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As the sky to the east slowly turned pink, Cecília finally gave up trying to sleep. She sat up and irritably pushed at the hair that had escaped from her braid overnight, but it didn’t help the familiar itchiness that overtook her whenever she’d been left in one place for too long.
There must be something wrong with me, she thought, but that was nothing new. She’d always known as much. She just didn’t think she’d still get urges to sneak away even with so much freedom. Since they had gone to court more days than not over the past week, she had to imagine it was the fact that people still refused to let her know what was actually happening. Her grandfather continued to go to secretive meetings, the courtiers continued to say vaguely snide things about Senhor Carvalho without any specifics, and Bibiana...
Cecília looked across the room in the soft dawn light. Though Father Moreno had been there every day, Bibiana hadn’t changed in the slightest. Crossing herself, Cecília sent up yet another prayer asking for help keeping her faith in God’s plan, but especially since news had made it around court that she was the sister of a criança milagre, it was getting harder and harder. If she had to listen to one more person talk about how wonderfully blessed she had to feel while her little sister continued to be a lump in bed day after day, Cecília thought she might scream.
Not for the first time, her eyes drifted to where the box holding John’s book and letters was hidden in the trunk she had brought from her grandparents. She had packed it only because she hadn’t trusted her grandmother not to go through her things while they were gone—or at least that was she had told herself. Sometimes, she felt as though she was starting to lose track of what she actually thought and what she’d convinced herself of, but as her annoyance grew, she found it harder and harder to stay away from it. She couldn’t imagine she would find much that would help her in a book of English philosophy or letters she had already memorized, but her mind continued to drift back to the sentence she had found underlined in that book one night when she’d broken down and looked at it.
Scientia potential est. Knowledge is power.
Cecília had to assume that John had marked that passage when he had written where to write him in the cover. It was entirely the sort of thing he would have said to her.
But what knowledge? she asked the box silently, as though John would be able to answer her through it. Yours or Father Moreno’s?
The rattle of carriage wheels snapped Cecília out of her thoughts, and she slid out of bed to move to the window. Outside, Father Moreno’s carriage rolled toward the house. It was alarmingly early, even for the priest.
He must not have gone to Lauds. There was no way he could have attended dawn prayer even at the church down the street and still arrived at first light. She glanced heavenward. Is that an answer?
Everything remained unhelpfully silent, save for the arrival outside.
With a huff, Cecília picked up her bed dress and pulled it over her camisa, not feeling the need to call up Senhor Romão’s angolense girl so early to put on a full gown. As Father Moreno had said on the first day he had arrived, they needed to follow God’s will in this as in all things. They had to trust in His plan. After nearly nine months of waiting and wondering, though, it was simply getting harder to do.
Maybe that’s why nothing’s worked yet. I don’t believe enough? She looked at where Bibiana was sleeping. It seemed cruel to make Bibiana suffer as some sort of test, but it didn’t seem impossible.
Unless that’s pride? Thinking it’s about me? She released another annoyed breath. Why isn’t anything ever simple?
Soon enough, the door downstairs opened, and after a few words with what sounded like Ricardo, one of Senhor Romão’s older servants, Father Moreno’s footsteps headed for Cecília and Bibiana’s room. Cecília made it to the door before he could knock.
Father Moreno paused briefly in surprise before offering as kind a smile as ever. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Father.”
“I should offer my apologies for waking you this early. It’s a busy day, but I wanted to make sure I still could see how Bibiana was doing.”
Cecília stepped back to allow him into the room, not feeling the need to state the obvious when he could so plainly see it. As he headed for his place at the bedside, Cecília asked, “Would you mind if I joined you to pray this morning, Father?”
Father Moreno’s eyebrows rose, but he looked more pleased than anything. “Not at all, my child. I’d welcome the company.”
Nodding, she took a place near the end of the bed and rested her elbows on the mattress as she clasped her hands. Actually sharing her thoughts with the priest felt too exposing, but if she was being tested, perhaps helping to pray would at least be a start. All she could do was hope.
