The Winding Stair (19 page)

The loneliness was the worst. If only there was someone she could discuss it with, someone to argue away her terror of going down that long dark stair alone. Someone? But who? If Vasco had stayed, would she have told him?

St. Vincent's ships were dwindling towards the horizon now. In a few days, some of them might be in sight of England. And – I'm homesick, she thought, that's really what's the matter with me. Memories crowded in on her: coal fires, the clank of milking pails, the smell of an English stable. Most surprising of all, out here on this hot, fragrant hillside, she admitted to herself that she missed Daisy and Teresa. At least, they had been company.

In a minute, she would be in tears. She kicked Rosinante into her shambling trot, then pulled her up again with a sharp little stab of terror at sight of a single horseman emerging from the dark wood on the hill below her.

Iago had seen him too. ‘Let's turn back, senhora. It might be one of them – the bandits.' He was shaking with fright.

‘Don't be silly, Iago.' She was angry with him for echoing her own illogical terror. ‘They'd never dare in broad daylight like this. Besides—' she hesitated, not liking to speak of that horrible, bloodstained package.

‘There were only four ears, senhora. I counted. And it was six men attacked you, Senhor de Mascarenhas said. The others may have come for vengeance. Let's go back, quickly.'

‘Nonsense. Don't you see he's waving to us? It's Senhor Varlow.' She hoped he could not see that she was shivering with relief. ‘We'll go to meet him; but keep close to me, Iago.' After all, the proprieties thus observed, they could safely talk in English. If she stammered, Gair Varlow would just have to bear it. So: ‘Good morning,' she began when he approached.

But, ‘
Bom dia
,' Gair answered, his warning glance at Iago reminding her unpleasantly of what Uncle Miguel had said about speaking Portuguese so that the servants could understand.

She took the cue, just the same, and answered in Portuguese. ‘I was afraid you might have sailed with Lord St. Vincent.' She was furious when he thanked her, doubtless for Iago's benefit, in flowery terms for her concern. ‘I've been wishing I'd sailed with them.' Saying it deliberately to shake him, she was delighted at how well she succeeded.

‘You want to go back? Already? Miss Brett, this is terrible news.' Now he really meant it.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I'm homesick. Isn't it comic? I never thought I'd find myself missing England, but I do just the same. I was thinking, before we met, that I would ask my grandmother's leave to return.' Had she been? She was not sure.

‘Do you want to kill her?' He was serious enough now.

‘Oh, I think she'd manage to survive.' Poor man, he could not, with Iago riding a few paces behind them, refer to the Sons of the Star. She watched with wry satisfaction as he searched for an answer.

It seemed odd enough when it came. He swore, picturesquely, in Portuguese: ‘
Corpo de deus
I've dropped my riding glove. When I saw you, I expect. Here, you—' He raised his voice to summon Iago, who had kept behind them, but comfortably within earshot. ‘There's a testoon for you if you find my glove. I must have dropped it back there by the little wood. It's the fellow of this one—' He held out his left hand in its leather gauntlet. ‘My sister gave them to me,' he added, as if in explanation, to Juana.

‘Oh, in that case, you mustn't lose it. Run quickly, Iago, and we'll wait here for you.'

The offered bribe had been just right. Iago looked doubtful for a moment, then started for the wood. Gair plunged at once into a lover's speech of self-congratulation on having her, at last, to himself, spun it out until Iago was well out of earshot, and then: ‘You aren't serious, I hope?'

‘I'm not sure. You don't know what it's like here, for a woman. Even my aunt warned me, yesterday, of what I'd become if I stayed.'

‘I don't remember that you were exactly happy in England.' And then, forestalling her answer. ‘But, frankly, it's not a question of your happiness. Nor even of your grandmother's life or death. Though I think you should face it that a few more trips down that winding stair in the cold winter months will kill her.
I don't know how you will feel about having that on your conscience. That's your affair. What concerns me is the problem of finding a substitute. It was not easy for Mrs. Brett to persuade the Sons of the Star to let you take her place. Even if I could find someone to take yours (which is doubtful) there's still the problem of getting their permission. It's a sore point with many of them, this dependence on a female. You must have gathered what they think of women.'

