‘I thank you, Your Excellency. Certainly the dress will be ready on Wednesday afternoon.’
‘I’m quite sure of it,’ he replied.
The woman ushered them to the door with all ceremony and then bade them an almost reverent farewell. With that they left the premises.
Elena stared at her companion, torn between incredulity and amusement. ‘That was outrageous.’
His expression was unrepentant. ‘It was intended to be.’
‘I’d like to ask how much was in that purse but I’m afraid you wouldn’t tell me.’
‘I’m afraid you’d be right.’
‘It is kind of you to do this. I appreciate it.’
‘Did you think I would let you go to the ball in rags, Cinderella?’
She laughed. ‘Perhaps not. All the same it was a generous gesture.’
‘Should not a husband buy his wife a gown?’
‘It’s a new thought for me. Up to now I’ve had to purchase my own.’
‘Do you think you might grow accustomed to the idea?’
‘I really believe I might.’
* * *
As there was no word from Garrido they spent the next two days exploring the city. Harry was an entertaining companion and Elena enjoyed his company. Indeed when she was with him it was hard to be aware of anyone else. He put himself completely at her disposal, a novelty for one who had until lately been so self-reliant. He was also quietly attentive to her every need. It was the first time in her adult life that a man had ever made her feel as if she mattered, and she found it an oddly agreeable sensation. In many ways it was a deferred courtship. He encouraged her to talk and listened carefully to what was said but was never censorious. It was surprisingly easy to confide in him. He made no demands or any attempt to initiate intimacy and when he did touch her, to offer his arm or to point something out for her attention or to put a hand in the small of her back and guide her gently through a doorway, it seemed natural and right. His nearness was exciting but never threatening and she relaxed and enjoyed being with him. The thought of the forthcoming ball filled her with pleasant anticipation since it would be the first time they had attended such a function together.
They had returned from a walk along the banks of the Guadalquivir when a message arrived for Harry. He opened it hurriedly and scanned the contents.
‘It’s from Garrido. He asks me to call upon him. Would you mind if I left you for a while?’
‘Not at all. Of course you must go.’
‘I shan’t be too long.’
‘I’ll still be here,’ she replied. ‘And, Harry...good luck.’
‘Thank you. I’m rather hoping for some luck myself.’
* * *
When he arrived at Garrido’s house he was admitted at once. His host rose to meet him with a smile.
‘You are prompt, my lord.’
‘It is a matter of considerable importance. I can do no other.’
Garrido bade him be seated and then poured two glasses of amontillado. He handed one to his guest and sat down in the chair opposite.
‘Since last we spoke I have made enquiries among my acquaintance in the service,’ he said. ‘From them I have news of Xavier Sanchez.’
Harry drew a deep breath, dreading to ask the question but knowing he must. ‘Is he still alive?’
‘Oh, yes, very much so.’ Garrido smiled. ‘Alive and currently living in Cádiz.’
Harry’s heart beat a little faster now. ‘Do you have his direction?’
His host reached into his coat pocket and took out a folded sheet of paper. ‘It is written here.’
Harry took it and glanced at the contents, struggling to repress emotion. The last piece of the puzzle was in his hand. All he had to do now was make use of the information and he would get the proof he sought. He would actually speak to the man who was with Jamie at the end. For a moment it was hard to speak.
‘I cannot thank you enough for your help in this matter, not only on my account but on behalf of my family too.’
‘I am very glad that I was able to help.’
‘Is Sanchez also retired from the service now?’
Garrido smiled faintly. ‘No, but then he is much younger than I.’
‘Is Cádiz his home town?’
‘Again, no. He comes from Valladolid, I believe.’
‘Then he is in Cádiz on business,’ said Harry.
‘I imagine so.’
‘I hope I shall not miss him.’
‘My understanding is that he’ll be there awhile yet.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ Harry’s mind was already moving ahead. ‘Besides, it is not so far to Cádiz.’
‘Will you leave at once?’
‘No. My wife and I have a social obligation to attend to first.’
Garrido looked genuinely surprised. ‘Your wife is with you as well?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It is a long and hard journey from Madrid. Most women would hesitate to undertake it.’
‘She is not like most women,’ said Harry.
‘Indeed not. She must be remarkable.’
‘Yes, she is.’ As he said it Harry recognised the words for truth. ‘All the same she is glad to have a few days’ break in town.’
‘I can imagine.’ Garrido smiled. ‘Pray convey my respects to the lady.’
‘I’ll do that.’
Harry rose from his chair and the two men shook hands warmly.
‘If ever you return to Sevilla I hope you will call upon me,’ said Garrido.
‘I’ll make a point of it, señor.’
With that Harry took his leave. He barely noticed the journey back; his mind was elsewhere. He wanted to tell Elena his news. Even though he’d been gone barely an hour he realised he’d missed her. Already she had become so much a part of everyday life that it was hard to recall a time when she hadn’t been there. Now that he thought about it the years since Belén had been a void that he’d tried to fill with work and the dreary social round. Somehow, without his being aware of it, the void was gone and with it all sense of dreariness. There hadn’t been a dull day since first he met Elena.