The sun was fully out, and the little second-story room started to become uncomfortably warm by the time Father Moreno finished whatever set of unfamiliar prayers he apparently was using to help Bibiana. Cecília cracked her eyes open to peek. No change. Her stomach sank as she realized she truly had been hoping for a miracle. As she began to debate whether she should stay there, some commotion downstairs caught her attention.
Father Moreno paused as he flipped through his book, looking in the direction of the raised voices.
Cecília stood, knees protesting after kneeling for so long. “If you’ll pardon me, Father?”
He nodded, letting her slip out of the room alone to see what was happening.
“You are not welcome in this household!” Senhor Romão’s voice carried up the stairs from the entryway.
“You wish to turn away the king’s own physician, whom His Highness most thoughtfully sent?” The surprise at hearing Tio Aloisio’s voice made Cecília pause for the briefest moment before she continued toward it.
“Whom the first minister sent, you mean,” Senhor Romão spat.
“I have His Highness’s letter right here, if you wish to read it.”
“We have no need of any physician,” Avô Santa Rita’s voice joined the argument. “Her condition is spiritual, not physical.”
“Entirely possible,” Tio Aloisio agreed. “But the king has heard all the talk around court, and he wishes for Senhor Nunes to see her. He can already get a spiritual report from Father Moreno.”
Cecília turned the corner, and the scene came into view—Senhor Romão and Avô Santa Rita scowling on one side, Tio Aloisio and who had to be the king’s physician, Senhor Nunes, standing on the other, closest to the front door. “Tio Aloisio,” she said to introduce herself.
All four men turned their heads to look at her.
“Go back upstairs, Cecília,” Avô Santa Rita said.
She turned her attention to him. “The king sent someone to see Bibiana?”
“Cecília—”
“Yes,” Tio Aloisio spoke over her grandfather, motioning with the paper in his hand. “As he outlines in this letter.” He looked back at Avô Santa Rita and Senhor Romão. “And I apologize, senhores, but I truly must insist.”
Senhor Romão puffed up. “Now, listen here—”
“Is there any harm in it, Avô?” Cecília broke in. “Father Moreno is with her right now. I’m sure he won’t allow any harm to come to her after everything. And if there is something both physical and spiritual—”
“Cecília—”
“Isn’t it worth trying everything?” she finished. “Please, Avô.”
Conflict played out over Avô Santa Rita’s expression before he blew out a harsh breath. “Let me see the letter.”
Senhor Romão made an incredulous noise and pointed sharply at Tio Aloisio. “I’ll see the entire court hears of this. Invading a man’s private residence.”
“I’m certain you will.” Tio Aloisio nodded, motioning Senhor Nunes toward the stairs.
Cecília stepped out of the man’s way as Avô Santa Rita read the paper Tio Aloisio had given him, and Senhor Romão stormed off toward his office to do whatever he was planning to do about the situation. “Last door to the right,” Cecília directed as the physician passed before glancing at her grandfather again.
Tio Aloisio paused to face her just before the staircase. “Thank you, Cecília.”
She started at the unexpected show of gratitude, not entirely certain how to react. She ended up watching the physician disappear from sight instead of responding. “Do you think Senhor Nunes can actually help her?”
“He is certainly willing to try if nothing else. I don’t believe we can ask much more than that.”
So Tio Aloisio wasn’t hopeful. Cecília pressed her lips together tightly.
He turned to head up the stairs, as well, before pausing again. “Oh, I did bring something for you, though.”
“For me?” She frowned.
Tio Aloisio reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small glass vial. “Some of that crate managed to survive.” He held it out to her. “Since you said it reminded you of your mother...?”
Cecília took the vial carefully, vaguely wondering if someone had come and replaced her uncle in the night as she looked at the pale-gold liquid through the delicately faceted glass. “Thank you, Tio.”
He lowered his head quickly in recognition before starting up the stairs and disappearing from sight.
