The Seven Sisters

by Lucinda Riley

  Up here, Bel thought one night as she lay in her bed yet again remembering Laurent’s touch, life outside the fazenda felt far removed. It was the same feeling she’d experienced in Paris, when her marriage to Gustavo and the life she would live in Rio had seemed distant, as the maze of alleyways that made up Montparnasse – where she so often imagined Laurent walking – did now . . .

  When they had been at the fazenda for three weeks, Antonio arrived to spend the weekend with them. Immediately, the atmosphere changed, as Fabiana went into a frenzy of cleaning and had her husband clip the already immaculate grass and polish the perpetually gleaming copper ornaments that hung on the wall in the dining room.

  ‘How is she?’ Antonio asked when he arrived mid-afternoon while Carla was taking a rest.

  ‘She’s much improved, Pai. I think in another few weeks, she will be strong enough to return to Rio. Fabiana is taking such good care of her.’

  ‘Well, I will see for myself when she wakes. But Izabela, it is almost December,’ said Antonio. ‘Your marriage takes place at the end of January, and there is still much to do. If, as you say, your mother is recovering under the care of Fabiana, then I feel that you must leave her here and return to Rio with me.’

  ‘But Pai, I’m sure Mãe would prefer her daughter near to her.’

  ‘And I’m sure your mother would understand that the bride needs to be in Rio to organise her wedding,’ countered Antonio. ‘Not to mention showing your face to your fiancé. I think Gustavo has been extremely patient under the circumstances. He must feel his intended runs away from him at any given opportunity. And I know his parents are becoming most anxious about the arrangements. As am I. So, you will return to Rio with me and that’s my final word on the matter.’

  As her father left the room to see his wife, Bel knew she was beaten.

  ‘Mãe,’ she said as she kissed Carla goodbye two days later, ‘please, if you need me, know that I am happy to return. Fabiana will use the telephone in the village to let me know how you are.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, piccolina,’ Carla said as she stroked her daughter’s cheek tenderly. ‘I promise I am on the road to recovery. Send my apologies to Senhora Aires Cabral, and tell her I hope to be back in Rio very shortly. Come, give your mother a hug.’

  Bel did so and Carla stood at the front door, waving her husband and daughter goodbye. Antonio blew his wife a kiss and the car inched along the stony drive.

  ‘I am very relieved that she is on the mend,’ he said suddenly. ‘Because I really don’t know what I would do without her.’

  Bel was surprised to see a rare look of vulnerability in her father’s eyes. For much of the time, it seemed to her that Antonio barely noticed his wife.

  The following month was filled with endless trips to A Casa das Orquídeas to meet with Luiza and finalise the details for the wedding. Even though Bel was determined not to let the woman rile her, her patronising, arrogant manner had her biting her tongue on many occasions.

  Initially, she’d made suggestions for her preferred hymns, the design of her bridesmaids’ dresses to complement her own magnificent gown, and a possible menu for the wedding breakfast. But every time she did so, Luiza would find a reason why Bel’s ideas were inappropriate. Eventually, seeing it was by far the least painful course of action, she’d simply agreed to everything Luiza suggested.

  Gustavo, who sometimes joined them in the drawing room during their meetings, would give her hand a squeeze as she left. ‘Thank you for being so good with my mother. I understand she can be domineering.’

  Bel would arrive home exhausted, with a headache from the stress of having to comply with everything Luiza said and wondering how on earth she would control herself when she was actually living under the same roof.

  As high summer arrived in Rio, Bel found that without her mother at home, and with her father at the office from dawn until dusk, she had far more freedom than usual. Loen, who had entered a slough of despondency since leaving Bruno behind to return to Rio, would accompany Bel to the little station and take the train up the mountain to see how the Cristo project was progressing. They could see from the viewing platform the hive of activity the site was becoming; great iron bars were being hoisted into place and it was now possible to make out the shape of the cross.

  Watching its progress comforted Bel. Since her time at the fazenda, she felt more at peace with the fact that no matter what Laurent thought of her, or whether he loved her, she would always love him. She’d understood that trying to fight it was simply impossible. So, she had surrendered and accepted, knowing she’d harbour her love for Laurent secretly in her heart for the rest of her life.

