The Devil on Her Tongue (58 page)

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Authors: Linda Holeman

BOOK: The Devil on Her Tongue
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He thought for a moment. “You can work with me, to begin, checking on the
mosto
the
borracheiros
bring down from the vineyards, weighing it and making sure our payment to the vineyard owners matches what they delivered. If you find that within your grasp, you can relieve me in negotiating prices with the owners, depending on the season and quality of the grapes. You have to regularly check on the barrels, tasting the wine to make sure it’s progressing properly. When it’s ready, you will supervise the emptying of the barrels into the pipes before they’re loaded onto the ships. That sounds like a lot, but, as Henry said, you can go slowly at first.”

I looked from him to Henry. “So I would start this harvest?” When he nodded, I said bravely, “I can do that.” Inside I was trembling with eagerness at this unexpected opportunity. “I can do it,” I repeated.

I crossed the flagstone courtyard and stood on Rua São Batista, letting the cool breeze from the ocean take the excited heat from my face before I opened the front door and climbed the stairs. In the salon, Ana was cleaning out the fireplace. She pointed towards the bedrooms. I went up, and found Dr. McManus with Olívia. She was lying on her bed while he pressed his ear against her chest. Candelária slept soundly on the settee under the window.

Olívia’s breathing was laboured. As her eyes went to me, the physician rose.

“My sister-in-law, Senhora Rivaldo,” Olívia whispered.

“I shall be done my examination in a moment,” he said, dismissing me.

I went back into the hallway to wait, and when he came out, I walked down the stairs with him. “Is there anything more we can do, Dr. McManus?” I asked in English.

He buttoned his jacket before speaking. “There’s little to do but continue as always, making her comfortable.”

I felt a chill. “Thank you,” I murmured, and went back upstairs. Olívia was coming into the hallway, smoothing her hair into place. “It’s just the weather affecting me.”

“Your mother left?”

“My father arrived early for her.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you would be left alone to cope with Diamantina.”

“It’s all right.” She studied me. “You have much colour in your cheeks today. I’ll have Ana make us some tea while we wait for Candelária to wake.” She went down the stairs, gripping the banister, and I followed, thinking of the look on the physician’s face as he spoke to me. “Why were you wanted in the
adega
?” she asked, sitting down and looking up at me.

“Mr. Duncan had a message for me from Dona Beatriz,” I said after a tiny hesitation. I wasn’t comfortable telling her I’d be working with Espirito, but wasn’t sure why. I would leave it up to him to tell her, as I’d tell Bonifacio. “Has Candelária been sleeping long?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

“She fell asleep almost as soon as you left. She rarely slows down.”

“I know. She wakes up full of energy and runs about all day. Sometimes it’s difficult to get her to stop long enough to feed her.”

“She clearly takes after you, quick in movement and, I can already tell at her young age, in her thinking.” As she picked up the bell to ring for Ana, she began coughing. I went to her and rubbed her back. By the time she was able to stop, Candelária was calling, “Mama, Mama,” from upstairs.

“I’ll go and get her,” I said, but as I crossed the room, Olívia said, “Your daughter already appears fearless. She shows no caution.”

I stopped and looked back at her.

“She gets that from you as well.” Her gaze was piercing, and I felt compelled to turn away from it. “We all know
you’re
not cautious at all,” she called after me as I went up the stairs.

When I came back down carrying Candelária, Bonifacio was standing in the middle of the salon. “I went to see if you were still in the
adega
,” he said, and I busied myself straightening Candelária’s ribbons.

“Obviously I wasn’t,” I said.

“It’s time for you to take her home,” he said, nodding at Candelária. She was rubbing her eyes.

I wanted to ask him what business it was of his how I raised my daughter. He had never before shown any concern for her physical well-being. I glanced at Olívia. Was it for her benefit, this act of the doting father?

“Take her home, now,” he said.

“I was on my way,” I said tightly. “Thank you again, Olívia.” I picked up Candelária’s little cloak.

“It was no trouble,” Olívia said quietly.

Bonifacio followed me down the stairs. We didn’t speak as he turned into the Counting House and I went towards the square to hire a cart to drive Candelária and me home.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

20th October, 1752

Dear Diamantina
,

Thank you so much for your work in the wine lodge this fall. When I saw Henry recently, he informed me it was a year of high yield on the island, producing the most successful harvest to date. He stated that your assistance allowed Espirito to devote more time to the preparation and shipping of the first vintage of altar wine to England. I’m also happy to hear from Henry that the expansion of the second adega progresses as hoped
.

In spite of Abílio’s losses as he attempts to move some of the business into the port venture, I must do whatever I can to protect Kipling’s. It is Leandro’s legacy, as my father wished
.

My life continues to be full. I particularly love to visit my aunt in Estoril, a number of leagues west of Lisboa. I stroll through her citrus groves and take the healing baths
.

