Page 134 of The Seven Sisters

‘Thank you,princesa. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Bel spoke briefly to Gabriela and said she’d telephone her later, then climbed into the waiting car and directed Jorge to Madame Duchaine’s salon in Ipanema. Telling him as usual to return for her at six, Bel went through the rigmarole of waiting until he had pulled away, then turned from the doorstep and walked as fast as she could in the direction of Laurent’s apartment building.

‘Chérie!’ Laurent said as he pulled her through the door and into his arms, covering her face and neck with kisses. ‘You have no idea how much I have missed you.’

Melting into him with relief, Bel did not protest as he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. And for a few precious minutes, all the dreadful thoughts whirling around her head disappeared in the ecstasy of being one with him again.

Afterwards, they lay together in the tangle of sheets and Bel answered many of the gentle questions Laurent put to her about the past few weeks.

‘And what of you, Laurent?’ she asked eventually. ‘You have managed to keep yourself busy?’

‘Sadly, since Alessandra Silveira, I have been unable to secure a further commission. Everyone is nervous about the situation with the coffee in Brazil and the stock market in New York. They are no longer spending their money on frippery such as sculptures. So for the past month I have done little more than eat, drink and take a swim in the sea. Izabela,’ Laurent said, his face becoming serious, ‘apart from the fact that the situation in Brazil worsens by the day, I feel that I have stayed here as long as I can. I miss France and it is time that I stopped treading water.Chérie, forgive me, but I must return home.’ He reached for her hand and kissed it. ‘The question is, will you come with me?’

Bel found herself unable to reply. She lay silently in his arms, eyes tightly closed, feeling as though all the elements which made up her life were rising to an unbearable crescendo.

‘Senhor da Silva Costa has booked me a cabin on a steamer that leaves on Friday,’ he continued, urgency in his voice. ‘I must take it, as many of the shipping companies are owned by Americans. If the financial situation worsens further, there may be no boats leaving the port in Rio for many months.’

Bel listened to Laurent, finally realising just how deep this crisis in America went. ‘You sail on Friday? In three days’ time?’ she finally managed to whisper.

‘Yes. And I beg you,mon amour, to join me. I think it is time for you to follow me,’ he urged. ‘However much I love you, there is nothing for me here: no life, and certainly not one we could share together, given your circumstances. I feel guilty for forcing a decision on you when your preciousmamanis barely cold in her grave. But I hope you can understand why I must go.’ His eyes searched her face for an answer.

‘Yes, you’ve waited for me long enough.’ Bel sat upright and pulled the sheet across her naked breasts. ‘Laurent, there is something I must tell you . . .’

*

Gustavo emerged from the crowded senate building with relief. Inside, both the temperature and the tension had reached boiling point as desperate coffee producers demanded to know what the government would do to save them. There had even been some brawling – civilised men driven to violence at the thought of their fortunes dwindling to nothing overnight.

He had lasted as long as he could, wanting to at least show his support but feeling he had little to offer in the way of advice. Now more than anything he wanted a drink. Turning in the direction of his club and walking a few paces, he checked himself.

No. He must resist or he would be back to where he started, and he had promised Izabela only last night that he was a reformed character.

Then he remembered her telling him over breakfast that she was going to her dressmaker’s in Ipanema for a fitting. The salon was only a ten-minute walk from here and he suddenly thought how nice it would be to surprise her. Perhaps they could take a walk along the promenade, sit in one of the beachside cafés and simply watch the world go by. That was the kind of thing husbands and wives who enjoyed each other’s company did, wasn’t it?

He turned left and headed in the direction of Ipanema.

Fifteen minutes later, Gustavo emerged from Madame Duchaine’s salon confused. He swore Izabela had said earlier that this was where she was headed after visiting her father, but Madame Duchaine had assured him that no appointment had been booked that afternoon by his wife. Shrugging, Gustavo walked along the street and hailed a cab to take him home.

*

Laurent was staring at her, utter shock on his face.

‘And you are sure the baby is mine?’

‘I have gone over and over any occasion in my mind which could have made it possible for it to be Gustavo’s, but as you have said yourself, unless there is proper . . .entry, it is impossible to make a baby.’ Bel was blushing with embarrassment at talking so intimately about her relationship with her husband. ‘And in the two months before I left for thefazendawith my mother, there . . . was none. Not that my husband would have noticed one way or the other,’ she added.

‘You think you are about three months pregnant?’

‘Maybe more, but I cannot be sure. I could hardly go to the family doctor until I’d spoken to you about it.’

‘Can I see?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, although there is little showing.’

Bel watched as Laurent took the sheet from her body and put his hand gently on the tiny bump. His eyes left her belly and travelled upwards to hers. ‘And you can swear to me that you are as sure as you can be the child is mine?’

‘Laurent’ – Bel held his gaze – ‘there is no doubt in my mind. If there was, I simply would not be here.’

‘No. Well . . .’ he sighed. ‘Given the circumstances we were discussing before this news, it makes it more imperative that we leave together for Paris as soon as possible.’