The Jade Dragon (16 page)

“I did happen to mention that we might decide to stay out. Anyway, Elinor, can you imagine Carlota caring? She’ll be pleased rather than the reverse.”

And so we had a meal at Collares, served to us by the inn keeper in a room lit by smoky candles—fresh-caught sardines grilled over glowing charcoals, with coarse, crusty bread and a carafe of local red wine, followed by a dish of figs. To me this plain, simple fare seemed the most delicious food I had eaten since coming to Portugal.

While we dined, a strolling minstrel came to lean in the open doorway with his guitar and serenaded us with haunting ballads of love and longing, of absence and despair. I felt tears come to my eyes, and I was thankful that the flickering candles shed so little light.

Afterwards, we let the tired ponies amble slowly homeward, taking their own time. The pale rays of a waning moon shone down on us through the foliage of ancient chestnut trees and cork oaks, and the light of a thousand fireflies glowed in the velvet shadows. The sweet fragrance of a summer evening was all around us.

Julio quoted softly, as though to himself, “I am afeard, being in night, all this is but a dream.”

Only a dream ....

The days passed, and I clung to the dream, clung to the thought that I was happy. Always in the morning I went to see my grandmother. But in the afternoons there were more expeditions with Vicencia and Julio. We climbed to the tiny Cork Convent, a strange mist-haunted place, long abandoned now and lost amid the high crags of the serra. And we visited the pleasure gardens of Pena Verde and others of the beautiful quintas in the neighborhood. Sometimes we went into Cintra itself, wandering through the pretty lanes and up and down steep flights of steps where the old houses leaned against each other, huddled close, with aromatic herbs in pots on the window ledges and singing birds in cages on the walls.

Each day as we returned to Castanheiros, we reveled in a wonderful new sense of freedom. For Affonso and Carlota had departed for the Lisbon house, and the quinta seemed a different place without their presence, not gloomy any more.

On Sunday, the three of us went to the fortnightly fair at Sao Pedro de Cintra. The open space beyond the church was packed with a noisy, good-humored crowd, and we had to thread our way between the stalls. A huge display of decorated earthenware was spread upon the ground, and behind it piles of colorful, handwoven rugs. A dim little booth sold ribbons and combs, and a brown-faced old woman stood holding out beautiful lacework collars. There were kitchen pots and pans, brass oil lamps, saddlery and harness, and a hundred other things. People stood around eating with their fingers fresh-roasted suckling pig or grilled sardines, and drinking tumblers of dark red wine drawn straight from wooden firkins.

We came to a booth displaying silverware, and the stall keeper pounced upon Julio, pressing him to buy something for the senhoras. Temptingly, he held up a couple of pretty filigree pendants.

“How about it?” asked Julio, turning to us. “Do you like them?”

I smiled and shook my head. Though very attractive, the silver pendants looked too expensive to be a gift I could properly accept from Julio.

“If you really want to buy us something,” Vicencia told him, “then let it be just a trinket, Julio dear. You mustn’t waste your money on us.”

“I can think of no better way of spending it,” he replied gallantly, and asked the man how much he wanted for the pendants.

Ten
milreis
each, Julio was told—a couple of gold sovereigns or more. I declined firmly, saying, “How about one of those little brooches— they look rather nice?”

An argument ensued, with Julio and the stall keeper on one side, and Vicencia and myself on the other. But we had our way in the end. We left the stall with the brooches pinned to our bodices, and Julio’s pocket was lighter by no more than a few shillings.

Back at Castanheiros, when I went up to my room, Maria was laying out my dinner gown. She happened to notice the brooch and commented that it was very pretty. “Yes, isn’t it, Maria? It was a little gift from Senhor Gomez. We have been to the fair today.”

“Oh.”

I could see she was longing to tell me something, but wondered whether she should. In the end, discretion lost the struggle, and from beneath her white collar she withdrew a pendant on a chain, a charming pendant in filigree silver. I stared in amazement, for it was an exact match of the ones Vicencia and I had considered too expensive for Julio to buy us.

“Where did you get that, Maria?” I asked warily.

She was blushing with pleasure and pride. “Pedro gave it to me, senhora. My brother is so good to me.”

