Marianna

by Nancy Buckingham

  There was a loud rapping of knuckles on the door and Codface’s rasping voice informed them that his excellency was now at home and waited the menina in the salon. Marianna descended the turret stairs and passed through an ante-room before entering the grand salon. This had once been a most sumptuous apartment, according to her mama, and echoes of its former glory still remained. The walls beneath a high coved ceiling were still hung with the original silk flock of deep, rich crimson, but it was now patchily faded to various shades of brown. The window drapes, the easy chairs and sofas were all a little threadbare while, evidence of more recent neglect, the tables and commodes and pedestals which each bore an assembly of ornaments and knick-knacks were sadly in need of dusting. The room appeared to be empty, but as Marianna closed the door her father stepped in from the balcony.

  ‘Ah, so here you are then, my love.’

  ‘Hallo, papa.’ Running to him she stood on tiptoe and kissed his whiskered cheek. How poorly he looked, she thought with tender concern. His complexion was abnormally pale for summer and the blue eyes beneath sandy brows were tired and worried. His silk cravat was slightly askew, his brown hair rumpled, and the pervasive aroma of wine that she had come to associate with her father seemed even stronger than she recalled.

  Perhaps observing his daughter’s critical assessment, James Dalby pulled himself upright and straightened his shoulders. Flicking aside his coat-tails, he linked his hands behind him.

  ‘I trust it wasn’t too uncomfortable riding down this afternoon,’ he began apologetically. ‘I would have suggested leaving it until the cool of the evening, but I wanted you here in good time.’

  ‘In good time for what, papa?’

  He took a little turnabout of three or four strides. ‘Mr Penfold is paying us another visit, child.’

  ‘Yes, Nuno said. And on our ride down Linguareira and I spotted one of the Penfold Line ships anchored off the Loo Rock — the SS Apollo, I think. I was surprised to hear that Uncle William is here again so soon. It can’t be much more than three or four months since his last visit.’

  ‘Well, he ... he, er....’ A nervous clearing of the throat, ‘A matter of considerable importance to us has brought him back, my love.’

  ‘Oh? What’s that, papa?’

  He regarded her dubiously and Marianna noticed that his cheeks above the straggle of sidewhiskers were crisscrossed with tiny purple veins. His gazed drifted away to a point beyond her left shoulder before he spoke again.

  ‘The Penfolds are extremely well-to-do, my love. They are a great deal wealthier, I venture to suggest, than you have ever imagined. Transporting wine for me is only a very small part of their business. All told there are sixteen vessels steaming under the Penfold flag, carrying every type of cargo to all quarters of the globe.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘Uncle William has told me about that himself, papa.’

  ‘We should consider it quite an honour to have the friendship of such an eminent gentleman.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed dutifully, though it never occurred to Marianna to think in such terms. Uncle William — the title was a purely courtesy one, of course — had intermittently been part of her world ever since she could remember. He and papa had become friends years and years ago when they were both undergraduates at Oxford. His visits to Madeira were usually of just a few days’ duration, while one of his ships was turned about for England or was re-coaled for voyaging on to the Cape or Brazil or the West Indies.

  ‘I place great value on Mr Penfold’s continuing friendship and goodwill,’ her father told her, and seemed at a loss for anything more to say.

  Still seeking an explanation for her abrupt summons to Funchal, Marianna suggested, ‘You have arranged a dinner party in Uncle William’s honour this evening, papa — is that why you wanted me to be here?’

  His eyes brightened. ‘That would be most appropriate, if you would agree.’

  ‘You have only to say what you wish of me, papa, and I will do the very best I can.’

  Her father patted her cheek and called her his good girl. Extracting a cheroot from the inlaid cedarwood box on a side table, he lit it and puffed for a moment or two. When he spoke again it was half to himself.

  ‘This evening is too soon, of course, but something could be arranged for tomorrow by way of celebration. Just a small dinner party — a few friends, and the consul, perhaps. William would appreciate that, I’m sure.’

  ‘What is it we shall be celebrating, papa?’

