“Past circumstances would refute that claim,” Darcy observed.
Vasconcelos chuckled. “Do you think, Senhor Darcy, that none other might have envied your position? Oh, I hold no particular loyalty for your enemy, but the arrangement was most advantageous for both of us. He was to procure something of vital importance to me, and in return, I made you disappear, and rather expeditiously so.”
Darcy squared his shoulders. “What is it you wish, sir? A ransom? Though it galls my honour to confess it, you must know that my estate is well able to afford a handsome price to secure my release.”
Vasconcelos laughed aloud now. “It is a tempting offer, Senhor Darcy, but you are presumed dead and such possession is no longer yours. No, it is something of far greater value I seek.” He touched a finger to his lips and paced toward the window.
“Like you, Senhor Darcy, I am a man deeply loyal to his country. When the Corsican threatened our nation, we were pleased to ally ourselves with the English. It was a good idea, yes, your English troops and ours together on the field against the French? Your General Wellesley and his men have fought with us nobly and well.” He turned slightly to observe what effect his words had over his guest.
Darcy had adopted his British mask of serenity—that consciously maddening façade of imperturbability with which a good Englishman could meet a firing squad as calmly as a round of cards. He raised a brow at Vasconcelos’ pause, and politely supplied his thoughts. “My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has been one of those men. He served here for two years as second in command of the First Division Light Cavalry, taking many a risk with his own life in defence of your land.”
The other’s cheek twitched. “I am familiar with his name.”
“In that case, you cannot accuse my family of any lack of concern for your country’s welfare.”
“I have no such intention, Senhor Darcy. The English have been proper allies in all respects save one.”
“We are not of the same religion,” Darcy guessed, his voice affected by near boredom.
Vasconcelos paced back to him, clasping his hands behind his back. “Ah, perhaps there is a second, then! Have you noticed, Senhor Darcy, that all the trials of man return, after a fashion, to his religion?”
“Indeed, I have not. I find that most of human conflict is instead rooted in a quest for power. For some it may be through the church, for others the state, while still more seek the power of profit in trade. There are also those who seek the power of position while deliberately placing their rivals at an uncomfortable disadvantage,” he paused briefly to level a significant look at his host. “Even the pettifogger in his dark alley is not without his inducements, for what greater power over his associates might there be than a bag of gold, and what better satisfaction to be found than assaulting a wealthy and unsuspecting stranger to obtain it?”
Vasconcelos’ face warmed to a knowing smile. “You are offended by my methods, sir, but you have no right to be so. What are a few months of solitude to a man whose conscience is clean and his thoughts pure? Yours is but a small sacrifice. Yet, I cannot agree with you that the search for power is the greatest division between men. No, it is love. For me, I love my son, I love the progress made possible by this new age of ours, I love the men who fight against the Oppressor, and I love the Church, but more than all these, I love my country and the honour of my fathers.” He clasped his hand over his heart, affecting a patriotic sigh. “I wonder, Senhor Darcy,” he gestured now, “what do you love?”
Darcy paled, his unflappable demeanour cracking only slightly. His mouth opened as he caught his breath, then he resolutely closed it.
“I shall presume,” continued Vasconcelos, “that you also are faithful to your Anglican church, misguided as it is?”
Darcy cocked that eyebrow again. “You make no secret of your own prejudices, sir.”
“Nor you of yours. I believe you will discover yourself to be a very prejudiced man indeed, when introduced to other perspectives.”
Darcy’s jaw tensed. “I have already had an opportunity to study my own flaws in that regard.”
“It is a wise man who finds the courage to look into the mirror. Such a man might amend his ways and become worthy of the objects of his own devotion. Surely there are such for you? I am to understand that you have your own family in England. You mentioned your cousin with, I think, not a little fondness, and I am informed there is also a sister. Georgiana, yes? Did I pronounce it correctly?”
Darcy’s eyes widened for the barest flicker, then he snapped back to his cool reserve. Vasconcelos had, however, perceived his fear, and he pressed his advantage.
“You see, Senhor Darcy,” the man walked a slow circle about the room toward his desk, “I have studied you carefully. I know much, but there is a deal more I must learn.”
“And may I ask what that is? What is required to secure my freedom?”
“Freedom! That is an interesting question, senhor. What, indeed, is required?” He paced once more, then returned to face Darcy. “What becomes of Portugal, Senhor Darcy, when Bonaparte is at last defeated? Will your troops withdraw peacefully, as the terms of our friendship decree?”
“My country has no imperial designs upon yours, at least not to my knowledge.”
“Perhaps not, sir, but when you go, our strength goes with you. Our Prince Regent reigns yet from Brasil, and that holding is dearer to him than his own home country. We have no hope of continued tribute from the colony, and so we must forge our own way into this new world. We must build a flourishing economy, at all costs.
“Our territory had been thought to be without mineral wealth, but some years ago, a potential source was discovered in a nearby province. Further investigation has revealed that a substantial ore deposit rests beneath our own soil. Unfortunately, the ownership of that land was the subject of a royal debt—to your grandfather.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “You speak some riddle. I have no foreign holdings.”
Vasconcelos’ calm vanished, and his face flashed with ire. “You lie! My family was disgraced over the matter! The deed still rests in your hands, and I must have it.”
“You have certainly confused me for some other, sir. And for this, you have kept me your prisoner? Outrageous!”
“No! Not for this only, but for the insult to my father. He traveled to England with an honourable sum to reclaim the deed, and returned in shame, for your grandfather abused him, appropriated his monies, and sent him away!”
