were no more than figureheads and many more had been replaced by dictators and republics of all stripes. Still, I was always struck by how little I knew about the world and how the knots I stumbled across in history and art always dumbfounded me as I tried to pick them free.
When I emerged minutes later and tried on all my clothing options, the burgundy ensemble won. Yes, it was too tight across the bust and sitting would likely provoke extreme seam stress but the kimono-style jacket hid the result of too many Covid cookies. Besides, the silk and velvet apparently matched a chocolate cosmos somewhere in the garden, which was good enough for me. Should I or should I not wear a mask? I decided to bring it just in case.
The Crown that Lost its Head: A Historical Mystery Thriller (An Agency of the Ancient Lost & Found Mystery Thriller Book 2) Page 8