  He frowned, as if her question had disturbed his reflections. ‘You have become a young woman now, my love. Of an age to leave childhood behind and enter the adult world.’

  ‘I shall be sixteen on the third of next month,’ Marianna reminded him proudly.

  ‘Yes, yes! Just so. Exactly. You will agree with me, then, that there is no point in postponement for its own sake? When a good offer is presented — more than good, one of inconceivable excellence — it would be foolish to refuse merely because you are a little on the young side.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean, papa.’

  He sighed, with a hint of impatience. ‘The Penfolds have fine residences in England, Marianna. A town house in one of the best districts of London - Belgravia, it is called, hardly a stone’s throw from Buckingham Palace itself. And then there is a mansion in the county of Hampshire. I was invited to stay there once some years ago, when you were quite tiny. They live in the grandest style, I assure you — far more splendid than anything you have seen in Madeira.’

  Marianna felt little prickles of excitement. ‘Are you saying that I am to go to England? Has Uncle William suggested it?’

  ‘If you are willing, my love.’

  ‘But of course I’m willing, papa, how could you think otherwise? It has always been my dream to go to England one day.’ The sheer wonder of it made her skip about, unable to remain still. A visit to England! To stay at a smart house in London, near Buckingham Palace, and even meet people in society. It was unbelievable. And a bit scaring! But above all wonderful, quite indescribably wonderful. ‘Oh, papa ... when? How soon am I to go?’

  He gave her a small, anxious smile. ‘As to that, we must make plans ...’

  ‘Linguareira will be astonished when I tell her, won’t she? She can never have imagined she would ever leave Madeira, and now she’ll be travelling all the way to England with me.’

  ‘Oh ... well, perhaps you had better say nothing to Linguareira until I have consulted Mr Penfold. You may not need her with you. There will be servants in plenty. A trained lady’s maid especially for you, I expect.’ He drew on his cigar as he sought for words. ‘You’ll find a good friend in Mr Penfold’s daughter, I don’t doubt. She was a mere baby when I visited them, of course, but she is a delightful young girl as William has described her. Very like you in appearance, he tells me.’

  ‘And ... Ralph?’ Momentarily, Marianna’s excitement was flawed by the fear that the lordly young man in the photographs might treat her as gauche and immature. But if the Penfolds were so kind as to invite her to stay with them in England, she reassured herself, they would never wish to put her out of countenance. No, of course not. Ralph, like the rest of his family, would be thoughtful and considerate and utterly charming, ‘Shall I be taken about, papa, do you think, to balls and receptions and concerts?’

  ‘I am sure of it, my love. You will be the toast of London town.’

  Marianna blushed, feeling overcome. But in a moment she was chattering on again. ‘How long shall I be staying? Will it be a lengthy visit? Oh, I do hope so, for there are dozens and dozens of things I want to see in England.’

  ‘My dear girl...!’ Her father had given her a startled glance. He scratched his whiskers in bewilderment. ‘I thought you had grasped my meaning, I quite thought so, without the need to... Oh dear me, this is a fine muddle! Child, it is not at all what you appear to imagine. You are to live in England, the Penfold homes will be your homes. In short, Marianna my love, in short .
.. Mr Penfold has travelled all the way from England especially to present an offer for your hand in marriage. There now, what do you think of that?’

  Marianna stared at him openmouthed. It was astounding, almost beyond belief, that a young man who had never even met her in the flesh should be seeking her hand in marriage! Ralph Penfold only knew of her existence through his father. Of course, there were those photographs! She realized now with a quick bubble of excitement that Uncle William (oh, how naughtily cunning of him!) had intended all the time to take her along to Senhor Vicente’s, wanting to have some photographs of her that he could show to Ralph. She recalled him telling papa that he would like to see Ralph married ... and he actually considered her a suitable bride for his son! So he had encouraged Ralph to fall in love with her picture. It was quite wonderfully romantic, like a fairy story.

