The Day of Atonement (33 page)

She shook her head. “Have you heard nothing I said? Your love for me is the love of a child. I will not run off with you.”

“Both of you,” I said, trying to save face, yes, but also seeing things more clearly now. Of course it was madness to think she would leave her husband, but I could still serve her. I had an obligation to do so.

“All of you,” I told her. “I know Eusebio has smuggled money out of the country. I will get you out—you and Eusebio and Luis. You will go where you like.”

She blinked at me. “You would do that for us? Why?”

I looked at the woman who had consumed more of my thoughts than any other person, any other idea, and I understood that this was not the Gabriela I had dreamed of. She was gone, as much a memory as the boy who had loved her. Time and circumstance had remolded her as surely as they had remolded him.

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because for sins of one man against another, the Day of Atonement does not atone until they have made peace with each other.”

“What does that mean?” Gabriela snapped.

“I hope someday you will know. For now it is enough to explain that I need to undo the past. You have a husband, and you love him. I have no desire to hurt anyone. Not ever again.”

“How will you do it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Not yet. But I will figure out a way.” I thought of Inácio’s threat the night before. Time was running out for the Nobrezas. “Soon. Within the week.”

Here she was, the woman I had loved all my life, and I had just let go of her. While I felt a deep and terrible sadness welling up inside me, I also found, to my surprise, something like comfort. She was gone, but not beyond my helping. I could do something real and undeniable for her. Maybe that would be enough.

“I am sorry I was cruel to you,” she said at last. “I misjudged you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said, turning to leave. “And you did not misjudge me. You understand me all too well. If I had the same understanding of myself, perhaps things might have gone better.”

Wanting to waste no more time, I made haste as I pushed my way through the streets, my leather envelope of incredible wealth tucked into my breeches so that no pickpocket could help himself to what I had acquired through blood and sacrifice. I had to make my way around a procession carrying the bones of some saint or another, but otherwise the streets were empty. Tonight was All Hallows’ Eve, and the superstitious people of Lisbon would already be preparing for an evening of prayer, clutching crucifixes and rosaries, hoping to keep the spirits of the dead away during the most haunted night of the year. Then tomorrow would be All Saints’ Day. The streets would be mobbed. Every church in Lisbon would be alight with candle and full of song. I would, by then, be in pursuit of my own vengeance instead of Settwell’s. I would tend to Franklin. I would make Inácio pay for his crimes. I would kill Azinheiro, and then I would flee the country with Eusebio and his family. And then? Well, then, of course, I would become a happy man, ready to lead a productive life.

I laughed at the absurdity of my plan. How could I be transformed? I had come to Lisbon to exorcise the darkness, but everywhere I went was the gloomier for it. I no longer pursued these things because I believed they would improve my life. I did them because they needed doing. Where a broken man like me might make his home thereafter, I could not guess.

At Settwell’s house, the old mulatto woman let me in at once, and Settwell rushed to see me. “Well?” he asked.

I held the envelope in my hand already, lest his joy be somewhat diminished by seeing me pull his wealth from my breeches. Settwell snatched it away. He peered inside and his eyes widened. He took a few steps backward and forward. He opened his mouth to speak, but laughter erupted, and he put a hand up to silence himself as though he were a little girl.

“You have done it,” Settwell said. “The money, right here. In my hands.” He reached out and clapped my shoulder. “By God, sir, whatever I did for you, you have repaid me. You have more than repaid me. You have served justice and given new life to me and my daughter.”

Mariana, sensing the excitement, came running down the stairs and threw her arms around me. “Mr. Foxx!” she cried. “What did you bring me?”

“Mariana!” snapped her father. “Do not be rude. Mr. Foxx has other things to worry himself about than geegaws for little girls.”

“For ordinary little girls, to be sure,” I said. “For special little girls, I have no more pressing business.” From my pocket I pulled forth a cleverly carved little wooden duck, trailed by a train of ducklings. I had bought it in the Rossio before meeting Gabriela.

Mariana squealed. “I love it. This is the best present I have ever received!”

“Now run along,” Settwell said. “Mr. Foxx and I have tedious business to discuss.”

The girl pouted, but she did as she was told. Once she was gone,
Settwell poured two glasses of port and handed one to me, though I had the very distinct impression he would rather have kept both for himself. We tapped glasses and drank.

“From nothing to fifteen thousand. I would never have believed it. I can never sufficiently thank you for what you have done.”

“No more thanks. Wrongs have been righted, and that is all that matters. But now we must discuss how you will leave the country. Were you on your own, it would be no difficulty, but I cannot think the Inquisition will simply allow you to leave with a Catholic child.”

“She is my daughter,” Settwell said, his voice very hard.

“That little matters, and you know it. She is the seven-year-old Catholic child of an Englishman. The Inquisition will regard her as a prize.”

“The Factory will protect us. The consul will never allow my child to be taken.”

“The Inquisition has taken English children before. You yourself have said so. And I need not remind you that you cannot expect help from the consul and the Factory.”

Settwell laughed. “Well, then I was a penniless merchant, down on his luck. Now I possess a fortune of fifteen thousand pounds. They will forget any past disagreements.”

“You cannot reveal that you have the money, not so soon after it is stolen from the goldsmith’s vault. I propose circumventing the Factory entirely. We shall hire a coach and a few soldiers as protection from bandits. I will come with you to make certain the soldiers do not turn coat. We will then go to Oporto, and hire a berth there to France or Italy. You will not be known, and so you will be seen as simply another Englishman. Mariana will be invisible. Once you come ashore, you will easily find transport to England.”

