by Jan Andersen
But they were going to marry, weren’t they? She loved Rafael, so why this hesitation, this putting off of the actual engagement? It was something she could not explain even to herself. She only knew she had not really wanted to become engaged until the month was over.
The car came to pick her up the following day just before lunch. The chauffeur was a small cheerful Spaniard with an oddly lugubrious smile. He talked of Monserrat all the way home, of the miraculous cures he had heard of performed there, of the times he and his wife had visited the mountain, to give thanks after their marriage and after the birth of each child. But Jess was amused to learn that though he had visited the mountain so many times he had only once been further than the main square. To him it was the centre of his religious beliefs, nothing more. She stored away the information he had given her to be added to her general notes.
He dropped her outside a hair salon just off the Pasea de Gracia and told her he would be back in one hour and a half to take her for her next appointment. Jess felt that everything was being taken out of her hands, that she was some kind of sacrifice being dressed up for the kill.
She felt that even more so when she arrived at the dress salon. It was not like any shop she had been into where she could browse along the rails. Ana was there nodding coolly in greeting and then they were taken to the main room and seated on a hard, gold-painted sofa to watch the parade of models in a dozen different dresses.
Once or twice Jess felt the need to giggle. It was just like something from a film. She wished she could have confided this to the girl seated next to her, but quite obviously to Ana it was a formal occasion of great importance. Rafael must not be let down at all costs.
A model came in wearing a slender dress of white lace, quite stunning in its simplicity. Ana said immediately: ‘That is the one for you, Jess. Shall we ask if you can try it on?’
Jess knew she was quite right. Ana’s taste was impeccable. But she simply could not bear the thought of the other girl saying smugly to Rafael, ‘Yes, doesn’t she look charming? I chose the dress.’
So she said in a sweet but firm voice, ‘I like it too, but just not quite enough. I would prefer to see the rest first, and perhaps go back to one of the earlier ones.’ Ana’s eyes snapped fire, but she made no comment.
In the end Jess chose another white dress with the faintest of gold lines in it. It was lovely, but she knew the other would have been better. This one needed some slight alterations, but she was told it would be sent up to the house by eight o’clock. Jess did not dare ask the price. She guessed it was more than she spent on clothes in a year.
When the two girls came out into the spring sunshine Ana said, ‘I suppose you know what you are doing, but Rafael would have preferred the other dress. It was far better to show off his jewellery.’
Jess looked her straight in the eye. ‘I thought I was going as Rafael’s partner, not as a model for his jewellery.’ The other girl flushed.
‘We’ll call a taxi, shall we, so that you can go over to the shop.’
Jess knew she was being difficult, but she wanted a brief respite from the over-heated, over-expensive atmosphere of the last two buildings. ‘I believe it’s only five minutes away, isn’t it? If so I’d prefer to walk.’
Ana shrugged, but Jess could tell by the lift of her chin and the flash of those dark eyes that another black mark had been chalked up against her.
On the edge of the pavement Ana paused. ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘I apologize for interrupting you the other night. I thought you had never met the Englishman who lived on Monserrat.’
Very quietly Jess replied, ‘You talked about a mysterious Englishman. It didn’t occur to me to put Mr. Armstrong in that category. He was kind enough to point out to me some of the lesser-known parts of the mountain. And like me, he was glad of someone who talked English.’
‘You don’t have to explain your private dinners to me, you know.’ Now there was a definite edge to Ana’s voice. ‘And it seemed to me I had seen Mr. Armstrong somewhere before, quite recently.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Jess was not feeling as calm as she sounded.
‘Or perhaps it was just a photograph,’ Ana said carelessly, ‘it will come to me, no doubt. It is difficult to remain anonymous even in a country like this. I hope you will enjoy yourself this evening, and Rafael will like the dress.’ With a quick swirl of skirts she had called a passing taxi and was gone.
Well, thought Jess grimly, one doubt had been confirmed. Ana was really out to make trouble. But could she? Then with a small shock, Jess realized she was worrying about the trouble for Richard, not for herself.
That could never really be, for if Rafael really loved her, then he must trust her. Love and trust went hand in hand.
She waited at the corner of the broadly magnificent main avenue of Barcelona, the Paceo de Gracia, that ran down to the Plaza of Catalina, and then, when the traffic lights changed, crossed with the rest of the pedestrians. She realized it was the first time she had been out alone in Barcelona, the first time she had even crossed a road by herself. It was ridiculous when she remembered how alone and independent she was in London.
On the far side of the road she hesitated, then turned left towards the square. She was fairly certain Rafael’s shop must be somewhere along here.
Because there had been so many things to take in since she came to Spain, so many things that were full of surprise she had not thought very much about Rafael’s business. She knew it must be a very good one, but she had not tried to picture it. Jewellery was something she had never been able to afford, so she had been rarely tempted by window-gazing. Therefore when she reached the shop it literally stopped her in her tracks.
