The Winding Stair (34 page)

‘Because I'm so happy, I think. I knew we could trust you, Ju.' It was the first time he had used the childhood name. ‘And, thank God, I can do something for you in return. Tell your croaking lawyer I spoke to the Prince about you only yesterday. He signed the decree making you fully Portuguese at the same time as mine and Pedro's.'

‘Before you knew. Oh, Roberto, I'm going to cry.'

‘Don't. Here comes Teresa.'

‘Senhora! Senhora! Wake up!'

‘What is it?' Juana pulled herself up from the depths of sleep. It was still dark. Estella was standing by her bed, a candle guttering in her shaking hand.

‘It's your grandmother, senhora. Something's happened to her. We're frightened, Manuela and I. Come quick and tell us what to do.'

‘What's the matter?'

‘We don't know. She was much better this evening – well, you saw her. She was talking of maybe getting up tomorrow. She said she would settle down early for the night. “I feel like a real sleep,” she told us. “I'll be better in the morning.” We were so pleased, Manuela and I. And now—' Tears choked her.

Juana took the candle from Estella's shaking hand. ‘But what happened?'

‘We don't know. I was sleeping in the antechamber tonight – you know one of us always does. I slept well; but nobody could have come through the room without waking me. The outer door was locked anyway. She insists on that.'

‘I know.' Juana restrained impatience. She must let the shaken creature tell it her own way. To try and hurry her would merely confuse her.

‘I was waked by Mrs. Brett's bell. At least I think I was. That must have been it. But how it came to be so far from the bed – I suppose it must have fallen and rolled. She'd done herself harm, I'm afraid, trying to reach it.'

‘Harm? What do you mean?' They were out in the cloisters now, in the black darkness of a moonless night, and Juana had to shelter the wavering candle flame with her hand.

‘She's got a terrible bruise coming on her face. And – she can't speak. We got her back into bed, Manuela and I, but she just lies there, and shakes, and cries. Senhora, I'm frightened.'

‘Well, no wonder,' said Juana bracingly as she led the way up the winding stair to her grandmother's rooms. ‘I'm glad you came for me. You haven't wakened anyone else?'

‘Not yet.' It was disturbing but understandable that it should
not have occurred to Estella to wake one of the old lady's sons. What use would Prospero or Miguel be at a sickbed?

‘Thank God you've come.' Manuela met them at the door of the bedroom. ‘She looks worse every minute. Should we send for the doctor?'

‘At once.' One look at the old lady had settled the question for Juana. Mrs. Brett was flat on her back, breathing stertorously, asleep or unconscious. The bruise was beginning to show horribly on one gaunt cheekbone, and all that side of her face seemed drawn down, out of focus. ‘Manuela, wake Jaime. Tell him Mrs. Brett's ill – no more than that, mind. She must have fallen and hurt herself trying to reach the bell, but we don't want a lot of talk about this in the castle. Tell Jaime to send one of the men to Sintra at once for the doctor. Iago had better go; he knows the road better than Luis. And, you, Estella, go and get some clothes on, then come back to me here so that I can do the same.' She bent to feel the dried-up hand that lay loosely on the crimson quilt. ‘She's icy cold. More bedding, Estella, before you go.'

Alone at last, Juana lit every candle in the room before she made herself go to the big closet and check on the fastening of the secret door. But the bolt was securely shot on her side. It was merely absurd to let herself imagine that someone (one of the Sons of the Star?) had made his way up from the big cavern to attack the old lady. Besides, why in the world should they? The accident must have happened as she herself had suggested. There was the handbell, still lying where it had fallen, some way from the bed. It would be easy enough for the old woman, feeling herself worse all of a sudden, to knock it over when she tried to ring it. And then, trying to get out of bed in the dark, falling, no doubt, against the corner of her bedside table. It was a horrid enough picture as it was. No need to make it worse by imagining attackers who could come through a bolted door. But from now on, old Mrs. Brett must not sleep alone. She had insisted on it, so far, and only Juana had known the real reason. How could she use the secret door to the winding stair if there was a third person always present in the room?