Avô Santa Rita’s footsteps moved off in another direction, leaving Cecília standing in the opening between the stairs and the entryway by herself, holding that little bottle. Carefully, she removed the stopper and dabbed a drop of perfume on the insides of her wrists the way she had seen Mamãe do hundreds of times before. The familiar smell floated up around her, leaving some mix of warmth and sadness comingling in her chest. She replaced the stopper just as gently and brought her wrist to her nose, letting it wash over her for a moment before she turned for the stairs as well. At least she could bring a bit of Mamãe with her to face whatever would happen between their Doctor of Medicine and Doctor Theologiae.
Father Moreno didn’t look any more pleased than Senhor Romão when Cecília entered her room, though his voice was much more measured. “You will not touch this child.”
“The king only requested a brief examination,” Senhor Nunes responded, his tone just as calm. “We discovered a work by Galen of Pergamon that suggests that trauma may negatively affect the female body and cause hysteria.”
“You’re suggesting this miracle is nothing but hysteria?” Father Moreno recoiled. Cecília had to admit, she didn’t care for the sound of that diagnosis any more than the possibility that Bibiana’s condition was some sort of test or punishment.
Senhor Nunes nodded. “As we heard she stopped praying quite some time ago, it seemed possible the continuation is physical at this point.”
“Can you fix her?” Cecília asked before Father Moreno could respond. “If it is physical?”
A nearly betrayed look flashed over Father Moreno’s face.
“There are methods we can try,” Senhor Nunes said.
“If it’s just an examination, Father...?” Cecília gave the same pleading expression that had worked on her grandfather.
The priest continued to frown, but he took a step back.
“Thank you, Father.” Senhor Nunes stepped up to the side of the bed. “If you would perhaps like to sit by your sister, Senhorita Durante? She just needs to lean back slightly.”
The tension in the room made Cecília not especially want to move any farther into it, but she was the one who had pushed for this. She sat where the physician directed and let him lean Bibiana against her.
“If it is hysteria,” Senhor Nunes explained as he touched Bibiana’s stomach lightly, “we would expect the womb to have shifted into an unnatural position, which I should be able to feel.”
Trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation, Cecília looked down and brushed a strand of blond hair back from Bibiana’s face, tucking it out of the way.
Bibiana’s eyelids fluttered slightly, making Cecília freeze. “Mamãe?”
Senhor Nunes paused his examination. Father Moreno and Tio Aloisio stepped closer to the bed.
“Mamãe?” Bibiana repeated, her blank eyes seeming to struggle to focus as they looked around the room.
“Bia!” Cecília started out of her stupor. “No, it’s me.”
“Cecília?” Bibiana shifted so she could sit up farther. “Where are we?”
“I think we can say it was hysteria.” Tio Aloisio looked between the men in the room.
“He didn’t do anything,” Father Moreno said, an edge creeping into his calm tone.
“Perhaps it was only slightly shifted,” Senhor Nunes said, “and the pressing—”
“Or my praying—”
“Senhor, Father,” Cecília cut in, wrapping a protective arm around her sister as Bibiana shrank away from the men in the room. “Could this be done elsewhere?”
Father Moreno opened his mouth then looked at Bibiana and started over. “I can wait right outside, if you need me.”
Senhor Nunes didn’t move. “I really should examine—”
“Perhaps give my nieces a moment?” Tio Aloisio saved Cecília from having to chase the physician away, clapping Senhor Nunes on the shoulder in a way that seemed designed to indicate that the sentence hadn’t actually been a question.
The men retreated from the room, the argument starting again in low tones before the door was even shut, but at least they weren’t all standing around Bibiana’s bed and scaring her anymore.
“Where are we?” Bibiana repeated after a moment, peering up at Cecília with her wide, innocent eyes. “Where’s Mamãe?”
Cecília’s stomach twisted. She didn’t look forward to having to retell everything that had happened over the past year, but if that was the price of having her sister back, either through medicine or prayer, she would gladly take it. Giving a weak smile, she brushed back another piece of Bibiana’s hair. “A lot has happened. I’ll explain once we get you something to eat.”
