Before she could change her mind, before she was attacked by qualms of conscience, she picked up the china candlestick and hurried down to find Linguareira, to report that one of the servants had stolen her mother’s locket and that the whole house must be searched.
* * * *
The knowledge that Tereza had been sent home to her parents in disgrace, pending the
fidalgo’s
decision about her, failed to bring Marianna the satisfaction she had expected. Instead, as she and Linguareira set off for Funchal next day, Nuno trotting behind the horses as usual, she felt a gnawing sense of remorse.
The servants were assembled on the veranda to bid their young mistress farewell. Along the route, women emerged from their cottages to bob her a curtsey as she went riding past, and men at work on the terraces paused to sweep off their pointed
carapucas
in a low bow. But Marianna was painfully conscious that the peasants’ usual cheerfulness was lacking; there was a certain coolness in their good wishes. Though they did not presume to condemn her for Tereza’s banishment, it was casting a shadow over the day.
Jacinto’s parents, Eduardo and Rosaria Teixeiro, had come to see her off. In the traditional obeisance, the
feitor
and his wife each bent to embrace her knees until Marianna gave the signal to rise again by pressing a hand to their backs. Jacinto’s mother murmured softly, ‘May the Good Lord bless you,
minha menina,
and grant you many strong children.’
Of Jacinto himself there was no sign whatever. Marianna clung to the hope of seeing him until long after they had left the valley and were well on their way, but at last she had to acknowledge the fact that Jacinto was letting her depart without a final goodbye. Did he suspect what she had done to incriminate Tereza, she wondered wretchedly. And if so, did he now hate and despise her for it?
Before they reached Funchal, Marianna came to a decision that was a moderate sop to her conscience. She would make a special appeal to her father, implore him to show the utmost clemency towards the girl Tereza, as a gesture to celebrate her wedding. More than that she could not bring herself to do, dared not do. To confess her shameful secret was quite unthinkable.
The
SS Apollo
bringing her bridegroom was due to arrive within the next twelve hours or so, depending on the weather at sea, and the nuptials were planned for the following day at noon. Fortunately, Mr Penfold had put arrangements in hand for the reception to be held at the British Consulate. The house in Rua das Murças in its present neglected state could never have been made ready to receive the guests, nor could a suitable repast have been provided. Nevertheless, a wedding was an excuse for revelry and a general air of merriment prevailed among the servants; all the morning Marianna had heard Linguareira loudly berating them for a lot of lazy, drunken, good-for-nothings. At which, she knew, they would laugh behind their hands and mimic her with cruel accuracy the moment her back was turned.
After a good, solid luncheon of pork and walnut pudding, Linguareira settled in her favourite basket chair, gave a heavy sigh of relief and promptly fell asleep. Soon she was snoring steadily. Almost as if he had been waiting for this signal, Codface sidled into the small parlour and beckoned to Marianna.
‘You’ve got a visitor,’ he told her in a hoarse whisper.
‘A visitor? Who is it?’
‘You’ll find out who it is, little
menina.’
Wondering, she followed the man as he lurched down the stairs to the gloomy, cavernous kitchen. There, with the servants crowded round him in a circle, giggling and taunting him, stood Jacinto.
‘Here is Clever One come to see you,
menina.
Your pupil wants to bid his teacher farewell.’
Marianna felt a great leap of joy at seeing him, but Jacinto’s bony face was set in a hard expression. He looked as if he wished himself anywhere but there.
‘What is it?’ she asked, crossing to him swiftly. ‘Is something wrong, Jacinto?’
He shook his head, his lower lip caught between his teeth. ‘I carried down the vegetables and fruit today. I begged Pai to let me be the one to bring them, so that I could see you.’
‘You’d better come outside,’ she said, after a moment’s hesitation.
She led the way down to the courtyard, then turned through a dim archway into the wine lodge. There was nowhere in the house itself where she could properly take Jacinto, but surely they could find a quiet corner here where they could talk undisturbed for a few minutes? Her father, Marianna knew, would be safely out of the way. After a brief appearance at his office each morning it was his custom to adjourn to the rooms of the Commercial Association to meet his friends, and he was not usually seen again until late in the afternoon. She took Jacinto across one of the great vaulted chambers, through another arch, and down between two lines of wine butts stacked in tiers — alas mostly empty now. The few workmen in their long white blouses moved around silently, hardly sparing them a glance.
