Her full lips hinted at the sensuality of her nature, and her breasts protested daily when they were restrained inside a stiffly wired corset. As Loen tugged each morning at the back fastenings, endeavouring to tame the outward signs of femininity, Bel often felt that the constricting garment was the perfect metaphor for her own circumstances. She was like a wild animal, full of fire and passion, trapped in a cage.

She watched a tiny gecko run like a streak of lightning from one corner of the ceiling to the other and mused that, at any moment, it could make its getaway through the open window, just as the sagui had done. Whereas she would spend another day trussed up like a chicken ready to be placed in the burning heat of Rio’s social oven, learning to ignore her God-given nature and instead become the society lady her father wished her to be.

And only next week, her father’s plans for her future were to reach their crescendo. She would be eighteen, and launched into Rio society with a spectacular party at the beautiful Copacabana Palace Hotel.

After that, Bel knew that she’d be forced into the best marriage her father could find her. And the last vestiges of the freedom she had left would be gone forever.

An hour later, a familiar tap-tapping at the door alerted her to the presence of Loen.

‘Good morning, Senhorita Bel. Is it not a beautiful one?’ her maid asked as she entered the room.

‘No,’ Bel answered bad-temperedly.

‘Come, you must get up and dress. You have a very busy day.’

‘Do I?’ Bel feigned ignorance, knowing full well what obligations her waking hours contained.

‘Now, minha pequena, don’t play games with me,’ Loen warned, reverting as she often did in private to the pet name she’d given Bel as a child. ‘You know as well as I do that you have your piano lesson at ten o’clock, then your French tutor arrives. And this afternoon, Madame Duchaine arrives for the last fitting of your ballgown.’

Bel closed her eyes and pretended not to hear.

Undeterred, Loen walked over to the bed and shook her shoulder gently. ‘What is wrong with you? In only a week’s time you will be eighteen and your father has organised you a wonderful party. Everyone in Rio will be there! Are you not excited?’

Bel did not respond.

‘What do you wish to wear today? The cream or the blue?’ persisted Loen.

‘I don’t care!’

Loen calmly went to the closet and drawers, then laid out her own choice of clothes on the end of Bel’s bed.

Reluctantly, Bel roused herself and sat up. ‘Forgive me, Loen. I’m sad because a sagui came in this morning and stole my hairbrush, a gift from my grandmother. I know Mãe will be angry with me for leaving my shutters open again.’

‘No!’ Loen was horrified. ‘Your beautiful mother-of-pearl hairbrush gone to the monkeys in the jungle. How many times have you been told to keep the shutters closed at night?’