***
CECÍLIA DID HER BEST to pretend she was focused on the embroidery in her lap, but she couldn’t help but watch her sister out of the corner of her eye in the silent room. After what had happened with Tio Aloisio the previous week, it seemed Avô Santa Rita no longer wanted Cecília at court while he took whatever meetings he and Senhor Romão were always whispering about, and she had done her best to not let that bother her. Bibiana had needed someone to help her readjust to everything that had happened, anyway. But Bibiana was nearly as silent as she had been when she’d stared off into nothing.
She always was quieter... Cecília did her best to tell herself it was normal, but part of her couldn’t help but feel she shouldn’t have told Bibiana anything about the past months—even if it had been as polished as she possibly could have made it while still explaining why they were with Avô Santa Rita and why they couldn’t go home.
A light knock on the door made Cecília set her embroidery aside entirely. “Yes?”
Ricardo appeared, offering a respectful bow. “Pardon the interruption, Senhorita Durante, but there is a Senhorita Vilhena here to see you. Should I show her in?”
Cecília furrowed her eyebrows slightly before the name clicked. Maria, from the party. Though why she would come to visit, Cecília had no idea. She looked at Bibiana. “Are you fine here, Bia?”
Bibiana mumbled a “yes,” not looking up from her own careful stitches.
Cecília frowned, but there wasn’t much more she could do, so she stood. “I’ll come down.”
Ricardo gave another bow and slipped away. Looking over herself, Cecília quickly debated changing into something grander before she dismissed it. It was barely midday, and she hadn’t been expecting a visit, so she couldn’t imagine that Maria would expect full-court dress. When she made it downstairs to the entryway and saw the three people standing there, she did wish she was a little better outfitted. Though they looked to have switched from full panniers to padded rolls for the day, Maria and an unfamiliar taller woman were in beautiful silk gowns, and the embroidery on Luís de Terra’s jacket could have put half of Cecília’s wardrobe to shame.
“Cecília!” Maria lit up as though they were old friends, catching Cecília’s hands before leaning in to kiss her cheeks. “It’s so wonderful to see you. We’ve all missed you terribly at court.”
“Oh?” Cecília struggled to find something better to say, though she couldn’t begin to think who “we all” could have been. She hadn’t spoken to that many people when she had been at court.
“I don’t believe you’ve met Constança—Senhora Constança des Roches e Delgato.”
The tall woman with powdered hair curtsied.
Maria continued, “We heard all the talk around court and wanted to see how you were doing.”
“The talk?” Cecília asked.
“About your dear sister.”
“Oh.” Cecília’s stomach soured as she glanced back toward the staircase. So they were interested in hearing about Bibiana. Of course. She couldn’t exactly be rude and turn them out. She motioned toward the salon off the entryway. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Thank you so much.” Maria linked her arm through Cecília’s before casting a look over her shoulder. “You can find something to occupy yourself, yes, Luís?”
“What?” Luís frowned, but Maria had already turned back to Cecília.
“We needed an escort, and Luís was available, but you can feel free to ignore him, of course.”
Cecília furrowed her eyebrows, not certain if she was supposed to copy Maria’s dismissiveness, but the other woman didn’t give her a chance to decide either way.
Maria swept them both into Senhor Romão’s salon and led them to a low settee as though she owned the place. “Now, tell us everything that happened.”
Cecília looked between the other two women, trying to determine how she could most quickly get the topic away from Bibiana without insulting anyone far more important than she was. “Not much happened, really. Father Moreno was working with my sister, then His Highness sent his physician—”
Constança gave a very unladylike snort. “The first minister sent his physician, you mean.”
“Conni.” Maria sent the woman a chastising look.
“He said he was the king’s physician.” Cecília looked between the other two, trying to determine exactly what she was missing. “Senhor Nunes.”
“The king has several physicians.” It didn’t seem Constança cared about whatever warning Maria was giving her. “Nunes is the newest, specially recommended by the first minister. I think we can all guess why.”
“Conni.”
“Why?” Cecília asked.
