My heart contracted at the thought of it. Even though Floriano had shown me the birth and death dates from the register, I hadn’t taken them in at the time. ‘After all that turmoil and tragedy, to die so young,’ I said, a catch in my voice.

‘Yes. But . . . forgive me, Lord, for saying so’ – Yara crossed herself – ‘the only blessing was that the fever also took Senhora Luiza a few days later. They were interred together in the family mausoleum at a joint funeral.’

‘My God, poor Bel, destined to lie next to that woman for all eternity,’ I murmured.

‘And it left her little girl without a mother, living in a household of men,’ Yara continued. ‘From what I have said, you can understand how distraught her father was after the death of his wife. He still loved her, you see, despite everything. And as you might imagine from what I’ve told you, Senhor Gustavo took comfort in the bottle and sank deeper and deeper into himself. Senhor Maurício did his best with his granddaughter – he was always a kind man, especially after his own wife died – and at least he organised a tutor to come in to give Senhora Beatriz lessons, which was more than her father could manage.’

‘Were you living here in the Casa at the time?’ I asked.

‘Yes. When my mother told Senhora Izabela that she too was pregnant and requested a transfer to the fazenda to be with my father, Izabela could not bear to let her go. So instead she arranged for Bruno, my father, to come here and work as a handyman and driver for the family, as Jorge was close to retirement. This was my childhood home too,’ Yara mused. ‘And I think that it holds much happier memories for me than it does for my mistress.’

‘I’m surprised that Gustavo agreed to Izabela’s request that Loen stay here. After all, she was the only other person who knew the truth,’ I queried.

‘Perhaps he felt he had to agree.’ Yara’s eyes were knowing. ‘With the secret they shared, each held power over the other, whether or not they were master and servant.’

‘So you grew up with Beatriz?’

‘Yes, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she grew up with us. She spent more time in our little house – which Senhora Izabela insisted be built for my parents and me at the bottom of the garden here – than she did in the Casa. And my family became the closest thing she had to one of her own. She was such a sweet little girl, affectionate and loving. But so lonely,’ Yara added sadly. ‘Her father was too drunk to know whether she was there at all. Or maybe he ignored her because she was a constant reminder of the doubts he always harboured in his mind about his dead wife. It was something of a blessing that he died when Senhora Beatriz was seventeen. She inherited the house and the family stocks and shares. Up until then, Senhor Gustavo had refused to let her pursue her passion for art, but when he passed on, there was nothing to stop her,’ Yara explained.