Every night, once the bedroom door was shut, he would pounce on her, tearing at her clothes to remove them – and on a couple of occasions, not even bothering to do that. She’d lain beneath him as he pounded against her sore, bruised inner flesh, just waiting for it to be over.
At least when it was, he’d fall asleep immediately, but sometimes she’d wake in the morning and feel him reach for her, and within seconds the weight of his body would again be on top of hers.
Last night, he’d tried to push himself into her unwilling mouth. She’d gagged as he did so, and he’d laughed, telling her she’d become used to it, that it was something all wives did for their husbands to give them pleasure and she mustn’t be ashamed.
Bel was desperate to ask someone for advice, someone who could tell her whether this really was normal and something she’d simply have to endure for the rest of her life. Where was the tenderness, the gentle loving her mother had talked of? she asked herself as she entered her newly refurbished marital bedroom at A Casa das Orquídeas. Currently, she thought, sitting down abruptly in a chair, she felt like a rag doll, pushed and pulled at her husband’s bidding.
At home, her father had a dressing room with a bed in it where he would often sleep. There was no such luxury here, she thought desperately as she walked into the newly added bathroom next door. Perhaps if she managed to conceive a child, surely he’d leave her alone then?
Bel tried to comfort herself that in daylight hours Gustavo could not be more loving towards her. He’d constantly reach for her hand, put an arm around her shoulder as they walked together, and tell anyone who would listen how happy he was. If only the nightly horror would cease, she felt she could at least cope with her new circumstances. But until that day came, she knew she would wake up each morning with dread in her heart.
‘You look pale, my dear,’ said Luiza over dinner that night. ‘Perhaps a child is already on the way?’ She looked proudly at Gustavo.
‘Maybe, Mãe. We will see,’ he said.
‘I was thinking that I might go and visit my mother in Cosme Velho tomorrow,’ Bel ventured into the silence. ‘I would like to see how she is.’
‘Of course, Izabela,’ agreed Gustavo. ‘I was thinking I would visit my club, so I can have the car drop you off and then come to collect you later.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, as they walked through to the drawing room to take coffee. As she conversed with Maurício, she saw her husband pouring himself a further large brandy.
‘Tomorrow morning, Izabela,’ interrupted Luiza, ‘I would like you to come and see me in the library and we will go over the household accounts. I’m sure there was no need for a budget at your parents’ home, but here at the Casa we don’t like waste.’
‘Yes, Luiza.’
Bel refrained from pointing out that her father was paying for their family home to be renovated. And had, she knew, granted a very generous sum of cash to Gustavo on their marriage, which was meant to cover such things as their living expenses and her wardrobe.
‘Time for bed, my love,’ Gustavo said, and Bel’s heart began to beat uncomfortably fast at the prospect. The heavy, salty meal which the ageing cook had prepared sat uneasily in her stomach as Gustavo signalled for her to rise.
‘Goodnight, Mãe and Pai.’ He bowed slightly to them. ‘We will see you in the morning.’
With Gustavo leading her by the hand up the stairs, Bel took a deep breath and followed her husband into their bedroom.
‘Querida,’ said Carla as she greeted Bel at the front door. ‘I have missed you. Come inside and tell me all about your honeymoon. Was it wonderful?’
The comforting sight of her mother made Bel want to throw herself into her arms and weep on her shoulder.
‘Yes,’ she agreed quietly as Carla led her through to the drawing room. ‘Gustavo’s relatives were most kind to me.’
‘Good, good,’ she said as Gabriela brought them some coffee. ‘And Gustavo? He is well and happy?’
‘Yes, he has gone to his club this afternoon. To be quite honest, I’ve no idea what it is he does there.’
‘Gentlemen’s business,’ Carla replied. ‘Probably checking his stocks and shares. Which, if they are anything like your father’s, are doing very well at present. The coffee trade continues to boom. Only last week your father bought another two farms. Which one day you, and therefore Gustavo, will inherit. So, tell me, how is married life?’
‘I’m . . . adjusting.’
