‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘And now, you must excuse me, for I am truly exhausted from my travels.’
Disappointed, Bel watched Heitor as he left the room, and noted the grim expression on Maria Georgiana’s face.
‘Well, it seems your father, yet again, is retiring for the night with theCristorather than his family. No matter,’ she said to the children as she picked up her spoon to finish her dessert, ‘we will play a game of cards together after supper.’
Later that night in bed, Bel mused on the state of the da Silva Costas’ marriage. And on that of her own parents. In a few short months, she would find herself wedded as they were. And it seemed more and more to her that marriage was simply about tolerance, and acceptance of the other’s faults. Maria Georgiana clearly felt sidelined and ignored as her husband poured all his energy and attention into his project. And her own mother, against her wishes, had moved from her belovedfazendato Rio to accommodate her husband’s lust for upward social mobility.
Bel turned restlessly on her pillows, wondering whether this was all she too had ahead of her. And if it was, it made it all the more imperative that she should meet with Laurent Brouilly again as soon as possible.
*
By the time Bel awoke the following morning, Heitor had already left for a meeting. She sighed with frustration that she’d missed her opportunity to remind him of Laurent’s request.
Her growing agitation over the situation didn’t go unnoticed by Maria Elisa that day, as they took lunch at the Ritz with Maria Georgiana, strolled down the Champs-Élysées and later attended Bel’s wedding dress fitting at the elegant salon of Jeanne Lanvin.
‘What is wrong with you, Bel? You’re acting as if you’re a tiger trapped in a snare,’ she complained. ‘You barely even took an interest in the drawings or the fabrics for your beautiful wedding gown, when most young ladies would give their eye teeth to have Madame Lanvin herself designing for them! Aren’t you enjoying Paris at all?’
‘Yes, yes, but . . .’
‘But what?’ asked Maria Elisa.
‘I just feel . . .’ Bel walked to the window in the drawing room as she tried to explain. ‘That there’s a world out there we’re not seeing.’
‘But Bel, we’ve seen everything there is to see in Paris! What more is there?’
Bel did her best to stem her irritation. If Maria Elisa didn’t know, then she couldn’t tell her. With a sigh, she turned round. ‘Nothing, nothing . . . As you said, we’ve seen everything in Paris. And you and your family have been most generous to me. I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m just missing home,’ Bel lied, taking the easiest route for an explanation.
‘Of course you are!’ Immediately, Maria Elisa’s sweet nature made her rush over to her friend. ‘How selfish of me, here with all my family, when you’re thousands of miles away from your own. And of course, Gustavo.’
Bel allowed herself to be taken into Maria Elisa’s comforting embrace.
‘I’m sure, if you wished, you could return home sooner,’ she added.
Bel, leaning her chin on her friend’s lace-covered shoulder, shook her head. ‘Thank you for your understanding, dearest Maria Elisa, but I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow.’
‘Well, Mãe has suggested that she employs a French tutor to come in for me every morning while the boys are studying their lessons. My French is dreadful, and as Pai has indicated that we could potentially be here for another year, I’d like to improve it. Yours is so much better than mine, Bel, but perhaps you’d like to join me in my classes? It would at least while away a few hours every day.’
The thought of anyone believing that a second in Paris was boring and needed to be filled further depressed Bel.
‘Thank you, Maria Elisa. I’ll think about it.’
*
Having spent another restless night trying to accept that her time in Paris would continue as it was and that the delights it contained would never be hers to know, something happened the following day to restore Bel’s spirits.
Margarida Lopes de Almeida arrived for tea that afternoon, accompanied by her mother. She talked avidly about her sculpture classes at the Beaux-Arts school, and told Bel that she had enquired whether she too could join them.
‘Of course, having a fellow countrywoman at the lessons would make it so much more pleasant for me,’ Margarida said to Maria Georgiana, giving Bel a subtle nudge under the table as she spoke.
‘I didn’t realise you were interested in making sculptures, Izabela? I thought appreciating them was more to your taste?’ queried Maria Georgiana.
‘Oh, I loved sculpting when I took a short course in Rio,’ confirmed Bel, seeing the approving glance from Margarida. ‘I would enjoy a chance to learn from some of the best teachers in the world.’
‘Oh yes, Mãe,’ interrupted Maria Elisa. ‘Bel used to bore me senseless talking about her art lessons. And as her French is so superior to mine, perhaps it would benefit her more to take these sculpture classes Senhorita Margarida suggests than to sit with me while I massacre the language?’
Bel could have kissed her.
‘And of course,’ Margarida added, glancing at her mother, ‘it would mean that you would no longer have to escort me to school and then collect me every afternoon. I would have a companion with me and our driver can take us. You would have far more time to write your book, Mãe,’ she said encouragingly. ‘We would look after each other, wouldn’t we, Izabela?’ Margarida turned to her.