  33

  Paris, December 1928

  ‘So, they are finished and ready to be chopped into pieces and shipped off to that great coffee factory of a country across the seas,’ declared Landowski as he studied the head and hands of Christ, which now took up every spare inch of space in the atelier.

  Landowski wandered about the head, studying it thoughtfully. ‘The chin still concerns me. From this distance it sticks out from the rest of his face like a giant slide, but the crazy Brazilian tells me this is how he wishes it.’

  ‘It will be seen from a great distance, remember, professor,’ commented Laurent.

  ‘His Father in heaven only knows if my masterpiece will make it safely to Rio de Janeiro,’ Landowski grumbled. ‘The Brazilian is arranging a passage on a cargo ship for it. Let us hope that the seas are calm and another container in the hold does not smash into my creation. I would go with it if I could, to oversee the shipping and to observe the early stages of construction, but I simply cannot spare the time. This project has already taken up twice the time it was meant to and I still have the commission of Sun Yat-sen to complete, which is already considerably behind schedule. Well,’ he sighed, ‘I have done what I can and now it is out of my control.’

  As Laurent listened to Landowski, the tiniest seed of an idea sprouted in his mind. He kept it to himself, wanting to think it through before he suggested it.

  The following day, Heitor da Silva Costa came to the atelier, and the two men decided where and how the head should be cut into pieces. Laurent listened as Landowski again voiced his concerns about the safety of the sculpture moulds on their journey.

  ‘You’re right,’ agreed Heitor. ‘There should be someone to check them regularly in the hold, but I simply cannot spare any of my team to make the journey. My draftsmen here are not yet finished.’

  ‘I could go,’ said Laurent suddenly, voicing the idea that had been growing in his mind since the previous day.

  Both men turned to him in surprise. ‘You, Brouilly? But I thought you were wedded to the streets of Montparnasse and your hectic social life here,’ said Landowski.

  ‘Sadly, I’ve never had the opportunity to travel outside of France before, professor. Perhaps a few months abroad in such an exotic country would expand my artistic horizons and inspire me.’

  ‘Then you will return to make a great sculpture of a coffee bean, no doubt,’ Landowski quipped.

  ‘Senhor Brouilly,’ said Heitor, ‘if you are serious, then I think it would be an excellent idea. You have been present since the inception of the structure. In fact, your own hands have contributed to parts of it. If the professor can spare you, you could be his eyes in Rio as we construct it.’

  ‘And ensure that a finger does not end up stuck on Our Lord’s nose as they fit the pieces together,’ Landowski mumbled under his breath.

  ‘I’m happy to go if you wish it, professor,’ Laurent reiterated. ‘When would we sail, Monsieur da Silva Costa?’

  ‘I have a passage booked for next week, which should give us time to cut and then wrap the moulds securely in their crates. The sooner they reach Rio, and we have all the parts safely delivered, the happier I will be. Are you able to travel at such short notice, Monsieur Brouilly?’ asked Heitor.

  ‘I am sure he will have to consult his diary to see
if he can move some of his upcoming commissions back,’ said Landowski, throwing Laurent a glance which told him to be silent. ‘Presumably, there will be some financial recompense for his travels and the loss of his time? For example, bed and board?’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Heitor quickly. ‘And in fact, that reminds me, I had a telephone call a few days ago from Gustavo Aires Cabral, Izabela Bonifacio’s fiancé. He’s heard about the sculpture you did of her, Senhor Brouilly, and would like to present it to his wife-to-be as a wedding gift. I said I would ask you whether you were willing to sell?’

  ‘I . . .’

  Laurent was just about to say that under no circumstances would he ever sell the sculpture of his precious Izabela to her fiancé, when Landowski cut in on him.

  ‘What a shame, and just as you had found a wealthy buyer here, Brouilly. Have you accepted his offer?’

  Confused, Laurent replied, ‘No, I . . .’

