“Has your father any word from England? We cannot turn over a single spade without that deed.”
Miguel nodded in the direction of the door, where entered the prestigious entourage. “You may ask him yourself, senhor. I only advise that you postpone your questions until my step-mother and Senhor Corte-Real may not overhear.”
“António! You are looking well, my friend!” Corte-Real bobbed his head in a gentle bow, a broad smile illuminating his kindly features.
“And you, Senhor,” Noronha replied.
“Tell me,” Corte-Real held up a finger, “I am to understand that our ownsoldadorhas returned to us. Does he come home with new honours from his assignment at the court?”
“If he does, he is too modest to wear his medals,” Noronha laughed. “They do not suit his uniform, he says. I think he was never given them,” he winked, but his voice was swelled with pride.
“And I think,” chuckled Corte-Real, “that any son of yours could not help but win such honours. I understand you have recently persuaded some of the merchants to continue in business about Porto, against their inclinations.”
Noronha frowned. “I only hope I have done them no disservice. The port does brisk enough business, but even that shall suffer if the greater infrastructure of Porto’s trade with the inner districts should crumble. The war cannot be concluded soon enough for my purposes, senhor.”
“I believe we all feel the same,” concurred Vasconcelos, speaking for the first time. “I say, Noronha, where has our guest of honour gone to?”
The younger Vasconcelos was quick to respond to his father’s hint. “He is entertaining the ladies, but if Senhor Corte-Real does not object to my interference, I think there are enough pretty faces to spare.”
“Object! I may be a man of the cloth, but I am still quite young enough to appreciate a pair of fine eyes and a merry smile—particularly if your lovely bride’s are among them. By all means, young man, lead the way.”
Noronha and Vasconcelos watched them go, smiling their felicitations to any familiar face across the room, so they might not be considered to be sharing some secret—which, naturally, they were. “It has been two months,” Noronha observed quietly.
“Indeed,” Vasconcelos raised a hand in answer to a similar wave, then turned his smile slowly about the room.
“You have heard nothing more?”
Vasconcelos accepted a drink from a passing server and lifted it to his lips. “Some, but the deed has not yet been recovered,” he returned shortly.
“Does this not concern you? Your man has had ample now to perform his search and send us word. We could have traveled to England and back several times!”
“Patience!” counseled the other in a low voice. “These things must be done discreetly. The English have such formal ways, one does not simply arrive on another’s doorstep and ask to see within his private quarters.” Here, his tone lightened. “Senhor Lopes! Delighted to see you this evening.”
Noronha spared the other a genial greeting of his own, then doggedly returned to his point the moment the man had passed. “We cannot simply bide our time! Is there not some corner of the suitable landnotbelonging to this deed where we may begin?”
“Not if you wish to return enough profit by your efforts to continue on after the first year,” Vasconcelos drew another sip of his wine. “And do not think of beginning without the proper papers, for the governor of Braga has a record of the transfer and full knowledge of the matter. He will fear offending some prestigious Englishman, particularly now as his district is only just recovering from the French invasion. He is most fond of British aid. No, he will wish to remain very good friends with the English, and it will matter little to him that a promising ore reserve has been discovered until it begins to turn a profit.”
“And what of this poor devil you have taken as your ‘guest’? Have you even spoken with him to discover what knowledge he has?”
Vasconcelos shrugged. “It matters little if I do. He cannot retrieve it, and I already have another invested in helping us. We have him at our disposal, should the need arise.”
Noronha shook his head. “I still do not understand what this mysterious partner of yours has to gain.”
“Money! Do you not understand who that man is?” scoffed Vasconcelos. “His wealth alone could buy all of Porto, and half of Braga.”
“Surely you exaggerate.”
“Not to a great degree. His great-great-grandfather was a marquess, but he died with no sons and strangely—for the English, at least—left all his lands and fortune to his daughter. That lady became the mother of the very Darcy who later performed such a favour to our King José, and a wealthy fellow in his own right who likewise married the daughter of a noble.” There was the faintest sneer to his voice as he spoke, his cheek flickering just under his eye as though his drink had turned sour in his mouth.
“If this man has such wealth, why should he have quibbled over a piece of land that could mean nothing to him? What need for such subterfuge?”
“Calm yourself, my friend. You will see; we will be far better served by our present arrangement. Come, we must make ourselves sociable. It is your house, after all.”
“Amália,mydear!”Ruypaused and opened his arms expectantly.
At his voice, his sister turned from her dance partner and her expression lit with sheer joy. “Ruy!Tive tantas saudades tuas!” She rushed to him, clasping his hands and allowing him to twirl her about for his inspection.
“You look lovely, dearest! How elegant you are. And married! I always thought you would wait for me,” he pouted. “Is that not what you promised when we were children?”
