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When nothing came of the whispers of assassination for months on end and Dom José relieved the queen of her regency, the court as a whole relaxed. Cecília couldn’t. She knew far too much ever to relax again. Senhor Carvalho hadn’t given up on a formless case. He was lying in wait, collecting everything he thought he needed while the people he wanted to see in a noose went back to laughing and living their lives as if nothing had happened.
“Are you still missing your brother?” Luís ran his thumb over the back of her hand as they sat in one of the small sitting rooms, the door almost completely closed. Cecília couldn’t say whether Luís truly thought that would pacify her uncle if anyone found out about it, but she didn’t bother to comment. Tio Aloisio had far more to worry about than her reputation. She had far more to worry about.
“What?” She looked away from the window.
“You’ve been staring off into the distance since he left as if your mind got on that ship with him.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be in a mood.”
“It’s fine. There’s quite a difference between having a family member gone from court and only few days away and one across the ocean.”
She looked at him, pulling her mouth tight.
“And... I’m not helping.”
“It’s fine. I just miss him.” Cecília shook her head, forcing her face into something much more congenial. With Senhor Carvalho still slowly planning his final blow, it was likely better to have Francisco across the Atlantic than with a priest Senhor Carvalho hated more than any of the grandees at court.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Luís asked.
Give me my family back. Be an entirely different man. Go back three years.
No, she would have to have gone back much further if she wanted everything to be like it once had been, when everyone had been happy. Francisco, Mamãe, Ana Margarida, João, Papai...
Before she could work out an answer she could actually give, voices in the hall outside the small room made her senses prickle. Recognizing Graça’s, she stood and moved to the doorway.
“Cecília?” Luís asked.
She pushed the door out just enough to see Graça having a very animated discussion with someone wearing a red-patterned coat. Pushing a little farther, she saw a corner of the man’s face. Mateus.
She ducked back into the room before Luís could come to the door as well. “Since when have Graça and Mateus been on speaking terms?”
Luís’s face twitched in the way it always did when he didn’t want to tell her something.
She fixed her eyes on him, giving him a slightly softer version of the look Senhor Carvalho always pinned on her in similar moments.
Luís didn’t last more than a second. “I saw Graça leaving Mateus’s room last week and then again a few nights ago.”
“Graça and Mateus?” Cecília’s eyebrows rose. For as much as Graça despised the man, Cecília had to assume that whatever had been happening in Mateus’s room after dark was some sort of plot in itself—one that likely intersected with Senhor Carvalho’s, Cecília assumed.
“I had the same reaction. Trust me.” Luís had clearly read the wrong thoughts into her expression. “But I make it a point to stay out of whom Mateus takes to bed.”
“Do we think Isabel knows?”
“As she’s only been an average amount of awful to Graça lately? My guess would be no.”
The sounds of footsteps and the sway of fabric moved down the hall in Cecília’s direction. One pair—Graça but not Mateus.
Cecília motioned to the doorway. “I should talk to her.”
“I wouldn’t suggest involving yourself with whatever’s happening out there.” Luís shook his head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Cecília flashed him a smile then slipped out into the hall before Luís could answer.
Graça slowed for a step then tilted up the corners of her mouth in a tense smile. “I was coming to find you.”
Cecília glanced at the now empty corner. “Should I ask?”
“Not here.” Graça motioned for Cecília to follow. “We have somewhere we need to be.”
***
FOR ALL HER TIME AT court, Cecília hadn’t spent much time in audience with Dom José. She had certainly never had reason to have a conversation with him. It had actually been smarter for her not to. With her reporting to Senhor Carvalho, she had to imagine anything important she said was passed along, and any meeting with His Highness would have gotten too much attention.
Sitting across from him in the royal apartments, though, had her petrified—even if she hadn’t said more than a sentence between Graça laying out everything she had apparently learned about a Távora plot, with Senhor Carvalho’s prompting here and there. Dom José was likewise quiet, listening to everything Graça had to say as he watched her, his brown eyes peering out of his fleshy face.
