Whispering (21 page)

‘What in the world?' gasped Caterina. It would have been funny, she thought, if it had not been so frightening.

‘Something has scared him,' said Harriet.

‘Yes. I wish I knew what.'

‘He'll tell you when we get safe home,' Harriet said confidently. They had got on to the Braga road now, the going was a little smoother and the pace slightly less desperate. She turned to look at her friend in the gathering dusk. ‘What happened between you and Luiz, Cat? I didn't think it had gone quite as he
expected. He was edgy as the devil with me, couldn't get away fast enough, not a civil young man, your Luiz.'

‘Not my Luiz,' said Caterina bleakly and found that the tears were streaming down her face. ‘I've been such a fool, such a blind, besotted fool. He's been using me, all the time; he loves no one but himself. How could I not have seen it? If it hadn't been for his grandmother –' She was sobbing helplessly now, but Harriet's arms were warm around her.

‘It's so easy to see what one expects to see,' said Harriet. ‘Don't mind it so much, love. At least you saw through him in time.' She did not let it be a question.

‘Yes.' Caterina answered it just the same. ‘Just. When he expected me to walk into his arms today, and I didn't, and I saw his face … It's odd how different he looked with his hair wet,' she said irrelevantly. ‘I saw it all suddenly, Harryo. He meant to get me pregnant; thought he would be able to force my father into letting us marry. How little he knows of anything. And then, when I held back, wouldn't let him! I was frightened, suddenly. I found myself thinking of a kidnapping, of demands for ransom.'

‘Not ransom,' said Harriet soberly. ‘Rape, more likely. What a good thing Francesco spotted something was wrong. I wonder what it was. But, Cat, you didn't tell him about Lewis?'

‘I didn't tell him anything.' This at least was satisfactory. ‘It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the distinguished guest at the party, but I managed to stop myself. It's so hard to stop trusting someone.' She was crying more quietly now, to Harriet's relief.

‘Thank goodness you stopped yourself,' she said. ‘There are altogether too many questions in that house, if you ask me. I'm sure the old lady is right about Madame Feuillide, but what are we going to do about it, Cat?'

‘I don't know,' said Caterina slowly. ‘I just don't know. If only the Bishop were still in charge here, I would go to him. He knows me, he wouldn't treat me like a silly female with romantic terrors. I never met Dom Antonio, the acting Governor … I don't think I dare try him.'

‘Could you go to the English maybe?' asked Harriet. ‘Frank Ware is a very sensible young man, I think.'

‘So is Jeremy Craddock, come to that, if only he wasn't besotted with that Rachel Emerson. But who would listen to either of them, with a tale of a young lady's fears? The one comfort is that we do know nothing is set to happen till spring; there's plenty of time, and of course I shall tell old Madame Fonsa all of it, she may well feel she can go to the Governor.'

‘About her own grandson? Oh, Cat –'

‘All the more reason why I feel it must be her decision, do not you? Mind you, she has turned all her attention on to her great-grandson now, and Lord knows what is going to come of that. How long do you think Lewis will be my secret now? Oh, look, we're home, thank God.' The carriage had just turned in at the courtyard gates. ‘Lend me your handkerchief, love. I don't want to look an absolute fright to the servants.'

‘They love you too much to notice,' said Harriet as Caterina dried her eyes.

‘
Senhora
!' Francesco himself had leapt down from the box to open the carriage door for them. ‘Forgive me for giving you such a rough ride home. I saw a man back there in that Frenchwoman's kitchen I had never feared to see again. A bad one and a friend of bad ones. Kidnappers … murderers … I am glad to have you safe home.'

‘So am I, Francesco, and I do thank you.'

‘Luiz?' asked Harriet, under her breath, as they moved indoors.

‘Oh, no,' said Caterina confidently. ‘He would never be found in anyone's kitchen.'

‘So, a friend of his, or of Madame Feuillide's?'

‘Or both,' said Caterina.

‘So what the deuce are we going to tell him?' After Jeremy Craddock had left, Rachel Emerson had let the storm of her husband's rage blow itself out over her bowed head. Now, at last, he was beginning to sound rational.

