Chapter 26
Sophia braced her hands on the gilt-edged table, and the cold surface of the marble served as a helpful check on her nerves. “Fainting? I’m not light-headed.”
Or was she? Perhaps that was the meaning of the over-brightness of the sunshine from the narrow windows. Perhaps that was why her lips were dry and her palms clammy.
“What? Even with news of Boney’s defeat?” Mr. Belvedere suddenly came back and swept her up into his arms. “Can you fake a faint for me?”
Sophia threw her arms around his neck lest she fall. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll ask once more—do you trust me?”
Sophia looked at the forgotten pile of London papers on the upholstered settee and thought of all the turmoil that faced her.
She, a penniless widow of questionable background and no real talent except cards and picking pockets, was now an accomplice to fraud or even murder.
But what would happen if she went with Mr. Belvedere?
She didn’t know—but she believed that he would not leave her.
Not when he had been shielding her the entire trip.
“Yes, I do.”
He grinned. “That’s enough for me. Now, you have fainted at the news of dear Old Douro’s victory. Do play the part.”
He waited no longer before surging back into the passageway, this time heading away from the front entrance. Sophia went limp, but she could tell they went from the narrow hall to a larger space of some sort; there were voices and manly exclamations.
“Oh, I say,” exclaimed a nearby gentleman. “What’s going on?”
Sophia remained motionless with her left arm dangling and even allowed her lips to hang slightly agape. She had once thought of joining the stage, after all.
“My sister fainted with the news,” Mr. Belvedere said, rushing along. “I hardly know what—She hoped to get news of her husband at Vitoria.”
“Oh. We did just receive the lists, but we cannot give out casualties until they are put in the papers, not even for our own citizens.”
“I know that, and I told her so, but she couldn’t be convinced. Older sisters always think they know best! Could you get that door for me?”
“Of course.”
“Her maid is with the carriage—her vinaigrette, too, I hope. My sister has always been high-strung.”
“Ah. I’m not supposed to say, but—Well, dash it, what’s her husband’s name? I could take a peek at the casualty list for you.”
Sophia felt the sun on her face as they went out and the slight hitch as Mr. Belvedere processed this very helpful but unwelcome offer.
“That’s deuced good of you,” he said, “but—I really must get her home. She’s a trifle heavy and she always has the vapors when she awakes from a swoon!”
“Ah, blimey—that’s no good. But I don’t see a carriage waiting. Her maid, you said?”
“Dash it, have I come the wrong way? What street is this?”
“On this side we front the Calcada Sant’ Anna. Did you come up do Socorra?”
“Ugh, we did. Come on, Agnes, buck up.” He shook her a little, very convincingly playing the exasperated brother.
“I have to get back,” said the officer, apologetically. “You could take her back through the consulate—or around to the right past the Campo dos Mártires. You’d be able to hail your carriage from there.”
“I’ll do that! Thank you, sir.”
An outcry from the consulate nearly made Sophia jump, but she suppressed it. Hopefully it was not about them. Or if it was, hopefully it would be mistaken for more celebration.
The helpful officer left, and Mr. Belvedere slid Sophia to her feet.
She’d felt the sun on her face and warming her black dress, and now she could see that there was a small greenspace before them.
It was a large, irregular rectangle between the winding streets, with intermittent hedges and a wrought iron fence around it.
Large buildings surrounded on the left, and some of them looked quite old.
A few were cracked as if they had been through an earthquake and not remained unscathed.
On the right were fancy rowhouses. The streets were less crowded here than by the wharf, but there were still many people about.
“Do we run?” asked Sophia.
“Absolutely not.” Mr. Belvedere took her arm like a perfect gentleman and started a leisurely walk into the south-facing park.
At least three other parties were also enjoying the morning there.
A winding path of packed dirt led through the small wilderness.
There were a few tall pine trees to one side and a low pond further on.
“Nothing so definitively guilty as running.”
“But they’ll be after us any moment!”
He swung his cane at a camellia as they walked.
