49
A lover’s voice
“When a lover’s tender voice
Fills the heart
And will not fade
Then a maid must make her choice
None stall stop me
My plans are laid”
- The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini
Before Nicolette could answer, the waiters approached to remove the soup bowls. She didn’t wish to reply in front of the staff, or anyone for that matter—everything she and Alejandro said would be expanded upon, misconstrued, enhanced, and repeated. So she waited.
Nicolette had known famous people, but being a close associate of someone of Alejandro’s stature put all other relationships to the pale. Every word, every gesture was watched and magnified, the slightest remark or movement either applauded or repudiated. The most insignificant act—what color feather she wore in her hat, for instance—was treated as if it were momentous and world-changing. One was under constant surveillance, awaiting the condemnation or approval of the public. It was worse than the stage.
Far worse.
How did Alejandro handle the scrutiny with such dignity? She would hate it. She wished to be true to her nature, her thoughts, and her feelings, and to let her creativity flow freely. She had chosen the right career. Despite her personal difficulties, often someone in her profession was applauded for being an original.
The waiters served the next course, a salad with marinated artichokes, every variety of olives, cheeses, tomatoes, red onions, and cucumber, along with tortas de aceite, a sweet olive oil pastry, and mayonnaise of lobster. Nicolette put one of the olives in her mouth and sighed from the burst of flavor.
Queen Léonie took the opportunity to speak to Alejandro. Not wishing to interfere, and seeing that Lady Elaina was deep in conversation, Nicolette searched her surroundings, concluding that the Gala Dining Room was one of the more elegant rooms in the palace.
It was certainly impressive. Countless chandeliers, arches, and candle wall sconces. Fancy wooden inlay flooring and heavy brocaded red curtains.
In the process of looking about the room, her eyes alighted on Rafael.
“Matadors have the status of gods in Spain. Generally far more loved even than royalty by the Spanish people,” Lady Elaina whispered in her granddaughter’s ear. Lady Elaina had the singular ability to carry on multiple conversations and still know everything that was going on around her.
“Rafael is, in fact, dashing and charming with a wonderful sense of humor in addition to his masculine good looks. I have no doubt that women go wild for him.”
“It appears the feeling may be mutual in your case,” Lady Elaina remarked with a nod of her chin and a sly smile, motioning her eyes to Rafael attempting to catch a glimpse of the opera singer around the centerpiece.
“He is not my type.”
“Is anyone?” Lady Elaina asked demurely.
“Alas, I am always attracted to the unattainable.”
“You might be surprised.”
It wasn’t like her grandmother to miss the obvious: Alejandro was delightful, charming—and far from enamored. Certainly he caressed her with his words, but it was all in an effort to endear himself to her. It was a smooth and contrived effort. He had none of the desperation of a man in love.
Why can’t I turn off my ability to attract in one direction and increase it in another? Though another woman might have reveled in receiving the attention of both of these men, the king of Spain and the nation's leading matador, Nicolette hated every moment she was not conversing with Alejandro.
All the while realizing it was in vain.
Nicolette shook her head in disgust. She had long known how to fuel a man's jealousy, and now she was reduced to a stupid schoolgirl in Alejandro's presence.
“What is wrong, my dear girl?” Lady Elaina patted her hand.
“I do not know, Grandmamma!” she whispered in the quietest tones she could manage. “Even as a child, I was never child-ish in my deportment and yet I cannot seem to take my eyes off Alejandro.”
“You are certainly not alone in that, my love.” Lady Elaina chuckled as she exercised her ventriloquist skills, smiling at those around her simultaneously in a practiced manner.
“It is pointless. And stupid. Nothing can come of it.”
“The heart is not so logical, is it?”
“The Queen does not appear to like me, does she?”
“Perhaps she understands more than you think.”
Even as Rafael attempted to gain her attention, Nicolette stole yet another glance at Alejandro.
This is absurd. She certainly didn’t wish to be in love with a man who was not in love with her.
I know better than this. This is madness. My profession means the world to me. Nor did she wish to be in love with a monarch.
No matter: marriage is out of the question. And I will be no man's paramour…
Or would I? Stealing a glance at Alejandro, she began to feel that life without Alejandro would be devoid of color.
A child's single musical piece instead of a symphony.
Life is meant to be a masterpiece.
Nicolette gasped. The feeling surprised her. Have I lost all sense of reality?
“What is wrong my dear?”
“Oh nothing, merely a sudden realization, enlightenment, the purpose of life revealed…”
“Very well, as long as it’s nothing important.”
Returning her glance, Alejandro seemed perplexed by her expression, which Nicolette had no doubt was a perfect depiction of Lucia di Lammermoor in her final descent into madness.
Dinner continued with poblano peppers stuffed with cheese and potatoes and meat strips sizzling with mushrooms, onions, and green peppers.
Nicolette kept her eyes averted from Alejandro. Suddenly she was at a loss for conversation.
“Senorita Nicolette,” Alejandro confided to her in low tones, leaning towards her. “The production of the entire troupe shall be tomorrow night.”