‘The truth, I think, or some of it, though I know it is not a course that appeals to you. But think about it a little.' She reached behind her into a corner cupboard, pulled out a squat bottle and poured him a liberal dram. ‘The English and Americans are at daggers drawn over all this trouble between their ships. Get ourselves thrown out of here as having spied on the British for the French and if we are lucky we'll get home to find war has broken out, and get a heroes' welcome.'

‘Oh.' He had not thought of this. ‘You mean, we tell him –?' He took a long draught from the glass.

‘Some of the truth. A doleful tale of ungrateful clients in Paris, and the bailiffs after us … And then being approached by Fouché's secret police and offered the chance to come here, all expenses paid, and that fine cover story of my standing up for my good friend Josephine. As if she hadn't been one of the worst of all when it came to paying her bills, but never mind that! And then coming here and finding a skinflint paymistress in Madame Feuillide – I have no qualms about her. I'm sure she has cheated
us all along, kept back funds that were meant for us and feathered her own nest with them. What she sent us after you told her about the
Anthea's
cargo was an insult –'

‘She said someone else had got in first,' he reminded her. ‘Are we going to tell Craddock that?'

‘No. Why should we? When did he say Camo's boat sailed?'

‘In ten days or so, I think.'

‘I wish it were sooner. Step down to the harbour, would you, and ask around, tactfully, for an earlier sailing. I don't know about you, but with the chances of war as they are I'd as soon not be on a boat belonging to so good a friend of the British as Joe Camo.'

‘Oh?' This was another new idea for him to cope with. ‘But would Craddock pay for our passages on a different boat?'

‘I think he'll be glad to be rid of us at any price, don't you? Such an embarrassment to him, poor man, a constant reminder of what a fool he has made of himself.'

‘I sometimes think you are a devil, Rachel.' But he said it with admiration. ‘What a pity we can't tell him who is behind Madame Feuillide. That really would get us gold-plated treatment, if we only knew.'

‘It is a pity, isn't it, but she's a very clever woman, that one. You would have to get up very early to outgeneral her.'

‘But we have not done too badly, after all,' he said, and went off to do her bidding.

After what seemed a night entirely without sleep, Jeremy Craddock was waked by the army of chattering workmen who were making the Ware house ready for the party that was supposed to be such a casual affair. Shaving himself glumly in the subdued light of another day of drenching rain he faced the fact that nothing had solved itself during his wretched night. He had gone to bed wondering to whom it was his duty to tell his tale of idiocy and betrayal, and woken with no answer. His instructions had been ruthlessly clear on this point. ‘You are on your own, Craddock. Get into trouble, and we disown you. We cannot afford any kind of friction with our gallant allies the Portuguese.'

So that was that. He cut himself, and swore. His obvious duty was to take the next boat home and explain himself to his superiors there. Why was he so reluctant to do this? Surely he could not be taking Rachel Emerson's forebodings of trouble seriously? Why should he ever again believe a word she said? He wished now that he had made it clear that he would require proof positive about the other spies she named, but she was no fool, she would understand that.

Anyway, the first thing, this morning, was obviously to go down to the quay and talk to Joseph Camo about passages for the Emersons. And at the same time he must find out when the next ship would sail for England, and book his own passage. And granted the speed with which information flew up and down the alleys of Oporto, he had better prepare the ground with Mrs Ware first. He was glad to find her presiding over the tea and coffee urns at her lavish breakfast table.

‘I trust you are none the worse for your wetting, Mr Craddock.' She handed him his coffee, made just as he liked it.

‘Not the least in the world, but feeling a bit of a fool,' he told her. ‘The case is, ma'am, I have to admit you were quite right about Miss Emerson. A shameless charlatan! I'm not entirely an idiot, though she must have thought so. I caught her at her tricks yesterday – I'll spare you the details … We parted not the best of friends, I'm afraid, but she has undertaken to go home to America if I do not shame her publicly. I know I can count on your discretion, ma'am.'

