The Bad Miss Bennet Abroad

by The Bad Miss Bennet Abroad (retail) (epub)

  ‘But how will we release her if we find her?’ Ferdinand showed her the carpet bag he carried, which contained various instruments and tools. Laurencia was full of admiration for his foresight and determination.

  They set off carefully along the tunnel while Ferdinand felt along the walls until he found a small opening leading to a smaller tunnel. He took Laurencia’s hand and led her along the tunnel.

  I paused at this point for more herbal tea. When I read this piece to Adelaide she pronounced it sufficiently creepy and ‘guaranteed to shiver anyone’s timbers.’ She has begun to use nautical expressions since developing a passion for a pirate.

  Chapter 14

  July 1st

  It is barely ten o’clock in the morning and already my muslins are glued to my back. I called Eufrasia to fan me. She watches me with that inscrutable look, those unfathomable black eyes I know so well. The slaves – how they must hate us… and the Indians too. The whites have taken their land and slaughtered them in their thousands. Da Silva watches them with a brooding expression.

  ‘See, Dona Lydia, they are plotting rebellion in the shade of the mango trees. He patted his sword. ‘Only this stands between you and annihilation.’ Da Silva gets pleasure from this kind of remark. He is altogether too full of himself.

  ‘If the Portuguese had not stolen their land and enslaved them we would have nothing to fear,’ I replied.

  ‘And the English, would they have acted differently?’ he sneered. ‘What are they doing in India and Africa? I fell silent having no answer to that. The baby kicked me as if to warn me to keep quiet. My time is close and I am fearful. If only my practical sister Lizzie was here – or even Mama with her vapours. I am so very far from home. Only Adelaide, loyal Adelaide is here with her reassuring cockney phrases. Following Dona Serafina’s suggestion she is bringing me coffee sweetened with molasses. The smell of it almost causes me to heave my stomach. I would give anything for a cup of Twining’s souchong with milk. I have taken too much herbal tea.

  I confess that I have moments of despair especially when I wake in the night, in the whispering, tropical night and the ghosts of my past misdemeanours cluster around the bed, twitching and muttering reproachfully. Then I wake with a start or a scream.

  Sometimes, I see Wickham in his scarlet regimentals sitting on the end of the bed rolling dice. He looks unnaturally pale, as one would expect. He is deceased, after all. He waves a pack of cards in my direction in a manner half amused, half threatening. Adelaide says these are the fancies of pregnancy; Eufrasia says they are omens from the orishas. These are her strange African gods. She goes down to the beach at night and makes offerings to Iemanjá, the goddess mother of the waters.

  Meanwhile, everyone here complains and cries and yells day and night. Eufrasia, strange, unsettling Eufrasia, puts her fingers in her ears to block out what she calls the white laughter of the mulattos.

  ‘How can laughter be white?’ I asked her. ‘You are being fanciful, my girl.’ She shakes her head and declares that their laughter is not like the laughter of black people. The blacks hate the mulattos who control much of the trade here in Paraty. Many of the sugar barons in the Paraiba valley have mixed race wives and children.

  I have a fancy to accept the invitation and travel up to the estate of Dom Luiz dos Carvalhões at Fazenda Muricama. I could be carried in a litter. There is no one from the court to prevent me. I am under the protection of the Count of Paraty but he has urged me to leave the town. I would like my child to be born on the Fazenda. Adelaide complained loudly when I told her of my intentions. She hates travelling in this heat and, of course, she will be separated from the first officer.

  August 20th

  It is settled: When the time comes I will travel by litter to the Fazenda. Adelaide and Eufrasia will attend me. Dona Serafina, my dragon lady chaperone will accompany us with a midwife and da Silva’s bodyguards.

  October 4th

  When my time drew near and after a good deal of the usual fussing and feuding among the slaves and the bodyguards, we departed a day late after twenty-four hours of a heavy downpour – the type of weather da Silva described as ‘está chovendo barba de sapo.’ He obligingly translated this as ‘it’s raining frogs’ beards.’ I took a supply of custard tarts for which I have lately developed a craving. I fear it will be some time before I can resume my Romance.