In a street of beautiful imposing shops and stores it was quite the most impressive. The whole of the facade was black with the pillars dividing the five or six windows fronted in gold mosaic. The windows themselves glittered with the fire of the diamonds, the emeralds, the rubies and the sapphires. It was like looking into a pirate cave five times over.
For a moment she stood mesmerized, thinking as she had done when she first entered Rafael’s penthouse: This surely can’t all belong to him.
While she stood there still trying to take it all in, the heavy glass door opened and Rafael was beside her.
‘I can see that you too think my shop is very beautiful, Jess. That is how it should be.’
She shook her head in wonderment. ‘I can’t really believe it. All these fantastic treasures, and they’re all yours?’
‘Oh, yes, of course. I am the best jeweller in Barcelona. I must have better pieces than my rivals. But this is only a little of my stock. It is a pity there is not time today to show you everything. But all we can do now is to take you to the strong-room for you to choose what you will wear tonight.’
The interior of the shop was as beautiful as the outside, rich blue green carpet, and softly lit walls on which were glass cases, with a few special pieces. Four small counters with their own chairs for customer and salesman were placed discreetly round the floor.
‘Come, Jess, come with me.’ So she followed him to a small room behind the main shop that was nothing more than a walk-in safe.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘let us be practical. What colour is your dress?’
‘White.’
‘And should it have a brooch or a necklace?’
‘A necklace, I suppose,’ she said reluctantly. She wanted to tell him that the only jewellery she ever wore was small stud earrings, but she could see that the matter of what she would wear was being taken out of her hands.
‘With your colouring it must be emeralds, so we have the very suite for you.’ From a velvet-lined drawer he withdrew a piece which she hardly saw until he had fastened it round her neck.
‘Now,’ he said in triumph, ‘you may turn and look in the mirror.’
She stared at herself, still unable to speak. The necklace was composed of a mass of emeralds and diamonds, each stone almost the size of h
er small fingernail, that formed itself into a knot of plain emeralds just above her breast bone.
‘Now,’ said Rafael, ‘for the earrings. Close your eyes.’
She did so obediently, because she was like a puppet in his hands. She felt the sudden slight weight on her ears as he tightened the fittings and then finally a ring being pushed on to her finger. It was as much as she could do to open her eyes and look.
The earrings matched the necklace in style, a long drop of diamonds ending in two single emeralds. All she could think of was that even royalty at home never wore jewellery like this.
It was only then that she looked at the ring, the biggest single emerald she had seen in her life surrounded by a cluster of diamonds. She stared at it for a long time before the panic began to rise in her.
Rafael was regarding her with the benignness of a conqueror who has found a new plaything and wanted to humour it. ‘You have not said anything, Jess. Tell me what you think of it, I designed the whole set myself.’
‘It’s ... it’s very lovely,’ she answered.
‘And the ring,’ he said eagerly, ‘particularly the ring, that is the one I hope you will choose as your engagement ring.’
She stared down at the ring again, thinking of having to face this almost monstrously obscene thing for the rest of her life. If it wasn’t so awful she would have wanted to laugh.
‘What would be the cost of ... of all these?’ She gestured vaguely at all she was wearing.
‘To sell?’ He shrugged. ‘I have not really worked it out. I suppose in English money perhaps six or seven hundred thousand pounds.’
She took a step back. ‘You must be joking, Rafael! You mean you want me to wear all this tonight?’
‘Of course. It is not the most expensive set I have, but it is certainly the most beautiful. But the ring, please tell me about the ring. I had you in mind when my workshop created it.’
Slowly she drew it off her finger. ‘It’s beautiful, Rafael, and I do appreciate it, really I do, but it’s not the ring for me.’
‘You mean you would prefer it in ruby or sapphire? I only chose emerald...’
‘No!’ She spoke louder than she intended. ‘It’s not that,’ she went on desperately, ‘I suppose it’s too big, too showy. I like simple things, I always have, and Rafael, you did say that you wouldn’t press me into an engagement until the end of my month, and then I can choose my own...’ Her voice tailed away as she saw the way his face closed up. Was it real hurt, or injured pride?
Before she lost the courage for everything, she rushed on, ‘And I honestly don’t think this necklace would be right for my dress tonight. I ... I saw something in one of the cases in the shop that I would really love to wear.’
‘Then we will have it brought.’ Now his voice was definitely cold.
With trembling hands she removed both necklace and earrings and returned them to their tray, then she went into the shop and pointed out the only thing that had caught her notice and that she would be happy wearing.
It was a very fine, plain gold necklace, with a rough, textured finish; no emeralds, no diamonds, no precious stones of any kind. With it were two plain stud earrings in a similar gold finish.
When they were brought to the strong-room Rafael looked down at them with contempt. ‘You cannot wear those. I will be the laughing stock of the banquet.’
Suddenly Jess found her voice and her courage. ‘Are you taking me tonight to show me off or your jewellery? I would have thought your window display was better for that.’
He looked at her with real anger. ‘I will not take you out wearing cheap stuff like that!’
Jess glanced down at the price ticket on the necklace. In English money it would have been about one hundred and fifty pounds. Cheap stuff!
