The Winding Stair (41 page)

‘Does that mean you don't think it safe yet to let my family know I am here?' She made the question as casual as possible. ‘They must be horribly anxious.'

‘Yes, but why? It's true, they have messengers out scouring the country for news of you. One came here last night. I think I must pay a call of condolence on the Castle on the Rock today.'

He was enjoying it, Juana thought. He liked the sensation of power. He would be an appallingly dangerous ruler for any country. ‘You really think I can't trust them?'

‘I'm sure you can't. You must let me be wise for you, Juana. You must be patient. It won't be for long, I promise you. Our day is at hand.'

‘You had good news last night?'

‘Yes. Everything is going as I wish. The news of the French invasion is out at last, but Dom John still believes he can appease them with soft words. He is thinking of signing a decree confiscating English property.'

‘But, good God, the Castle on the Rock!' She had never signed the paper making it over to Pedro and Roberto.

He laughed. ‘You underestimate me, my Queen. I, too, had thought of that. We need it, you and I, for sentimental reasons. It will be our country home, favoured above even Queluz or Sintra or that dreary priest-hole at Mafra.' And then, casually, ‘There's something I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother died yesterday.'

‘Oh, no!' For lack of proper nursing? Because she missed her? Or for some more sinister reason? She would never know. And Vasco, who had almost certainly been the ultimate cause of her death, had hardly bothered to mention it.

‘Yes, I'm afraid so.' He sounded uninterested. ‘They're all at sixes and sevens at the castle, by what I hear, with the owner dead and the heir vanished, but it won't be long, I imagine, before they see the advantage in it. With you gone, your uncles can waive their claim and your cousins inherit. With the power of Dom John behind them, they should do well enough – they'll take care of our castle until we are ready to reclaim it from them.'

‘You think of everything, cousin.' She was afraid he did, horribly afraid now that old Mrs. Brett had not died a natural death. She herself must have unwittingly prolonged the old lady's life by moving her downstairs, away from her own room with its two secret entrances. This was a new, grim reminder of Vasco's power as leader of the Sons of the Star. When he had needed to, he had been able to strike old Mrs. Brett, even protected as she was by a nurse in the room all the time.

‘I have to think of everything.' He expanded under her praise. ‘Napoleon is not the only great strategist in Europe, cousin. He will discover that when he and I measure swords at last.'

He was a little mad, she thought, but that did not make him any less dangerous. ‘But if the French are really coming?' Was that too intelligent a question? ‘What's going to happen?' She amended it. ‘I think I'm frightened, cousin.'

‘No need to be. Not with me beside you. My friends, by the way, all sent you their loyal wishes and congratulations.'

So he had told them they were married. ‘You must thank them for me,' she said. ‘But will you be meeting again?' This, above all, she needed to find out.

‘Oh yes. Once at least. There's plenty of time still. Junot has a long way to go before we need deal with him. Believe me, we'll be ready when the time comes. But first we have to set our own house in order. That's why I beg you to be patient for a little while, my Queen. We cannot make our final dispositions till the next meeting of the Sons of the Star. Until then, I must beg you to stay in asylum here. That will be the moment of declaration.'

‘I see. But, Vasco, about the meeting: who is going to open the doors if I'm not there?'

‘What?' Here, quite obviously, was something he had not thought of.

‘I'm sure you have some splendid plan about that,' she hurried on. ‘But Vasco, couldn't I do it? I should like to – it would be fitting somehow. To do it for you … I'm sure you could arrange it.' She must not for a minute suggest that she had realised about the second entrance to her grandmother's room.

‘I'll think about it,' he said, and with that she had to be content.

‘ “
Now the clouds no more are grey
,
Now our cares are flown away
,
Evermore our hearts are gay
.”'

JUANA stood as close to the window and sang as loud as she dared. She knew it for a forlorn hope, but surely there was just a chance that Gair might penetrate into the central courtyard of the
quinta
, and recognise the words he had composed for her back at Forland House?