“And how did you hear all of this?” Senhor Carvalho once again stepped in as Graça took a breath. “Were you in the Távora apartments for some reason?”
“The Vilhena ones,” Graça said, dropping her gaze demurely. “I’ve always been a bit enamored with Mateus de Vilhena, and when he invited me back to his rooms... Well, I don’t think anyone else knew I was there that late at night, and after Mateus fell asleep, I heard them talking.”
“Who is ‘them’?” Senhor Carvalho asked, though Cecília suspected he had heard Graça’s story before.
“João Manuel de Vilhena and one of the younger Leonor Távoras. She was saying she was worried about her mother’s plans relying too much on Teresa, as His Highness hadn’t visited her in months.”
“Teresa Távora?” Senhor Carvalho rested his hand on the back of the couch he stood behind.
“From what was said, it would seem so.” Graça nodded. “Cecília agreed.”
Cecília started at her name.
“Were you there as well, Senhorita Durante?” Senhor Carvalho’s eyes hit her.
“I-I...” she floundered.
“I don’t think you and Luís are a particularly well-kept secret, Ceci,” Graça prompted as though she knew Cecília needed her line.
“Yes, senhor,” Cecília addressed Senhor Carvalho rather than the king.
“And you believe they did mean Teresa Távora in this conversation?”
Nothing about the situation seemed right. Cecília couldn’t say what Graça had or hadn’t heard—she certainly had been with Mateus Vilhena, from what Cecília had seen—but if they were asking for false collaboration, they obviously weren’t entirely beholden to the truth. Still, Tio Aloisio’s voice pounded through Cecília’s head as the first minister’s sharp eyes hit her: you’re going to have to say yes.
“Yes, senhor. That is what it seemed.”
If Dom José had any reaction to his mistress being implicated in a plot on his life, his face didn’t show it. Then again, after months of an inquest, Cecília imagined it wasn’t necessarily news to anyone in the room but her.
“Did it sound as though they were talking about old plans or new ones, by your estimation?” Senhor Carvalho asked.
“They sounded new to me,” Graça said. “Then it made me think of a conversation Cecília and I overheard in the garden a few weeks ago. Isabel was teasing Dores Távora about how Dores should try to take her cousin’s position, and Dores said something about how her time would be better spent with Senhor Aveiro. We didn’t know what she meant then, but—”
“You’d be willing to testify to that fact?” Senhor Carvalho crossed his arms, moving his eyes between Graça and Cecília.
Testify?
“Yes, senhor,” Graça said without hesitation.
This lie isn’t bad enough? The twisting in Cecília’s stomach turned to full-blown nausea at the idea of taking an already dangerous story and condemning a possibly innocent woman with it. With Senhor Carvalho’s eyes on her, though, she still found herself nodding.
“Yes?”
Cecília swallowed, keeping her eyes on the first minister rather than the king. “Yes, senhor.”
She had obviously done whatever Senhor Carvalho wanted from her for the moment, and he turned to the king. “As you can see, Your Highness, time has passed, and the vipers are starting to stir once again. They think they have gotten away with their plot and are now planning their next attempt. The traitors confessed, we have the duke’s pistol, we know it was he who gave it to them, only the Távoras knew you would be on that road at that time... This is all treason. When bitten once, one does not give a snake a chance to strike again before lopping off its head.”
Cecília dared to glance at the king and found Dom José studying her—or perhaps he was staring past her—before he nodded and stood. He turned to Senhor Carvalho. “How many?”
Senhor Carvalho pulled a paper out of his pocket and began listing, “Marchioness Távora, Count Alvor, Teresa Távora, Duke Aveiro, Marquis Alorna, Count Atouguia...”
As the names continued to stack upon one another, the enormity of what she had been brought into registered in Cecília’s mind. Of the list Senhor Carvalho had, all the conspirators he had were either legitimately found out or purposely funneled into the plot, depending on how much testimony was actually true. Cecília caught her hands in her lap, praying only the truly guilty would end up caught in the net being cast.
“Count Vilhena, Mateus de Vilhena, Isabel de Maraliva, Luís de Terra—”
“Luís?” Cecília couldn’t stop her mouth in time.
