‘Perhaps. But it isn’t me you have to convince; it’s your fiancé, who may not wish you to disappear from his sight again.’

‘I will talk to Gustavo,’ Bel agreed.

‘Of course,’ Gustavo nodded, as Bel explained her plan the following afternoon. ‘I’m in favour of anything that will hasten our walk to the altar. And,’ he added quickly, ‘it will be the best thing for your mother’s health. However, before you go, we must make a few decisions.’

Bel told a delighted Carla that they were to leave for the fazenda the following week. She wasn’t the only member of the Bonifacio household who was happy at the thought. Loen’s face lit up when Bel asked her to accompany mother and daughter up to the mountains. Even though her presence wasn’t technically necessary, as Fabiana and Sandro who ran the fazenda were capable of caring for their needs, Bel knew it would give her a chance to spend time with her young man.

‘Oh, Senhorita Bel,’ Loen had said, her eyes glowing with pleasure. ‘I cannot believe I will see him again! Because he can’t read or write, we haven’t spoken since we last saw each other. Obrigada! Obrigadaí!’

Giving her mistress a spontaneous hug, Loen had virtually skipped from the room. And Bel decided that even if she herself could never be reunited with the one she loved, she’d live vicariously through Loen’s joy.

The following day, Bel duly went to meet with both Gustavo and his mother to discuss the wedding plans.

‘It is most unfortunate that your mother’s illness means she is unable to contribute to the organisation at this crucial time,’ said Luiza Aires Cabral. ‘But we must do as much as we can to plan the event in the meantime.’

Bel had an urge to reach out and slap Luiza’s arrogant face, but she managed to restrain herself. ‘I’m sure she will be better very soon, especially with a dose of fresh mountain air,’ she answered.

‘Well, if we can at least set the date, Rio will not feel as though there is further procrastination, given that you have already spent so long abroad. Now . . .’ Luiza put on her glasses and studied her diary. ‘The archbishop has already informed me of the dates he has available. As you can imagine, his schedule is booked up months in advance. Gustavo has told me that you wish the marriage to take place towards the end of January. On a Friday, of course. Weekend weddings are so vulgar.’

‘Whatever you think best,’ Bel agreed demurely.

‘As for the reception afterwards, your father has a notion that we should hold the wedding breakfast at the Copacabana Palace Hotel. Personally, I find it’s rather a common crowd that rate it and would have favoured a smaller, more select event here at the house, following in the family tradition. But as your father has decided to renovate what I think are already adequate facilities here, that is not possible. The house is crawling with tradesmen and I can’t run the risk of them not being finished by January. So we must select another venue.’