  ‘Well then, perhaps Mademoiselle Bonifacio’s fiancé would like to make a better one, and you can decide. You said you’d been offered two thousand francs, is that correct?’ Landowski shot a further glance at Laurent, willing him to play along.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, Heitor, tell this Monsieur Aires Cabral that if he is prepared to offer more, and cover the shipping costs to Rio, then the sculpture can be his.’

  ‘I will,’ said Heitor, his expression showing that he wasn’t remotely interested in haggling over the price of someone else’s sculpture when he had his own to think about. ‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem. So, I will come tomorrow and see how you are progressing with our giant jigsaw puzzle. Good day to you both.’ Heitor nodded at them and left the atelier.

  ‘Professor, what was that all about?’ Laurent asked. ‘I have no buyer for Mademoiselle Izabela’s sculpture. And in fact, had no thought of selling it.’

  ‘Brouilly, can’t you see I was doing you a favour by acting as your agent?’ Landowski chided him. ‘You should thank me for it. Don’t think that the real reason for your sudden eagerness to travel halfway around the world with pieces of the Christ is lost on me. And if you decide to stay in Brazil, you will need some money behind you to help you. What need will you have there of your precious sculpture when you will be close to the living, breathing person who inspired it? Let the fiancé have her immortalised in stone and worship her outer beauty. My guess is that he will never reach her soul, as you so obviously did. Personally, I think it’s rather a good swap,’ Landowski chuckled. ‘So, now we set to work.’

  That night, as Laurent settled down on his pallet in the atelier, wedged between the head and an enormous finger of the Lord, he wondered what on earth he was doing.

  Izabela had made it clear where her future lay. Her marriage must be imminent and would, in all likelihood, have taken place by the time he arrived in Rio. What exactly he hoped to achieve by travelling there, he wasn’t sure.

  But Laurent, like all those in love, was a great believer in fate. And, as he glanced at the giant palm before shutting his eyes, he only hoped that it would take a hand.

  34

  Rio de Janeiro, January 1929

  The morning of the wedding of Gustavo Maurício Aires Cabral to Izabela Rosa Bonifacio dawned hot and bright, with barely a cloud in the sky. Reluctantly, Bel climbed out of her maiden bed for the last time. It was early, and as she walked out of her bedroom, the only sound she could hear was the distant clatter of pans from the kitchen.

  Tripping downstairs barefooted, she went to the drawing room and then into the small alcove which housed the chapel. Lighting a candle on the altar, she knelt down on the red velvet-covered prie-dieu, closed her eyes and clasped her hands together.

  ‘Please, Blessed Virgin, on this my wedding day, give me the strength and fortitude to go into my marriage with an open heart and be a good and loving wife to my husband. And a patient and caring daughter-in-law to his parents,’ she added with feeling. ‘Grant me healthy children and that I may count my blessings rather than dwell on my problems. Bring continued wealth to my father and restored health to my dearest mother. Amen.’

  Opening her eyes, Bel glanced up at the faded face of the Madonna and blinked away tears.

  ‘You are a woman, so I hope you will forgive the thoughts I still carry in my heart,’ she whispered.

  A few minutes later, Bel genuflected, rose and, with a deep intake of breath, left the chapel to begin what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

  Technically, nothing could have gone better on the day than it did. Crowds lined the streets to watch Izabela and her father arrive at the cathedral, and cheered when she stepped out of the Rolls-Royce in the stunning Chantilly lace wedding dress that Jeanne Lanvin had designed in Paris. The magnificent cathedral was packed and as her father walked her proudly down the aisle towards Gustavo, she glanced surreptitiously through her gauzy white veil and saw many familiar faces from among the highest in the land.

  An hour later, the bells rang out as Gustavo led his bride back down the aisle and outside onto the steps of the cathedral. The crowd cheered again as he handed her into the horse-drawn carriage so they could ride through the streets to the Copacabana Palace. Bel stood beside her new husband and received the three hundred guests as they filed into the huge salon.

  After the many courses of the wedding breakfast, Bel and Gustavo retired to their suite to rest before the grand ball later that evening.

  Once the door was shut behind them, Gustavo took her in his arms.