  Dom Luiz greeted me with great courtesy when we arrived at the Fazenda Muricama. He is an older gentleman, a widower whose sister acts as hostess for him. Dona Caterina was also gracious and welcoming. Whatever her opinion of my condition, she and her brother were devoted to the royal family and their service. They had been commanded to offer me hospitality and they fulfilled this task implicitly.

  After I had rested, I was shown around the estate which is a delightful oasis in the Atlantic rain forest. It is a self-contained world growing its own food.

  ‘We bring only wine from the outside world,’ Dom Luiz smiled, ‘and books whenever I can obtain them.’ In addition to the main house there is a chapel, workshops, stables and huts for the fifty slaves who work the estate. The fertile land yields every kind of tropical fruit.

  Although they are far from civilisation – even Paraty seems a hotbed of culture in comparison – they are content with their lot. Dom Luiz admitted that it has been many years since he saw the shores of his native Portugal. As for me, I am content to be away from the town and the sea and hovering pirate crew for a while.

  October 11th

  For a few days everything was calm and pleasant, then I experienced spasms of pain and knew that my time was almost come. On one occasion I was seized with pain as I passed the chapel. I leaned against the chapel wall for support just as my host’s chaplain opened the door. He took in my situation, gasped with horror, bolted inside and slammed the door. Eufrasia appeared at that moment, spat cheerfully at the door and assisted me back to the house. The pains subsided for a while and I sat on the veranda as the sky darkened with storm clouds and the air became so heavy it felt as if it was bearing down on my shoulders.

  As night fell, bonfires were lit around the Fazenda, surrounded by the fifty slaves singing and chanting in their African language. Distant rolls of thunder were rumbling over the hills. Perhaps the slaves were invoking Xangô, the god of thunder. Between the singing and the chanting and the noise from the sky, my labour pains seized me in an agonizing, iron grip.

  ‘I am so afraid!’ I cried to Dona Serafina, who for once looked almost compassionate.

  ‘Pray, pray my child!’ she commanded. ‘Pray for a safe delivery.’ And I prayed, between the singing and the chanting and the crashing in the heavens, I prayed and cursed and howled. The midwife made me lie on my side with my legs drawn up for as long as possible, ‘To preserve your modesty.’

  Dona Serafina set up a portable shrine to the Virgin and was clicking her rosary beads loudly. I could hear Adelaide arguing on the veranda because she had been refused admission to my room. I could hear my own voice shrieking, but it was as if everything was coming from a great distance.

  When the baby was finally delivered and had been washed and swaddled, Dona Serafina snatched him away and covered him with an array of holy medals, Solomon’s seals and other lucky charms before hurrying with him to the little chapel where the monk will baptise him in the Romish faith… ‘To save his soul,’ she mutters with a furtive look in my direction. Of course she means because he is a bastard and his mother is a Protestant heretic, but I am too exhausted to care.

  At least he is a royal bastard and kings look after their own. He will be named Sebastian after the patron saint of Rio – Sebastião in the Portuguese tongue. Dom Pedro chose this and I agreed, asking only for the name of Bennet to be included in the list of saints’ names. A black slave wet nurse has been found for him. Adelaide thinks this is disgusting but it is the custom here.

  Chapter 15

  October 25th

  I do not know how the news of my son’s birth
and our survival in good health leaked out from the Fazenda. We feel so far from everywhere, yet still people creep in and out of places, forests notwithstanding.

  As I began to regain my strength and my body returned to an approximation of its former self (I have foresworn the custard tarts), worrisome rumours began to reach us. Parties of armed men have been sighted in the forest on occasions. Da Silva and his men went out on patrol but found nothing. Nevertheless, I am uneasy. I know we have to return to Paraty soon; we cannot impose on the hospitality of Dom Luiz indefinitely. Captain da Silva assures me that there will be no problem. The journey is not so long (‘as the crow flies, madam,’ said Adelaide). Little Sebastian is flourishing; there is no reason to delay.

  Of course, most of the rumours come from the slaves on the Fazenda relayed to me by Eufrasia. The slaves go about the forest gathering all manner of flora and fauna. Da Silva is dismissive of ‘slave chatter,’ declaring them to be full of fancies and superstitions.