“He’s trying to fill the court with estrangeirados, and it’s only been worse since Father Malagrida started predicting a new earthquake. He’d send anyone who would discount a miracle.”
Cecília felt as though her stomach had dropped to her feet. “A new earthquake?”
“On All Saints’ this year.” Constança didn’t look in the least bit concerned at the possibility as she fixed how the lace at the end of her elbow-length sleeves lay. “If we don’t repent and mend our ways. If it comes to be, mark my words, it will be the first minister’s fault. The sooner he’s replaced, the—”
“Conni!” Maria snapped. “I’m sure Cecília has had more than enough to worry over without hearing this.”
“I’m just saying.” Constança huffed, looking up from her sleeve again.
Maria turned back to Cecília. “So, what was Father Moreno doing here?”
Knowing something new was brewing at court left Cecília with the suspicion that there was something deeper than she had been suspecting behind Maria’s questions, but thoughts of another earthquake and everything that had already come to pass happening again left Cecília tongue-tied. She tried to shake her mind loose enough to answer. The front door opening and low male voices broke in before she could manage.
Senhor Romão appeared in the doorway with a wide smile. “Senhora Delgato! I was just told you were visiting. Such a pleasure to see you, as always.”
“Senhor Romão.” Constança gave a much more perfunctory smile in return. “We just dropped in. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not! Of course not! Allow me to have someone bring some refreshments.”
The ceiling creaked slightly as someone moved on the second floor, and Cecília stood. “If you’ll pardon me a moment?”
Maria’s mouth pursed, but Senhor Romão waved a distracted dismissal that Cecília gratefully took. She could check on Bibiana and maybe pull herself back together enough to be genteelly polite.
She stepped back into the entryway and nearly ran into Luís. “Oh, beg your pardon.”
“Beg yours,” Luís returned. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close.”
Cecília glanced at the ceiling once again, listening for anything alarming, but it sounded as if the movement had stopped. She assumed that meant it wasn’t a rush. “You really could have joined us.”
His face lit up, but he said, “I wouldn’t have wanted to intrude...”
She shook her head. “There just always seems to be so much more happening than I know about around here.”
“Most, you certainly shouldn’t have to trouble yourself over.”
Cecília couldn’t imagine Luís would want to explain what was really happening any more than either woman in the salon seemed inclined to, but at the moment, he seemed her best chance for answers. She attempted to approach the topic sideways. “Even when people are attempting to pull my sister into it?”
His cheek twitched enough to say he certainly knew what ulterior motives had brought Maria and Constança there, but he just caught his hands behind his back stiffly. “I’m certain no ill will befall you or your sister, senhorita. There have just been a few... disagreements over what her former state might have meant.”
“If she’s a miracle or hysterical, you mean.”
She hadn’t meant for the question to come off harsh, but Luís flinched slightly all the same. “It’s really just a small part of much bigger politics, I assure you. I have no doubt it will pass, likely before you ever have to listen to it.”
“What bigger politics?”
Luís hesitated long enough that Cecília worried she had overplayed her hand, but he finally said, “It’s the same old conflicts. Who has the king’s ear and who should.”
She supposed there was little reason not to try for it all. “They want to use Bibiana to convince the king replace Senhor Carvalho?”
“I... uh...” Luís glanced at the salon, alarm evident as he stumbled for words. “I’m sure it’s not like that. Really, it’s not something you should trouble yourself with. Trust me.”
Trust me. Just hearing the words convinced her she shouldn’t, but movement started again upstairs. She took a step away. “If you’ll pardon me, I’m going to check on my sister.”
“I...” He started to say something, stopped, then switched to, “I hope I might see you at Senhor Mendonça’s this week?”
She gave a tight smile. “Perhaps. If you’ll excuse me.”
She didn’t make it a question, but he nodded and bowed quickly, letting her slip away as Senhor Romão’s loud voice continued to dominate the conversation in the salon behind her.
***
AVÔ SANTA RITA HAD been oddly silent, even for him, since he had arrived home that evening. Caught up in her own thoughts as he, she, and Bibiana all sat at Senhor Romão’s dining table, Cecília couldn’t say it bothered her.
