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Avô Santa Rita had been gone before Cecília and Bibiana had come down for breakfast the next morning, and he hadn’t come home in days. Neither had Senhor Romão. Though Bibiana continued to go about her days seemingly content in her own little world, with no more talk of Loures or convents, by the time Sunday came around, Cecília could barely sit from her own jumpiness.
As the sun began to set once again, she simply couldn’t take it anymore. Holding her arms out slightly so that Sonia, Senhor Romão’s angolense girl, could pin the stomacher properly in place, Cecília looked at Bibiana. “I shouldn’t be gone long. You’re certain you’ll be fine here by yourself?”
“Fine,” Bibiana murmured, not looking up from the prayer book in her lap.
Not for the first time, Cecília debated whether she should stay there and continue waiting, but Bibiana wouldn’t be completely alone. Sonia, Ricardo, and the rest of Senhor Romão’s servants would be around if Bibiana needed anything, and after several days without word, Cecília knew something must have happened. The only way she would be able to find out what, though, was to find someone to ask, and Senhor Mendonça’s was far closer than court.
With her clothing in order and Bibiana settled in bed, Cecília had Ricardo order the carriage around and stepped in as though she had every right to demand transport to wherever she wanted in the city.
Her heart beating a little too loudly in her ears, Cecília watched out the window as they approached the familiar house. She squinted slightly. Though the torches were lit, as they had been the last time she had attended one of Senhor Mendonça’s parties, something was different about the house. The air around it seemed darker, as though a shadow thick enough to dim the lights from the torches was hovering over them. She knocked on the side of the carriage to get the driver’s attention. The carriage rolled to a stop, and the driver twisted to look through the small window separating them.
“Let me out here,” she directed.
He frowned. “It’s still quite a walk up to the door, senhorita. And it’s dark tonight.”
She glanced up at the partially overcast sky—even without the clouds, the moon was back to only being a sliver. Still, something told her she needed the space before she arrived. “I’ll be fine.”
“Senhori—”
She fixed him with a hard look.
His face disappeared from the window, and the carriage bounced as he jumped down. A second later, the door swung open.
Cecília took his hand to step out then excused him.
The driver kept his eyes on her, as if waiting for her to come to her senses, but finally, he nodded and pulled himself back up to the seat. “Do you want me to wait with the other carriages?”
Cecília supposed she would be able to walk back to Senhor Romão’s if she had to. It was only about a mile or so. Doing so in the dark, in her heels and alone, however, didn’t seem to be a situation in which she should willingly place herself. “Please.”
The driver urged the horses forward, leaving her standing on the road, staring at the oddly dimmed house.
Cecília took her time as she made her way toward the front door. Something still nagged at the back of her mind, her instinct telling her something was dreadfully wrong, even if she couldn’t say what. As she ascended the final slight slope to the house, it came to her. Though a few carriages were sitting idle off to one side, the drivers chatting amongst themselves, there weren’t nearly the number she had seen before. She looked behind her and realized no new ones had arrived since she had started walking, either.
Trusting her intuition, she skirted the front of the house entirely, sticking to the shadows as she took in the situation. Though the windows along the side of the house were cracked open in apparent preparation for a large gathering, no one was standing in the large salon on the side of the house. What voices she could hear came from deeper inside.
Cecília frowned and turned the corner, walking to the back door. The voices were more intelligible from the dining room that ran along the back of the house. After shutting the door behind her, Cecília padded across the wooden floor, toward the far hallway. She checked that no one was in sight then stepped up to the wall. Pressing herself to the smooth patterned wallpaper, she slowed her breathing and listened.
“You should be packing, not throwing a party,” an unfamiliar male voice said.
“You believe I should act like a criminal and flee into the night?” a second answered.
“You’d prefer the first minister treat you like one instead? The fathers were already arrested. Word is that lawyer is being sent to Angola, for Heaven’s sake.”
Cecília dared to lean forward slightly, trying to get a view of who was speaking.
“You need to leave,” the first voice continued. “There will be no good—”
A hand clamped down on Cecília’s mouth from behind. She shouted in surprise, though the sound was muffled as someone pulled her back. Another arm spun her, and she found herself looking at Luís de Terra.
“What...?” she tried to ask, though his hand was still silencing her.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered harshly.
She started to answer, but he didn’t pull back to let her speak. She glanced down at his hand then met his eyes and raised her eyebrows.
He released her mouth, looking suitably abashed though he didn’t entirely step away. “Beg pardon.”
“Anyway,” Cecília said, keeping her tone haughtier than the situation likely called for, “I came for the party. Which you invited me to, if you recall.”
Luís blinked a little too quickly. “You haven’t heard?”
“I’ve been sitting at Senhor Romão’s home for three days with no one but my sister. What in Heaven’s name is happening?”
