“And try not to wonder what our fugitives are up to?”
“Exactly.”
28
Sophia and Theodore—tacitly deciding that itwasbest to get off the streets, at least until dark—took another job carriage to Rossio Square, after asking where they might find a stagecoach. The square buzzed with muleteers haggling over fare and vendors selling roasted chestnuts or cherry liqueur. It seemed to be the bustling heart of Lisbon—inns, taverns, and coach houses all clustered there, with the ocean breeze blowing through it all.
They even found, thankfully, another friendly Portuguese man who explained that if they wanted a carriage to Coimbra, Porto, or Badajoz/Seville, they could buy a ticket on a public road coach. He eyed them a little carefully, but Theodore had left off his bumbling but harmless youth persona, and he now played the capable and earnest young man.
Sophia had forgotten to ask if he planned to introduce her as his sister—this could get very Abrahamic, she feared—but this time he did not. “My wife and I want to see more of the continent before we sail home.”
“It’s hardly a safe time with the war on,Senhor.”
“You’re right, of course, but surely after Soult was pushed out of Seville last year, it is safe again?”
“Safe as cats, as they say, but cats have claws. Seville is still wrecked from the French looting and destruction. And you would need passport or safe-conduct if you’re passing all the way to Spain.”
“Oh, I don’t want to wait for that,” put in Sophia, feeling she ought to help a little, “it would take Father weeks to get the proper paperwork. What about the other city you mentioned— Coimbra?”
“Yes,Senhora. Coimbra is very nice. Theuniversidad—the university is from the twelve hundreds, also the ruins, and the—how do you say?—aqueducts. Very ancient.”
“That sounds delightful!”
Theodore smiled indulgently. “Where would we get tickets for a coach to Coimbra?”
“Thediligêncialeaves from the Corpo Santo Hotel. It runs from Lisbon to Santarém to Coimbra and then to Porto, but it is a difficult trip—maybe two, three days.”
“It can’t be worse than the Mail to Bath,” put in Sophia, with real feeling.
The vendor looked bemused. “As you say,Senhora.”
They took their leave of him and Theodore took a room at the Corpo Santo Hotel for the night. He requested a private parlor as well, and dinner to be brought to them. Sophia wouldn’t have chosen to spend that much at once, particularly on the private parlor, but she couldn’t deny she was famished.
In a way, it was a blessing that they spoke only broken Portuguese and the hotelier only broken English, for despite a strange look or two, no one could ask why she did not have any baggage or a maid. There were a few questions that tended in that direction, but confusion, laughter, pointing, and eventual shrugs turned it away. After all, it was not unheard of for awoman to travel alone with her husband—and Theodore did a very good job of appearing solicitous but slightly exasperated—not at all as a man faking a marriage or running away from the law. He was so open and friendly, even those who could not understand him responded well; he simply made people smile.
Sophia followed him wearily up the carpeted stairs, for although it was only mid-afternoon, she felt as if it had been days since she stood on the wharf. Perhaps longer. The private parlor was a small, tidy room on the first floor, nestled among the other parlors for rent and above the public dining room on the ground floor where anyone might come in and get a meal.
The porter took them a floor higher to their bedroom and bowed them within.
When the door was finally shut, Sophia collapsed into one of the two upholstered chairs that stood on either side of the unlit grate. The cushions, though rather stiff, felt like a cloud to Sophia.
Mr. Belvedere had no more energy than she, having also folded his larger frame into the other chair. “Phew, this is something like.”
“And the silence!” Sophia said. She tipped back her head and closed her eyes. “It is such a relief after—everything.”
It was not perfectly silent, but despite the hawkers’ cries of bread and ink and such, muted and far away, it felt an idyll of peace. Finally she was safe; no onlookers, relative security. “Perhaps we should have gone to a cheaper inn,” she said, “but I suppose it is far less likely anyone will come looking for us here?”
“Yes. No one will think we have the money to burn on a place as nice as this.”
Sophia rested in the silence for a good long while, but finally her stomach growled. She sighed and shifted. Theodore, she saw, had also thrown his head back and had actuallyfallen asleep. His mouth was slightly open and although he didn’t snore, his breathing grew heavy. Good heavens, she wasmarried.She would now find out whether he snored, or grumbled in the morning, or—or anything worse. Of course, she had seen him nearly every day for a month during the voyage. He had never gotten drunk or even made serious indentures when the men had lingered at the table. He had not seemed prone to sudden rages or ill-temper. Indeed, he had been remarkably sunny-tempered for the difficulties they had faced.
She simply would not indulge those fears until she must.
He stirred and rubbed his eyes, smiling when he saw her watching him. “Apologies! I’ve done little more than rest the last few days, and so much action has exhausted me.”
“Of course.” Sophia hesitated but then pushed on ahead, despite her blush. “I don’t at all wish to start in as a nagging wife, but I really must ask—should we be budgeting ourselves a trifle more? How close are we toPoint Non Plus? You won’t scare me; but do tell me.”
He smiled. “Youreallydo not believe I have any money, do you?”
