Whispering (9 page)

‘Much quicker than taking a sedan chair, mother.' He felt suddenly sorry for Caterina, and glad that she had that agreeable little Harriet Brown for company and support.

‘What's that to the purpose? And the party? When shall that be?'

‘Not quite yet. She was most grateful, but needs some time, she says, to get herself outfitted. It's true, she's not quite in the ordinary way …'

‘She never was. But she'll need help with that, advice; I'll call tomorrow.' Visions of the commission she would get from recommending her own dressmaker danced in her head.

‘Do you think –' He could not imagine how to phrase the protest that leaped to his lips.

‘Poor motherless child,' she went on as if he had not spoken. ‘It will be a pleasure to guide her in her first difficult steps back into our little society.'

‘She's Portuguese too, mother, don't forget. Something she said made me think it is very much on her mind.'

‘I am glad she has so much good feeling. But all the more reason why I should launch her in our English circle. It's going to be hard enough for her, I think, after all the talk, but my countenance should just turn the scale, I am sure. And the money, of course. It may do very well yet, dear boy. And as to this Mr Craddock, tell him he is welcome to move in tomorrow.' The sooner her English cousin was removed from Caterina's side, the better. There was everything to be said for having him to live with them. ‘I'm pleased with you for thinking to invite him, Frank. We will treat him quite like one of the family, tell him …'

‘Except for the little matter of his paying his way.'

‘Well, that's of course.' Impatiently. ‘I wonder how he is getting on with that dubious Miss Emerson. Naturally, we must hope that she can help him. It's the falling sickness, is it not? Poor young man! Impossible for him to lead any kind of a man's life – still less to marry. No wonder Senhor Gomez did not scruple to let him escort his daughter out from England.'

‘You are well informed as always, mother.' Frank Ware thought he began to understand his mother's motives.

‘I do my best to be, dear boy. For your sake.' She watched him pick up his hat and gloves. ‘You are going out?'

‘I thought I'd stroll down to the Factory, take a look at the papers and see if Dickson is about.'

‘You're surely not still thinking of that wild goose plan of going to work with him? Now that things are looking so promising –'

‘Another string to my bow, mother. Here I am, able-bodied, unlike poor Mr Craddock. It sometimes makes me ashamed to be kicking my heels here in idleness while the future of Portugal may be being settled up there on the Spanish frontier.'

‘You've heard something?' Sharply.

‘Just a rumour going round town. You know how they come and go with the wind. There's talk that Marmont has taken over from Masséna and is on the move in Spain.'

‘Coming this way?'

‘Who can tell?' Shrugging. ‘But let us hope that if he is, Wellington is ready for him. Of course he has the inner lines of communication and much better information than the French ever contrive to get, having made such enemies of the peasants, but it's a tricky enough business up there in the mountains.'

‘I don't know what makes you think Wellington so well informed. Just think how Soult showed him a clean pair of heels after he retook this place.'

‘That was quite different, mother. Pouring with rain, mountain roads, and the English troops had been marching for days. Some of them were without shoes, Dickson tells me. You can't get far through the mountains in that state.'

‘Soult did.'

‘He was running for his life. It makes a difference. I wish I knew the rights of what went on here when he was in control. Nobody seems to want to talk about it. Nobody who was here, that is. Caterina was asking about it …'

‘Was she so? Well, dear boy, I think the less said on that head, the better. Specially to Caterina. Let bygones be bygones and all that. If you ask me, half the population, or at least half the ones who mattered, were standing eagerly in line to sign those fawning petitions in support of Soult. Oh, they tore them up quick enough when Wellington got across the Douro, but that didn't mean any more than signing them had. What with the democratic faction who don't much like being ruled from Lisbon, and
the crusty old
fidalgos
who think only of their own comforts, I think there were plenty of people who quite liked Soult's idea of an independent Lusitanian kingdom.'

‘With Soult as king? Mother, you cannot be serious!'

‘Think a little, Frank. His own officers took it seriously enough to start that extraordinary negotiation with Wellington to join him in ousting Napoleon and replacing him by General Moreau.'

‘You know about that?' Now she had surprised him.