Luís opened his mouth then leaned to look toward the voices before he started in a low whisper, “Senhor Mendonça and the men he’s gathered went to see Dom José a few days ago, demanding he remove the first minister. If you can’t gather, the king didn’t side with them.”
“People are being arrested for that?”
“The first minister is not someone to be on the wrong side of, not with the king behind him. I could hear Dom José yelling at Senhor Mendonça for deserting Lisbon during the quake halfway across the Real Barraca. Now, the first minister is rounding up those he is calling ‘conspirators.’ If they haven’t already been arrested, most of Senhor Mendonça’s faction is fleeing. You shouldn’t be here.”
Cecília’s stomach knotted, suddenly realizing what all the meetings Avô Santa Rita had been taking at court must have been about. “Where is my grandfather?”
“At court, as far as I know.” Luís checked down the hall as though worried someone would stumble upon them. “Your uncle was attempting to keep him from getting caught up in the worst of this, last I heard. Given he relinquishes the land he owns in Lisbon, of course.”
“Relinquishes it?”
“He owns property in the Baixa? In the middle of where the first minister wants to rebuild?”
Head swimming, Cecília attempted to make sense of it all. That had to be her home, her old home. She hadn’t thought about who owned it, since Francisco had taken a vow of poverty before Papai had died. It made sense that it had gone to her grandfather. But if the first minister wanted it, and Avô Santa Rita was likely being held prisoner at court, that changed things. She brought her hands to her temples. “How did I miss all this?”
“I suppose no one thought to go to Senhor Romão’s, since he was already at court when the arrests started.”
“And why are you here? Are you fleeing?”
Luís hesitated before he said, “I’m not important enough to be noticed in most of this. I’ve been running messages while I can. I apologize that I didn’t think of you and your sister. Senhor Mendonça is the first to choose to remain after I told him he’s been banished. The decree should be delivered tonight, and if the first minister convinces Dom José to do anything else in retaliation before that, there’s no saying how much worse it could get.”
“They wouldn’t throw Senhor Mendonça in prison? He’s nobility.”
“Two priests already have been. I’m not certain I’d doubt what the minister is willing to do at the moment.”
Cecília slipped around him, headed for the dining room to reach the back door.
“Where are you going?” Luís followed her.
“I need to get to court.”
“That’s likely the last place you should go right now.”
“You’ll find ‘should’ isn’t often a word that governs where I go.” Cecília stepped back outside. She hardly gave her eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness before she started for the carriages. So far, it seemed no one had thought of Bibiana, but if Avô Santa Rita had been caught up, and people were already trying to draw the miracle child into politics, no good was going to come from sitting and waiting to see what happened. Tio Aloisio had genuinely seemed to wish to help when he’d arrived.
Unless that was all politics too?
Everyone had said he was the first minister’s man, after all. But Cecília couldn’t let that doubt slip in. There wasn’t anyone else she could turn to.
Luís followed closely at her heels. “Senhorita, no good is going to come from you doing this.”
Cecília ignored him, managing to avoid any pitfalls as she came around the front of the house. She headed straight to Senhor Romão’s carriage.
“Senhorita?” The driver straightened, obviously shocked to see her again so soon.
“I need to go to the Real Barraca.”
“Now?”
“Is that a problem?”
“It’s the middle of the night.” He frowned. “The roads between here and there aren’t the safest—”
“I need to go now.”
“Is there truly no way to talk you out of this?” Luís remained a step behind.
“This is my family,” she said.
Conflict moved over Luís’s expression, true worry in his dark eyes, but he turned to untether a horse nearby. He addressed the driver as he worked, “I’ll ride alongside. I haven’t seen anyone out tonight so far. We can hope we won’t have problems from any bandidos as a pair.” He brought his eyes back to Cecília.
She offered a small smile. “Thank you.”
Luís offered a strained one in return and pulled himself into the saddle. Cecília stepped into the carriage, a new jitteriness passing through her muscles. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement.
***
AFTER FAR TOO LONG, the carriage rolled to a stop, and the door swung open. Cecília excused the driver to get something to drink then turned to Luís. “Thank you for the escort.”
“I can stay with you.”
“I’m going to see my uncle.”
“It’s still not a good night to go anywhere alone.”
Cecília had to imagine being alone was safer than being with someone on the wrong side tonight, if everything Luís had said was true, but if he truly was so unremarkable as to be able to ride all over, alerting conspirators, there didn’t seem to be a reason to waste time arguing. She moved into the hallway.
Lamps had been lit periodically down the palace’s halls, but the shadows stretched along the floors in a dark patchwork. Cecília tried to stay on course, though nothing looked quite the same as it had during the day. She paused at an intersection, trying to judge whether she was close to where she’d been when she’d run into Tio Aloisio last time.