In fact, it was easy enough to persuade the doctor that Mrs. Brett would be nursed more easily in a ground floor room on her own stairway. ‘I doubt if she'll notice the difference' he said. ‘Poor old thing. It's going to mean real nursing from now on. Someone with her all the time. Frankly, I can't hold out much
hope of an improvement, but how long she will linger like this is another question.'

‘It settles everything.' Juana told Gair next day. He had ridden out from Lisbon with the news that the French and Spanish Ambassadors had left on the expiration of the French ultimatum.

‘Barring a miracle, it means war.' he said. ‘I think you ought to go home, Juana.'

‘I wish I could.' Suddenly, England was home. ‘But I can't.' She explained what had happened. ‘I can't go now. They'd let her die out of sheer stupidity, those women. But it's not so bad as you think.' She anticipated further protest by telling him about Roberto's visit. ‘I'm Portuguese now,' she concluded. ‘They can't touch me. Or the castle.'

‘Thank God for that.' Seeing Gair's reaction, Juana found herself wondering what Vasco's would be. But there was something she had been wanting to ask Gair. ‘Tell me—' She found it hard to begin. ‘The last time you came – when we met Roberto – you said you had come straight from Lisbon, from Lord Strangford's, from Santa Martha …' Absurd to beat about the bush so.

‘Yes, I did, didn't I?' He had been expecting this. ‘And I suppose your cousin Roberto gave me the lie direct after I had left. How was I to know he had been Dom John's messenger!'

‘So you admit—'

‘That I lied to you? I have to, don't I?' He was irritatingly cheerful about it. ‘What did you say to your cousin?'

‘I laughed it off. What else could I do?'

‘Quite right.'

She found the bland approval infuriating. ‘So you mean I can't believe a thing you tell me!'

‘No, no.' He was serious now. ‘Be reasonable, Juana. You must see that the less you know the better, for your own sake. I promise I will never lie to you on any subject that concerns you.'

And with that, she had to be content. Besides, there were more urgent causes for anxiety. ‘Then tell me this: if it's war, you will have to go back to England?'

‘Of course. That's why I want you safe out of the country first. You must see that I can't leave you here, involved with the Sons of the Star, with even your grandmother beyond helping you.'

She shivered. ‘I can't say I very much like the idea myself. But I can't go now. How much time do you think there is?'

‘God knows. Now Napoleon is back in Paris, I would expect things to move fast. But I think at least we can safely wait till after the next meeting. They will have the latest news.'

Juana disliked establishing herself in Mrs. Brett's vacated room, but what else could she do? And it seemed reasonable enough to her family since it brought her so much closer to the invalid. Only she knew what sleepless nights she owed to the hidden door at the back of the closet. It was solidly bolted. She was sure that it could not be opened from the far side, but still she could not forget the livid bruise slowly fading on Mrs. Brett's cheek. She had convinced everyone else that it had been done by falling against a table. She could not quite convince herself. If only Mrs. Brett would recover enough to tell them what had happened … But the doctor held out little hope of this.

She had arranged to take turns with Manuela, Estella and Maria in the big, cool downstairs sickroom. On the night of the next meeting, it was Maria's turn and she asked her to summon Manuela rather than herself if she needed help. ‘I'm worn out, Maria. I must have a quiet night.' If only she could. It was extraordinarily worse, she found, to go down the winding stair from an empty room.

The Sons of the Star were growing impatient. As soon as the leader had finished his opening speech, the Brother of the Silver Hand was on his feet. ‘So the French and Spanish ambassadors have left together,' he said. ‘Surely, Brothers, that means they will attack us together? Why do we wait for them? Why not strike now?'

‘Let us first hear what our Brother of the Silver Serpent has to report from the army,' said the leader.

‘I think we must leave the army out of our calculations.' The silver serpent gleamed on the speaker's hood. ‘Gomez Freire is loyal to the crown. The best we can hope for is that, for lack of orders, which we should be able to compass, he will stay inactive on the coast while the blow is struck.'

‘And when will that be?' This was the Brother of the Broken Cross, backed up by a little mutter of approval from round the council table.