‘"Adjusting"?’ Carla frowned. ‘Izabela, what does that word mean? You’re not happy with your new state?’
‘Mama,’ Bel said, reverting to her childhood word, ‘I . . .’
‘Please, Izabela, continue with what you wish to say.’
‘I . . . need to know if, well, Gustavo will always wish to have . . . activity . . . in the bedroom every night?’
Carla studied her daughter, then chuckled.
‘Now I understand. You have a husband who is hot-blooded and wishes to enjoy his beautiful new wife. Izabela, this is a good thing. It means he loves you and wants you. Surely you must understand that?’
Bel was desperate to ask her about the other things Gustavo did and wished her to do, but she could not voice the words. ‘But Mãe, I am very tired.’
‘You are not getting much sleep, that is to be expected,’ said Carla, either stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her daughter’s tension or being genuinely blind to it. ‘I remember it is how your father and I were in the days after we married. It is natural, querida, and yes, after a time, of course it will calm down. Perhaps when you are pregnant, which from the sounds of things, you soon will be,’ she added with a smile. ‘I have always longed to be a grandmother.’
‘And I a mother.’
‘How is it living in your beautiful new home? Is Senhora Aires Cabral being kind to you?’
‘She has been welcoming,’ said Bel shortly. ‘Although this morning we talked about the household accounts. They live far more frugally than we do.’
‘Surely now, with your father giving Gustavo such a handsome sum, that will change? And in fact, we have something to tell you. But I will wait until your father is here with me before we do,’ said Carla secretively.
‘You are well, Mãe?’ Bel changed the subject, realising that Carla simply did not wish to know or hear about any problems her daughter was experiencing. She also thought Carla still looked far too thin and pale.
‘I am feeling very well indeed,’ her mother replied brightly. ‘Although it’s very strange in the house without you. When you were away in the Old World, I always knew that you were returning home here. I know now that you never will. Still, you are not far away and I hope we will see each other often.’
‘Of course we will.’ Bel was depressed by the odd feeling of distance that seemed to have suddenly emerged between them. It was as though Carla had accepted that her daughter no longer belonged to her, but to Bel’s husband and his family.
‘Ah, here is your father. I told him you were coming to visit and he promised he would return early from the office to see you.’
Antonio arrived, full of his usual bonhomie. Once he’d hugged his daughter, he sat down next to her and took her hands in his.
‘I wanted to wait until you were returned from honeymoon to tell you of our gift to you on the occasion of your marriage. Yesterday, Izabela, I transferred the deeds of Fazenda Santa Tereza to you.’
‘Pai!’ Bel stared at her father in genuine delight. ‘You are telling me the fazenda is mine? Just mine alone?’
‘Yes, Izabela. However,’ her father continued, ‘there is a slight complication that you should be aware of.’ Antonio paused and rubbed his chin in contemplation for a moment. ‘You may not know that currently in Brazil a husband normally acquires the legal rights to any property that his wife owns. So, since your mother insisted that the fazenda should be yours alone, I had to be a little . . . creative. I have set up a trust in your name, to be administered by my lawyer, wh
ich includes the fazenda within it and your right to any income that the farm earns. Plus the right to live in it until your death. We must hope that before that happens, our outdated laws will be changed and you will own the fazenda outright. There is also a clause which allows the trust to be passed on automatically to any children you may have.’
‘I understand. Thank you, both of you,’ Bel whispered, so moved she could barely speak. ‘Nothing you could have done could have made me happier.’ Bel rose to embrace her mother, who she now knew was primarily responsible for this wonderful gift.
‘I felt that your father has been more than generous to your husband’s family,’ Carla said. ‘Even if Gustavo knew about this – which he does not – he could hardly complain that Antonio wishes to be equally generous to his daughter. Especially when he has worked so hard all his life to be able to provide for her.’
Bel saw the hint of disapproval in her mother’s eyes, and realised that there was part of Carla that resented Antonio’s financial benevolence to a family who had never worked a single day in their lives.
