“Oh—oh, like in Captain Wentworth’s story.”
“That’s right. I asked him a few questions about that notarial contract, and apparently British officers, merchants, naval men and so on, have begun to use this option in Catholic countries.”
“But is it a real marriage?” She bit her lips. “I know I have come too far to be squeamish now, but—it is important to me.”
“Of course it is! And, well, the legality is complicated. No, don’t panic—I’m not trying to trick you. Think of Wentworth’s friend! Itislegal; it is only that it won’t be legal inEnglanduntil we tie the knot before an Anglican clergyman. But a civil contract is just as legal as someone who flies to Gretna Green for a Scottish wedding—they let anyone get married, you know—and it’s just as legal as someone who has a Catholic marriage license in England.”
This reassured Sophia, and Captain Wentworthhadimplied that his friend considered himself married… “But if we went to a notary and asked for such a contract, wouldn’t that make us easy to trace?”
“Eh, I think you overestimate the diligence they will put into this. And frankly, I don’t think anyone will expect us to spend time at a notary today. It’s an excellent place to spend a few hours.”
“But the East India Company?—”
“Yes, they are frightening, I admit. But Captain Smythe has almost nothing against me, thanks to your confession and the complete disintegration of Lady Marston’s plot. I dare hope that the representative will consider it a wild goose chase.”
“Do youtrulybelieve that or are you only saying it to keep me calm?”
He briefly raised her hand to his lips. “I promise I will never lie to you, my dear Sophy. I think we’ve had quite enough of that.”
Her stomach swooped at his words. With every step she grew further from respectability, further from her former life. She had done this once before—although the situations were wildly different.
They finally turned out of the park as the path gave way to pavement. He continued up the street along with the growing throng. “I know a little Portuguese from a guidebook I procured in London. Do you?”
“No, not at all, I’m afraid.”
“Ah well, I think there are enough British here at present that we shall do. Lisbon is drunk on victory, and I like dealing with people who are a little foxed. They don’t ask questions.”
The Tagus River echoed again with cannon salutes for Wellington’s triumph at Vitoria. They navigated through a press of sailors, hawkers, and barefoot boys trailing fireworks, whileMr. Belvedere kept her hand tucked firmly into the crook of his arm. “Somewhere in this city there is a man with a seal and a quill who will oblige us. Do you think the Portuguese word for notary isnotario?”
Sophia gave him a look of incredulity. “I doubt it.”
“Ah, we should stop here, I think.”
“What—is this a notary already?” Sophia looked into the dim little shop. “It’s not. I think it’s?—”
“A barber. I did tell Sir Mark—er, Mr. Knapp—that I should get my hair cut on arrival. I really think I must keep my word.”
“Mr. Belvedere?—”
“You know, my love, I much prefer Theo, or Theodore toMr. Belvedere.Such a mouthful! And I realize a visit to the barber seems frivolous in the extreme, but the truth of escapes is not flight; it is staying in places you will not be expected. Changing one’s appearance is a happy bonus. Ah,senhor!”
Through charades and miming he communicated what he wanted, and before too long, he was seated in a chair. The proprietor bowed Sophia to a bench in the back, no doubt thinking them an eccentric couple. The barber knew his business, however, and he even knew British fashion. When Mr. Belvedere—Theodore, she reminded herself—made a chopping motion and asked for aBrutus,the barbermimed a salute and laughed. It was a common style among army men. Soon Theodore’s locks graced the floor and he looked quite different. His hair lay short and close to his head, a little chopped and messy in the Roman style. It also appeared darker, giving him a very altered appearance.
He tipped the gentleman handsomely, and they continued on their way. “Now, there is a church away over there,” he said, “and I understand there is often a notary near a church.”
And indeed, they found a notary’s office just off theRua dos Fanqueiros. It was dark with wooden shutters thrown wide. Thesmell of ink and wax spilled into the street. Inside, a middle-aged Portuguese man with pince-nez spectacles looked up from his ledger.Tabeliães de Notas,the sign read.
“I’m not certain, but I think this is it,” said Theodore. “We shall have to experiment. I wonder if he speaks any English.”
“We don’t have an appointment… or any documents.”
“Appointments are for diplomats. We are fugitives,” he murmured. “Smile as if we’re shopping for wedding cake.”
“Senhor?” The notary stood as they entered. His front room was lined from floor to ceiling with shelves of thick, bound books—registers, probably. “Senhora?”
Mr. Belvedere bowed. “Notary? Public notary?”
He shook his head. “Sim, não falo inglês. Nao falo inglês.
