people, banging into tables and upsetting dishes. Twice she reached for plates of cakes or sweetmeats and threw them at Forsbrook. One sailed past him and struck one of the other young men, who was also shouting at her. A second one caught Forsbrook on the side of the face and left a gash along his cheekbone. At this, Forsbrook clearly lost the last remnants of his temper, letting out a bellow.
Angeles, terrified, ran straight toward the great window that overlooked the paved terrace two stories below.
Forsbrook was close behind her, his face contorted with emotion.
Angeles screamed, her words unintelligible, her body twisting one way then the other until, arms flailing, she crashed into the high, multi-paned window. It shattered, sending glass everywhere. One moment she was in front of it, all white silk and dark hair, the next there was only a jagged hole and wood splinters on the floor.
For a terrible second everyone was silent. Then there was a scream, a high, thin sound of utter despair. Isaura Castelbranco had appeared from nowhere with her husband, who was now staggering toward the remains of the window.
Forsbrook too was appalled. However, far from remaining still, he turned to those beside him, spinning round, as if to find someone to say it had not been his fault.
In the next room someone was shouting. Footsteps sounded, running.
Other people started to speak, to move aimlessly toward the window or away from it. There were shouts from outside on the terrace. Several women were gasping, and a few were weeping openly. The hostess went toward Isaura, and then stopped. Her face was deathly pale.
Castelbranco turned slowly from the window and faced the room. His grief was palpable in the air, washing outward to touch everyone.
Isaura took a step, then another, floundering as if she were wading through deep water. She called something to him in Portuguese.
Castelbranco replied abruptly, his voice hoarse. It was filled with anguish.
Charlotte remained rooted to the spot. The two were clearly racked with pain beyond bearing, and there was nothing any one of the horrified onlookers could do to help.
It was Vespasia who finally took action. She walked over to Isaura and took her arm.
“Come with me,” she said firmly. “There is nothing for you to do here.”
Isaura fought against her for only a moment; then, as if acknowledging some overwhelming defeat, she allowed herself to be led away.
No one went to Castelbranco. He stood stock-still, the cool wind blowing in through the remnants of the window ruffling his hair, chilling him until he shook with it. The sound of men’s voices drifted up from the terrace below, very quiet, edged with shock. It must be the host deciding what to do, whom to call, giving directions to the servants.
Charlotte was undecided. Would it be intrusive, even socially inappropriate, for her to go over to Castelbranco? It seemed inhuman simply to stand here staring at him, but even worse to look away.
Where on earth was Pitt? Surely word of what had happened would have reached everyone in the house? The noise of the window smashing, the cries …
Then she looked at the tall clock against the wall and realized it had been only minutes. In another room with the doors closed, away from the back of the house and the window, no one would have heard anything.
She should find Pitt immediately. She turned away from the crowd now huddled into little groups trying to gain comfort from one another, and walked toward the main doors. She was just outside on the gallery at the top of the stairs when she saw Pitt coming up the steps two at a time. He looked pale, his eyes shadowed with horror. He crossed the few yards between them and stood in front of her. One look at her face was enough to make any questions unnecessary.
“How did it happen?” he asked quietly, so as not to be overheard.
“Ugly teasing,” she answered. “A mixture of humor, at first, at least as far as the other boys were concerned. But then Neville was cruel. Even when it got out of hand, he didn’t stop.”
Her voice felt choked and thick in her throat. She was losing control. “It all happened so quickly.” She took a deep breath. “I should have done something!” She was to blame. She had stood there watching. She was furious with herself for her stupidity.
He put his hand on her arm, holding on to her surprisingly hard. “Charlotte, stop it. You