Chapter 10
The Beating Heart
of Manaus
Lillian
Ademir and I lead the way through the streets while the men Bruno sent to meet us move our small supply from Ademir’s small riverboat to the larger steamer we’ll be using to maneuver up the Black River.
There has been no sign of anyone following us so the mood is considerably lighter than it was in Macapá.
My partners are actually taking in some of the culture, which has warmed me more than the sun ever could.
Oliver currently has two children hanging on to his hands, pulling him forward, and Margaret is translating so that they might understand each other.
When he takes the hat off his head and plants it on the young boy’s, I can’t help but look to Ben to see his reaction. He’s already smiling.
Our merry little band continues through the streets of Manaus until we reach Bruno’s neighborhood. The children bid us farewell, sneaking off with little trinkets from each of us—even Mr. Bennett had something to give them.
The Souza mansion is everything I remember it being.
A small palace by many’s standards, it stands on the street as a reminder of the rubber empire the family found their fortune in.
Built with an eclectic mix of Caribbean, European neoclassical, and Portuguese stylings, the house has details that will stand the test of time.
“I’ve never seen such a home in my entire life.” Margaret gawks from beside me. “In all my travels… It’s beautiful.”
“Well, not quite as wonderful as Buckingham Palace, but I suppose it will do.” Mr. Bennett takes a step forward and takes his comments with him.
“I’d rather not be out here any longer,” James says, stepping to follow his client. “We did attract quite a bit of attention.”
Ben puts a hand on my lower back and guides me forward. If he had any issues with getting Bruno involved, he hadn’t said anything about it. I pray he’s not keeping things from me. My stomach does a flip when I realize that I’m the one who has been keeping secrets.
Suddenly guilty, I put two steps between the two of us and lead the group up the main drive. A lovely dark blue Packard convertible sits outside the main entryway; another sparkling automobile sits off to the side. I don’t even want to know how much it cost the family to ship such a thing here.
The door is opened before I can even knock. A butler, whom I recognize, opens the double entry, giving way to a grand staircase and a large parlor.
“O Sr. Souza está à sua espera,” he says, holding out his arm into the entryway.
I smile and curtsy slightly at the man’s courtesy.
“He’s invited us in,” I say, waving my arm for the rest to follow me.
“Bruno is expecting us.” One by one, we fall into step through the entryway.
One glance at the staircase to the rooms above has me thankful for all the company.
I don’t know how I would handle being alone and surrounded by so many memories.
The butler does well not to look down at our dirty shoes or mention our clothes that hardly belong in the home of his employer. Instead, he herds us into the parlor and rings a bell.
“Café e chá ser?o servidos em breve,” he begins, gloved hands placing the bell down on a platter. “O Sr. Souza está no quintal com seu irm?o e a Sra. Souza. Vou chamá-lo imediatamente.”
“Gracias,” I say with another slight curtsy. The man bows, and his presence is quickly replaced by a young maid.
When it’s clear I’m too lost in my own memories to translate for the group, Margaret jumps at the chance. “Coffee and tea will be served shortly,” she says with a smile. “Mr. Souza is in the backyard with his brother and Mrs. Souza. The gentleman will call him immediately.”
The maid nods at her, approving the message while two others bring in a trolley cart with beverages and treats. Ademir is the first to remove his hat and sit on one of the plush love seats. A woman brings him a cup of coffee, and after one sip, he leans his head back as if he may nap.
The others take a few minutes to warm up to the idea of it, but soon they’re content, filling their bellies with Brazilian delicacies.
I’m halfway through my first cup of tea when I hear Bruno running through the house.
The sound of his hurried feet is somehow too similar to how it would sound in the summers growing up.
It’s the same ritual of sitting and waiting until he would come in from some adventure.
It would always take some hairbrained scheme by him and his brother to free me from my parents’ side.
No longer.
He pauses only briefly at the threshold before he finds me in the crowd. I hardly have time to reach my feet before he bounds across the room and throws his arms around me. “Você está aqui,” he says breathlessly.
“Yes,” I answer as he pulls away. “Yes, I’m here.”
He pulls away too soon; my body instantly misses his familiarity.
His beam of a smile lights up the whole room as he turns to face the others.
He introduces himself to each person, even going as far to kiss Margaret on the cheeks in welcome.
I roll my eyes at that. Still a bachelor at 35, but a wonderful ally in all of this.
Bruno has taken on a much bigger role since his father’s passing in 1934. The empire he inherited has been a wonderful cover for some of his dealings on my behalf. His men have been able to go up and down the Black River and into the forest to watch for any sign of expeditions.
Further still, his standing in society has allowed him unthinkable access to parties and gatherings that those visiting from Europe would attend.
He’s been a vital spout of information on German movements in Brazil.
Most of his correspondence has been with Mr. Morgan, but of course he still found the time to write me personal letters.
Letters that are stacked neatly in my room back in England.
Bruno moves away from Diederick with a grim smile and turns his attention to the coffee cart. “I heard what happened at sea. I’m very glad to see that you all made it.” He puts two spoonfuls of cream into his cup, almost waiting for someone to enlighten him further.