“What are you doing here?” Mateus’s slightly slurred voice made Cecília’s skin crawl. Mateus pushed off the wall just around the corner, where he had been leaning in the shadows. “Looking for Carvalho?”
Cecília took half a step back at the sheer venom in the man’s tone. “I’m looking for my uncle.”
“Same difference, isn’t it, Senhorita Durante?” He swung his gaze to Luís. “This is probably her doing, you know.” He snorted. “Pretending she’s one of us.”
There isn’t time for this. Cecília released a tense breath through her nose but stepped to maneuver around him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mateus grabbed her wrist.
She jerked back in surprise. “Let me go.”
“Mat.” Luís stepped forward.
“One of his little spies, aren’t you?” Mateus only grasped tighter. “Poking around in the dark. Reporting back—”
“Let go!” She wrenched her wrist to pull where his thumb met his fingers. His hold gave, and he stumbled forward, knocking her into the wall as he caught himself. She grunted as her left arm took the brunt of the impact.
“Mat, you’re in your drink.” Luís wedged himself between them. “Calm down.”
Mateus’s eyes narrowed. “Are you working with her?”
“She’s not working with anyone. Her grandfather’s caught up in all this as well.”
“Yet conveniently, her uncle is there to step in.”
Luís tilted his head to catch Cecília’s eyes. “Go.”
“So you are helping her.” Mateus advanced.
“Go sleep it off, Mat.”
Mateus took a wide swing. Off-balance, he only caught Luís’s shoulder.
The punch still sent Luís staggering backward. “Lord, man!”
“Stay out of my way.” He pointed at Luís then turned for Cecília.
She didn’t wait for him to grab her again. She drove her heel into his toes so hard she heard something snap.
“Holy Mother...!” Mateus jumped back, spurting a line of profanities as he balanced on one foot. He fixed his eyes, burning with rage, on her face. “You—”
“What the Devil is happening here?”
Cecília looked down the hall to see Senhor Carvalho standing in the midst of guards. Second time his soldiers have come to the rescue...
“You!” Mateus turned his ire down the hall.
“Mat,” Luís hissed, taking a step forward, but Cecília caught his arm as Mateus drunkenly ranted at the man who had just sent two priests to jail and a lawyer to Angola. Senhor Carvalho stoically listened for a moment then motioned. The guards had Mateus by the arms before the drunken man could react.
“You’ll pay for this!” Mateus jerked between the two larger men. “You all will, you—”
Senhor Carvalho sent the guards holding Mateus away as the man continued to rant before his sharp eyes turned. “Senhorita Durante?”
Cecília wasn’t certain if it was a good or bad thing that he remembered her this time. She continued to grip Luís’s arm to keep him from doing something stupid, but he seemed wise enough to hold his tongue against the formidable minister. She gave Senhor Carvalho a weak smile and an off-balance curtsy. “Minister. Thank you. I was going to see my uncle, but we got... delayed.”
Senhor Carvalho stared at Luís for another moment then dropped his gaze to Cecília’s hold on the man’s arm before meeting Cecília’s eyes again. “Your uncle is very busy tonight, Senhorita Durante. You shouldn’t bother him.”
“We could wait somewhere. His room, if you could direct us? I’m sure everyone’s”—she glanced at the guards—“very busy.”
Senhor Carvalho sent a last lingering look at Luís as he addressed Cecília. “There’s been plenty of trouble this week. I’m sure your uncle would be grateful if you didn’t bring him more.”
“That is certainly not my intent, senhor.”
Senhor Carvalho nodded before giving her clipped instructions to what she had to assume was her uncle’s room then motioning the rest of the guards forward.
Cecília and Luís didn’t move until the last of the footsteps disappeared. Gently freeing his arm from her grasp, Luís stepped forward. “I should find where they took Mateus.”
“You’ll get yourself arrested as well.”
“You’d rather I let him rot wherever Carvalho is throwing his enemies right now?”
“I’m not certain you want my honest answer.” She rubbed her wrist, unable to tell in the dim light if it was starting to bruise. She looked down the hallway the way the guards had come. Senhor Carvalho hadn’t been cruel or even any curter than he had been when he’d found her in the Baixa. He was a man of few words when focused on something, it seemed. Something in his body language, though, scared her nearly as much as Mateus’s rage had. “Walk with me? I’ve never actually been to my uncle’s room. I’m not sure what door it is.”
He released a breath, the conflict she had seen at Senhor Mendonça’s back as he wrestled with something in his head. Finally, he gave a short bow. “As you wish.”
“Thank you,” Cecília said, heading in the direction Senhor Carvalho had pointed. With Luís’s help, she found what she hoped was the proper door.
No one, save an alarmed servant, was in the anteroom when Cecília arrived, so she stepped inside, praying there wouldn’t be too long to wait. At least the lingering odor of Mamãe’s perfume in the air said it was indeed the right place.
