Page 139 of The Seven Sisters
‘I will always love you,’ she whispered to the stars.
Bel readied herself for bed, then walked over to the writing bureau that sat beneath the window. Given that Gustavo had followed her to Madame Duchaine’s yesterday – albeit it purely out of loving motives, not suspicious ones – Bel knew she couldn’t risk meeting Laurent at his apartment tomorrow. Instead, she would attend an appointment at the dressmaker’s and send Loen as her emissary, carrying with her the letter she would write now . . .
Taking a sheet of notepaper from the drawer and a pen, Bel sat staring out into the starlit night, asking the heavens to help her compose the last words she would ever say to Laurent.
Two hours later, she read the letter through one last time.
Mon chéri,
The very fact that by now you have been handed an envelope by Loen will have told you that I cannot come with you to Paris. Even though my heart breaks as I write this, I know where my duty lies. And I cannot, even for my love of you, shirk it. I only hope and pray that you understand my decision is made purely on this basis, and not out of any lessening of love and desire. I yearn to be with you for all eternity. I sit here looking up at the stars and wish with all my heart we had met at a different moment in time, for I have no doubt that if we had, we would be together now.
But this was not our fate. And I hope you will, just as I must, accept it. Be assured that every day of my life, I will wake thinking of you, praying for you and loving you with all my heart.
My deepest fear is that any love for me you have presently may turn to hate for my betrayal of it. I beg you, Laurent, not to hate me, but to carry what we had in your heart and move on to the future, which I can only hope will eventually bring you happiness and contentment.
Au revoir, mon amour
Your Bel
Bel folded the letter and sealed it in an envelope, putting no name on the front of it for fear of it being discovered. Opening the drawer, she secreted it at the back under a stack of fresh envelopes.
As she closed it, her eye caught the soapstone triangle, which she’d been using to stand her inkpot on. Taking it in her hands, she touched its softness. Then, on impulse, she turned it over and dipped her pen in the ink once more.
30th October 1929
Izabela Aires Cabral
Laurent Brouilly
Then, painstakingly, she wrote one of her favourite quotations from a parable by Gilbert Parker underneath their names.
Once the ink was dry, she hid the tile with the letter at the bottom of the envelope pile. When Loen came in to dress her in the morning, she would tell her what she must do with them. If the tile could not be placed onto theCristo, then at least it would serve as a perfect memory for Laurent of the moment in time they had once shared together.
Bel stood up slowly from the desk and climbed into bed, curling up like the foetus inside her, as if the arms that crossed her chest could somehow hold together her broken heart.
44
‘Is Izabela not joining us for breakfast this morning?’ asked Luiza of her son.
‘No, I asked Loen to take her a tray upstairs,’ replied Gustavo, as he joined his mother at the breakfast table.
‘Is she unwell?’
‘No, Mãe, but for the past two months she was nursing her poor mother night and day. Which, as you can imagine, has taken its toll on her.’
‘I hope that she will not be too precious about her pregnancy,’ said Luiza. ‘I certainly wasn’t during mine.’
‘Really? I was talking to Father only last night and he mentioned how you were as sick as a dog for weeks when you were carrying me, and how you rarely rose from your bed,’ he countered as he poured himself some coffee. ‘Anyway, it is the news you have longed for, isn’t it? You must be overjoyed.’
‘I am, but . . .’
Gustavo watched as Luiza signalled for the maid to leave.
‘Close the door behind you, if you please,’ she added.
‘What is it now, Mãe?’ Gustavo asked her with a weary sigh.
‘This morning, I prayed long and hard in the chapel, asking for guidance as to whether I should tell you what I know or not.’
