‘Who told you?’ asked Bel, shaken that he had heard about this.
‘Your father, of course, when I spoke to him on the telephone yesterday. That must have been an interesting experience.’
‘It was,’ Bel agreed weakly.
‘You know,’ he said, smiling at her, ‘six weeks or so ago, just as you were preparing to leave Paris, I had the strangest feeling that you weren’t going to return to me. I actually contacted your father to make sure you had boarded the ship as planned. But of course, it was simply my own fear getting the better of me. Because here you are, Izabela.’ He reached his hand to hers. ‘Have you missed me as I have missed you?’
‘Yes, very much.’
‘It’s a shame we can’t marry sooner, but of course we must give your mother time to recover. How is she?’
‘Weak, but improving slowly,’ said Bel. ‘I’m still very angry that neither she nor my father told me of her illness when I was away. I would of course have returned earlier.’
‘Well, Izabela, perhaps there are some things it’s best not to share in a letter, don’t you agree?’
Bel felt herself blushing under his gaze, as every word that dropped from his mouth seemed to suggest he knew the secret she was hiding.
‘Even if they meant well by trying to protect me, they should have told me,’ she replied brusquely.
‘Well.’ Gustavo dropped her hand. ‘You’re safe home with me, and your mother is on the mend. And that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Now,’ he said, ‘my mother is eager to see you too and to start discussing some of the arrangements for the wedding. Obviously, she hasn’t wanted to disturb Senhora Carla, but there are some details that need to be finalised very soon. For example, the date. Have you any particular preference as to when in January?’
‘I would prefer it towards the end of the month, to give my mother as much time to recover as possible.’
‘Of course. Perhaps in the next few days, you would like to visit my mother at the Casa and discuss the wedding plans? And also review those your father and I have for the renovation of our house. The structural work is already underway and your father has found an architect who has some very modern ideas. He has suggested we remodel the upper floors so that we can add bathrooms to the main bedrooms. And I’m sure you wish to have a hand in the interior design of our own private suite of rooms. I know you ladies have much better ideas on decor than us men.’
The mere thought of a future room – and abed– shared with Gustavo sent a shiver of fear up her spine. ‘I would be happy to come up whenever it is suitable for your mother,’ she answered.
‘Well, shall I suggest next Wednesday?’
‘I’m sure that will be fine.’
‘Good. And I hope you will allow me to enjoy your company in the meantime. Perhaps I can call on you tomorrow afternoon?’
‘I will be here,’ said Bel as Gustavo stood and she did too.
‘Until tomorrow, Izabela,’ he murmured, kissing her hand. ‘And I long for the day when I no longer have to book an appointment to see you.’
When Gustavo had left the house, Bel walked upstairs to her bedroom to gather herself together before she went to check on her mother. Standing by the window, she gave herself a thorough talking-to. Gustavo was sweet, kind and gentle, and she must remember that it wasn’t his fault that she could never love him the way he loved her. Or that she already loved another . . .
Remembering with a shudder Laurent’s words of warning – that one day her true feelings would reveal themselves – Bel splashed her face with cold water before making her way to her mother’s room.
*
A week later, Bel was pleased to see that Carla, although still weak and thin, was most definitely improving.
‘Oh,’ Carla sighed one afternoon, after listening to Bel readMadame Bovaryby Gustave Flaubert, translating it from French into Portuguese so her mother could understand the words. ‘I have such a clever daughter! Who would have thought it?’ Carla looked at Bel fondly and stroked her cheek. ‘You make me very proud.’
‘And you will make me proud if you eat every bit of your supper,’ Bel replied.
Carla glanced out of the window at the sunny afternoon, watching shadows dance across the lush flora and fauna in the gardens. ‘The brightness makes me long to be at my belovedfazenda,’ she said. ‘I always find the mountain air there so restorative and the atmosphere so tranquil.’
‘Would you like to go, Mãe?’
‘You know how I love it there, Izabela. But of course, your father is so busy at his office that he would not wish to leave Rio.’
‘What’s important is what’s best for your health. You leave it to me,’ replied Bel firmly.
Over dinner that evening with her father, Bel broached the idea of her accompanying Carla to thefazenda.