‘Very soon.' The leader was on his feet again. ‘There is talk once more at court, Brothers, of an evacuation to the Brazils.

Then is our chance. We will be spared the necessity of destroying the royal family. If they flee, they destroy themselves. Who will want them back? We can begin our new era without the stain of royal blood. Brothers, you ask me to name the day we strike. I name it: the day the Prince Regent sails down the Tagus.'

‘Well, that's definite enough,' said Gair next day. ‘And they accepted it?'

‘After some argument. Yes. The rest of the meeting was spent in arranging practical details. Gair, it's terrifying. They have it all planned down to the last “elimination”. That's their word. It sounds so much better than “murder”, doesn't it?'

‘Don't worry,' he said. ‘It won't happen. Now we have this date, we're safe.'

‘Are you sure?' There had been something not quite convincing about the way he said it.

‘I hope so. The difficulty is to get the Portuguese to act. Well – you can see: the very people we apply to may in fact be members. Your grandmother never told you any names?'

‘No, but she knew some.'

‘I know. She always promised that when it came to a crisis she'd tell me. Now she can't.'

‘No.' It brought back, suddenly, all her doubts about the accident to the old lady, but before she could speak of them, Gair had gone off on a different tack.

‘If we only had enough English soldiers,' he said, ‘we could round up the leaders at their next meeting. To try and do it with Portuguese troops would be fatal: the news would be bound to get out. So – we have to wait for our navy to get here.'

‘They'll come?'

‘Of course. You remember last year. The state the Portuguese fleet is in, they'll need British help to get Dom John safe to Brazil.'

‘You think he'll go?'

‘Lord Strangford is urging him to. I think he's wrong, myself. I told Canning so when I was in England, but they'll none of them listen. I agree with the Sons of the Star. If the royal family flee when the country is in danger, why should they expect to come back? But I think that's what will happen, just the same.'

‘How soon?'

‘God knows. Not immediately, that's certain. Dom John still won't stir from Mafra; refuses to admit the danger. The army
may be loyal, but it's had no orders, and anyway I doubt if it's in a state to resist the French … It's all muddle, incompetence, inertia … It's unbelievable!'

‘It makes you wonder—' She stopped, surprised at herself.

‘Wonder what?'

‘Whether the Sons of the Star are such a bad thing after all? At least they have a plan of action.'

‘Which amounts to handing the country over to the French. Don't forget their “eliminations”, Juana. What's begun in blood will go on bloodily. And how many of your friends, do you think, are on their lists? But how's the old lady? How soon can you leave her? You do realise, don't you, that on the day Dom John sails, you must be safe out of the country?'

‘I hope I can. Though where I'm to go …'

‘Your father?'

‘Is staying with his wife's family.' Anything rather than that. Should she tell him of Vasco's proposal? But if she did decide to accept that strong, supportive arm, would even he be able to protect her from the Sons of the Star?

‘Vanessa is expecting a child.' Gair's
non sequitur
surprised her. ‘And her husband is not well,' he went on. ‘She writes that she would be delighted to have you for an indefinite stay. I think you could do worse than to visit her until the crisis here is past. Then, when things have settled down, you can return if you want to.'

‘Doesn't that sound a little like Dom John? Running away, I mean.'

‘I don't care what it sounds like. I don't want you “eliminated”.'

‘Why, thank you!' She was more tempted than ever to tell him about Vasco's suit, even to ask his advice. After all, they were partners; she really ought to tell him. She was not sure whether to be glad or sorry that they were interrupted, at this point, by Daisy with the news that Vasco himself had just ridden into the courtyard.

‘Then I'll take my leave.' Gair stood up. ‘Your cousin is still settled at Sintra?' The question was casual, and in English, for Daisy's sake, but his eyes held both a warning and a question.

‘I suppose so. We haven't seen him for a while.'

‘No,' Daisy pursued it after Gair had left. ‘I was beginning to think you had tried Senhor de Mascarenhas too far, Juana. Tell
me, when are you going to make up your mind between those two?' And then, laughing. ‘Do you think it's safe to let them meet? We don't want them fighting it out in the castle courtyard.'