Marianna halted by an open doorway that gave access to a small patch of garden with a bright sprawling mass of geraniums and a lemon tree growing in the centre. Turning to face Jacinto, she saw a look of sadness in his dark eyes which touched her heart,
‘You came to say goodbye to me, after all?’ she said softly.
Jacinto nodded, then glanced away and stared down at the stone floor. His hand went nervously to the arrow-shaped scar on his right temple. He was wearing his goatskin boots, Marianna noticed, and his white cotton trousers and shirt were clean and neatly patched — not the ragged ones he habitually wore for his daily work around the
fazenda.
From out of his pocket he took something which he thrust clumsily into Marianna’s hand. It was a small wooden spoon that he had whittled from orange wood, the bowl smoothly shaped and the handle having an intricate design of vine
‘It’s beautiful!’ she exclaimed delightedly. ‘Thank you, Jacinto.’
Still not looking up, he mumbled, ‘I said hurtful things before you left the
quinta,
and I wish now to show you that I am very sorry. I wish now to say many thank-yous for all your goodness, Marianna. You have always been most kind to me, most generous.’
These were the tender, heartfelt words of gratitude that she had been hoping to hear at their parting. Suddenly, though, she could not bear to see him so humble before her.
‘I have enjoyed being your friend,’ she said. ‘Truly I have, Jacinto. It made me very sad the other day when we quarrelled. But now I am happy again.’
‘Happy?’ His head came up and his glance rested on her accusingly. ‘You are happy to be marrying that English
senhor?
‘Of course I am!’ Marianna waited as a workman shuffled past them through the doorway, bearing on his shoulder a large copper jar of wine. When he was safely out of earshot, she demanded, ‘Why should I not be happy? Married to Mr Penfold, I shall have everything I could possibly wish for.’
‘Oh yes! A big fine house, I expect, and costly clothes and jewels, and all the other good things that much money can buy.’
‘Also,’ she added, ‘a husband whom I shall honour and esteem.’
‘You do not speak of loving this husband,’ he retorted swiftly.
‘That is hardly a subject I can discuss with you.’
‘You mean that I should remember I am just a peasant?’
‘No, not that…’
They stood looking at one another, both very still and tense; then, hesitantly, Jacinto reached out and touched her on the hand. ‘Marianna ...’
She jerked away from him, taking a quick step backwards, and anger flared in his face. ‘So! You think that a low creature like me is unfit even to touch the hand of Miss Marianna Dalby?’
‘You’re wrong, it isn’t that at all,’ she stammered. ‘Truly, I…I…’
‘Then let us say goodbye as friends,
Marianna.’
‘Isn’t… isn’t that what we are doing?’
Jacinto did not answer, but his glance held a challenge. Marianna recognized a burning need in him to kiss her. And there was the same need in herself, too, a longing to feel again the intimacy of his lips pressed to hers, a longing to be awakened once more to that strange, exciting awareness of her body. The very strength of her surging emotions was terrifying and she knew that she must fight — fight herself as well as Jacinto — with all the strength she possessed. As he drew her into his arms and she felt his lean warmth against her, Marianna had a dizzy sensation of floating, of falling. As if she were falling through soft clouds, gently and sweetly ...
“No, you mustn’t!’ she cried, dredging up every grain of willpower to thrust herself back from him.
Jacinto’s dark eyes flickered. ‘There is no danger. Nobody is here to see us.’
‘What difference does that make? I am betrothed to another man, and it would be wrong ... wickedly wrong.’
‘You have not said that you do not
want
me to kiss you,’ he pointed out with relentless logic.
‘I don’t need to say it. Naturally I do not want you to kiss me. It is a dreadful liberty — assuming that just because I have shown you friendship, you can ... you can give me kisses as if I were a common girl like Tereza.’
The straining leash on Jacinto’s temper broke and his voice stabbed her. ‘So speaks the great and noble young mistress to a humble peasant. Well, this one is not so humble, as you will discover. One day, my fine lady, I shall show you!’
