Page 44 of The Seven Sisters
‘I know,querida, but nothing must go wrong.’
Carla stood up to leave, then hesitated for a moment and turned back to Bel. ‘There is one more thing I must tell you. My dear cousin Sofia is recovering from a very serious illness and I have invited her and her three children to stay at ourfazendawhile she recuperates. Since we only have Fabiana and her husband there, I must send Loen to attend to Sofia’s children so she can rest. I’m afraid Loen will have to leave for the mountains by the end of the week.’
‘But Mãe!’ Bel gasped in dismay. ‘My party is only a few days away. What will I do without her?’
‘I’m sorry, Bel, but there is no choice. Gabriela will still be here and I’m sure she will give you all the help you need. Now, I must leave or I will be late.’ Carla patted her daughter’s shoulder comfortingly and left the room.
Bel slumped back in her chair and digested the unwelcome news. She was upset by the thought of being without her closest ally in the run-up to one of the most important events of her life.
Loen had been born at theirfazenda, where her African forebears had worked as slaves on the coffee farm. When slavery had finally been abolished in Brazil in 1888, many freed slaves had downed tools that very day and left their former masters, but Loen’s parents had chosen to stay. They had continued to work for thefazenda’s occupants at the time; a rich Portuguese family, until, like so many Rio aristocrats with no more slave labour to rely on to tend the coffee plants, they were forced to sell up. Loen’s father had chosen that moment to promptly disappear into the night, leaving her mother, Gabriela, and nine-year-old Loen to fend for themselves.
When Antonio had bought thefazendaa few months later, Carla had taken pity on them and insisted they were kept on as maids. Three years ago, both mother and daughter had moved with the family to Rio.
While Loen was technically only a servant, she and Bel had grown up together on the isolatedfazenda. With few other children of similar age to play with, the two of them had forged a special bond. Although barely older than Bel, Loen was wise beyond her years and an endless source of advice and comfort for her young mistress. Bel, in turn, had sought to repay Loen’s kindness and loyalty by spending the long, languid evenings at thefazendateaching her to read and write.
So at least, Bel reflected with a sigh as she sipped her coffee, they would be able to correspond while they were separated.
‘Have you finished, senhorita?’ asked Gabriela, interrupting her thoughts and giving Bel a sympathetic smile that indicated she had overheard Carla’s announcement.
Bel glanced at the sideboard heaped with fresh mango, figs, almonds, and a basket of freshly baked bread. Enough to feed an entire street, she thought, let alone a family of three.
‘Yes, you can clear the table. And I’m sorry for the extra work you will have while Loen is away,’ she added.
Gabriela shrugged stoically. ‘I know that my daughter too will be disappointed that she won’t be here for your birthday preparations. But no matter, we will manage.’
After Gabriela had left, Bel reached for theJornal do Brasilthat was lying on the table and opened it. On the front page, there was a photograph of Bertha Lutz, the campaigner for women’s rights, standing with her supporters outside City Hall. Senhorita Lutz had started the Brazilian Federation for the Advancement of Women six years ago and was campaigning for all women in Brazil to have the vote. Bel followed her progress avidly. It seemed to her that times were changing for other women in Brazil, whereas here she was, with a father who was stuck in the past, still believing women should simply be married off to the highest bidder before producing a healthy brood of children.
Since their move to the city, Antonio had kept his precious daughter a virtual prisoner, never allowing her even to take a walk outside the house without an older female escort. He didn’t seem to realise that the few girls of her own age she’d been introduced to at formal tea parties, and who had been deemed suitable as friends by Senhora Santos, were from families who were embracing the modern age, not fighting against it.
For example, her friend Maria Elisa da Silva Costa did indeed come from an aristocratic Portuguese heritage. But her family didn’t, as Pai so misguidedly believed, just float from one social event to the next. The old Portuguese court Pai dreamed of his family being a part of had mostly faded into history, the last vestiges of it only championed by a few clinging on to a disappearing world.
Maria Elisa was one of the few young women Bel had met that she felt she had anything in common with. Her father, Heitor, worked for a living as a renowned architect and had recently won the honour of building the plannedCristo Redentormonument on top of Corcovado, the mountain that rose dramatically skywards behind their house. The da Silva Costas lived nearby in Botafogo and if her father was visiting the mountaintop to take measurements for his structure, Maria Elisa would often accompany him as far as Cosme Velho and visit Bel while Heitor took the train up the mountain. Bel was expecting a visit from her later today.
‘Senhorita, can I get you anything else?’ Gabriela asked, hovering by the door with the heavy tray.
‘No thank you, Gabriela, you may go.’
A few minutes later, Bel stood up and left the room after her.
*
‘You must be so excited about your party,’ said Maria Elisa as they sat in the shade of the dense, tropical forest that overhung the garden of the house. The foliage was kept in check by a small army of gardeners to prevent it invading the immaculate grounds, but beyond the perimeter, it surged untamed up the mountain.
‘I think I’ll be glad when it’s over,’ Bel replied honestly.
‘Well, I’m looking forward to it, that’s for sure,’ Maria Elisa said, smiling. ‘Alexandre Medeiros will be there and I have such a crush on him. I’ll go to heaven if he asks me to dance,’ she added as she sipped her freshly squeezed orange juice. ‘Is there any young man who’s caught your eye?’ She looked at Bel expectantly.
‘No, and besides, I know my father will want to choose a husband for me.’
‘Oh, he’s so old-fashioned! When I talk to you I feel lucky to have Pai, even though his head is in the clouds with hisCristoall the time. Do you know,’ Maria Elisa said, lowering her voice to a whisper, ‘my father is actually an atheist, and yet here he is, building the largest monument to Our Lord in the world!’
‘Maybe this project will change his beliefs,’ Bel suggested.
‘Last night I heard him talking to Mãe about going to Europe to find a sculptor for the statue. As he’ll be away for so long, he said we would all be travelling with him. Can you imagine, Bel? We will see the great sights of Florence, Rome and, of course, Paris.’ Maria Elisa wrinkled her pretty freckled nose in pleasure at the thought of it.
‘Europe?’ exclaimed Bel as she turned to face her friend. ‘Maria Elisa, at this moment, I can truly say that I hate you. It’s been my dream forever to go to the Old World. Especially to Florence, where my family came from.’
‘Well, perhaps, if it is confirmed, you could come with us, for some of the time at least? It would be better for me too, otherwise I’m stuck with only my two brothers for company. What do you think?’ Maria Elisa’s eyes were bright with excitement.