Three pairs of eyes locked onto her.
“I’m sorry.” She stuttered, “I-I-I just... Senhor Terra. I can’t imagine—”
“People can surprise you,” Senhor Carvalho said and lifted the page. “I’m certain no one ever would have thought half of the people on this list would be involved in treason.”
“But—” She cut off sharply at the look Senhor Carvalho shot her.
“Senhorita Durante?” Dom José asked.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.” She forced a weak smile. “I was just surprised. I am so sorry about everything—”
He held up a hand. “We are all in shock. Unfortunately, these are the times we live in.”
“I’m sorry,” Cecília said again in a near whisper.
“It’s getting late,” Senhor Carvalho said. “As distressing as this has all been, I’m sure Senhoritas Cardozo and Durante are tired.”
“Of course.” Dom José motioned their dismissal. “We thank you for your help.”
“Your Highness.” Graça stood and curtsied.
Cecília followed suit then added, “Please let me know if I can help, Your Highness. All of this is so awful. If I can—”
“We’ll be in touch, Senhorita Durante.” Senhor Carvalho cut off her rambling. “Just telling the truth about what you’ve heard come the trial will be help enough.”
Cecília curtsied again, praying she could control her stomach at least long enough to return to her own room. She followed Graça out of the apartments, not certain if she breathed until the doors shut behind her. Stopping a few steps into the hall, she sucked in what air she could get, trying to fight off the nausea. “What was that?”
Graça turned to face Cecília again. “What did it sound like? The beginning of the end.”
“Why would you bring me in there without telling me what was happening?” she hissed, keeping her voice low even though it seemed they were alone. She knew better than most that the tapestries didn’t stop voices from penetrating wooden walls.
Graça shrugged. “I didn’t have time.”
“Why would Senhor Carvalho let me in there, not knowing what was happening?”
“I may have told him I already let you know,” she said.
Cecília sent her an incredulous look.
“Do you know how hard I’ve been working?” Graça’s voice rose as much as it could while remaining a whisper. “You get to hide away, ‘ill’ for days, and then spend all your time with a man who’s so obviously in love with you he’d likely give you a written account of everything he’s ever heard for you to enter as evidence. I had to deal with that dog Vilhena. Do you know what it’s like, having the minister order to let that man touch you?”
“And you were bitter enough to sweep Luís into whatever story you told?”
“They’re arresting the entire Vilhena household.” She shook her head. “He lives with them.”
“But he doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Then he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
“Why do I doubt that?”
Graça searched Cecília’s face. “You can’t tell him.”
Cecília kept her eyes hard.
“If you tell him, you’re going to get caught up in all of this as well. Is that what you want? To be an accomplice to treason?”
Cecília huffed, her mind turning everything over, but she finally started down the hall. “Of course I’m not going to tell him. What could I possibly say?”
Graça hooked her arm through Cecília’s, either missing or choosing to ignore the fact that Cecília tensed. “The minister’s doing this to protect us, you know. It’s what all of us have been working for.”
“It just would have been nice to have been fully alerted to that fact.” Cecília shook the other woman off and took a step away. “I’m going to bed. I have the feeling it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
“A few long days, and then everything will be sorted.” Graça offered a smile. “Trust me. Everything will be so much better.”
***
CECÍLIA COULDN’T FIND it in herself to leave her room as the arrests started, no matter what the first minister might have thought of it. The shouting grew loud enough to echo through the tapestry-covered halls and all the way to Tio Aloisio’s room off and on throughout the day.
“How dare you! Take your hands off me!”
“Papai!”
From the screams, even children were being carted away in the name of removing the king’s enemies. It kept Cecília’s stomach churning strongly enough that she hadn’t been able to keep a thing down since daybreak.
Someone rapped on her bedroom door, and Cecília’s body tensed even though she had no reason to think that Senhor Carvalho had turned on her in the past twelve hours.
“Cecília?” her uncle’s voice came through the door. “Are you decent?”
Sitting in her bed dress, she supposed she was as decent as she was planning to get for the day. “Yes, Tio.”