‘Now . . .’ Antonio retrieved a sheaf of documents from an envelope he had brought in with him. ‘Come here and sign these along with me. Witnessed by your mother and Gabriela.’
Bel put her name to the documents underneath her father’s, then Carla and Gabriela signed as witnesses. Her spirits had lifted enormously at the thought of a home that was truly hers. Given her current misgivings about her marriage, it gave her a much needed sense of security.
‘There,’ smiled Antonio, never happier than when he was being munificent. ‘I will get these to my lawyer as soon as possible,’ he said, stowing the documents away in his desk drawer.
Gustavo arrived an hour later to take her home. After the formal greetings from his new in-laws, he announced that they must leave to be in time for dinner with his parents.
‘I’ll be back to see you as soon as possible, Mãe. And perhaps we can take that ride up Corcovado Mountain in the train and see how the Cristo statue is coming along?’ said Bel.
‘I would like that very much, Izabela,’ agreed Carla. ‘Maybe on Thursday?’
‘Yes, I will see you then,’ she said and followed Gustavo dutifully out to the car.
As the driver began the journey home, Bel decided not to mention to her husband the gift her parents had just made her. It was her beautiful secret and she wished to keep it to herself. As they passed the Estação do Corcovado, she saw the train emptying its passengers onto the tiny platform. And there, walking towards her along the narrow path, was . . . Bel’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at him, but he turned away down the street too quickly for her to be absolutely sure.
Bel closed her eyes and shook her head. Of course it wasn’t Laurent, just someone who looked very like him. After all, what would he be doing in Brazil?
‘My wedding gift is to be delivered to the Casa tomorrow,’ said Gustavo, pulling Bel out of her reverie and putting his hand on hers. ‘I have seen it and I think it’s very beautiful. I hope you will too.’
‘Then I will look forward to it,’ she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
Later that evening after dinner, Bel felt exhausted. The image of the phantom Laurent had unsettled her and her stomach was cramping painfully. When Gustavo and she arrived in their bedroom, she moved swiftly into the bathroom and locked it behind her. Changing into her nightgown, she cleaned her teeth and brushed her hair. She unlocked the door and went into the bedroom where Gustavo was already undressed and in bed waiting for her. As he reached for her, she backed away and shook her head.
‘I am sorry, but tonight we cannot. I have the curse.’
At that, Gustavo nodded briskly, climbed off the bed and donned his robe. ‘Then I will sleep in my old room and let you rest. Goodnight, my dear.’
As the door closed behind him, Bel sat down on the bed and let out a small chuckle at Gustavo’s swift exit. At least, she thought, she’d have a few days every month when she would sleep alone and in peace.
Two days later, as agreed with Carla, Bel arrived at her old house to collect her mother and take her on the train up to the top of Corcovado Mountain. As they climbed into one of the carriages and began to ascend, Carla grasped her daughter’s arm in fear.
‘Is this safe? The incline is so steep, how can it reach the top?’
‘Don’t be frightened, Mãe. It is worth it when we get there and you can see the beautiful view of Rio.’
At the top, they climbed the steps slowly together, Carla needing to pause every so often to catch her breath. Bel guided her mother to the viewing pavilion. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she smiled. ‘And of course, they are building the structure for the Cristo over there. It is so strange to think that I saw the sculpture being designed and made with my very own eyes in Professor Landowski’s studio. He actually took a mould of my hands to perhaps use as models for the Cristo’s. . .’
As Bel turned from the view below her to the Cristo structure, she saw two men walking from it, deep in conversation. She stared in disbelief, her heart almost stopping as he glanced upwards and saw her.
They gazed at each other for a few seconds, then he smiled at her and turned his attention to the steps. And following his companion down them, he disappeared from view.
‘Who was that?’
Carla was watching her daughter with interest.
‘I . . . it was Senhor Levy, Heitor da Silva Costa’s project manager.’
‘Yes, I recognise him from his photograph in the newspaper. But what about the other man?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t tell for definite, but I believe it was an assistant of Professor Landowski’s.’