She was clutching at straws, after a week of captivity that was exacerbated by having to pretend she was being guarded for her own sake. Two days before, Vasco had told her that Dom John had signed the decree confiscating British property and ordering the arrest of any British subjects who still remained in Portugal. ‘So you see how fortunate it is that you are safe here, my Queen.'

She had thought it best not to remind him of the Portuguese citizenship Dom John had conferred on her. Nor did she dare ask how the decree would affect Lord Strangford and his people. She was quite horribly afraid that at some point in her strange association with Vasco old Mrs. Brett might have let something slip about her relationship with Gair. She simply dared not speak of him.

To her relief, she had not seen much of Vasco, who had been busy making his final dispositions for what he called his day of glory. When they did meet, she asked as many casual questions as she dared, but learned little about his plans. It was not, she thought, that he suspected her motives in questioning him, but simply that he considered the subject unsuitable for a woman. Each time they met, she was more aware of this attitude of his. To him, women were a necessary evil, only a little superior to beasts of the field. How could she ever have thought of marrying him?

But the more freely he showed this contempt of her, the better. It meant that he had dismissed her as negligible, and there lay her best chance of escape. Today she had been his prisoner a
week, which must mean that the inner circle of the Sons of the Star would be meeting in the room below hers tonight. At all costs she must contrive to listen at that tell-tale chimney. She had made plan after plan for getting rid of old Luisa, but none of them satisfied her. The trouble was that it must all seem to be an accident. If Vasco realised she was plotting against him, she was lost.

When he was out, her meals were served to her in her own room, but tonight he came knocking on her door a little before his normal supper hour. As usual, the formalities were observed. He bowed, and kissed her hand, and hoped he would have the pleasure of her company at supper, and she smirked (she was afraid) and said she would be delighted to join him.

He was in an expansive mood, and she soon learned why. ‘The English are packing up.' He poured her a glass of wine. ‘I thought that last edict of Dom John's would be too much for even Lord Strangford to stomach. He's asked for his passports. The Arms of England are already down from his house, I hear, and he's waiting to leave. So that's one less enemy for me to deal with. Not that I'm afraid of any of them, but I don't want to shed your countrymen's blood if I can avoid it, my Queen. England is our oldest ally, and once I am established on the throne, I intend to make my peace with her-on my own terms. It will be easier if I have not had to deal with her minister here.'

‘Yes.' No doubt, in his vocabulary, ‘deal with' meant ‘kill'. She must be very careful. It was unlike him to talk to her so freely. Was there anything behind it?

‘I met that Englishman who used always to be hanging round the Castle on the Rock,' Vasco went on. ‘He was riding back from there – been saying goodbye, he said. He asked me if I'd heard any news of you.' He was watching her closely.

‘Mr. Varlow?' She managed to make it light. ‘I'm surprised he's still interested, now it must seem obvious I'll never own the Castle on the Rock.'

‘So that was it? I thought so. A fortune-hunter, pure and simple.' He sounded relieved.

‘Oh, yes. He was after my sisters until my father lost his money.' It was near enough the truth to sound convincing. ‘But how will the English get away?' Surely this was a natural question to ask?

He laughed. ‘That must be what Strangford is wondering. It's one thing to ask for one's passports, but quite another to go. There's been no packet for weeks now. If he tries to go overland he'll fall into the hands of the French or the Spanish. And the only foreign ships in the Tagus are a party of Russian warships – he'll hardly want to go aboard them, with Napoleon and the Tsar on such good terms. No, he must feel a pretty fool, just now, must Lord Strangford. I tell you, cousin, the cards are playing themselves into my hands. Two weeks, three at the most, and you will be a Queen.'

‘It's hard to believe.' But she did believe him, with a chill of terror. She was sure, now, that this unwonted flow of talk masked a deep excitement. There was something infinitely more important that he had not told her. At all costs she must get rid of Luisa and contrive to listen to the meeting tonight. None of the plans she had made was perfect. Which one should she try? She yawned, gracefully, behind her hand. ‘I'm tired tonight, cousin. Will you excuse me if I leave you? You must have much to think about.' She had nearly referred to the meeting, but restrained herself in time. Fatal to suggest she was clever enough to have remembered this was the day for it.