“Indeed, he must be, it’s a very splendid present. Is it your birthday, Maria? You should have told me.”

“Not today, senhora. My birthday does not happen until next month. But Pedro bought this at the fair, and he thought I would like to have it at once.”

“You are lucky to have such a generous brother. Be sure, Maria, that you take great care of the pendant.”

She left me, and I started on my toilette, but a feeling of anxiety lingered. How could Pedro, a junior coachman, possibly afford a gift for his young sister that must have cost him several weeks’ wages? Into my mind flashed the memory of Pedro talking with Stafford in the pagoda, a conversation that had looked furtive to me. Again I recalled that it was Pedro who’d driven Luzia to Cascais on the day of her death.

Could there be any connection, I wondered uneasily?

One afternoon, Vicencia confessed to a severe headache, something to which lately she had become rather prone. But when I suggested that we should cancel our plans for an outing and remain quietly at home instead, she would not hear of it.

‘There is no reason why you two shouldn’t go out,” she protested. “Julio, why don’t you take Elinor up to Pena Castle?”

“And pay a call on our ex-king-consort?” he joked. “Perhaps Dom Fernando will invite us to stay for tea. What do you say, Elinor? Dare you trust yourself to my tender care?”

“I should think I could—if Vicencia really doesn’t mind.”

“I insist.” she said firmly. “By the way, Elinor, I forgot to mention it before—I had a letter from Stafford today. He says that he expects to be staying in Lisbon for another week at least.”

I felt a crushing sense of disappointment. But what did it matter, I argued, whether Stafford was here or whether he was in Lisbon? It could make no possible difference to me. And why had I felt so stabbed with pain at hearing he had written to Vicencia? I could hardly have expected him to send
me
a letter.

Somehow, I forced my face into a bright smile and said cheerfully, “Then it will be just the three of us for a while longer, won’t it? I’m sure none of us is going to mind that very much.”

Being alone with Julio for the first time made me more aware of him as a man, and not merely as Vicencia’s brother. How fortunate I was, I kept telling myself, to have such an agreeable and handsome escort. What a delightful outing we were going to have. But all the time I knew how very much greater would have been my enjoyment if it had been Stafford who sat beside me at the reins as we climbed the winding mountain road, Stafford with whom I shared the beauty of this wild romantic scenery. But I must not let myself think of Stafford.

“Oh, do look, Julio,” I exclaimed as we came to a waterfall that plunged between two mossy boulders. “And those lovely blue flowers beneath the trees there, what are they called?”

He burst out laughing. “I’m afraid I’m not a botanist, Elinor. But they are just commonplace flowers. You see them everywhere.”

“Nothing here is commonplace to me,” I said.

Julio gave me a curious look. “I think you have fallen in love with Portugal, Elinor.”

I felt my cheeks coloring and glanced hastily away. A gap between clustered pine trees gave me yet another sublime view across the gentle countryside of the plain to the sapphire sea beyond. I said, “Surely that isn’t surprising? There is so much to love in Portugal.”

‘Then are you planning to stay, Elinor? Will you be making your life here?”

“Oh, it is much too soon for me to decide that. I should think, however, it is rather unlikely.”

“I most sincerely hope you
will
decide to stay, Elinor. Your going would be a sad loss.”

I turned my head and met the look of warm sincerity in his brown eyes. For a few moments we gazed at each other in silence, then one of the carriage wheels went over a hole in the road, and we both lurched sideways. Julio laughed. “If I don’t watch out, Elinor, you’ll be tipped overboard.”

Reaching the summit at length, we left the chaise in charge of a young lad and made our way through an arch and across the drawbridge. Glancing about me, I marveled at the ingenuity of man, to build such a castle on the very highest crag of a granite mountain.

I knew that the late queen’s husband, Dom Fernando, a Coburg, was a cousin of our own prince consort, and there had always been a close tie between the two royal families. As a consequence, Pena Castle had been built with towers and turrets in a style reminiscent of Queen Victoria’s home at Balmoral in Scotland. His Majesty, Julio explained to me, very graciously permitted visitors to see the interior of his castle, and after waiting a few minutes for a guide, we were escorted inside. It was a great thrill to me to see the royal apartments. The view from the windows was breathtakingly lovely, stretching for miles in every direction. I looked out across the rock-strewn serra to the hazy outlines of Lisbon and wondered where Stafford was at this moment. And what he was doing.

