Afterwards, they lay together in the tangle of sheets and Bel answered many of the gentle questions Laurent put to her about the past few weeks.
‘And what of you, Laurent?’ she asked eventually. ‘You have managed to keep yourself busy?’
‘Sadly, since Alessandra Silveira, I have been unable to secure a further commission. Everyone is nervous about the situation with the coffee in Brazil and the stock market in New York. They are no longer spending their money on frippery such as sculptures. So for the past month I have done little more than eat, drink and take a swim in the sea. Izabela,’ Laurent said, his face becoming serious, ‘apart from the fact that the situation in Brazil worsens by the day, I feel that I have stayed here as long as I can. I miss France and it is time that I stopped treading water. Chérie, forgive me, but I must return home.’ He reached for her hand and kissed it. ‘The question is, will you come with me?’
Bel found herself unable to reply. She lay silently in his arms, eyes tightly closed, feeling as though all the elements which made up her life were rising to an unbearable crescendo.
‘Senhor da Silva Costa has booked me a cabin on a steamer that leaves on Friday,’ he continued, urgency in his voice. ‘I must take it, as many of the shipping companies are owned by Americans. If the financial situation worsens further, there may be no boats leaving the port in Rio for many months.’
Bel listened to Laurent, finally realising just how deep this crisis in America went. ‘You sail on Friday? In three days’ time?’ she finally managed to whisper.
‘Yes. And I beg you, mon amour, to join me. I think it is time for you to follow me,’ he urged. ‘However much I love you, there is nothing for me here: no life, and certainly not one we could share together, given your circumstances. I feel guilty for forcing a decision on you when your precious maman is barely cold in her grave. But I hope you can understand why I must go.’ His eyes searched her face for an answer.
‘Yes, you’ve waited for me long enough.’ Bel sat upright and pulled the sheet across her naked breasts. ‘Laurent, there is something I must tell you . . .’
Gustavo emerged from the crowded senate building with relief. Inside, both the temperature and the tension had reached boiling point as desperate coffee producers demanded to know what the government would do to save them. There had even been some brawling – civilised men driven to violence at the thought of their fortunes dwindling to nothing overnight.
He had lasted as long as he could, wanting to at least show his support but feeling he had little to offer in the way of advice. Now more than anything he wanted a drink. Turning in the direction of his club and walking a few paces, he checked himself.
No. He must resist or he would be back to where he started, and he had promised Izabela only last night that he was a reformed character.
Then he remembered her telling him over breakfast that she was going to her dressmaker’s in Ipanema for a fitting. The salon was only a ten-minute walk from here and he suddenly thought how nice it would be to surprise her. Perhaps they could take a walk along the promenade, sit in one of the beachside cafés and simply watch the world go by. That was the kind of thing husbands and wives who enjoyed each other’s company did, wasn’t it?
He turned left and headed in the direction of Ipanema.
Fifteen minutes later, Gustavo emerged from Madame Duchaine’s salon confused. He swore Izabela had said earlier that this was where she was headed after visiting her father, but Madame Duchaine had assured him that no appointment had been booked that afternoon by his wife. Shrugging, Gustavo walked along the street and hailed a cab to take him home.
Laurent was staring at her, utter shock on his face.
‘And you are sure the baby is mine?’
‘I have gone over and over any occasion in my mind which could have made it possible for it to be Gustavo’s, but as you have said yourself, unless there is proper . . . entry, it is impossible to make a baby.’ Bel was blushing with embarrassment at talking so intimately about her relationship with her husband. ‘And in the two months before I left for the fazenda with my mother, there . . . was none. Not that my husband would have noticed one way or the other,’ she added.
‘You think you are about three months pregnant?’
‘Maybe more, but I cannot be sure. I could hardly go to the family doctor until I’d spoken to you about it.’
‘Can I see?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, although there is little showing.’
Bel watched as Laurent took the sheet from her body and put his hand gently on the tiny bump. His eyes left her belly and travelled upwards to hers. ‘And you can swear to me that you are as sure as you can be the child is mine?’
‘Laurent’ – Bel held his gaze – ‘there is no doubt in my mind. If there was, I simply would not be here.’
‘No. Well . . .’ he sighed. ‘Given the circumstances we were discussing before this news, it makes it more imperative that we leave together for Paris as soon as possible.’
‘You are saying you want our child?’
‘I am saying that I want you, my Izabela. And if that,’ he said, pointing to the bump, ‘is part of you and me – however unexpected – then yes, of course I do.’
Bel’s eye’s blurred with tears. ‘I thought you might not. I was steeling myself for it.’
‘Admittedly, if it arrives and resembles a ferret, I may have second thoughts, but of course I believe you, Bel. I can think of no good reason why you would lie to me, given the life I can offer a child compared to your husband.’ Laurent dropped his gaze from her and sighed. ‘You must realise I have no idea how we will survive. Even I can see that bringing up a baby in my garret in Montparnasse is not suitable for it. Or for you.’
‘I have jewellery that I could sell,’ Bel offered for the second time that day. ‘And a little money to get us started.’
Laurent looked at her in wonder. ‘Mon Dieu! You have already thought about this.’
