Duarte's Child

From the instant she’d told her family that she was marrying Duarte, the humiliating suggestion that he might only be marrying her because she had fallen pregnant had been repeatedly raised. When her denials were received with cynical disbelief, it had done nothing for her self-image.

Duarte had even been too busy for a honeymoon and they had been married for a week before she discovered that she was not his first wife. Studying their marriage certificate with dreamy eyes, she’d finally noticed that he was described as a widower.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she had asked in astonished hurt.

‘It wasn’t relevant,’ Duarte had told her flatly.

Pressing for further details, she had naturally been shocked to learn of the car crash that had killed both Izabel and his twin, Elena. But she’d also noticed that that night, for the first time, Duarte didn’t make love to her. Early on, she had learnt that trying to talk about Izabel drove Duarte from her. That same evening, sadly, Jazz, the dog she had adored and whom she had credited with bringing her and Duarte together, had passed away in his sleep and that concluded their stay in England.

Duarte had brought her home to the quinta and that very first day, Victorine had invited Emily to her private sitting room where there were framed photographs showing her late daughter Izabel, glorious in her fabulous wedding gown, Izabel on her Caribbean honeymoon, Izabel entertaining royalty…Izabel…Izabel…Izabel. Emily had learnt right then that she was a second-best wife.

A knock on the bedroom door forced Emily from her introspection. Victorine was trying not to look at the lock which Duarte had broken the night before. Emily flushed for naturally the older woman would know that she and Duarte had had a row. The whole household would be buzzing with the sheer shock value of Duarte doing something that much out of character.

‘May we speak?’ Victorine asked stiffly.

Emily was dumbfounded to see tears glistening in the older woman’s shadowed eyes.

‘I’ve seen your son. He is a very beautiful baby…’ Victorine told her heavily. ‘I feel great guilt that I lied about what you said to me last night and I could not sleep. I told Duarte the truth at breakfast.’

That astonishing confession froze Emily to the spot. At the same time, however, she could not help thinking that if what Victorine was telling her was true, Duarte had certainly not hurtled upstairs to offer her an apology for misjudging her.

‘I am sorry for the way I have treated you,’ Victorine continued doggedly. ‘When I saw your son, who is the future of this family, I asked myself how much my unkindness might have contributed to your separation from Duarte last year—’

‘Never mind, it’s over…forgotten,’ Emily broke in awkwardly, finally recognising that Victorine had indeed faced the results of her resentment and had emerged much chastened from the experience.

In revealing discomfiture, Victorine looked away from the damaged door. ‘I’ve made trouble between you and Duarte but it won’t happen again. The maids are packing for me.’

As Victorine turned away, looking old and frail and forlorn in her unhappiness, Emily touched her thin arm in a sympathetic gesture. ‘You don’t need to leave for my benefit.’

‘Duarte said I must. He is very disappointed in me and very angry—’

‘He’ll get over that,’ Emily asserted as Victorine began to sob, her fragile self-control splintering at the prospect before her. ‘So you and I got off to a bad start but I just can’t imagine this place without you and where are you going to go anyway?’

‘Two years ago, Duarte said to me, “Emily is so sweet, so kind, you will love her”…and I hated you before I even met you!’ the older woman wept.

Emily took Victorine back to her own rooms, knowing how much she would dislike any of the staff seeing her in tears. She began to understand that it had been her own change in attitude the night before which had ultimately led to the present situation. Unable to bully Emily as she had once done, Victorine had lied to Duarte and had then been horrified by her own behaviour. It was odd how good could sometimes come out of bad, Emily was thinking as she went downstairs after calming the other woman down.

It seemed to be a day for surprises: Bliss was in the main hall speaking to the quinta housekeeper. Clad in a simple navy dress that was a marvellous foil for her blonde beauty, Bliss moved to greet her.

‘I had no idea you were here!’ Smiling, Emily asked the housekeeper to serve coffee.

‘Strictly in a business capacity, I’m afraid, so I can’t stay for long.’ Bliss sank down gracefully on a silk-upholstered sofa in the salon. ‘Duarte has a big party arranged for this weekend. I was just checking the final arrangements. I’ve been acting as your husband’s hostess since your departure.’