“I am quite aware of that as I shall be performing. A private showing for the royal family and invited guests.”
“Are you disappointed not to be singing tonight? I confess I thought only of myself. I did not wish to be separated from you when I am finally seeing you again.”
“I can remember when hearing me sing was of a singular importance to you.” Nicolette feigned hauteur.
“It was and it is,” replied Alejandro. “But your music is now forever entwined with my heart.”
Stop! When would he stop torturing her with words he had no intention of fulfilling? She wondering how the dinner party would react if she slapped the king of Spain.
Would I live? Or would Esteban kill me on the spot?
Again Alejandro stared at her, startled by her expression.
His royal highness will soon learn it is best not to upset Lucia.
“Your majesty,” she smiled sweetly, “I only wish you might offer some proof of your affections instead of rattling them off surrounded by one hundred and twenty-seven guests.”
Oops. One hundred and twenty-six guests and one madwoman.
“I…of course…what do you wish, Lady Nicolette?” Alejandro appeared most startled.
She suddenly felt like the witch the queen thought she was. And yet, Nicolette knew her feelings were justified. How easy it was to say such things—playing with the emotions and affections of a decent woman—when one had to deliver absolutely nothing. In fact, had already assured her he would not. It was akin to exchanging love letters for the entirely of one’s life, never living together, never being together, never…touching.
Unbeknownst to anyone, Queen Léonie motioned for the centerpiece between them to be removed.
This is an unusual development. Apparently their private conversation was at an end.
Alejandro frowned.
“Lady Nicolette,” the Queen Mother interjected as she cleared her throat somewhat more loudly than she needed to, apparent
ly wishing to put an end to private tête-à-têtes involving her son. “And how do you find life on the stage after your proper upbringing?”
Oh, good. Now the mother joined her son in torturing the guests. Let us put the stage actress in her place.
Nicolette was a bit taken aback and observed at once Alejandro's discomfort. That was some consolation.
Better that she should not be the only one.
“I assure you, your majesty, my upbringing, though strict, was anything but proper,” Nicolette replied with a bright smile. Without exception, Nicolette believed her greatest chance of success lay in facing the negative inference straight on.
The corners of Alejandro's mouth tightened. Nicolette couldn't tell if he was amused or if he disapproved of her candor.
It honestly is not my concern. She reached for a sip of water.
“If your upbringing was improper,” remarked the Queen Léonie Helene with raised eyebrows, “I don’t see how you could characterize it as strict.”
“Being the daughter of traveling diplomats, Lady Nicolette was exposed to every manner of person and experience,” Lady Elaina interjected. “Which I feel has given her a broader view, so important in a changing world, don't you think, your majesty?”
A point for Grandmamma. Nicolette was never so grateful for her grandmother's company. Lady Elaina rarely withdrew from a challenge and generally showed to advantage.
Nicolette bowed her head. “Precisely. In my family a restricted upbringing is considered lacking in education.”
Princess Bianca, not yet twenty, looked at Nicolette with no small amount of envy. “So have you travelled so very much, Lady Nicolette?”
“Oh, yes. I have been to dozens of countries. My particular favorite is observing the local dances and songs—or the poetry of the people, if you will.”
“I suppose what you consider an education we consider scandalous.” The Queen Mother raised her chin.
There was a general gasp at that section of the table, as Lady Nicolette had clearly been insulted. Princess Isabella covered her mouth with her hand.
So you wish to pick up the gauntlet, your majesty? I wouldn’t advise it.
“I don’t’ understand why what broadens the mind for a boy should be considered disgraceful for a girl,” Lady Elaina noted politely.
I tried to warn you.
“Did you not send your son away to school?” Lady Elaina asked. “King Alejandro would not be ready to rule had he not been exposed to the world.” Her speech was polite, but there was fire in her eyes. She would not tolerate an insult to her granddaughter which her manner conveyed. She cleared her throat. “We are very forward thinking people, you see.”
Queen Léonie Helene smiled with pursed lips but did not reply.
Nicolette mentally placed a stroke on the chalkboard. Grandmamma, one. Queen Mother, zero.
“Certainly we need more forward-thinking people in the world we live in,” King Alejandro said, his eyes dark with indignation.
Thankfully the main course was served at this point, a saffron rice dish with white fish, shrimp, squid, and clams. The meat was succulent and tender, almost melting in her mouth. “What is this delicious dish?”
“Paella. From Valencia,” Doña Moctezuma said. “We like to highlight the various regions of our country at the state dinners.”
“And may I ask, your highness, what festivities are planned for the coronation week?” posed Lady Elaina as she dipped her fork into the paella, steam rising in the air above it.
“There is a bullfight on Thursday,” noted Alejandro, nodding to Rafael Ortega. Now that the centerpiece was removed, it broadened the number of people who could speak to each other, for good or ill.
“A bullfight?” questioned Nicolette, taking a sip of red wine. “I don't comprehend the relationship between a bullfight and the coronation of Spain's king?”
There was a general murmur of surprise among the King's entourage. “All major events in Spain are celebrated with a bullfight, Lady Nicolette,” Prince Francisco said politely.