‘Every minute since I knew for certain,’ she admitted. ‘But . . .’
‘There is always a “but".’ He rolled his eyes. ‘And what is yours?’
‘I saw my father before I came here to you. He wouldn’t stir from his bed, he is so depressed. He told me that he has lost everything in the American stock market. He is ruined and broken by this and my mother’s death.’
‘So now you are no longer just feeling guilty about your husband, but about leaving your father?’
‘Of course!’ Bel said, frustrated that he didn’t seem to understand the enormity of her decision. ‘If I go with you, Pai really will feel he has lost everything.’
‘And if you don’t, our baby will have lost its papa. And you and I, each other,’ countered Laurent. ‘Chérie, I can’t help you make your decision. All I can say is that I travelled halfway across the world to be with you, and have sat here in this apartment for the past nine months living only for the moments we are together. Of course I would understand if you decided to stay, but it seems to me that there is always a reason for you not to consider your own happiness.’
‘I loved my mother so very much, and I love my father still. Please remember it was not Gustavo who drew me back to Rio from Paris,’ Bel begged him, tears pricking at her eyes. ‘I did not wish to break my parents’ hearts.’
‘I think, Izabela, that you need some more time to think about this.’ Laurent tipped her chin towards him and kissed her lightly on her lips. ‘Once the decision is made, there is no going back. Either way.’
‘At the moment, I confess that I’m not sure which way to turn.’
‘Sadly, I doubt that there will ever be a better “moment” in the future to make a choice such as this. There never is. However,’ he sighed, ‘I suggest we meet again here in two days’ time. And then you will tell me of your decision and we will make a plan.’
Bel had climbed off the bed and was already dressing. Pinning on her hat, she nodded.
‘Whatever happens, querida, I will b
e here at two o’clock on Thursday.’
When she arrived home at the Casa, Bel telephoned Gabriela to ask after her father. Gabriela said that he had indeed risen from his bed and had left the house, telling her he was going to the office for the afternoon. Relieved, she decided that rather than going upstairs immediately, she’d ask Loen to bring her some mango juice out to the terrace and enjoy the softness of the evening sun.
‘Is that all you need, Senhora Bel?’ Loen asked her as she placed the glass and jug on the table beside her mistress.
Bel was tempted to confide about the dreadful quandary she was in. But she knew that even though Loen was the closest friend she had, she could not burden her maid with the truth.
‘Yes thank you, Loen. Could you draw my bath for me in ten minutes? I’ll be up later.’
Bel watched her disappear round the side of the house and into the kitchen. Now her mother was gone, she knew this was a decision she had to take on her own. Bel sipped her mango juice and tried to rationalise the facts. Even though Gustavo’s behaviour in the past twenty-four hours had been a marked improvement on the previous few months, from his past history, Bel had to believe it was temporary. Whatever he’d promised, she doubted her husband had the spine to stand up to Luiza.
And more to the point, she felt nothing for him, and not even a trace of guilt any longer. If she did leave him, it seemed his mother already had a fail-safe option in place. The marriage could be annulled and Gustavo would be free to find a more suitable wife than herself. And Bel was sure that this time his mother would choose the bride for him.
Her father was a different matter. She agonised that her mother would never forgive her for deserting Antonio in his hour of need. She also remembered her mother’s words to her just before she’d died – how following her heart to Laurent could only end in disaster.
And now, of course, there was a new presence in her life that she must consider. She must think what would be better for the little one growing inside her. If she stayed with Gustavo, she could give the baby security and a family name which would carry her child comfortably through its life. And of course, Bel thought, she could imagine the look on Pai’s face if she told him he was expecting his first grandchild. That alone would surely give him a reason to live.
But would she want any baby of hers brought up under the emotionless, austere roof of the Aires Cabrals? The child would be saddled with a mother who would spend the rest of her life regretting her decision to stay, secretly dreaming of another world she had rejected. And a father who was only that in name . . .
Bel sighed in desperation. Whichever way she turned, she could not come to a resolution.
‘Hello, Izabela.’ Gustavo appeared on the terrace from around the corner of the house. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Enjoying the coolness of the evening air,’ she said abruptly, unable to stop herself outwardly blushing from the hidden thoughts inside her head.
‘Yes,’ he said, sitting down. ‘It certainly became heated in the senate today. Apparently on Wall Street, they’re calling today “Black Tuesday". The Dow Jones has lost an additional thirty points from yesterday and the Rockefeller family has been buying large amounts of stocks to shore up the market. I don’t think it’s worked, but we won’t know until tomorrow exactly how much has been lost. Anyway, at least my father seems to have made some sensible decisions over the past few months, unlike others. How was your father today?’ he asked her.
‘Dreadful. I think he is one of those you just mentioned who has gambled and lost.’
‘Well, he mustn’t feel ashamed. There are many of them in the same boat. They weren’t to know. None of us were.’
Bel turned to him, appreciating his calm words of wisdom. ‘Perhaps you would go and see my father. Tell him what you’ve just told me.’
‘Of course.’
‘It is almost seven and my bath will be getting cold,’ she said, standing up from the bench. ‘Thank you, Gustavo.’
‘For what?’