The door opened, and Tio Aloisio stepped inside. He looked her over then sighed. “Graça was here a few minutes ago. She told me what happened last night.”
Cecília crossed her arms around her middle. “I said yes. I helped set all this off.”
“She said you were visibly distressed when Luís de Terra was mentioned.”
“I was surprised,” she said. “I know he didn’t do anything.”
After looking at her for another moment, Tio Aloisio moved across the room and took a seat at the end of the bed. “You did the right thing, Cilinha.”
Her stomach twisted, hearing the nickname her father had given to her, which only Tio Aloisio still used. It sounded sticky in his mouth. “Lying was the right thing?”
“You’ve lied before, I’m sure.”
“People are going to die.”
“We’re in the middle of a movement.” He shook his head, speaking to her as if he considered her truly to be an adult for a change. “Those books out there, the ones I could be arrested for? Those books are changing the world. Europe is changing, growing, and Portugal is two hundred years behind. You’re a smart girl—too smart for your own good, half the time. You know what would have happened if the king had died. Everything we’ve been working to do would be stopped, torn down. We’d be thrown back right to where we started.”
She felt her cross sitting heavily around her neck. “Would you have the entire country turn Deist?”
Tio Aloisio lifted his eyebrows. “Deist?”
“That’s what Mr. Bates called it.”
“Ah,” he said. “No, I’m Catholic, Cilinha. As is Senhor Carvalho. We’re just...”
“Reasonable ones?”
He focused on her. “Bates’s words again?”
Cecília shrugged.
“We aren’t looking to convert the country. Portugal is Catholic. We will always be Catholic, but we are trying to stop people from keeping us all back centuries while the rest of the world moves forward. Senhor Carvalho is taking power from the old nobility and shifting it to those who believe in progress. He’s making Portugal independent of foreign creditors. He plans to open public schools to educate all the children in Portugal. The poorest family will be able to better its children’s minds. People like Bates, who certainly has the mind to be a scholar, won’t be forced to teach themselves—or not be taught at all—just because their families don’t have the money to spend on an education. I know you support those reforms. You’ve spent far more time than Senhor Carvalho has insisted on educating yourself these two years.”
“People are still going to die,” Cecília said softly. “And I don’t know who is actually guilty, if any of them are.”
Tio Aloisio took a moment before speaking again. “Do you have feelings for Luís de Terra?”
Cecília shifted uncomfortably. “What?”
“Some have reported that the boy is in love with you.”
Cecília had to imagine that “some” included Graça.
“Do you feel similarly?”
“I don’t want him executed, if that’s what you want to know.”
“I want to know if you believe yourself in love with him.”
Cecília took a moment to weigh her words, but even then, she wasn’t certain what she wanted to say, let alone what she should say. “Why do you need to know?”
“The first minister has said if you can convince Senhor Terra to testify against the other conspirators, he would see you both well positioned, should you wish to marry. From what I’ve seen, though, I haven’t gotten the sense you wish to marry him.”
“I doubt it matters if I do or don’t. He wouldn’t testify. He’s too loyal.”
“You may underestimate your effect on the younger members of my sex,” Tio Aloisio said. “I imagine you’re the reason Bates was considering taking work in the mess Lisbon was three years ago, though he’d have much better prospects back home.”
Cecília jolted, not able to school the surprise off her face at the shock. “He what?”
Tio Aloisio gave her a much more knowing expression than she liked before he moved on. “Senhor Carvalho has written you a letter of passage to see Senhor Terra where he’s being held in Junqueira Prison. Strongly consider the option. With support from the right men, you could find yourself married to a count. A living count. I imagine at least one of those things may appeal to you?”
Cecília wasn’t certain what to say, so she didn’t say anything.
Tio Aloisio lowered his head in apparent acknowledgement that he wasn’t going to get an answer and held out a folded piece a paper. “Consider it.”
After a final tense moment, Cecília took the paper and watched Tio Aloisio’s back as he returned to the antechamber just as another commotion went up somewhere deeper inside the Real Barraca.