Rafael smiled at Nicolette. “which signals the commencement of ceremonies and festivals.”
“In the case of an event as important as a coronation of our king, there will certainly be a bullfight,” Duque Almodóvar del Valle said matter-of-factly.
Rafael bowed his head to Alejandro.
Nicolette wrinkled her brows involuntarily, but said nothing.
“Will you be singing prior to the bullfight as part of the opening ceremonies, Senorita?” Rafael turned his attentions to Nicolette once again.
“I hadn't…I wasn't aware…” Nicolette shook her head, embarrassed. It was not like her to lose speech, but she was seated with the royal family of Spain, most of her remarks were being met with raised eyebrows, and her natural confidence was consequently being worn down at an amazing pace.
She did not wish to give insult at the same time she grew weary of lofty verbiage and empty promises without content or genuine feeling.
It is all a masquerade! Nicolette had no real evidence of any genuine feeling here—only facade. And the idea of a bullfight was both consistent with meaningless bravado and repugnant to her. Just more pontificating and showmanship.
Be a man or don't be a man, but to enjoy the suffering of another living creature was incomprehensible to her. She studied the handsome matador across the table from her, so civilized, charming, and elegant.
And actually irresistibly nice.
Why is everything upside down here and nothing what it seems to be? Nicolette tried to feel her usual amusement and had difficulty embracing it.
Alejandro matters too much to me. When did I allow this to happen?
“We can discuss the ceremonial repertoire at a later time,” Alejandro stated, coming to her rescue.
“I can see from your expression that you do not approve of our customs, Lady Nicolette,” remarked Rafael with a dazzling smile.
“But for the grace of God, Senor Ortega, you might be the bull and the situations reversed,” said Nicolette.
“Senorita Nicolette,” Rafael laughed, “to experience another country you must leave your own at the door. You cannot condemn another culture from the perspective of your own. For the bull, who was born and bred for the fight, the bullring is a more noble end than the butcher's block. And the bull's odds are better: the bull can win. Several matadors are gored each season.”
“Just as the matador lives for the duel, so does the bull,” Alejandro added.
Possibly the bull likes to be stabbed, and that is the reason that he cries as he dies. Being raised with a diplomat, she was familiar with the idea that words could make anything acceptable. But she was certainly not going to change the mind of anyone here, and she did not wish to cause Alejandro any embarrassment. He had successfully saved her image in Paris, rescuing her when she was almost a lost cause.
“You have not seen a show until you have seen Rafael fight in the bullring, Lady Nicolette.” Duke Moctezuma leaned around his wife to the head of the table.
Alejandro studied her but she was unable to read his opinion of her. There was nothing new in that.
“I am certain it is not as you might picture,” Prince Francisco said, smiling.
The Queen Mother chuckled, a rare occurrence.
“Why do you laugh, your majesties?” Lady Elaina asked. “It seems there is a great secret here.”
Queen Léonie pursed her lip, indicating she did not intend to answer.
“Rafael has perfected the unique fighting technique of espantada,” Doña Moctezuma interjected, apparently not afraid to speak for the queen. Nicolette loved her more every second.
“Espantada?” The translation ran through Nicolette’s mind. “Sudden flight? I don't understand.”
“Very good.” Alejandro smiled warmly and she felt her heart flutter. “Yes, when the bull enters the ring, Rafael flees. That is his method.”
“Don't you see, Senorita?” Rafael burst into laught
er. “If you give it a name it becomes a method.”
“Rafael sometimes fights with a chair. He is considered the most amusing of Spain's bullfighters.” Princess Bianca’s eyes danced, but she forcefully reduced her smile when her mother frowned at her. Princess Bianca de Bonifácio was perhaps too enthralled with the bullfighter for her royal blood?
“One time Rafael spared the bull because he claimed the bull winked at him.” continued Alejandro. “The audience roared with laughter.”
"So the bull lived?” Nicolette beamed at the bullfighter who had shown compassion.
"Sadly not.” Rafael shook his head. "My brother was concerned about the family honor and hopped into the ring and killed the bull.”
Nicolette studied Rafael with new eyes as his unique stance amidst this culture's definition of masculinity became starkly clear. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite her best efforts to remain aloof.
“Senorita Nicolette, let me escort you tomorrow to the tienta, a testing of the young bulls being mated for the bullring.” Rafael smiled, and he was indeed dashing. “Several of Spain's matadors will be present and you will find it very informative and enjoyable.”
“Oh, no. Thank you, but I could never…I could not bear to see an animal killed for sport.”
“The young bulls are never killed, Senorita. They are two years old rather than the four year-old bulls who fight in the ring.”
The Queen Mother finally displayed a genuine smile of happiness it seemed to Nicolette. “Rafael bestows a great honor upon you Lady Nicolette. You will be the envy of all of Spain's senoritas.”
50
Coquette
“She’s a coquette
Who flirts with everybody
Some dandy of a viscount
makes eyes at her
She lifts her skirts
and shows her ankle
in a most provocative
The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren Page 36