‘Then,’ she returned quietly, ‘you either don’t take me at all, or I’ll wear no jewellery.’
They faced each other relentlessly, she by now quite cold and calm and determined not to give in, and Rafael breathing deeply, almost shaking with the anger he was forced to control because his staff were within hearing distance.
‘If you are to be my wife, then I shall expect you to be a credit to me.’
Her chin lifted. ‘If by that you mean dressing me up like a Christmas tree, then I wouldn’t want to be your wife on those terms. If you love me then you’ll try to understand the way I feel.’
‘And if you love me then you also will understand that this is my business, and up till now my whole life.’
She turned away from him, filled with sorrow. ‘Then if that’s the way it’s to be I certainly can’t come tonight. It would be under entirely false pretences, wouldn’t it?’ She turned to go and he grabbed her by the arm.
‘No, wait, Jess, we cannot quarrel like this, not over...’
‘A piece of jewellery?’ she finished wryly. ‘I certainly never expected our first quarrel to be over something like that!’
In the end they compromised and Jess found a very heavy expensive gold bracelet, but still plain, and a pair of emerald stud earrings, large enough to satisfy Rafael without being ostentatious—at least here in Spain.
After it was all over he led her outside and courteously helped her into the chauffeur-driven car that had miraculously appeared again. His lips on her cheek were cool. ‘I will see you later, Jess. I will be home at about eight o’clock.’
She reached the penthouse and collapsed into the nearest armchair, feeling suddenly drained. She would have done anything not to go out tonight. She thought longingly of Monserrat and the cool mountain air. Already its atmosphere had taken hold of her.
There was a light tap on the door and Maria appeared. ‘The senorita would like tea?’
‘Oh, yes, please.’ Tea sounded the most inviting thing in the world just then.
She found it was actually made in the English way, strong and refreshing, and she was pouring out a second cup when the door opened again. This time it was the autocratic figure of Senora Gomez. Jess got to her feet and took the outstretched hand. She remembered the dry papery feel of it.
‘And what do you think of our mountain, senorita?’
‘I love it,’ Jess said simply. ‘There is something new to learn about it every day.’ Keep on safe, impersonal ground, she told herself. ‘Will you have some tea? Maria has made enough for two.’
‘No, thank you, I never drink tea. It does untold harm to the digestive system.’ She walked across to the window where her ramrod back told Jess that there was to be no move to friendliness from this quarter.
She turned finally and glanced down at Jess’s hand.
‘My son told me you would be choosing an engagement ring today. It seems you have not done so.’
Well, at least Rafael had told her. Jess shook her head. ‘No, not today, there didn’t seem to be enough time.’
‘But my son had designed one specially for you. He showed it to me.’
And to Ana, no doubt. Everyone must approve before I do. Aloud she said, ‘It was a little too big for me,’ hoping that such an oblique answer might be misunderstood as not fitting the finger.
But the old lady brushed aside the subject of the ring.
‘I must tell you, as I have told my son, that I cannot approve of such a marriage. In Spain it is important that two people should be ideally matched, that their backgrounds be the same. In the days when we had arranged marriages there were no unsuccessful ones.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jess, ‘that you don’t approve, but I believe that it’s quite common for a ... prospective mother-in-law to think that the girl is not quite good enough. I just hope that later we will become friends, Senora Gomez.’
‘I presume you are marrying my son for his money. I understand you have none.’
Jess flinched, but determined more than ever to keep her head and her temper. ‘Money means little to me, senora. I have never had any and I didn’t even know Rafael was a rich man. To be in love is the only important thing in a marriage.
’
The other woman snorted. ‘I forget, of course, how vulgar the British are in their permissive society. Relationships outside the marriage are quite the thing, aren’t they?’
‘Not amongst my friends!’ Jess’s eyes were snapping now. ‘I presume you are referring to what Ana must have told you—that I was dining with a friend.’
‘As I said before, it is breeding that counts in a successful marriage. English standards are probably very different from our own.’ She glanced down at her tiny diamond-studded watch. ‘I see it is time for both of us to change. It is a very important occasion for my son tonight.’
Jess was startled. ‘You ... you are coming too?’
‘Of course. I cannot conceive of any reason why Rafael should not escort his own mother to such an important function. Surely in your country too, a mother goes anywhere of importance with her son. Until he is married she must come first.’ With that she swept out like a queen.
Jess escaped to her room, flung off her dress and lay back on the bed and lit a cigarette—something she only did when she was very agitated. Could she plead sickness, or a headache—anything to avoid this evening which she felt in her bones must be disastrous?
It was not disastrous, but she could not say she enjoyed herself. She shook dozens of hands and smiled until she decided her lips must be permanently fixed, but all the time she felt she was the prize exhibit at a cattle show. The meal was interminable, not starting until ten o’clock and still going strong well after midnight with the fifth, or was it the sixth course. Jess’s head was swimming and she felt exhausted from the long day full of emotional strain. Only once did Rafael turn to her and ask her if everything was all right. She nodded. What else was there to say except ‘please take me home’?