“I hope I might see you at Senhor Mendonça’s this week?” Though she tried to put Luís’s question out of her head, something about the words had stuck with her. If the interest around Bibiana had grown from mere curiosity to some sort of political intrigue, staying as far away from as many courtiers as possible was likely the smartest move. She even considered going back to Loures. But even if that was logical, Cecília couldn’t fight the way she balked at the idea of just slipping away, resigning herself to living in the country again for Heaven knew how long. She certainly hadn’t found an interested suitor, sitting around at Senhor Romão’s day after day as her grandmother had wanted. The way things stood, she would likely end up locked away at her grandparents’ for the rest of her natural life or married to some minor country fidalgo her grandparents knew who was as just as boring.
Isn’t that what you said you’d resign yourself to if you got Bibiana back? The little voice in the back of her head taunted her.
Cecília slid her eyes to where Bibiana was just as silently picking at the food on her plate and released a tense breath. She had promised that. But God hadn’t given Bibiana back after that promise. Whether it was Father Moreno’s prayers or Senhor Nunes’s examination, she hadn’t come back until Tio Aloisio had arrived.
That has to say something, doesn’t it? Cecília argued back, especially since it all had played out after she had been thinking of John and that book that morning. It has to. Or am I just trying to convince myself again?
The uncertainty of it all made her want to throw her fork across the room and say, “To the blazes with all of it.”
Instead, she looked at her grandfather. “Avô, I was asked if we were going to Senhor Mendonça’s party this week. Do you think we could go?”
Avô Santa Rita started out of his thoughts, looking as though he only just realized he was sitting across from Cecília before he shook his head and went back to staring at his own plate. “I don’t believe that’s a good idea, Cecília.”
“Why not?”
“Am I required to explain myself?” More stress than she had ever heard came through in his tone. “I was actually thinking it might be time for you both to return home.”
“What? Why?” Cecília couldn’t stop the questions from tumbling out of her mouth.
“What did I just say, Cecília Madalena?” he snapped, making Bibiana’s head jerk up. Avô Santa Rita’s face softened slightly as he met his younger granddaughter’s wide blue eyes, and he set his fork down. “It’s late. We all should likely retire for the night. We can speak in the morning.”
“But—” Cecília cut off at the dark look he shot her and mumbled, “Yes, Avô.”
Not waiting for anyone to join him, Avô Santa Rita pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and stormed out of the room.
Bibiana watched him go, not making a move to stand, so Cecília didn’t, either.
“You can keep eating, if you aren’t done.” She motioned to Bibiana’s mostly full plate after a beat.
Bibiana shook her head, setting the fork delicately to the side. “I’m not hungry.”
Frowning, Cecília released a breath through her nose. If Bibiana wasn’t eating, that meant they likely should leave. Cecília should focus on Bibiana’s welfare. “Do you want to go back to Loures? See Avó Gouveia?”
Bibiana looked down at her plate.
“Bia?” Cecília prompted when it didn’t seem Bibiana intended to answer.
“I want to go to Convento da Ordem do Carmo.”
The name of the convent sent a jolt straight through Cecília’s chest. She wasn’t certain if Our Lady of Mount Carmel still stood, as close as it had been to the Baixa, but the solid, matter-of-fact way her sister had said it made her shift her weight uncomfortably. “Why do you want to go there?”
“I think I’m supposed to be a nun.” Bibiana still didn’t look away from her plate, though her voice was more certain than it had been since she had come back.
“You’re too young to become a postulant, Bia.”
“But I’m supposed to be.”
Cecília started to answer before realizing she simply didn’t have the energy to add this to all of the other thoughts swirling around in her mind unless she wanted her head to explode from it all. Pushing back from the table more delicately than her grandfather had, she stood. “Maybe we should talk about this in the morning. Do you want to go up?”
Silent once again, Bibiana stood as well and turned to follow, the rest of her thoughts staying as locked behind her eyes as when she had been found after the earthquake.