‘I see. Well, he certainly seemed to know who you were.’
‘We did meet in Paris, yes,’ Bel said as she tried desperately to compose herself. Every nerve ending in her body was telling her to run from the pavilion, hurtle down the steps and fall into Laurent’s arms. And it took every ounce of restraint to prevent herself from doing so.
Fifteen minutes later, when Carla had said she’d had enough of the blistering heat and they walked slowly back down the steps and onto the platform to wait for the train, the two men were nowhere to be seen.
When they arrived back at the house, Carla asked her if she wanted to come in for some refreshment, but Bel declined and told her driver she must go straight home. She needed some time alone to collect herself, and she knew if she stayed with her mother, she might give herself away.
How can he be here? Why has he come?
But of course, Laurent had been with Senhor Levy, so she could only presume he’d been sent by Landowski as his envoy to oversee the Cristo project for him.
Yes, thought Bel, climbing out of the car and walking reluctantly up the front steps, that was it. Laurent’s presence in Rio was nothing more mysterious than that. She made her way straight upstairs to her bedroom, knowing that Gustavo wouldn’t be home from his club for at least a couple of hours and feeling relieved at the prospect.
Lying on the bed, Bel breathed deeply and tried to think rationally. The chances were that she would never set eyes on him here. It was unlikely their paths would cross in Rio, as the engineer Senhor Levy was not part of their social circle and Heitor da Silva Costa was still in Paris. It was simply a cruel twist of fate that she’d seen him today. And with all her heart, as she remembered the sweet smile he’d given her as they’d stared at each other for that split second, she wished she hadn’t.
The following evening, Gustavo arrived home early from his club and told her she was not to enter the drawing room until he gave the word. She could see from his expression that whatever it was he’d bought her as a wedding gift had pleased him. She prepared to show her appreciation for whatever it might be.
‘Your parents are joining us for dinner tonight, as well as another surprise guest, so put on your most beautiful gown,’ her husband suggested.
Laurent too had been moved and unsettled by hi
s glimpse of Izabela standing in the viewing pavilion. The sun had been behind her as he had looked up, which had made her appear almost angelic; her whole being lit up. In the days since he’d heard from Levy of her wedding, the excitement he’d felt when he first arrived in Rio had been tempered with misery. He’d decided the best thing he could do was to view the construction project as soon as possible, so at least he could tell Landowski all was looking well for his sculpture. Then he would also see a little more of the land he’d travelled so far to reach, and afterwards, return home to France. Now he knew for certain Izabela could never be his, there was nothing here for him. He’d berated himself for his impetuous decision to board the ship in the first place. However, he had stayed for the past month, fuelled by the knowledge that at some point Izabela would return to Rio from her honeymoon, and by a blind belief that they would meet by chance.
And then yesterday, Monsieur Levy had told him that Monsieur da Silva Costa had contacted him, asking for Laurent’s telephone number.
‘It seems Gustavo Aires Cabral would like to meet the sculptor of his wife in person. He’s invited you to dinner at their beautiful house tomorrow evening. I believe he also wishes to pay you,’ Levy had added. ‘He will call you to make the arrangements in due course.’
‘Thank you.’
Laurent had decided initially that he would of course refuse the dinner offer, and arrange to meet the man at his club in Rio to receive payment for the sculpture. Izabela’s husband was hardly a person with whom he wished to become acquainted.
But then yesterday afternoon he’d seen her . . .
Now, after endless debates with himself, he’d decided – whether the husband was there or not – that he’d allow himself an evening when he would have the pleasure of gazing at her beautiful face once more. So when Monsieur Aires Cabral had called him, he accepted the invitation to attend the dinner.
As the taxi drove through the streets of Ipanema and out of the hecticness of the city into the suburbs, Laurent wondered now what on earth had possessed him. Surely, spending hours in her presence was suicide for his heart? It would only reignite his passion further. However, he thought, as the car turned into the long drive of an elegant colonial-style house, he was here now and would simply have to make the best of it.
The Seven Sisters Page 33