‘Of course I know about it. Everybody does. We just don't talk about it. I hope you contrived to make that clear to Caterina Gomez. Silence is golden. There's a lot goes on beneath the surface of things, here in Oporto. You have not been back so long as I have, of course, but I can see that you are beginning to find that out.'

‘I am indeed.' But he was surprised his mother knew so much.

When Mrs Ware called at the Gomez house next day she found Caterina busy drawing her friend, and thought it a most suitable occupation for a young lady until she saw the picture.

‘You've made a monster of poor little Miss Brown.' She looked in dismay at the savage black lines of the caricature.

‘I've done my best to, but it's impossible. The sweetness of her nature will show through, try how I will.' Caterina was eyeing her guest as she spoke and Harriet read her thoughts and thought them dangerous. Her friend's gift for a brutal likeness had got her expelled from school; it might cause even more trouble here in busy Porto. She was relieved when Mrs Ware turned from inspecting the picture to look at her own irreproachable needlework.

‘Beautiful fine stitching,' she approved. ‘Which puts me in mind of the purpose of my visit – aside from the pleasure of meeting you again after all these years, dear Caterina. My son tells me you are minded to replenish your wardrobe, dear child, and I am come to offer you the services of my own dressmaker, Madame Feuillide. I know if I make a personal favour of it she will find the time to make for you at once, and I can promise,
you will find yourself in the very first stare of fashion.' Looking down complacently at her own grey silk.

‘Madame Feuillide?' On a questioning note. ‘A French modiste, Mrs Ware?'

‘What else? Boney's a monster, we all know that, but it doesn't stop Paris being the fashion capital of the world. Even that dress you are wearing, my dear, shows the influence of the late lamented Empress Josephine.'

‘She's not dead, is she, poor Josephine?'

‘Not that I know of. But she might as well be, now her Austrian supplanter has borne Napoleon an heir. A sad enough life for Josephine now, poor thing, mewed up at Malmaison after all those years of glory.'

‘Maybe she finds it a relief,' said Caterina.

‘I very much doubt it. She liked to have a hand in things, did the Empress Josephine. But now, tell me, child, when shall I ask Madame Feuillide to call on you? The sooner the better, don't you think? I do so much look forward to introducing you into our little society. You will find it very much the thing, I can promise you, quite like life at home.'

‘But this is my home, Mrs Ware.'

‘Well, of course, for the time being.' Mrs Ware looked momentarily taken aback, then made a quick recovery. ‘I am sure you are getting a tremendous welcome from your father's
fidalgo
relatives,' she said. ‘But you must not quite forget your dear mother's side of things. We are very much looking forward, Frank and I, to having your cousin as our house guest. I am sorry not to meet him here today. Frank saw him at the Factory last night and speaks most highly of him. A wretched shame about that illness of his. Poor young man, my heart quite bleeds for him. To know himself unfit to serve his country in these desperate times; unfit, poor fellow, to marry. We must just hope that Miss Emerson can do something for him, though I have to say that my experience of what she calls her treatment does not fill me with much hope on his behalf.' She began to pull on her gloves. ‘Shall I tell Madame Feuillide to call on you tomorrow, my dear?'

‘It is kind of you, Mrs Ware, but I am afraid I have already made my own arrangements.'

‘That was a whopper if ever I heard one,' said Harriet when Mrs Ware had left, visibly fuming.

‘Yes, wasn't it?' said Caterina cheerfully. ‘And how I am going to make it good is more than I can see.'

‘It's a pity about your father's relations,' said Harriet thoughtfully. ‘Still not a word from them.'

‘Yes, the old bitch had me there, didn't she? And didn't she just know it! I really am between the devil and the deep sea, am I not? But no need to look so anxious, love, I shall come about, I promise you.'

‘I think you should let the old dragon give you that party,' said Harriet, surprising her.

‘I'm afraid you are right, but first I must find myself a Portuguese dressmaker.'

‘Who will sew better than a Frenchwoman. To give the devil her due, Mrs Ware was very elegantly turned out.'

‘Yes, she was, wasn't she? It's a challenge, Harriet, and I do like a challenge.' She had reached for a new sheet of paper and was sketching idly as she spoke. ‘Was the sleeve like this, or like that?'