‘Yes. I didn't much like it.'

‘Exactly. That's what I'm trying to explain to you. Don't you see? You think Portugal is no place for a woman. Just imagine what it would be like with the Sons of the Star in power. Women would not just be inferior, they'd be chattels.'

‘But do you seriously think there is a chance of their succeeding?'

‘A chance? There's a strong likelihood. That was a well-designed plan they made at their last meeting. They were quite right, you know. Lord St. Vincent is an impatient old fire-eater. He had gone so far as to confide in Strangford that he was tempted to abduct Dom John if he wouldn't listen to reason. It was madness, of course. It would have had the worst possible effect. But he meant it just the same. The coup the Sons of the Star planned, put into effect in the chaos after the court left, would in all probability have succeeded. You might be living, now, under their authority – their tyranny. Face facts, Miss Brett. If you propose to fail us, don't flatter yourself that what you do doesn't matter. It will probably be the most important action of your life. This is your chance to affect the course of history. Throw it away, if you must, but at least have no illusions about what you are doing. Oh – I don't even know that I blame you. The whole thing's been impossibly hard on you. I wish I could have explained to you in England. It would have been much better, I can see now, if you had been consulted before you were brought here. But, think a little: in the frame of mind you were in, when we first met, you would have agreed?'

‘Yes.' She could not blame him for reminding her of how he had saved her life. ‘You're right. I was in despair.' How long ago it seemed, that moonlight night, and how extraordinarily childish her behaviour. ‘It's true,' she went on. ‘I owe you a great deal, Mr. Varlow. But for you, I might be dead.'

‘I doubt that. I think, even if I had not been there, you'd have thought twice about that river. You're no coward.'

‘But I am. Don't you see? That's just it. I'm terrified of going down that stair alone. And the full moon's two days off.' It was an extraordinary relief to have said it.

‘Of course you're afraid.' His answer surprised her. ‘You'd be a fool not to be. Frankly, I'm relieved that you are. Because I'm afraid for you. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself.'

‘That would be the greatest comfort to me, of course.'

‘Miss Brett!' He looked over his shoulder. ‘Your man's coming back. Try to understand … to see that I had no alternative. It's not just Portugal that's at stake, remember, it's England too. If Portugal falls to the French, how long do you think England can stand alone? Imagine if Napoleon had the Tagus to collect his armada in as the Spaniards did. That's what we're fighting for, you and I, the safety of England. Be afraid, you've every right to be, and I hope it will be your best protection, but for God's sake, and England's, don't fail us.'

‘But how do I know you won't fail me? Suppose the government falls, now Fox is dead?'

‘I'll suppose no such thing. The Tories are in even worse case than the Whigs. But surely you did not seriously believe that I would leave you without a word and go off with St. Vincent?'

She was ashamed now. ‘I was afraid of it. I've been so lonely. It's hard to think straight.'

‘I know. The loneliness is the worst of all.' It was what she had thought herself. ‘I promise myself, sometimes,' he went on, ‘that when this job is done, I'll retire, go into Parliament perhaps, live like other people.'

‘You mean, you feel it too?'

‘Of course. I've not been able to talk freely, not even to my sister, since I started this work. Oh, she knows that I am a Government agent of some kind. She thinks I have something to do with trade. It makes her very angry when I have to behave so unpredictably, and I don't blame her, but I can't explain. And, even out here: Strangford's technically my superior, but I can't talk to him. He's charming, of course, but the less he knows, the better.'

‘You mean even he doesn't know—' Iago was very near now.

‘No. He just thinks me remarkably well informed. You're the only one' – he raised his voice, and filled it with passion – ‘whose opinion I care for. Miss Brett, I beg of you: have some pity on me and say you won't go back to England.'

‘I'll think it over.' But they both knew she had yielded.

They found Roberto at the castle, and Juana had a moment of near-panic. If Pedro had objected to her merely talking to Gair at Strangford's party, what would Roberto do when he found him riding with her?