“But when you say they—whom do you mean? There is Captain Smythe, of course, but other than he, there is the unknown assistant to Mr. Howard, the unknown agent of the East India Company, and the unknown Mr. Howard himself. Only Captain Smythe knows what we look like, and he does not know where we have gone.”
“But—we walked past all those men. The ones watching the carriage, and so on.”
“If they retain our faces, I’ll eat my hat. They were distracted; they did not care. As long as Captain Smythe does not spot us—and honestly, the way he left us in that parlor, I almost think he wanted us to get away—we shall slip into the crowds quite easily.”
“He didn’t want us to get away.”
“Maybe deep down he did.” He walked at the same relaxed pace as the others sauntering through the park, but Sophia’s heart pounded in double time to her feet.
She wanted to leave the path and cut straight to the next road, but Mr. Belvedere restrained her.
“No, no. They will be looking for panic, for hurry and rush. We will defy them with our slowness.”
“Unless I die from anticipation!”
He grinned. “No one dies from anticipation.”
“You know what I meant.”
“We’re already halfway, Sophy.”
She didn’t protest his use of her name. She had come a little too far for that, hadn’t she? “But where after? If we go to a hotel, we may be found. They could send people around with our description. And—good heavens—I haven’t even my valise! I have nothing—no tooth-powder comb, change of clothes—”
“That is true; we shall need some things, shan’t we? But I can supply you with a few things, and we will get more as we go. I have some money.”
Sophia laughed, only a few notes from hysteria.
“That’s true—you won five pounds from me!
We are saved! And now that I think more deeply—there really is no way to get married.
We are not Catholic, and how should we find an Anglican clergyman when we know no one?
We don’t dare go to an army chaplain at present!
I think they require something like the banns as well—and I’ve heard they are very severe about family consent, of which I have none!
It will be weeks before we could even potentially be wed—”
“Must I throw water in your face from that rather noisome pond? Much as I adore you, I will do it if I must. I have a very good idea how we can be married.”
“Don’t you dare splash me,” Sophia said. She took a deep breath. “I’m not hysterical, I promise.”
“Good girl, I know this has been a terrible week, but you have only to be resolute a little longer. Now listen, I’m not swimming in lard, but I have enough to keep us comfortable for some time, and enough for a civil contract.”
“Oh—oh, like in Captain Wentworth’s story.”
“That’s right. I asked him a few questions about that notarial contract, and apparently British officers, merchants, naval men and so on, have begun to use this option in Catholic countries.”
“But is it a real marriage?” She bit her lips. “I know I have come too far to be squeamish now, but—it is important to me.”
“Of course it is! And, well, the legality is complicated. No, don’t panic—I’m not trying to trick you.
Think of Wentworth’s friend! It is legal; it is only that it won’t be legal in England until we tie the knot before an Anglican clergyman.
But a civil contract is just as legal as someone who flies to Gretna Green for a Scottish wedding—they let anyone get married, you know—and it’s just as legal as someone who has a Catholic marriage license in England. ”
This reassured Sophia, and Captain Wentworth had implied that his friend considered himself married… “But if we went to a notary and asked for such a contract, wouldn’t that make us easy to trace?”
“Eh, I think you overestimate the diligence they will put into this. And frankly, I don’t think anyone will expect us to spend time at a notary today. It’s an excellent place to spend a few hours.”
“But the East India Company—”
“Yes, they are frightening, I admit. But Captain Smythe has almost nothing against me, thanks to your confession and the complete disintegration of Lady Marston’s plot. I dare hope that the representative will consider it a wild goose chase.”
“Do you truly believe that or are you only saying it to keep me calm?”
He briefly raised her hand to his lips. “I promise I will never lie to you, my dear Sophy. I think we’ve had quite enough of that.”
Her stomach swooped at his words. With every step she grew further from respectability, further from her former life. She had done this once before—although the situations were wildly different.
They finally turned out of the park as the path gave way to pavement. He continued up the street along with the growing throng. “I know a little Portuguese from a guidebook I procured in London. Do you?”
“No, not at all, I’m afraid.”
“Ah well, I think there are enough British here at present that we shall do. Lisbon is drunk on victory, and I like dealing with people who are a little foxed. They don’t ask questions.”