‘There wasn't much of it,' said Harriet looking over her friend's shoulder at the swift outline she had drawn of two fat arms in two elegantly draped sleeves. ‘Like that, I think.' She pointed at the second one.

‘And so do I. We are going to be busy for a while, you and I, Harriet dear.'

‘And a good thing too,' said Harriet robustly. ‘I didn't think it possible, but I was really beginning to want some work to do.'

‘Well, your holiday is over,' said her friend. ‘We'll spend the evening in the Rua Santa Caterina – my street, love – where the silk merchants are, and with my design and your beautiful stitching, and the maids to do the rough work, I reckon we can contrive ourselves a wardrobe that will make the English tabbies green with envy. And, of course, you are right, Harryo, as usual.
When Mrs Ware next calls, we will let her name a day for her party. We must have some friends, here in Porto.'

‘Perhaps your father's kin don't know you are here yet?' suggested Harriet not very hopefully.

‘With the whispers flying through the streets, as they do here in Porto? Impossible, and you know it. More likely they are waiting until I announce my engagement.'

‘To an Englishman?' Harriet swallowed the question she had promised not to ask.

‘It looks a bit like it, wouldn't you say?'

‘And what are you going to do?'

‘God knows,' said Caterina.

When it came to the point, Jeremy Craddock found himself oddly reluctant to leave the dark, rambling Gomez mansion, with its odd hours and its army of inefficient, willing servants. Predictably enough, Senhor Gomez did not appear to say goodbye, but the two girls made up for this with their friendly thanks for his kindness on their journey. ‘We shall miss you, cousin,' Caterina summed it up. ‘And you must visit us very often and tell us how you go on at the Wares' – and with Miss Emerson.'

‘I do hope she does you good,' said Harriet.

‘And remember,' Caterina held out her hand in farewell, ‘if you find Mrs Ware more than you can stand, you are always sure of a welcome here.'

‘Thank you.' He nearly kissed her hand, shook it firmly instead. ‘And you too must remember, Cousin Caterina, that I am yours to command if you should ever need my help.'

‘On a voyage back to England?'

‘In anything you should need.'

She thought he meant it, and was grateful. But she needed much more than Jeremy Craddock could offer. It was a relief to be interrupted by a servant ushering in Frank Ware, come to fetch his guest. ‘My mother sends her kindest regards,' he held Caterina's hand for an extra minute. ‘And asks you to name an early day for our party. It is good to have a pretext for one, in these anxious times.'

‘Is there any more news of Marmont's movements?' asked Jeremy Craddock.

‘Rumours, nothing more. And none of Wellington either. You would think there was a curtain of iron between us and the Spanish border, the silence is so absolute. It is making my mother quite anxious. She bade me urge you, Miss Gomez, to come to her at the least hint of danger. We are closer to the river for a quick escape to England, if that should prove necessary.'

‘Please thank her for me,' said Caterina. ‘But my place is here, with my father.'

‘Miss Brown might not feel quite the same.' Turning to Harriet. ‘Remember that the invitation is open to you too, Miss Brown. I know my mother would be glad to have your company on the voyage. And I hope you will think again, Miss Gomez.'

‘We must hope that the need will not arise,' said Jeremy. ‘I have more confidence in Wellington than you seem to have, Ware. I am sure the news, when it comes, will be good.'

‘I just hope it comes soon.'

The two young men said their farewells and walked down to the Rua Nova together, leaving Jeremy's baggage to be brought down on the heads of a band of strapping Portuguese women porters. ‘They are glad of the work,' Frank explained, when Jeremy protested at this. ‘With trade so bad, and the vineyards upriver in ruins, they must grab what
scudos
they can get, poor creatures. I am afraid you have picked a sad time to come to Oporto, Mr Craddock.'

‘I find it all immensely interesting,' said Jeremy, with truth.

Introduced to Mrs Ware, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. The house, too, was an extraordinary contrast to the one he had left. English furniture and English chintzes filled airless rooms too full, and black American servants served English tea and English coffee at English hours. It was surprising how much he already missed the casual, friendly discomforts of the Gomez household.