‘For understanding.’
Bel made to walk around the corner of the house and back inside.
‘By the way, how was your fitting at the dressmaker’s?’ he asked her, watching as she paused at his words, her back to him.
‘It was most successful. Thank you for asking.’ She turned and smiled at him before disappearing out of sight.
43
After a further restless night, Bel awoke groggy and exhausted, having finally fallen asleep as dawn broke. She saw the space where Gustavo lay was empty next to her. As she made her way to the bathroom, she thought how this was unusual in itself; Gustavo was never normally up before her. Perhaps he really did mean to turn over a new leaf. When she went downstairs for breakfast, she found only Luiza at the table.
‘My husband and yours are together in the study looking at the morning papers. You will have heard from Gustavo yesterday, I’m sure, that Wall Street crashed again. They will both be heading back to the senate soon to discuss what can be done to save the coffee industry in the wake of this disaster. Will you be going to the Igreja da Glória today?’ Luiza queried blandly, as if nothing had changed since yesterday and half the world hadn’t woken to find themselves bankrupted this morning.
‘No. I must go and see my father. As you can imagine, he is currently . . . out of sorts,’ Bel replied in a similarly neutral tone.
‘Of course. Well, everyone reaps what they sow, as I’ve said before.’ Luiza stood up. ‘Then I shall continue in your absence to do our family duty and take your place at the church.’
Bel watched the woman as she swept from the room, and felt breathless with astonishment at Luiza’s insensitivity. Made even more unbearable by the fact that her mother-in-law’s continuing financial stability – including this recently renovated house – had been aided and paid for by Antonio and his hard work.
Bel took an orange from the bowl and threw it against the wall in frustration, just as Gustavo entered the room.
He raised an eyebrow as the orange rolled back towards her under the table. ‘Good morning, Izabela,’ he said as he knelt to retrieve the fruit and put it back in the bowl on the table. ‘Practising your tennis?’
‘Forgive me, Gustavo. I’m afraid your mother made a particularly insensitive comment.’
‘Ah yes, well, that will probably be due to the fact that my father informed her before breakfast this morning that you will be taking over the household accounts from now on. As you can imagine, she hasn’t taken it well. I’m afraid you will simply have to ignore any tantrums the news has solicited.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ she agreed. ‘I hear you’re going to the senate again this morning?’
‘Yes. News is gradually trickling through from New York. Apparently, yesterday was a bloodbath,’ Gustavo sighed. ‘There were men throwing themselves out of windows all along Wall Street. Thirty billion dollars has been wiped off the value of stocks. Within a few hours, the price of coffee per pound plummeted.’
‘Then my father was right to think it was all over for him?’
‘It’s certainly a huge disaster for every producer, and, more importantly, for Brazil’s economy as a whole,’ Gustavo explained. ‘Can I suggest that your father joins us for dinner tonight? Perhaps I can find a means of helping him in some way. At the very least, my father and I can tell him what the government is saying, if he can’t face appearing at the senate himself.’
‘That would be most kind, Gustavo. I’m going to visit him later and I will suggest it,’ Bel replied gratefully.
‘Good. And may I say how very beautiful you look this morning.’ Gustavo kissed her gently on the top of her head. ‘I will see you at luncheon.’
Having telephoned Gabriela to be told that Antonio had ventured into the office this morning, she told her to inform him of the dinner invitation for this evening. Climbing back up the stairs to her bedroom, Bel watched from the window as Jorge returned from chauffeuring Maurício and Gustavo to the
senate building in Rio. Then, twenty minutes later, the car left again with Luiza inside it.
Bel walked back downstairs and wandered along the hall, glad to have the house to herself. On the silver tray, she saw a letter addressed to her. Picking it up, she opened the front door and walked round to the bench on the back terrace to read.
Apartment 4
48, Avenue de Marigny
Paris
France
5th October 1929
My dearest Bel,
I can hardly believe it is over a year since I last saw you and you left Paris. I write to tell you that we are on our way back home to Rio, as Pai has finished his computations for the Cristo and wishes to return to oversee the final stages of its construction. By the time you read this, we will be somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean. You’ll be pleased to hear that I will be able to converse with you in French, as my lessons and my work at the hospital have made me proficient, if not fluent. I leave Paris with mixed emotions. When I first arrived, you will remember that I was almost afraid of it; but now, I can honestly say I will miss it – in all its complexity – and perhaps find Rio claustrophobic in comparison. However, there is much I am looking forward to, including seeing you, my dearest friend.
How is your mother’s health? You wrote of concerns about her in your last letter and I hope she is fully recovered. Speaking of health, I have written to the Santa Casa de Misericórdia Hospital and I am enrolling on their nurses’ training programme on my return. This will keep me out of trouble, I’m sure. Sadly, I did not meet my French count while I was here, and no man has shown interest in me, so I have decided that I will be wedded, certainly for the time being, to my career.
How is Gustavo? Will we soon be hearing the patter of tiny feet? You must long to be a mother, and certainly it is the one part of marriage that I long for too.
Our steamer docks in the middle of November. I shall call on you when I’m home and we can catch up properly.
The Seven Sisters Page 40