‘So, I can see from your face that you knew about this.’

‘It was Maria Elisa’s idea,’ Bel said hastily. ‘She asked me because she thought it would be better if she had a female companion to accompany her while she is in Europe. You know that she only has two younger brothers and—’

‘As I told Senhor da Silva Costa and I will now tell you, Izabela, the idea is out of the question.’

‘But why, Pai? Surely you can see how a tour of Europe would improve my education?’

‘You need no more education, Izabela. I have spent thousands of reais on improving you and it has paid off. You have already netted a big fish. We both know that an offer of marriage from Senhor Gustavo is imminent. So tell me, why on earth would I agree at this crucial moment to send you far away across the sea to the Old World when you are about to be crowned queen of the New?’

‘Pai, please, I—’

‘Enough! I will hear no more about it. The matter is closed. I will see you at supper.’

With a sob, Bel turned away from him, ran through the kitchen at the back of the house, surprising the startled staff preparing the evening meal, and charged through the door which led outside. She raced across the garden and, not caring about her dress, began to scramble up the jungle-covered hillside, grabbing the plants and trees to aid her ascent.

Ten minutes later, satisfied she was now high enough for no one to hear her, she sank down onto the warm soil and howled like a wild animal. When her anger and frustration had finally subsided, Bel rolled over and brushed the soil from her muslin dress. She sat with her knees to her chin, her arms tightly folded around them. And as she looked out across Rio, the beautiful view began to calm her. She surveyed the scene below her, taking in the enclave of Cosme Velho. Then she turned to gaze above her at the soaring Corcovado Mountain, a grey cloud ringing its peak.

In the other direction, some distance away on a mountain-side, was a favela, a slum village where the penniless inhabitants had built shelters from whatever they could find. If she listened carefully, on the breeze she could hear the faint sounds of the surdo drums the slum-dwellers played night and day as they danced the samba, the music of the hills, to forget the misery of their lives. And the sight and sound of this desperate population brought her back to her senses.

I am nothing more than a spoilt, selfish rich girl, Bel berated herself. How can I behave like this when I have everything and they have nothing?

Bel lowered her head slowly onto her knees and asked for forgiveness. ‘Please, blessed Virgin, strip out my passionate heart, and replace it with one like Maria Elisa’s,’ she prayed fervently, ‘for mine does me no good at all. And I swear I will be grateful and obedient from now on and not fight against my father’s wishes.’