He was on his feet in an instant. ‘I'm afraid you find your confinement fatiguing, cousin. But I promise you, it won't be long now. In the meantime, let me give you a last glass of wine to help you sleep.'

She almost said no, restrained herself in the nick of time, and watched, with fascination, in the big looking-glass above the fireplace, as he shook in three drops from a vial taken from his pocket. He must intend her to sleep through the meeting. It was, she thought, extraordinarily obliging of him to provide her with the weapon she needed. She yawned again. ‘It's good of you, cousin. It's true, I have been sleeping badly. Will you bring it upstairs for me, and I'll drink your health, last thing, when I am in bed?'

He was glad to be rid of her. ‘Of course.'

Later, handing the glass to Luisa, she had a moment's qualm. Suppose it was poison, not merely a soporific? But that was impossible: Vasco needed her. It was the only strength of her position. ‘You drink it, Luisa,' she said. ‘My cousin would pour it for me and I didn't want to hurt his feelings.'

‘Of course not, my Princess.' Luisa approved of these sentiments. ‘It's the best carcavelos.' she said with obvious pleasure. ‘You're sure you don't want it?'

‘Quite sure.' She settled back in the luxurious bed. Please God it worked, and quickly.

Half an hour later, Luisa was stretched, fully dressed but snoring, on her pallet. Juana blew out the lamp and tiptoed over to the big, ornamental chimneypiece where the pallet had stood before Luisa had it moved.

At first, she was afraid it had all been for nothing. With her head close to the fireplace she could hear only a confused murmur of voices, a roar of laughter, the clink of glasses. But Luisa had told her she could have understood what was said if she had troubled to listen. She pulled a cushion over to the fireplace and sat down with her head as near the opening as she could get it. Time passed. The noise from below grew louder and more confused. Suddenly she realised what was going on. They were bidding for the bank at faro. Were all their plans made then? Was this to be purely a convivial meeting? It was hard to believe. She got up to stretch her aching limbs and make sure that Luisa was still deep asleep. She was beginning to feel tired herself, and actually nodded off, for a minute, her head against the side of the fireplace.

Vasco's voice waked her. ‘You may go, Manuel.' he said. ‘Leave the wine ready on the side table.' His voice rose to join in a babble of bidding. A few minutes later she heard it again, clearly. ‘That will do, gentlemen. The servants know their orders; we will not be disturbed again.'

There was a rustling and murmur of voices as the conspirators apparently threw in their cards and drew together for their real business. Juana had a clear picture of the room now. Vasco must be sitting at the head of the long table, close to the fireplace. The man who held the bank would be at the far end, so that she could not hear him. She set herself to listen.

An hour later, so stiff that she could hardly move, she crawled across the room to light a candle and take an anxious look at old Luisa. What she had heard tonight had taught her just how dangerous Vasco was. He did not deal in half measures. Suppose the sleeping draught he had measured for her should have proved too much for the old woman? But Luisa was breathing more naturally now. No need to be anxious about her. And that
was just as well, Juana thought, as she climbed into her ostentatious bed. She had enough without that.

It was a sultry night, but she lay for an endless time, shivering with something that she preferred to think of as cold. She knew Vasco's plan now, and knew how right she had been to be afraid of him. Its very simplicity was the mark of genius. But a mad, frightening genius. There had been a moment, listening there, when she had found herself thinking that it might be best for Portugal if Vasco did succeed. He was a strong man, and that was obviously what the country needed. So far as she could see, he was the only person who had really faced the threat from France. His plan might well save Portugal. But to what end? Talking to these, his chosen few, his band of brothers, as he called them, he had outlined, briefly, his plans for the country when it was his. They made her blood run cold. It was not just his casual dismissal of her: ‘We'll need a pompous wedding,' he had said, ‘and an heir, of course, or, better still, a couple of the brats, but after that … Well, you know what I think – what we all think of women, Brothers.'