Every night, once the bedroom door was shut, he would pounce on her, tearing at her clothes to remove them – and on a couple of occasions, not even bothering to do that. She’d lain beneath him as he pounded against her sore, bruised inner flesh, just waiting for it to be over.

At least when it was, he’d fall asleep immediately, but sometimes she’d wake in the morning and feel him reach for her, and within seconds the weight of his body would again be on top of hers.

Last night, he’d tried to push himself into her unwilling mouth. She’d gagged as he did so, and he’d laughed, telling her she’d become used to it, that it was something all wives did for their husbands to give them pleasure and she mustn’t be ashamed.

Bel was desperate to ask someone for advice, someone who could tell her whether this really was normal and something she’d simply have to endure for the rest of her life. Where was the tenderness, the gentle loving her mother had talked of? she asked herself as she entered her newly refurbished marital bedroom at A Casa das Orquídeas. Currently, she thought, sitting down abruptly in a chair, she felt like a rag doll, pushed and pulled at her husband’s bidding.

At home, her father had a dressing room with a bed in it where he would often sleep. There was no such luxury here, she thought desperately as she walked into the newly added bathroom next door. Perhaps if she managed to conceive a child, surely he’d leave her alone then?

Bel tried to comfort herself that in daylight hours Gustavo could not be more loving towards her. He’d constantly reach for her hand, put an arm around her shoulder as they walked together, and tell anyone who would listen how happy he was. If only the nightly horror would cease, she felt she could at least cope with her new circumstances. But until that day came, she knew she would wake up each morning with dread in her heart.

‘You look pale, my dear,’ said Luiza over dinner that night. ‘Perhaps a child is already on the way?’ She looked proudly at Gustavo.

‘Maybe, Mãe. We will see,’ he said.

‘I was thinking that I might go and visit my mother in Cosme Velho tomorrow,’ Bel ventured into the silence. ‘I would like to see how she is.’

‘Of course, Izabela,’ agreed Gustavo. ‘I was thinking I would visit my club, so I can have the car drop you off and then come to collect you later.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, as they walked through to the drawing room to take coffee. As she conversed with Maurício, she saw her husband pouring himself a further large brandy.

‘Tomorrow morning, Izabela,’ interrupted Luiza, ‘I would like you to come and see me in the library and we will go over the household accounts. I’m sure there was no need for a budget at your parents’ home, but here at the Casa we don’t like waste.’