  ‘Surely,’ I protested, ‘it is not a matter of superstition. Either they saw and heard something or they did not?’ He shrugged and returned to cleaning his musket. ‘We saw nothing on our patrol.’ In short, we are preparing to leave in a few days and while Adelaide and Eufrasia prepare for the journey I can return to my Romance which has been neglected of late. In these uncertain times it is good to have another string to one’s bow. According to Dom Luiz there are stirrings of revolution in various parts of the country. Many people wish to gain independence from Portugal. Naturally, I have heard no news from England for many weeks. One can only hope that Napoleon has not returned from exile once again.

  As the two young people crept along the tunnels towards the dungeon where the imprisoned lady was held, Laurencia felt that the chill, heavy air was diffused with a solemnity and terror that vibrated in thrilling sensations upon her heart. The apprehension of new terrors and misfortunes kept them silent as they progressed, while Laurencia clung firmly to Ferdinand’s hand.

  Even that stout-hearted youth was affected by the sense of melancholy dread that filled these lower regions. He stopped for a moment, fancying that he heard a noise. Could it be pursuers – or something unnatural?

  ‘Were I inclined to superstition,’ he murmured to his companion, ‘I might imagine all kinds of nightmarish things.’ Laurencia gasped and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. At that moment there was a loud rushing sound and numerous birds, bats and rooks, swept through the tunnel. The two flung themselves down and used their arms to shield themselves. Laurencia could not prevent a muffled scream escaping her lips. Ferdinand shooed the birds away, thankful that there was no human agent at work. He raised Laurencia up and gently urged her on.

  When they reached the lady’s prison she was at first astonished and fearful to see them. Even after her cell door was unlocked she had to be coaxed outside. Enveloped in a dark cloak and hood, she was helped along the tunnel leading to the open air but their progress was painfully slow. The young couple supported the lady as best they could but her condition was so weak that Ferdinand grew more and more anxious. The first rays of dawn were appearing as they reached the waiting horses and galloped away towards the forest. Laurencia felt a kind of exultation knowing that she had escaped from the castle and her guardian’s malign household. If only they could avoid recapture.

  As they fled towards the remote abbey where they hoped to find sanctuary, the night mists rolled away and the green curtain of the forest was penetrated by slivers of ethereal silver light. Within the hour the first ruddy gleams of sunlight appeared. They were exposed to the view of anyone about in the forest. Ferdinand was concerned that bandits might inhabit the interior and behind them lurked the fear of pursuit by the marquis and his men. Surely they would have been missed by now?

  Soon they spied the lonely, turreted edifice perched on the side of a mountain in the distance – the abbey where they hoped to find succour. ‘We must make haste!’ cried Ferdinand, urging on the horses. The lady swayed in the saddle, exhausted and would have fallen if she had not been tied securely. When they reached the abbey Ferdinand pulled vigorously on the bell rope and they were soon admitted to the courtyard.

  There is a pause here for tea.

  Adelaide expressed no interest in hearing my latest chapter. She prefers to admire baby Sebastian.

  November 10th

  When we finally bade farewell to Dom Luiz and his household and set out for Paraty, I felt in my bones that I was facing great changes in my life. Now that I was a mother I doubted that I would be of interest to Dom Pedro. Indeed, I have heard that he is consoling himself with a new young mistress.

  How soon would I be able to leave Brazil and where would I go? I told Adelaide that I had a fancy to settle somewhere warm but not too hot on the continent, conveniently away from England. ‘Not Venice!’ we cried in unison. Perhaps Italy would be good, especially Florence – although I have heard that it is an unhealthy spot.

  In the meantime there was the problem of Captain Lafitte to be faced. I imagined the pirate crew confined to their cramped quarters on board ship enduring galleon fever, and anxious to get their grappling hooks away while their captain’s black eyes flashed alarmingly. An icy chill ran up my spine despite the heat.