She was waiting for him in the private parlour and rose eagerly to meet him, her expression both anxious and hopeful at once.
‘Well?’
He handed her the sheet of paper that Garrido had given him earlier. She took it and scanned the contents, then gave him a quizzical look. Harry grinned.
‘It’s Xavier Sanchez’s direction.’
For a moment she stared at him; then her face lit in a dazzling smile. ‘Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful.’ Impulsively she crossed the intervening space and hugged him. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’
He lifted her off the floor and swung her round. ‘Isn’t it marvellous? I never hoped for so much.’
‘Cádiz is not that far.’
‘You’re right.’ He gave her a resounding kiss and set her down. ‘It is not above eighty miles. With luck we can be there in a week.’
Feeling a little breathless now and keenly aware of the hands still spanning her waist, she tried to concentrate.
‘Do you want to leave straight away? I mean, we can forgo the ball if you’d rather. I’m sure the conde would understand.’
‘By no means. This news should be celebrated.’
‘I think it should.’
He looked into her face and his expression became more intense. Then, slowly, he bent closer and his mouth met hers in a gentler and altogether more intimate embrace. Elena leaned towards him, sliding her arms round his neck. His hold tightened and he drew her against him, seeking her response. Instinctively her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue flirting lightly with his.
A familiar heat flared in his groin. It shocked him to realise just how badly he wanted her; wanted to undress her, take her to bed and make love to her all afternoon. Imagination only increased desire and heightened arousal.
With a real effort of will he drew back knowin
g he couldn’t afford to take this any further; that to do so would undo everything he had achieved over the past few weeks. Elena wasn’t ready for a display of unbridled passion. She needed tenderness and patience. Besides, he had no right to make her his when he hadn’t yet told her the whole truth. He felt ashamed of his reticence now. She was beginning to trust him without having any idea of what she was really doing. Once again the knowledge of her vulnerability only enhanced his guilt. There was only one right course of action now.
Elena felt him draw away mentally as well as physically, but her dominant emotion was disappointment rather than relief. His kiss filled her with new and wonderful sensations and she had not wanted him to stop. On the contrary her imagination had supplied a series of images that were decidedly titillating. However, it seemed that Harry wasn’t yet prepared to take things to a different level. He had denied feeling disgust about her past, and part of him did desire her, she was sure of that, but he couldn’t bring himself to go beyond the occasional kiss. What astonished her most of all was that she did want him to, that she wanted to trust him.
‘Elena, there’s something I need to tell you.’
His voice drew her out of her reverie. ‘Oh?’
Her bright, expectant gaze made him feel worse. Most of all he dreaded the altered expression in her eyes that he knew must follow this conversation.
‘You might want to sit down.’
Somewhat bemused now she settled herself in a chair nearby. ‘Harry, what is it? Something you learned from Señor Garrido?’
‘No.’ He only wished it were that simple. ‘It’s nothing to do with that.’
‘What, then?’
Before he could reply there was a knock at the door. Mentally stifling a curse he bade the caller enter. It was the patrón and he was bearing a bouquet of hothouse flowers.
‘These were delivered a few minutes ago,’ he explained.
‘By whom?’ demanded Harry.
‘A servant brought them, señor. He said to tell you that they come with the compliments of the Conde and Condesa de Villanueva.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Sí, señor.’ The patrón beamed. ‘Where do you wish me to put them?’
Harry bit back the response that came first to mind. ‘On the table.’
When the man had complied Harry dismissed him. Elena rose and went to examine the flowers.
‘They’re beautiful. What a very kind attention.’
‘Yes, isn’t it?’
Something in his voice jarred a little. ‘Harry? Is something the matter?’
He summoned a smile. ‘Of course not. And you’re right. It is kind.’
Elena relaxed again. ‘Do you know, I can’t recall the last time I saw flowers like these. Is not the scent delicious?’
‘It certainly is.’
He moved closer and surveyed the bouquet, privately wondering if the condesa even knew of its existence. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the handsome face of his erstwhile colleague and the way in which he had looked at Elena before. The image caused an unexpected and unwonted emotion. That the man should take the further liberty of expressing his admiration in this way was breathtaking arrogance. He took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. Then he felt ashamed of his response. It didn’t matter. Why on earth was he overreacting to something so trivial? Let Elena enjoy the flowers.
She looked up. ‘What was it you were going to tell me, before we were interrupted?’
‘Nothing that won’t keep,’ he replied.
As soon as he’d said it he wished he hadn’t. He needed to tell her the truth. Yet the moment had been lost and he felt rattled besides.
Elena regarded him quizzically. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Indeed.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps we should ask Concha to find a container for those flowers. Otherwise they’ll wither.’
‘Now you’re changing the subject.’
For a few moments he was silent but under the weight of that steady gaze it was impossible to pretend. Elena was too perceptive to be easily deceived and he didn’t want to deceive her in any case.
‘It’s something I’ve wanted to say but didn’t know how.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It concerns Belén, or rather the circumstances surrounding that tale.’ He hesitated. ‘What I’ve told you thus far is all true, but one detail is missing.’