Luís stood in the doorway, looking around as the servant continued with her work.
“Would you like to come in?” Cecília watched him.
“Beg pardon?”
“You don’t have to stand in the doorway as if you’re waiting for something.”
Luís studied Cecília then looked back into the hallway behind him.
“Are you truly going to try to find where your friend was sent?” She couldn’t stop sarcasm from dripping through on the word “friend.”
His face screwed up. Then he shook his head and stepped into the room. “Normally, I’d expect they would give him back to his family to sleep it off, but after tonight...”
She silently watched him.
“After tonight, I don’t know where any of us stands. Carvalho has attacked everything the nobility supports, and the king apparently has sided with him. It’s something new.”
“What does that mean for you?”
He took a seat across from her, catching his hands in front of him. “Either I need to disavow ever being with you tonight and hope the first minister has gone too far, or I should become your new closest friend and hope Carvalho stops looking at me like I’m next for the scaffold.”
“I thought you said you weren’t important enough to be noticed.”
“He certainly noticed me a few minutes ago.”
Cecília nodded, watching Luís closely. Worry had etched itself onto his face, and the muscles in his jaw continued to twitch. She waited a final moment before speaking. “You’re sitting here.”
“What?” His eyes slid up to meet hers.
“That isn’t the thing to do, if you plan on disavowing me.”
“That is true,” he said but didn’t make any move to stand.
She held his gaze then offered a quick nod of understanding.
The door swung open, and Luís stood to face it.
Tio Aloisio froze in the doorway, looking at the younger man before he noticed Cecília and shook his head. “You have a nose for trouble, don’t you, Cilinha?”
“I heard Avô Santa Rita was in trouble.” Cecília stood as well.
“Not as much as some.” Tio Aloisio looked back at Luís.
“Tio, this is Luís de Terra—”
“Oh, I’m aware who he is.”
Luís’s eyes widened slightly, as though surprised at the recognition, but he bowed. “Senhor.”
Tio Aloisio didn’t bother to return the pleasantry, pulling his gloves off with quick, jerky movements.
“Is Avô Santa Rita in trouble?” Cecília jumped to what was important. “Should Bibiana—”
“Your grandfather has made some imbecilic decisions,” Tio Aloisio said, “that come from listening to some less-than-trustworthy people. Had he listened to anyone who mattered, he would know the king has more than full faith in the first minister and the changes planned for Lisbon. Assuming he stops listening to his false friends, though, and does as I’ve directed, he’ll be on his way back to Loures in a few days, as will you and Bibiana.”
Cecília wasn’t certain if she should find that statement comforting or alarming, as much as he made it sound like a banishment.
Tio Aloisio turned back to Luís. “Thank you for your help. I can handle things from here.”
Luís sent Cecília a quick look, a final moment of hesitation in his expression before he gave a shallow bow. “Thank you, senhor. Good night, senhorita.”
Tio Aloisio bent enough to be cordial then waited for Luís to leave before he turned back to Cecília. “I know you’re still dealing with what happened last year, Cecília, but you’re not going to help anything by getting yourself caught up in this. You need to learn to keep your nose in your own business.”
She frowned. “I was trying to—”
“You were trying to put yourself in the middle of where you don’t belong, and once again, you’ve managed to pull some young man in after you.”
How is John? Cecília nearly asked out of defiance. She crossed her arms instead, trying to stop the wave of feeling like a chastised child from chipping away her earlier resolve. Her voice still came out too petulant. “You’re the one who sent me off with Mr. Bates in the first place.”
“And I obviously underestimated the effect you have on his ilk.”
Cecília pressed her lips tightly together, the situation with Luís de Terra seeming so remarkably different from what had happened with John that it was laughable, but no good was likely to come from continuing the line of discussion. “My grandfather—”
“I told you, he’ll be fine if he listens to reason. You and Bibiana as well.”
“But—”
“This isn’t the time, Cecília.” Tio Aloisio rubbed his temples. “It’s late. You can sleep in the side room.” He pointed to one of the doors off the antechamber. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“But—”
“Good night, Cecília.” He moved through the other door connected to the anteroom.
She stood where she was, thoughts being pulled in too many directions for her to make any one decision. She could look for Avô Santa Rita, though Heaven knew where he was. And she couldn’t imagine much good would come from finding Senhor Carvalho again. He didn’t seem like a man who would be swayed by any prostrations for clemency. Once again, her family was in danger, and she couldn’t do anything but try to keep her own head above water as they all were bandied about. Only this time, there was no question that this was the will of man over God.
Rather than turn for the side room, she sat down heavily on the little settee in some weak show of defiance, trying to think of anything else she could do to help.
Sadly, she couldn’t think of a thing.