  ‘At last,’ he murmured as he burrowed his face into her neck. ‘I’m free to kiss you. Come here.’ He pulled her head towards him and kissed her ferociously, like a starving man. His hands moved to touch the thin layer of lace covering her breasts and fondled them roughly.

  ‘Ouch,’ she gasped. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Forgive me, Bel,’ Gustavo said, releasing her and regaining his composure with visible effort. ‘But you must understand how long I’ve waited. No matter,’ he said with a wink. ‘Only a few hours more until I can finally hold you naked in my arms. Can I get you a drink?’ he asked as he turned away from her and Bel shuddered involuntarily.

  She watched as Gustavo went to the decanter on the side table and poured himself a large measure of brandy.

  ‘No thank you.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s wise. I wouldn’t want your senses dulled for tonight.’ He grinned at her and raised his glass. ‘To my wife, my beautiful wife,’ he added as he drained the brandy in one gulp.

  Bel had noticed on the few times she had accompanied Gustavo to social events that he seemed to enjoy alcohol. On occasion, she had thought him a little drunk by the time the evening was finished.

  ‘And I must tell you that I’ve bought you a very special wedding gift,’ he continued. ‘Sadly, it hasn’t arrived yet, but it is due to be here by the time we return from our honeymoon. So,’ he asked her, ‘would you like me to help you out of that gown so you can take a rest?’

  Bel glanced longingly at the enormous double bed in the suite. Her feet, stuck as they were in a pair of high-heeled satin shoes – which had meant that with her tiara and hair piled up on her head she had stood three inches taller than her bridegroom at the altar – were hurting her. Not to mention the uncomfortable corset, which she’d been tightly strapped into this morning by Loen, underneath the lace. But the thought of Gustavo releasing her from it with his pale, thin fingers was not an appealing option.

  ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ she announced, blushing with embarrassment.

  Gustavo nodded, having just poured himself another brandy.

  Bel walked into the opulent mirrored room and sat down gratefully in a chair. She closed her eyes, and pondered on the ridiculousness of the fact that a ring on her finger and a few short sentences could change her life so profoundly.

  The contrast between her unmarried feminine self, whose virtue must be protected at all costs from any predatory male, and the woman who now, only hours later
, was supposed to enter a bedroom alone with a man and perform the most intimate acts, verged on the ridiculous. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror and sighed.

  ‘He’s a stranger,’ she whispered to it, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with her mother last night.

  Carla, looking much restored after her time at the fazenda, had come into her bedroom just before Bel had turned off the light, and had taken her daughter’s hands in hers.

  ‘Querida, I am now going to tell you what will happen to you tomorrow night,’ she’d begun.

  ‘Mãe,’ Bel had said, as horribly embarrassed as Carla, ‘I think I know.’

  Her mother had looked vaguely relieved, but had still persisted.

  ‘So you are aware that the first time may be a little . . . uncomfortable? And that you might bleed? Though some say if you have ridden horses, the delicate tissue that marks a woman out as pure could already have broken. And you rode such a lot at the fazenda.’

  ‘I didn’t know any of that,’ said Bel truthfully.

  ‘The . . . process takes some getting used to, but I imagine Gustavo is experienced in the ways of it and I’m sure he will be gentle with you.’

  ‘Mãe, is it . . . is it ladylike to enjoy it?’ asked Bel tentatively.

  Carla let out a peal of laughter. ‘Of course, querida. You will be a married woman, and there is nothing a husband wishes for more than a wife who is happy to explore the pleasures of the bedroom. It’s how you keep your husband, and how I have kept mine.’ A faint tinge of colour rose to her cheeks. ‘And remember, it’s for God’s purpose: to beget babies. It is a holy state between a husband and wife. Goodnight, Izabela. Sleep well and do not fear for tomorrow. It will be better than you expect, I promise.’

  As Bel remembered this conversation, she also thought of her automatic revulsion at the thought of Gustavo touching her in the ways her mother had subtly described. Rising from the chair to return to him, she only hoped that it was first-time nerves and that after tonight, it would be as her mother had told her.