I doubt he heard the full version of the shipwreck story, and I’m guessing he knows that.
When nobody seems to want to divulge it, Bruno continues smoothly into asking his maid for a notepad and pen.
“I’m sure you have supplies you would like me to procure.
” The young woman is quick to bring the items he asked for.
He hands it to me first. “If you would, write down your necessities, and then I will send for them. If it’s clothes you need, be sure to detail your sizes and articles most suited to you. ”
The pen hovers over the paper as Bruno moves through the room again. My list comes fairly easily to me. I know Bruno would go out of his way to get everything I write down, so I make sure to keep it short and sweet to leave room for the others.
Small conversations have broken out among the group by the time I list my final two items. For once, the tidbits I pick up aren’t about the mission and life-or-death details, but about the beauty of the house and the adeptness of our host.
While the others are preoccupied, Ben comes to sit next to me. He hasn’t had a sip of any drink, a telltale sign that he’s keeping all his senses primed. “Do you feel uncomfortable?” I ask, finishing the last of my items.
“No,” he lies. “I just want to make sure I get my things jotted down before I go back out.”
“Back out?” I ask in surprise. “Whatever for?”
“There are just a few things I’d like to check out. Ademir said he would go with me.” My eyes slide to the old man who is pretending to be in a conversation with Margaret.
“Without me?” I ask, again perplexed. With my list completed, I hand it over to Ben, who quickly jots down his items.
“You’re to stay here and speak with Bruno about what he knows.” The way that he can give me such demands without even looking at me infuriates me.
“What if I’d rather gather information with you?” I ask, clearly offended.
Ben’s pen freezes. His writing picks up again to mask the comment, not from the room but from me. “I don’t want to risk you.”
It’s impossible not to melt at such a vulnerable answer. “It’s dangerous then?” I ask, behind the pretense of taking another sip.
“Not at all.” Ben finishes his list and lays the pen across the pad. “Ademir wants to return to his mother’s home to grab a few items. We’ll be back this evening.”
I hum in quiet acceptance. I have no desire to return to that shack on the water where the journal first glowed, showing me the path to the mountain. I can’t imagine how it would look now, years after Ademir’s m?e passed away.
“We’ll reconvene this evening?” he asks, slowly standing.
Margaret is already on her way across the room for the list so I nod quickly at Ben and find myself floating toward Bruno’s comforting voice.
“My employees will use the greatest discretion, I assure you.” Bruno’s explaining the afternoon to James and Mr. Bennett who are not believing him.
“It won’t be a problem,” I say, reaching my hand through the crook of Bruno’s arm. “Bruno’s entire empire relies upon expeditions; the purchases will not even have the shopkeepers batting an eye.”
“How will you explain women's clothing?” Mr. Bennett asks, annoyed.
I shrug and let a playful grin appear. “Bruno has many female companions.”
This causes Bruno to laugh. He pats my arm before changing the subject entirely. “I’ll show you all to your rooms. Dinner will be served this evening and my brother will be joining us. I hope this suits you!”
There’s a round of approvals and then many return to themselves. Thankfully, no one notices Ben and Ademir slipping away. No one but me. Though I understand his reasonings for going out alone, the familiar feeling of missing out hits me like a train.
So many times throughout the years I had been left behind to flirt with and work the societal elements of our missions.
He would go off to do the dangerous things, running to places where I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.
But it was never the element of me being alone that I hated the most; it was the fact that I knew he would be.
Today, I can at least hold on to the fact that he isn’t alone this time.
Ademir would watch over him and help him in all the ways I never could.
When the lists have been drawn up, and the coffee pots drained of every drop, Bruno again finds me next to Margaret and takes me by the arm while the butler and a maid lead the way to the west wing of the mansion.
“Will your m?e not be joining us for dinner this evening?” I ask.
Bruno stiffens slightly but obliges me with an answer anyway. “M?e often keeps to her suite these days.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.” Senhora Souza had always been a dutiful wife and mother. I can’t say I knew her well, but Bruno and my own m?e never had a negative word to say about her.
Bruno’s typical sunny disposition is interrupted when he shares about his recent reality. “She has not been the same since my father died.”
I nod, as if I could ever understand the sentiment. Perhaps my father is somewhere reeling from the loss of his wife 10 years ago, but I doubt it.
“Enough talk of such things. I hope to see you seated beside me at the meal this evening.” The joy returns in the bounce of his step. “Do you accept my invitation?”
I can’t help but smile at his kindness. “I believe that Margaret is much more your type,” I tease.
“Ah, perhaps, but I miss my dear water lily.” He stops us as the last word leaves his lips.
I hadn’t realized we had reached a doorway.
My doorway. Bruno leaves me with a kiss on the cheek before turning back down the hall and disappearing again.
I didn’t get to tell him that his invitation was well met.
I feel his absence almost immediately and decide to hide my embarrassment behind the door of my room.
After two seconds of sulking, I realize that this very well will be the last afternoon I get any time to myself.
Utilizing the limited time, I get to work organizing my items and hiding the important ones.