  Her father, looking fixedly at the tip of grey ash on his cigar, went on, ‘I have intimated that the union will have my blessing, child. An alliance with the Penfold family would be ... convenient for me, I cannot pretend otherwise. These are difficult times, my love ...’ He spread his hands expressively.

  Marianna was scarcely listening to him, grasping only the intoxicating fact that Ralph Penfold wanted to marry her and that both his father and hers seemed to regard it as a desirable match. Already she was more than halfway to being in love with Ralph.

  Forcing down her excitement, she said demurely, ‘I shall be happy to accept the proposal, papa, if that is what you wish.’

  Her words seemed to distress him. ‘Not just for my sake, dear girl, I beseech you. It must be what you yourself choose to do. Perhaps you need a little more time to consider?’

  Why should she need more time? The prospect before her was frightening, of course, but deliciously frightening. Already her mind was whirling with thoughts of the sparkling life she would lead in England as the wife of such a handsome, elegant young man as Ralph Penfold.

  ‘No, papa, I am ready to accept,’ she said decidedly. Then amended, ‘I shall be very glad to accept.’

  Smiling his relief, he came and took her head between his two hands, pressing his lips to her smooth brow.

  ‘You are a dear, good girl and your father is proud of you. Mr Penfold will be delighted. He has gone to pay his respects to the Civil Governor, but he will be here directly. The moment he arrives, I will inform him of your decision.’

  * * * *

  When Marianna returned to her bedroom, Linguareira was sorting through the garments hanging in the vast wardrobe of black til wood. To her aia’s inquiring glance she responded with a look of bland innocence and, shrugging, Linguareira went back to her inspection of Marianna’s dresses.

  ‘Your papa will have to understand that I can’t work miracles,’ she grumbled. ‘It’s all very fine his saying that no money can be spared for new clothes, but you’re at a growing age, menina, and there’s a limit to how far seams can be let out.’

  Until very recently, to Marianna’s chagrin, her figure had stubbornly retained its boyish slenderness. All her contemporaries at the Misses Braithwaites’ academy were unmistakably developing bosoms, and it was a profound relief that at long last her own had started to swell. But this welcome fact brought a new problem. Many of her dresses were now uncomfortably tight.

  ‘Please find me something especially nice to put on,’ she begged Linguareira.

  ‘Merciful heaven! What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?’

  ‘I want, to look my best when Mr Penfold comes,’ Marianna could feel herself reddening.

  ‘Nonsense! The English senhor isn’t going to notice what you’re dressed in, child.’

  Marianna stamped her foot impatiently, then at once felt a prick of conscience. Most likely she would be parting from her aia for ever when her married life began, and it was wrong not to feel a little sad about this. She darted forward and planted an impulsive kiss on the olive-skinned brow.

  ‘Oh, I do love you, dear Linguareira!’

  ‘That’s quite enough of that, miss. What’s going on, I’d like to know. Something’s afoot, I can smell there is.’

  It needed a supreme effort on Marianna’s part not to burst out her wonderful news. But she retained an outward composure and repeated her request that Linguareira should find her something more attractive to wear.

  ‘Oh, very well, though I can’t see the need. Here, what about this pretty sprigged muslin? I let it out for you just before we went up to the quinta so it ought to fit you as well as any thing does.’

  Marianna had scarcely changed and had her hair brushed out again and tied with ribbons when Codface was at the door once more with the expected summons, grousing under his breath about having to climb all these stairs each time.

  ‘The master wants you down in the salon again, menina,’ he rasped.

  Marianna almost flew downstairs, then collected herself and paused a few moments in the ante-room to take deep, steadying breaths. She was aware that her eyes were shining and her cheeks a little flushed as she entered the salon.

  The two men were standing by the open window, deep in conversation. Uncle William at once put down his glass of wine and came to where she hovered on the threshold, overcome with shyness.

  ‘Well, here is my little pet. And what a pretty dress! You look quite enchanting, my dear.’

  ‘Thank you, Uncle William,’ she mumbled, staring down at her patent leather pumps, noticing how badly scuffed they were.