‘What detail?’
Harry steeled himself. ‘The place where these events occurred was Badajoz.’
Elena was completely still, staring at him in appalled disbelief. ‘Badajoz?’ Then the implications began to dawn. ‘Then you must have been among the British troops who...’
‘I was among the British troops who besieged the town, and afterwards I was among the officers who tried to stop the looting.’
Disbelief vied with slow-burning anger. ‘Why did you not tell me this before?’
‘I wanted to but somehow the right moment never came along.’
‘The right moment?’
He sighed. ‘I know. There never could be a right moment for such a disclosure.’
‘Yet we have discussed this subject before. There were opportunities to tell me.’
‘In truth I did not know how.’
‘But now you do?’ Her heart thumped unpleasantly hard. This man was her husband, the man she most wanted to trust. How could he have waited so long to tell her?
‘If you are prepared to hear it,’ he replied.
A part of her wanted to fling the suggestion back in his teeth, but, in a more rational area of her mind, she knew that she needed to hear him. All the same this dilatoriness hurt beyond measure.
‘Very well.’
The icy tone was at distinct variance with the burning anger and hurt he saw in her eyes and he cursed his tardiness. He should have said something long ago. Perhaps if he had got it out into the open earlier they might have been better able to deal with it. From the start she had tried to be open with him, to face the things she knew to be difficult. Yet what had been his response? Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.
‘I’m not going to make excuses, Elena. I should have told you.’
‘So tell me.’
‘When the siege was successful I thought the worst was over—until I saw our own troops run amok. It was as though we were not dealing with men any more but wild animals, made savage and uncontrollable by drink.’
Her eyes glittered. ‘The British troops were indeed like wild animals.’
‘They were impervious to command or reason. They even turned on their own officers.’
‘So I heard.’
‘Half a dozen were killed as a result, including one of my closest friends.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it, but then many terrible deeds were done at that time.’
‘It was the most shameful episode I ever witnessed.’ He paused. ‘Those men were a disgrace to their uniform and to their country. But you know this if anyone does.’
‘Oh, yes, I know it,’ she replied.
‘I am truly sorry about your father, Elena. It was an unspeakable act.’
‘Everything that happened to my family that night was unspeakable.’
Harry frowned. ‘Others were killed too?’
‘Concha’s mother, Amparo—although some might say she was fortunate.’
‘Fortunate?’
‘You know what I mean. After all, my uncle told you what happened, did he not?’
‘He did not mention Concha’s mother. Nor do I see why her death should be regarded as fortunate.’
A dreadful suspicion began to take root in her mind. ‘What exactly did he tell you?’
‘That your father was murdered and that his death was the catalyst for your decision to join the guerrillas. In consequence your fiancé ended the engagement between you.’
‘What?’ Elena paled as the significance of that statement sank in, along with the extent of her uncle’s duplicity. Clearly Harry had no idea of the
truth. All this time she had fondly imagined that his forbearance about her past had been based on full knowledge. The ramifications of that misapprehension were so enormous that she could not see past them. She didn’t know if there was a way past them.
‘Did he leave something out?’
‘Only the truth,’ she replied.
Harry’s gaze grew piercing. ‘I think you’d better tell me, don’t you?’
Elena’s stomach knotted as anger mingled with dread. At the same time she knew this had to be faced even if the consequences meant disaster. There had been enough lies. ‘All right, but I warn you, it isn’t pleasant.’
‘So I infer. Nevertheless, let’s have it.’
‘The British soldiers broke into our house and when my father tried to stop them they shot him. When Amparo went to his aid they shot her too.’
A muscle jumped in Harry’s cheek but all the words he wanted to utter would have sounded like mere platitudes. Besides, Elena was no longer looking at him but inward, remembering.
‘Then they came after the rest of us—my sisters and me, the women servants. We attempted to flee but it was too late.’ She swallowed hard. ‘We tried to fight them off but they were too many and too strong. They stripped us and then held us down while they took it in turn to have their will.’
Harry’s face went white. ‘Elena, you don’t have to...’
‘I think I do. After all, we’re being honest, no?’
He winced inwardly but made no reply.
‘I don’t know how long it went on,’ she continued. ‘It seemed like a lifetime. Eventually I lost consciousness. When I came round the soldiers were gone and so was everything of value in the house. The place looked as though a hurricane had swept through it. Every part of me hurt and I was covered in cuts and bruises, but I was alive. Miraculously my sisters had also survived, though at that point we wished that we had not.’
‘I wish that I had been able to stop it,’ he replied. ‘I wish that there was something I could say now to take away your pain, but I know very well that there isn’t.’
‘Nothing can erase the pain of that memory, of seeing my sisters’ despair and shame, of sharing those emotions.’ She drew a long, shuddering breath. ‘I remember that what I wanted most of all was to bathe, as though somehow I could wash away the memory along with the filth. I went to the well in the yard and pulled up bucket after bucket of water and scrubbed myself repeatedly, but it didn’t seem to make much difference.’
Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 13