Afterward, Julio and I went to see the ruins of the ancient Moorish castle just a short distance away on another high peak of the mountain. We had brought a picnic basket with us, and we sat on some rough-hewn steps refreshing ourselves with Collares wine and little Cintra cheesecakes. It was very silent up here, not a breath of wind, not a solitary bird, not another human voice.

Brushing crumbs from my lap, I stood up and walked across to look out over the parapet wall. But I drew back hastily in alarm. From where we’d been sitting I’d not realized how sheer the hillside dropped away at this point. A loose pebble that my hand dislodged went plunging down, bouncing sickeningly from rock to jagged rock.

How foolish to be so affected merely because of the height. I had nothing to fear—the battlements were solid and thick. They had stood for centuries exposed to wind and weather, so they would hardly give way now. Taking a deep, bracing breath, I rested my elbows on the stone wall and forced myself to lean over and look down calmly. Immediately, my senses started swimming, and I became dizzy and faint. Then, as I closed my eyes, I felt two hands grip me by the shoulders, jerking me off-balance. The upper half of my body jolted forward, and I screamed out in terror.

“Elinor, are you all right?”

Julio was drawing me back to safety. His arms were around me, and he held me gently, looking into my eyes with concern.

“You were swaying,” he said, “and I thought you were going to faint. I’m sorry if I was rough with you.”

Away from the parapet and that terrifying drop, my fit of giddiness was already passing. “It... it was so silly of me,” I gasped apologetically, “but I suddenly felt I was going to fall.”

“I should not have brought you up here,” Julio said in self-reproach.

“No, no, I like it, truly I do. It’s just... looking over like that and seeing the sheer drop—it was such a long way down.”

“You’re quite safe now,” he said soothingly. “There’s no possible danger while I am holding you.”

I smiled back at him. With Julio’s arms about me I felt protected, filled with a lovely warm sense of being cherished. My heartbeat, still rapid from the fright I’d had, became faster still as we gazed into one another’s eyes.

Very slowly, Julio bent and kissed me, his lips soft and gentle upon mine. Again a feeling of dizziness enveloped me, this time a dizziness of sweetness and yearning. “No, Julio, you mustn’t.” I faltered, pushing myself back from him.

“But why not, Elinor? You’re the loveliest girl I have seen for a long time, and I think you don’t find me unattractive.”

“You know very well why we shouldn’t, Julio.”

He smiled at me with tenderness. “Is it your English blood that runs so cold? Remember that you also have Portuguese blood in your veins, Elinor.”

I eased myself out of his arms and knelt to put away the remains of our picnic. I tried to compose myself and be calm. “I do not think the question of blood comes into it, Julio.”

“Aha. So you admit you enjoyed being kissed by me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He laughed in triumph. “You did not need to say so, Elinor.”

It was only too true. There could be no doubt in Julio’s mind that his kiss had disturbed me. I thought of the occasions when I had been kissed by young men in London, in snatched romantic interludes on the balcony during a party. But this with Julio was something different. Was it, I wondered, because I had been newly awakened by the kiss of another man? I thrust the thought away— to compare Stafford with Julio was somehow repellent.

“These last two days,” Julio remarked thoughtfully, “I’ve received a distinct impression that you wished to avoid being with me, Elinor.”

“What nonsense,” I protested. “There has scarcely been an hour when I’ve not been in your company.”

“I meant
alone
with me.”

“There’s no reason why I
should
be alone with you—and a very good reason why I should not.”

“And what is that?”

“Quite simply that you’re here at Castanheiros to visit your sister. It would hardly be fitting for us to spend time alone together and leave Vicencia out of things.” Seizing a chance to redirect the conversation, I went on hastily, “You know, I’ve been rather concerned about Vicencia lately. There are times when I think she doesn’t look at all well.”

“Vicencia not well,” he exclaimed in surprise. “Why, she’s as strong as a mule. She always has been.”