of the way to make room for Meccano and building bricks and a litter of childish books, such vandalism was something she couldn’t countenance until she had word from the Marques himself.
“But Senhor de Capuchos—I’m sorry, I mean Dom Vasco,” Caroline corrected herself, “said you would provide all that was necessary for the wellbeing of Richard. And a playroom is a necessity, especially on days when the weather isn’t very fine.”
“In this part of Portugal the weather is nearly always fine at this time of the year,” the housekeeper returned, her lips so thin that they practically disappeared into her head. “And it is much healthier for a child to play in the garden, or to be taken for walks, or trips to the beach. The sea is not very far away, and Joachim, the chauffeur, has instructions to drive you wherever you wish to go.”
“I know the garden is beautiful,” Caroline conceded, “and at the moment the weather is marvellous. ...We never have anything quite like it in England!” hoping to conciliate that cool glint in the other’s black boot-button eyes. “But it is important that a period of every day is set aside for lessons, if not for play, and that means we must have somewhere where we can be undisturbed and work. If Richard is to be sent to school very soon he has a lot of leeway to make up.”
Senhora Lopes looked entirely unconvinced.
“The arbours,” she suggested. “Why not work in one of the arbours? I will give instructions to Maria to have one prepared.”
Caroline gave up.
“When I see Senhor—Dom Vasco, I will mention it to him,” she said. “I don’t expect he will have to get in touch with the Marques before insisting upon a schoolroom. He seems to have a lot of authority.”
The Portuguese woman drew herself up.
“But naturally he has a lot of authority. Dom Vasco is a blood relation of the senhor Marques, and in addition he himself is a landowner. His wishes are always carried out without any hesitation at the Quinta de Fonteira.”
“Then perhaps you could tell me where he lives? And if he doesn’t come here in the next day or so Richard and I could drive over and discuss the matter with him.”
But Senhora Lopes could not approve of that.
“In Portugal unmarried ladies do not go calling on single gentlemen,” she said stiffly, as if it amazed her that she should have to make such a convention clear. “Not even on married gentlemen, unless their wives first pay the visit and issue the invitation! Dom Vasco has business of his own to attend to, I have no doubt, but he will be here in the course of the week, or perhaps next week. The senhorita must contain her impatience until he comes !”
Caroline shrugged, and went out into the garden, taking Richard with her. There seemed little point in continuing such a conversation with a woman as obstinate as Senhora Lopes.
The garden of the quinta was certainly a world of enchantment contained within high stone walls that were covered in climbing roses. Roses, in fact, were everywhere ... formal beds of them, arbours smothered in them, walks bordered by them. There were lemon trees, too, and orange trees, creating a film of green with bright globes of fruit caught up amongst them.
At one corner of the garden a flight of steps led up to a music-room that was also used as a kind of ballroom on occasion, and Caroline loved to wander here and admire the statuary and the one or two magnificent pictures on the walls, as well as a series of murals that had been painted in more recent times. There were long couches covered in beautiful tapestry, little tables and bronzes supported by pedestals in addition to a fine Bechstein piano and a baby grand piano. There was also a harp that stood against a wall, and a collection of native drums that fascinated Richard.
“Do you think I might play them?” he asked, when he first caught sight of them, and promptly pounced on a pair of drumsticks. But Caroline prevented him just
“But Senhor de Capuchos—I’m sorry, I mean Dom Vasco,” Caroline corrected herself, “said you would provide all that was necessary for the wellbeing of Richard. And a playroom is a necessity, especially on days when the weather isn’t very fine.”
“In this part of Portugal the weather is nearly always fine at this time of the year,” the housekeeper returned, her lips so thin that they practically disappeared into her head. “And it is much healthier for a child to play in the garden, or to be taken for walks, or trips to the beach. The sea is not very far away, and Joachim, the chauffeur, has instructions to drive you wherever you wish to go.”
“I know the garden is beautiful,” Caroline conceded, “and at the moment the weather is marvellous. ...We never have anything quite like it in England!” hoping to conciliate that cool glint in the other’s black boot-button eyes. “But it is important that a period of every day is set aside for lessons, if not for play, and that means we must have somewhere where we can be undisturbed and work. If Richard is to be sent to school very soon he has a lot of leeway to make up.”
Senhora Lopes looked entirely unconvinced.
“The arbours,” she suggested. “Why not work in one of the arbours? I will give instructions to Maria to have one prepared.”
Caroline gave up.
“When I see Senhor—Dom Vasco, I will mention it to him,” she said. “I don’t expect he will have to get in touch with the Marques before insisting upon a schoolroom. He seems to have a lot of authority.”
The Portuguese woman drew herself up.
“But naturally he has a lot of authority. Dom Vasco is a blood relation of the senhor Marques, and in addition he himself is a landowner. His wishes are always carried out without any hesitation at the Quinta de Fonteira.”
“Then perhaps you could tell me where he lives? And if he doesn’t come here in the next day or so Richard and I could drive over and discuss the matter with him.”
But Senhora Lopes could not approve of that.
“In Portugal unmarried ladies do not go calling on single gentlemen,” she said stiffly, as if it amazed her that she should have to make such a convention clear. “Not even on married gentlemen, unless their wives first pay the visit and issue the invitation! Dom Vasco has business of his own to attend to, I have no doubt, but he will be here in the course of the week, or perhaps next week. The senhorita must contain her impatience until he comes !”
Caroline shrugged, and went out into the garden, taking Richard with her. There seemed little point in continuing such a conversation with a woman as obstinate as Senhora Lopes.
The garden of the quinta was certainly a world of enchantment contained within high stone walls that were covered in climbing roses. Roses, in fact, were everywhere ... formal beds of them, arbours smothered in them, walks bordered by them. There were lemon trees, too, and orange trees, creating a film of green with bright globes of fruit caught up amongst them.
At one corner of the garden a flight of steps led up to a music-room that was also used as a kind of ballroom on occasion, and Caroline loved to wander here and admire the statuary and the one or two magnificent pictures on the walls, as well as a series of murals that had been painted in more recent times. There were long couches covered in beautiful tapestry, little tables and bronzes supported by pedestals in addition to a fine Bechstein piano and a baby grand piano. There was also a harp that stood against a wall, and a collection of native drums that fascinated Richard.
“Do you think I might play them?” he asked, when he first caught sight of them, and promptly pounced on a pair of drumsticks. But Caroline prevented him just
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