‘Of course you can, and I won't even say I told you so. I am only sorry for your disappointment, Mr Craddock. I had really been flattering myself that perhaps she had been doing you a little good, despite my own doubts about her. I suppose this means that you will be leaving us?'

‘Yes, it has been a fool's errand if ever there was one. I am off to the quay this morning to enquire about passages both for myself and for the Emersons.'

‘Handsome of you to take the trouble on their behalf.'

‘I want to make sure they keep their word.' He had finished a rapid breakfast and rose to his feet. ‘If you will excuse me?'

‘But you won't think of leaving before my party, Mr Craddock?'

‘I should be desolated to miss it, ma'am, but I think I must take the first sailing that offers itself. I have wasted quite enough time playing the invalid here in Oporto.' And that was all too true, he thought, as he walked the short distance to the Rua das Cangostas behind the Factory House, where the firm of Webb, Campbell, Gray and Camo had its office. He found Joseph Camo just putting on his hat to go to the quay, and they walked down through the crowded alleys together.

‘The Emersons,' said Camo in reply to Jeremy's first question. ‘Oh, yes, he was asking about passages last night, I believe. On the
Washington
, sailing Saturday. It seems that our
Anna
does not sail soon enough for them. They are in a great hurry to get out of town all of a sudden. It surprised me a little. I would have thought that having succeeded in getting invited to Mrs Ware's famous party next week, Miss Emerson would be mad keen to stay for it, but from what her brother said, she is just as keen to go. What are you laughing at?'

‘I was wondering what goes on in Oporto that you don't know about.'

‘Not a great deal,' agreed Camo. ‘That's why this snap decision of the Emersons' makes me a trifle uneasy. I really can't fathom it.'

It was almost a question and Jeremy answered it as such, telling his story of Rachel's charlatanism with apparent reluctance, and, of course, in deepest confidence.

‘But I still don't see why she wants to go before the great party,' said Camo at last. ‘And I hope you don't intend to, Craddock. I think it is going to be an occasion not to be missed, if there is any truth in the stories that are going round. Of course, you must know all about it, living with the Wares as you do.'

‘I can tell you the house is almost uninhabitable,' said Jeremy. ‘And of course I have heard talk of the very distinguished, highly anonymous guest, just like everyone else. All Porto must know about that by now.'

‘Yes', said Camo. ‘It's what all Porto is going to do about it that interests me.'

‘A hero's welcome, and oxen roasted whole in the streets?'

‘I wonder,' said Joseph Camo and turned away to greet an acquaintance on the busy quay.

The note of doubt in his voice helped to make up Jeremy's mind. If Joseph Camo scented danger, it was no time to leave. When he found that a ship was in fact sailing for Plymouth just the day before Mrs Ware's party, he did nothing about a passage, planning instead to send a full report by her. It would undoubtedly be easier to do it in writing, he told himself, and was ashamed. But he could not even start to write it until he had his information from Rachel Emerson. From the way she had spoken he was convinced that she knew perfectly well who their employers were, but she would no doubt make a mystery of it, as she did everything, and not tell him until the last moment, just in time to get their passage money. But how odd it was that Rachel Emerson should be planning to leave before the party. He remembered, all too vividly, an early session with her in which she had tried to suggest to him that he should apply to Mrs Ware for an invitation for her and her ‘brother'. He had played stupid and shrugged it off, but had thought at the time she had no chance of getting one, considering what Mrs Ware habitually said about her. And now, having actually got her invitation, she was planning to leave before the day.

But here was Ralph Emerson looming down on him full of such rubicond goodwill that it was hard to believe in yesterday's scene. ‘The very man,' he said. ‘I am just on my way home to tell Rachel the good news. We are booked on the
Washington
, sailing Saturday. We shall have to bustle about to be ready in time, but my Rachel is a devil of an organiser when her heart is in it.' He had contrived to nudge Jeremy into a quiet corner by a fountain where chattering women were drawing water. ‘The passages were expensive, of course, bound to be.' He named a figure that made Jeremy whistle. ‘But I knew we could count on you. So – tomorrow morning?'

‘You will have the information I want?'