I also visit Lisboa frequently. There, life is very different from provincial Belém. Only slave women, maidservants and women of the working masses are seen on the streets. Upper-class ladies remain respectably cloistered unless in the presence of husbands or fathers. There is the terrible fiery madness of the autos-da-fé and the pomp and ceremony of the royals as they parade through the streets in their opulent carriages. There is splendour in the churches with their gold and silver altars studded with precious stones
.

I do enjoy these forays, but am always happy to return to the quiet streets of Santa Maria de Belém
.

I hope all is well for you. Although I am grateful for the speed of the ships passing between the mainland and Madeira, carrying our letters back and forth, I would prefer to sit and talk face to face as we did almost a year ago
.

With my warm thoughts
,

Dona Beatriz

I
had loved my first taste of working in the
adega
that harvest. The only unpleasantness had been Bonifacio’s reaction. I told him about the offered position that same evening after Henry had offered it to me. Bonifacio’s first reaction was disbelief, and then he shook his head.

“You will not work in the
adega
. It’s not a job for a woman. Your role is here, on the quinta.”

“I’ve already accepted.”

“Go back and tell Duncan your husband won’t allow it.”

I frowned. “No. Dona Beatriz wishes it, and I work for her. As do you,” I added.

“You work on the quinta, in your various capacities, not in a lodge with—”

I interrupted loudly. “This quinta that is your home, thanks to me. Senhor Perez gave us this cottage so I could be of use as a
curandeira
. And then Dona—”

“All right, all right. Do you think I’m not reminded of that all too often?”

We were both breathing heavily.

“Kipling’s wine lodge is my place of work,” he said. “I do not want you there, surrounded by men. It’s bad enough …”

“What is? What’s bad enough?”

He went to the front door and opened it. “You can’t stop yourself, can you, Diamantina? No matter how I pray for you, you
continue to be driven by your own evil desires.”

“What’s evil about agreeing to work for Dona Beatriz in the wine lodge? It’s you who has the suspicious and evil thoughts, Bonifacio, not me. As you could not dictate to me about putting headstones in the chapel cemetery, neither can you dictate whether I will work for Dona Beatriz. She is my superior. Not you.”

He came at me, his fists clenched, and I raised my chin. We stared into each other’s faces for a moment, and then he unclenched his hands and let them hang, limp, at his sides.

“I’m going to the chapel and will stay on my knees all night, praying for you,” he said, his voice quiet now. “You grow further and further from God’s grace. I don’t know that you will ever find redemption.” He went back to the door.

“Isn’t it you that looks for redemption?”

He stopped in the doorway, not looking back at me, and then went out into the night, leaving the door open.

We never spoke of it again. When I received word from Espirito that I could begin helping him, I arranged for Binta and Nini to keep Candelária while I was away from the quinta.

At the end of the season, as our own crop on the quinta was harvested, I decided to have a small Festa do Vinho. I invited Espirito and Olívia and the da Silvas.

But only Espirito arrived on the evening of the festival, after the long tables had been set up in the yard and the locals who had worked on the harvest were eating and drinking and making music. “Olívia sends her regrets,” he said. “She hoped to be able to come, but her breathing is more laboured than usual. I can’t stay long. Her parents are with her, but I don’t like to be away from her when she’s in this state.”

“Tell her I’m thinking of her,” I said, and started as Bonifacio was suddenly beside me, his arm around my shoulder. I looked at him, pulling away slightly from his touch. “Bonifacio, please pour your brother a cup of wine. Sit, Espirito, and I’ll have a plate brought
to you.” Bonifacio kept his possessive hold on me, and I felt a flush rising in my cheeks. “Bonifacio, please,” I said, and finally he left my side and poured Espirito a glass of wine.

In the end, Espirito stayed for an hour. When he rose to leave, he handed me a small but heavy sack of coins.

“What’s this?” I asked, shifting Candelária to my other arm. She was tired after running around and playing with some of the other children who had come, and now lay with her head against me.

“You didn’t think that Dona Beatriz expected you to work without pay, did you?”

I glanced at Bonifacio, who was standing nearby, watching the musicians. “I never thought … because we’re living at the cottage, and …”

“You are in the employ of Kipling’s Wine Merchants. You will be paid for your work.” Espirito stepped closer and ran a finger down Candelária’s cheek. “Good night, little one,” he said, and she smiled at him, and then she said, “Down, Mama.”

“Bonifacio,” Espirito called as I set Candelária down. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Good night,” he said, starting across the yard towards the path to the cottage.

“You’re leaving?” I called, and he waved his hand in a gesture that might have meant either
Yes
or
Leave me alone
.

But Candelária ran after him and unexpectedly threw her chubby arms around his legs.


Adeus
, Papa,” she said, and I started. I hadn’t heard her call Bonifacio Papa before. It must have been Binta or Nini who spoke of Bonifacio as Papa to Candelária.

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