But he greeted them as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘I came to break it to you, Juana, that St. Vincent has gone, but I find that Mr. Varlow has been before me. I'm not the only one, it seems, who is ready to get himself muddy for your sake.'

Could he actually approve of Gair's apparent courtship? ‘You're both in a great hurry to bring me bad news,' she said. ‘I was telling Mr. Varlow that I saw St. Vincent's ships go. It made me so homesick I was tempted to book a passage on the next packet.'

‘You've changed your mind, I hope.'

‘Oh yes. Mr. Varlow persuaded me that Portugal can't do without me.'

‘I don't like it.' Gair was as surprised as she when Roberto made a pretext to leave them alone together out on the seaward terrace with the castle walls looming above them, and the roar of the Atlantic below. ‘It's not natural,' he went on. ‘He should be furious that I am paying court to you.'

‘Yes, it's true. I expected trouble when I saw him, and now look at us!'

‘Exactly. It's unnatural, and, in my trade, one must learn that what is unnatural is almost always dangerous.'

‘Our trade,' she said. ‘Still, while it lasts, we had better make the most of it. I have been wanting to ask you what I should do if I ever need to get in touch with you urgently.'

‘Ah.' He was pleased with her. ‘That's why I persuaded Lord Strangford to be impressed by your uncle's translations of Camoens, which, between ourselves, are worth a special place in the
Dunciad
. If you ever need me in a hurry, send a messenger to Lord Strangford, asking for your transcriptions back. It doesn't matter what pretext you give, just ask for them. I will come at once.'

‘If you can.'

‘Miss Brett you must trust me. I involved you in this. I will take care of you.' He took her hand, and her heart gave a great infuriating jump. ‘There's someone watching us from the castle,' he explained, ‘from the right-hand turret. We've been talking altogether too seriously.' He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with passion, turning a little so as to get his back to the castle. ‘There's no one deaf in your household is there?'

‘Deaf? No, I don't think so.' She sounded as surprised as she felt.

‘They might be able to read our lips,' he explained. ‘We'd best assume they can. Turn sideways a little and they won't be able to see.'

‘But that's my window. In the right-hand turret?' She did as she was told. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Quite sure. But of course it may be entirely innocent. Your maid, perhaps?'

‘Maria? It's siesta. I'm sure she's fast asleep in her own quarters.'

‘Probably. But her husband's one of them.'

‘Tomas! How do you know?'

‘We know quite a few of the lower members. I won't tell you how. The less you know, the safer you will be. Could you pick me a bunch of flowers, do you think?'

‘Flowers? Here?' On this high terrace, exposed to wind and salt from the furious Atlantic below, there was nothing but a few blasted looking aloes and a forlorn row of geraniums in pots sheltered by the containing wall.

He laughed. ‘I'm sorry. I'm not much of a conspirator after all. But, think, what would you be doing if I was really courting you?'

‘Making a fool of myself!' And then, changing her tone. ‘I'm sorry, Mr. Varlow. I'm afraid I must be a disappointment to you, but you must remember that I've hardly had your experience in this kind of affair.'

‘It's I who should be sorry. But here comes your cousin.'

She thought it a relief to him and was hardly surprised.

Roberto had come to say goodbye and ask if Gair was riding to Lisbon. ‘We could ride together as far as Queluz. Company will make the road seem shorter.'

Gair accepted with enthusiasm finely modulating into regret
at leaving Juana. The whole performance irritated her enough so that she could take the parting with equanimity. Only after the two of them had ridden out the castle gate and down the long slope of the hill did she face the certainty that Gair would not be back before the night of the meeting. There were so many things she should have asked him, and one that she should have told him. Tomas was a member of the Sons of the Star, he had said. And Tomas had been with her when she was attacked. What did it mean? Or did it mean anything? She was angry with herself now for having wasted their time together. She would not let it happen again. Or would she? Had he not, perhaps, been parrying her questions, avoiding the discussion she wanted? For fear she would lose her nerve again? Very likely, and not cheering.