  ‘Not Uncle William for much longer, eh?’ he said jocularly. ‘Now, I think a little kiss would be in order, don’t you?’

  She caught the heavy sweet smell of Malmsey wine on his breath as he bent to her height, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. His lips, as always, were moist and his beard tickled her cheek.

  There was an awkward little cough from her papa. ‘Should I... er... ?’

  ‘Yes, make yourself scarce, James, there’s a good fellow. Just allow me ten minutes, eh? That should be enough.’

  With a nervous smile that begged Marianna to conduct herself creditably, her papa left the room. As the door closed behind him Mr Penfold took a step back and surveyed her assessingly, thumbs stuck in the pockets of his brocaded waistcoat and fingers splayed. Acutely embarrassed, Marianna kept her eyes lowered, glancing at him only through her long fair lashes.

  His age, she happened to know, was precisely the same as her father’s, it having emerged by chance one day that they were born only a single month apart. But while her father looked considerably older than his fifty-three years, William Penfold could have pretended to less, being upright in bearing instead of stooped, which also made him appear much less corpulent. His complexion was healthier too, and there was a sprightly vigour to all his movements. His light brown hair, hardly touched with grey, was sparse on the top of his head and he wore it brushed straight across in an effort to conceal the deficiency; but about his ears it grew thick and curly. His beard was always neatly trimmed, and his hands well-manicured.

  ‘So it’s to be a match then, dear little Marianna,’ he said softly at length.

  ‘You must please explain your meaning, sir.’ She murmured it with a flutter of her lashes, deliberately imitating the young ladies whom she had watched conversing with gentlemen in the Funchal drawing rooms.

  ‘Don’t play the coquette with me, child,’ Mr Penfold said sharply, frowning his displeasure. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

  Marianna coloured. She felt hurt and foolish in the extreme. ‘I... I’m sorry, Uncle William. But I thought... papa said that...’

  ‘What did your papa say, I wonder?’ Receiving no answer, he went on, ‘Come now, it has all been agreed, has it not? I am told that you had no hesitation in the matter, none whatever, which I find most gratifying. Still, if you want the thing wrapped up in a parcel of pretty words, so be it. Marianna, dear sweet child, I am inviting you to become my wife.’

  Her head jerked up and she stared at him in consternation. ‘You? But... but...’


  ‘Now, now, no more of this foolish pretending. Come here and give me a kiss to set the seal on our betrothal.’

  All in a moment he had changed from a kindly to a menacing figure from whom she wanted to flee. But she was rooted to the spot, petrified. As she shrank back from him, trembling, his voice cracked with authority. ‘I said come here, child. You will have to learn obedience, you know. This is a most inauspicious beginning.’

  Marianna managed to retreat a single faltering step and bumped against a chair. It was enough to break the thread of tension. Galvanized into motion, she spun round and rushed to the door. She heard Mr Penfold calling to her to come back as she raced across the ante-room and out into the corridor, where she flung the doors open one after another in a frantic search for her father.

  She found him in the small dark parlour that was his private sanctum. He was slumped in a wing chair with a bottle and glass on the table beside him. As he rose to his feet, startled, Marianna flung herself into his arms and stammered out her distress in an incoherent flood of words, confident that he would be as deeply shocked as she was by this horrendous misunderstanding.

  Her papa held her a moment, then pushed her back from him gently. He passed a hand across his eyes in a weary gesture of incomprehension.

  ‘But whatever is the matter, my love? Why are you so upset?’

  ‘I’ve told you, papa. It’s Uncle William ... he is the one who wants to marry me. He himself, don’t you see?’

  ‘But who else? Who else did you suppose it might be?’

  ‘You knew?’ she gasped. ‘But why didn’t you tell me? How could you imagine for a single moment that I would want to marry Uncle William?’

  Her father’s left eye twitched with a nervous tic as he said slowly and clearly, ‘I explained to you, my love, that Mr Penfold had asked for your hand in marriage and...’

  ‘You didn’t, you didn’t! You said it was Ralph Penfold.’