‘Please, Jacinto … please don’t spoil everything. I’m very fond of you, I always have been, you must know that. And now — I wish you all that is good in the future, truly I do, I hope that you will achieve your aim in bettering yourself.’
‘How kind is the
fidalgo’s
daughter, how gracious. I do not need your good wishes, Marianna, I can manage without them. I am sorry now that I bothered to come all this way to see you.’
‘But I am glad you came,’ she said in a husky whisper. ‘And I shall always treasure your parting gift.’
In a sudden darting movement Jacinto’s hand shot out and snatched the carved spoon he had given her. Snapping the handle in two, he flung the pieces to the floor and ground them savagely beneath his boot.
‘You have no gift from me,’ he spat out. ‘I take my gift back.’
As he turned to walk off, Marianna caught at his sleeve beseechingly. ‘Jacinto, don’t leave like this. I can’t bear it. Won’t you wish me well?’
The look of contempt in his eyes made her fingers slacken their grip.
‘Why should I? You have your rich Englishman now — isn’t that enough for you?’
‘Don’t be so cruel to me,’ she implored him. ‘Must we part like enemies? Give me a kind word, at least. Please, Jacinto...’
He seemed on the verge of softening. But then with a toss of his dark head he turned and strode away. Marianna watched him depart, threading his way between the oaken wine butts. She felt stricken, and had to conquer an urge to run after him. When he was quite gone from view, she sank to her knees and gathered up the two halves of the broken spoon. Jacinto’s savage crushing of the wood had released its fragrance and the scent of orange was very strong. A tear fell and splashed the back of her hand, and then another and another.
* * * *
The servant who had been posted since four o’clock down by the Custom House came running with the news that the
Apollo
had
been sighted and would be dropping anchor within the hour. By then, Marianna had to be dressed and ready to greet her bridegroom.
‘For pity’s sake, hurry yourself,’ Linguareira chivvied her. ‘Where did you put those new shoes that were delivered yesterday? Am I expected to remember every tiny item?’ Then, with a quick flood of compassion, ‘Do not be unhappy,
menina?
I
expect it will not be as bad as you fear.’
Marianna nodded distractedly. An idea which had been slowly forming in her mind seemed suddenly to fill it to the exclusion of all other matters.
‘Linguareira, there’s something I want you to do for me. Something very important.’
‘What is it,
menina?
‘My books — my school books and story books, all of them. And pens and pencils, paper to write on. Collect up everything you can find and give it all to Jacinto.’
Linguareira shook her head. ‘He’ll never keep up with his learning, little one. Not once you are gone.’
‘He will, I know he will. That’s all Jacinto cares about, all he’s ever cared about.’ Marianna pressed her lips together hard to stop them trembling.
‘Your papa may not like it. He’ll not want the lad getting too big in the head.’
‘Then don’t tell papa.’ It amazed Marianna how calmly she could suggest such deceit. ‘I’m sure you could manage without papa knowing.’
‘
Sim
, perhaps I could.’
‘You must! You must promise me faithfully to see that Jacinto gets them.’
‘Very well then, if it matters to you so much.’ After hesitating a moment, Linguareira added, ‘You should forget about Jacinto Teixeiro now,
menina.
Your husband won’t want you thinking about the likes of that young lad.’
Marianna took careful command of her voice. ‘It just seems rather a shame to let all those things of mine go to waste when I know someone who could make use of them. Most likely, after this, I shall hardly ever give Jacinto another thought.’
Linguareira, busy searching for a mislaid chemise, made no reply and Marianna became afraid that she had overdone her indifference.
‘All the same,’ she went on in a breathless little rush, ‘it doesn’t mean that I don’t care about Jacinto. I do! So you’ve got to give me your sacred, solemn promise to see that he gets those books of mine.’
Linguareira turned to meet Marianna’s eyes and nodded slowly. ‘You have my promise,
menina.
I swear it by the Holy Mother of God.’
A cannon on the Loo Rock boomed thrice in salute as the
SS
Apollo
weighed anchor and began its voyage to England. Marianna stood clutching the polished brass deck-rail with tense fingers and stared across the dark sea at the receding lights of Funchal.