  I opened the curtains and poked my head out of the litter and called to da Silva, ‘Captain! Turn right… we must go to Ouro Preto.’ The little procession folded in on itself in an untidy heap. The litter tipped slightly sideways and baby Sebastian began to wail. Da Silva hurried up gesticulating wildly.

  ‘What is this, Dona Lydia? You cannot want to travel up a rocky track fit only for mules. We must return to the coast. Ouro Preto is far too distant.’

  ‘No,’ I said; ‘I have a feeling of impending doom – a premonition if you will. This journey will not end well.’

  He gestured at the soldiers and slaves standing around. ‘This is a large enough party to face down any opposition. We will not meet an army in this forest.’ Defeated, I disappeared behind the curtains and we resumed our journey. I put my head in my hands feeling as dismal as baby Sebastian who continued to grizzle in the background.

  ‘Don’t take on madam,’ urged Adelaide. Her spirits are high, I suspect she anticipates meeting the first officer Ramirez once again. Sebastian’s wet nurse – a pert quadroon in a frilly skirt – sniggered at my downcast looks until Adelaide glared at her. The girl is more afraid of the maid than of her mistress.

  November 15th

  Despite my apprehension we did in fact reach Paraty unscathed; finding the house only lightly covered with dust and my voguish French mirror showing signs of rust due to the climate. That evening, despite my weariness, I ardently wished to return to my Romance. When the house was quiet I sat at my desk and took up my quill.

  Ferdinand and Laurencia were relieved to be within the walls of the monastery. Their charge was safely in the care of the dispensary, but they knew that their respite was temporary. It would surely not be long before the marquis and his men would reach their place of safety.

  ‘We must leave here as soon as possible,’ Ferdinand told his companion. She became pale and her eyes filled with tears. ‘How can we hope to outrun our pursuers, hampered as we are with a sick woman?’ he continued.

  Laurencia made no reply, merely looked at him imploringly. ‘Perhaps we could leave her here; she would be in safe hands. The marquis will surely not violate the sanctuary of the monastery. I believe we are his intended quarry.’

  ‘The marquis is capable of anything,’ declared Ferdinand. ‘Surely you and I know the truth of that?’ A tear ran down her cheek unheeded. Ferdinand smiled sadly at her, noting the sweetness and fine expression of her voice and her distinguished and graceful figure. He took her hand and kissed it gently, her voice still vibrating in his heart.

  ‘You are like a Grecian nymph! he exclaimed. ‘Laurencia, before we flee again we should be married – here in the monastery chapel. I wish to devote my life to you whether it be long or short.�
� Laurencia found herself unable to speak; she was overcome with emotion and joy.

  The two young people embraced and Ferdinand kissed her tenderly. ‘Let us ask the Abbot to perform the ceremony tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Whatever happens now,’ sighed Laurencia, ‘I will have had this unspeakable joy.’

  Their nuptials were celebrated soon after dawn on the following day. Attended by an austere congregation of monks they knelt before the altar, the bride clad in a simple white gown and veil provided by the Abbott. The marquesa was considered too sick to attend the ceremony.

  The soft, golden candle flames illumined the bleakness of early morning in the gloomy chapel. Wan daylight filtered through the stained glass windows as the monks intoned the words of the mass. Ferdinand placed his mother’s ring on Laurencia’s finger, which he had concealed on a string about his neck. The sound of horses’ hooves could be heard faintly through the walls.

  The brethren had barred the heavy wooden doors of the chapel and a great hammering ensued with shouts and curses. The Abbot calmly continued with the service while Laurencia almost collapsed with terror. As soon as the ceremony was concluded the pair turned to face the congregation as man and wife, just as three men burst through an unguarded side door, the marquis at their head. With a loud curse he raised his pistol, but Ferdinand had pulled his bride behind the heavy wooden bulk of a confessional. Ever alert to danger he pulled a pistol from inside his jerkin and returned shots. The shouts and cries of the monks as they rushed about impeded the men accompanying the marquis, while some monks managed to secure the door. As the confusion continued Ferdinand raised his head from the hiding place and shot the marquis in the arm. He immediately returned the shot and Laurencia fell to the ground. She had involuntarily followed Ferdinand from his hiding place.