“Yes, yes, that sounds fine,” Settwell said as he paced about the room with a kind of frantic energy, “but I’m not entirely certain I’m ready to leave Lisbon—not now. Maybe I shall remain a little longer, see what bargains I can strike. It never hurts to add a few pounds to
one’s holdings. I should think in less than a year, I could double this money.”

I could not credit what I heard. “Are you mad? The goal was to get you free of this country. I did not steal that money so you could wager it upon trade.”

“It’s no wager, and I shan’t squander the money. In any event, it isn’t your money, is it? It’s mine, and what I choose to do with it is my own business.”

“I risked my life to buy you your freedom. Enéas gave his life to do so. He was murdered during the robbery.”

“What? The little Gypsy boy? You can get another, surely.”

I set down the wine with great care. “I valued him for who he was, not how quickly he could deliver a message. I did not put him in harm’s way so that you might have one more opportunity to rise in the Factory.”

Settwell stared at me, and his gaze was now stony and cold. “It doesn’t particularly matter what your intentions were. You did what I asked because it was your obligation, and what I do next is none of your concern. Now, if you are going to snap at me thus, I shall not like it, so I bid you a good day.”

I felt blood pounding in my throat, in my temples. Could it be I had misjudged yet another person in my life? His indifference and foolishness struck me with near physical force. I closed my eyes for a moment and look a long, deep breath. “If anything happens to that child because of you, you will answer to me.”

“It is very good of you to care for her, but I am Mariana’s protector, and she shall be well.” Without further commentary, Settwell strode out of the room, leaving me to find my way out. I waited until I believed I could step out upon the street without knocking down the first person whose looks I misliked.

* * *

When I returned to the Duke’s Arms, Roberta was waiting for me once again. She had hired a private room, and left a message for me to find her there. I prepared myself, making certain I felt nothing when I walked through the door. She sat with her fingers wrapped around a cup of wine. Her eyes were red and her face haggard. Her green dress was rumpled, and I saw mud strewn along the hem.

“Roberta, what has happened?” I asked, doing a tolerably good imitation of someone who did not know.

“I am ruined,” she answered. She rose to her feet and threw her arms around me, pressing me tight, her hands clutching my back desperately. She smelled of sweat. After a moment, she pushed herself away, and began to pace. “Our vault at the goldsmith’s was robbed. Fifteen thousand pounds’ worth of gold taken. We have nothing, now. We have worse than nothing. Much of that money was debt that we owed others.”

“But surely the goldsmith will compensate you,” I said, forcing my face into an expression of concern. “He must have purchased insurance for his holdings.”

She shook her head. “He swore he did when we agreed to use his services, but it was a lie. His insurance was long unpaid, and there will be no consequences to him for his lie. I can no longer help you make your fortune. I am so sorry, Sebastian. Forgive me. Pity me, too. It will be all we can do to get ourselves back to England.”

I led her to sit down. “You must have other options. You are well established in this city. You have friends. The consul worships you. Surely someone will lend you money. You need only have a loan for a few months to make enough to reestablish yourself, I should think.”

She shook her head, almost violently. “No one will lend money to people who lose what they have. We are tainted. Even the consul will scorn me now.”

I expected her to ask me for a loan, but soon realized I was mistaken. Roberta was broken, and I had broken her. I wished I had not
done this to her—if only she had left Charles Settwell alone, none of this would have come to pass.

“What can I do for you?” I asked, and not only because I wished to play my role. I did want to help her. I wanted to erase her anguish—and to ease my own. I had done what needed doing, but here was yet one more woman I had brought low.

She looked down at the scratched and beer-logged wood of the table. “You can do nothing. I only wanted to tell you before you heard from someone else. Perhaps the money was the only thing you cared for, and I wished to see for myself if that was true.”

“It is not true,” I said, taking her hand. “I don’t give a damn about the money.” It was among the few honest things I had ever said to her.

“I think you have truly loved me,” she said.

I said, “I have. I have loved you, and I love you yet.” Did I really care for this predator and thief, who destroyed without remorse? At that moment, I believed I did. Perhaps it was merely her vulnerability that made me think so; perhaps it was my own.

“If there had been money,” she said, “if there had been wealth enough for us to rise above gossip and rumor, then who can say what might have eventually happened? Now I have no choice. My lot is to be a good wife to a ruined man.”

I did not wish to speak the words, but I could not quite prevent myself. “Is there no way to find this thief and reclaim what was lost?”

“The money is gone—either converted or driven out of town or sailing upon the waters. No one would dare leave stolen gold lying about for long. Even though I believe I know who took it, there is nothing I can do without proof.”

“Who do you think took it?” I asked. I attempted to keep my voice even, but after I spoke I realized that it had been a mistake. Surely I should have been emotional upon hearing such news. The layers of dishonesty were becoming a bit too complex even for me.

She laughed bitterly. “I did not think he had the wile to do it, but
I am sure it was that villain, Charles Settwell. You recall I told you to keep your distance from him.”

“I do,” I said, trying to sound no more than concerned and curious. “Why would he steal your money?”

“He tells the world that Rutherford and I tricked him into losing his fortune. I have no doubt he told you that as well. I recall how cautious you were when you first met us, though we hoped honest dealing would erase your doubts. He has repeated this lie so many times, I think he may even half believe it, though he is far too canny to lose himself entirely in a fabrication.”

“If he did not lose his money through trickery, then how did he become what he is now?” I managed to ask.